THE NOBLE ART OF VENERY OR HUNTING.  
Wherein is handled and set out the Virtues, Nature, and Properties of fifteen sundry Chases together, with the order and manner how to hunt and kill every one of them.  
Translated and collected for the pleasure of all Noblemen and Gentlemen, out of the best approved Authors, which have written any thing concerning the same: And reduced into such order and proper terms as are used here, in this noble Realm of England.  
The Contents whereof shall more plainly appear in the Page next following.   

The contents of this Book.  

first the Antiquity of hounds together with the sundry sorts of hounds, and their several natures and properties.  
The best order how to breed, enter, and make perfect every one of the same.  
The virtues, nature, and properties of an Heart, together with the perfect order how to hunt him in his season.  
The nature and hunting of the Buck.  
The nature and hunting of the Raynedeare.  
The nature and hunting of the Row.  
The nature and hunting of the wild Goat  
The nature and hunting of the wild Boar.  
The nature and hunting of the Hare.  
The nature and hunting of Coneys.  
The nature and hunting of the Fox  
The nature and hunting of the Badgerd.  
The nature and hunting of the Marten and wild-cat.  
The nature and hunting of the Otter  
The nature and hunting of the Wolf.  
The nature and hunting of the Bear.  
The cures and medicines for all diseases in Hounds.  
The proper terms of Venery.  
A treatise of coursing with Greyhoundes.  
The measures of Blowing.    

To the right noble Sir Henry Clinton Knight Lord Clinton and Say, Master of the Hart Hounds to the Queen's most excellent Majesty, long life, with increase of honour to the pleasure of the Almighty  
RIght Noble, mine especial trust is that your honour will pardon my boldness in dedicating this Book to your honourable name. For when I had with some charge ca●…sed the same to be collected and translated out of sundry good authorities, and thought that it could not but generally delight all Noblemen and Gentlemen of this Realm. I made also diligent search to know what particular parsonage were meetest to be presented with the same: and being informed by my friend (the Translator) that the office of the Hart Hounds pertained unto your Lordship, I thought it my duty, and was glad that I should thereby have just occasion to dedicated so noble an Art unto your honourable name, most humbly beseeching your honour to accept it in good part, and to be assured that whatsoever I could procure to be written of this excellent Art of Venery or Hunting, either out of strange Authors, or by conference of our country Huntsmen, is here in this Book diligently and sensibly declared. I can no more but present it with humble intent, and beseech the father of Heaven evermore to bless your good Lordship with the spirit of his grace.  
Amen.  
Your honours most humble. C. B.   

¶ THE TRANSLATOR to the Reader.  
I Might well have taken occasion (gentle Reader) to commend unto thee, both mine own pains in translating and gathering this work, the Printers charge and diligence in procuring and publishing the same, and the perfection of the thing itself, according to the subject and theme whereupon it treateth. But as touching mine own travail, I will nothing speak: sithence I did undertake the same at request of my friend (the Printer) who hath so thoroughly deserved my pains, as I stand fully contented: his diligence, and charge, I think not meet to be overpassed with silence: who to his great costs hath sought out asmuch as is written and extant in any language, concerning the noble Arts of Venery & Falconry: and to gratify the Nobility and Gentlemen of this land, hath disbursed great sums for the Copies, translations, pictures, and impressions of the same. I will not say that he hath spared neither English, French, Latin, Italian, nor ' dutch Author to search (as it were in the bowels of the same) an exquisite tradition & method of those two Artes. But to conclude mine opinion in few words, he hath showed himself more desirous (a rare example) to pleasure others, than to profit himself by this enterprise. And therewithal in his behalf, I must allege, that as the studies of Divinity, & grave discourses are (without all comparison) most commendable, even so yet could he have travailed in no one Art or Science (them excepted) which might have been more commendable or necessary for all Noblemen & Gentlemen: not only for the delightfulness thereof, but also because it is both profitable and godly. For if (as Solomon sayeth) all earthly things be vanities, then are those most to be esteemed which may continue the life of Man in most comfort and godly quiet of mind, with honest recreation. And if it be true (as it is doubtless) that pride (which is root of all vices,) doth increase by idleness, them is that exercise highly to be commended, which doth maintain the body in health, the mind in honest meditations, & yet the substance not greatly decayed. For these causes I have always allowed and confirmed their opinions, which do more esteem Hunting than Hawking. Sithence we do plainly 
The Falconer saith no.  perceive, that Hunting is maintained with much lesser charge. And to return to my first begun purpose, I commend to thy courteous consideration (gentle reader) both my travel, and the Printers charge: assuring thee, that as much as could conveniently be found out either in authority, or conference, is here expressed, for thy better knowledge in Venery. Take it in gree, & be as thankful unto the Printer for his good will & honest meaning, as he hath been unto me for my study and travel herein. And so farewell:   

George Gascoigne, in the commendation of the noble Art of Venery.  

AS God himself declares, the life of man was lent,  
Because it should (with fear of him) in gladsome wise be spent.  
And Solomon doth say, that all the rest is vain,  
Unless that mirth and merry cheer, may follow toil and pain.  
If that be so in deed, what booteth then to build,  
High towers & halls of stately port, to leave an unknown child?  
Or wherefore hoard we heaps of coin and worldly wealth,  
Whiles therewithal that caitiff care, comes creeping in by stealth?  
The needy neighbours grudge to see the rychman thr●…,  
Such malice worldly muck doth breed in every man alive.  
Contention comes by coin, and care doth contecke sew,  
And sudden death by care is caught, all this you know is true.  
Since death is then the end, which all men seek to fly,  
And yet are all men well ware, that Man is born to dye,  
Why lead not men such lives, in quiet comely wise,  
As might with honest sport & game, their worldly minds suffice?  
Among the rest, that game, which in this book is taught,  
Doth seem to yield as much content, as may on earth be sought.  
And but my simple Muse, both mirth and mean mistake,  
It is a mean of as much mirth, as any sport can make.  
It occupies the mind, which else might chance to muse  
On mischief, malice, filth, and frauds, that mortal men do use.  
And as for exercise, it seems to bear the bell,  
Since by the same, men's bodies be, in health maintained well.  
It exercyseth strength, it exercyseth wit,  
And all the poars and spirits of Man, are exercised by it.  
It shaketh off all sloth, it presseth down all pride,  
It cheereth the heart, it glads the eye, & through the ears doth glide.  
I might at large express how early huntsmen rise,  
And leave the sluggish sleep for such, as lechers lust devise.  
How true they tread their steps, in exercises train,  
Which frisking flings & lightbraind leaps, may seem always to stain.  
How appetite is bread (with health) in homely cates,  
While Surfeit sits in vain excess, & Banquet breeds debates.  
How cries of well mouthed hounds, do countervail the cost,  
Which many a man (beyond his reach) on instruments ●…ath lost.  
How setting of Relayes, may represent the skill,  
Which soldiers use in Embushes, their furious foes to kill.  
How Fox and Badgerd both, make patterns (in their den)  
Of Plotformes, Loops, and Casamats, devised by warlike men.  
How fight out at Bay, of Hart, buck, Goat, or Boar,  
Declares the valiant Romans death, when might may do no more.  
How sight of such delights, doth scorn all common shows,  
Of Interludes, of Tumblers tricks, of antikes, mocks, & mows.  
And how the nimble Hare, by turning in her course,  
Doth plainly prove that Policy, sometime surpasseth force.  
The Venison not forgot, most meet for Prince's dish:  
All these with more could I rehearse, as much as wit could wish.  
But let these few suffice, it is a Noble sport,  
To recreate the minds of Men, in good and godly sort.  
A sport for Noble peers, a sport for gentle bloods,  
The pain I leave for servants such, as beat the bushy woods,  
To make their masterś sport. Then let the Lords rejoice,  
Let gentlemen behold the glee, and take thereof the choice.  
For my part (being one) I must needs say my mind,  
That Hunting was ordained first, for Men of Noble kind.  
And unto them therefore, I recommend the same,  
As exercise that best becomes, their worthy noble name.   
Tam Marti quàm Mercurio.   

T. M. Q. in praise of this book.  

WHo list to learn, the properties of hounds,  
To breed them first, and then to make them good,  
To teach them know, both voice and horn, by sounds,  
To cure them eke, from all that hurts their blood:  
Let him but buy this book: So shall he find,  
As much as may, (for hounds) content his mind.   

Who list to view, what virtues do remain,  
In every beast, which Man doth hunt and chase,  
What cures they bear, for many an ache and pain,  
What seasons serve, to find them best in case:  
Within this book he may the same find out,  
And so be well resolved of every doubt.   

And to be short, as much as Latin, Greek,  
Italians, Frencb, High Dutch, or English skill,  
Can teach, to Hunt, to Herbor, lodge, or seek,  
To force, to take, to conquer, or to kill,  
All games of chase: So much this book descries,  
In proper terms, as wit can (well) devise.   

Wherefore my Muse, must recommend the same,  
As worthy praise, and better worth the price,  
A pleasant book, for peers of noble name,  
An honest book to recreate the wise:  
A Book well bought, God grant it so be sold,  
For sure such Books, are better worth than gold.   
L●…tet, quod non patet.   

Of the race and Antiquity of Hounds, and who first brought them into France. Chapt. 1  
I Have thought good diligently to look (aswell in the works of antiquity, as also in those of our time) from whence the first Race of hounds did come into France, & I never found Chronicle nor History that seemeth to speak of greater continuance, than one which I saw in Britain, written by one whose name was iohn of Monmouth an english man, the which doth treat, how after the piteous & dreadful destruction of Troy, Aeneas arrived in Italy with his son Ascanius, (which was afterwards king ●…f the Latins) and begat a son named Silvius, of whom Brutus descended, which loved hunting exceedingly.  
Now it came to pass, that Silvius and Brutus being one day in a Forest hunting a Heart, they were overtaken with night, and seeing the Heart pass before them almost spent by the Howndes, they went towards him to kill him. But fortune was such to Brutus, (as God would) that whilst he meant to kill the Heart, by glancing of his arrow he killed his father Silvius. Which thing caused the people to be moved, and to mutiny against him, thinking that he had done it of malice and desire to reign, and to have the government of the Realm. In such sort, that to avoid their great fury and indignation, Brutus was constrained to go out of the country, and undertook a voyage into Greece, to deliver certain Trojans, his companions and allies, which were yet there detained in captivity since the destruction of Troy. Which voyage he accomplished by force of arms, and when he had delivered them, he assembled a great number of the same Trojans, whom he caused to take an oath, that aswell for the dishonour which they had received, as also for the irrecuparable loss and damage of their goods, and for the lamentations and dole which they had cause to make for their kinsfolks and friends, which had been slain in the cruel wars of Troy, they should never return into their country. Then did he 'cause to be rygged and trimmed a great number of ships, wherein he embarked himself and all his men, and took with him a great number of Hounds & Greyhoundes. Afterwards he sailed so long till he passed the streyghts of Gibraltare, entering into the Ocean Seas, and descended in the Isles of armory, which at this present is called Bretaigne in France, by reason of his name which was Brutus. Which Islands he conquered without resistance, and was therein, peasably by the space of four years, and afterwards took ship again, & landed at Totneys, in the west of this noble realm, whereupon after his conquests made here over certain gian●…es, one of his captains called Corineus, did build the chief town of Cornwall. But to return unto his deeds in Armoury, when they were settled, & had inhabited the said country, Brutus & his son Turnus, (which had as before said brought great store of hounds with them) went daily on hunting in the great Forest, which contained then in length from Tyffauge unto Poitiers; whereupon one part of the country is called to this present Gastine. Now at that same time there reigned in Poyctou and Aquitaine, a king named Groffarius Pictus, who made his continual residence in Poitiers, and was one day advertised that the Trojans did greatly exercise themselves in hunting, and that they hunted in his Forests with such a kind of dogs, as after they had once found a Heart, they never left him till they brought him to death. Whereupon king Groffarius, having heard such news, was moved and exceeding angry, in such sort, that he determined to make wars with them, and assembled all his forces. The Trojans being advertised of such an assembly, marched all along the river of Loire with all their puissance, and met their ●…nimies at a place where the city of Tours is presently situate, and there they gave battle, in the which Turmis Cousin to Brutus, or as some Chronicles say, Turnus the elder son of Brutus was slain, and in remembrance of him the said City was built, and by the name of Turnus was called Tours.  
I have thought good to recoumpte this history, that men may thereby understand, that it is long since hounds have been used in Bretaigne, and I think certainly, that these Troyans' were the first which brought the race of hounds into this country. For I find no history which maketh mention of longer continuance than that doth, and it is a thing most certain, that the greatest part of the races of hounds which are in France, and other countries adjoining, did come from the country of Bretaigne, excepting the race of white hounds, the which I think to be come from Barbary. For being sometimes at Rochel, I have inquired of many Pylottes and mariners, and amongst others I inquired of an old man named Alfonce, who had oftentimes been in the Court of a Barbarian King called the Doncherib, which used much hunting, and principally in hunting the Raynedeare at force: and this old man told me, that all the hounds of his kennel were white, and that all the dogs of that country were such also. And surely I think in deed that the white dogs are come out of the hot countries, forasmuch as they give not over their chase how hot so ever it be, whereas other dogs do not hold out so in heat. Phoebus doth also agreed with this opinion, saying, that he hath been in Mauritanye, otherwise called Barbary, whereas he hath seen the Raynede●…re killed at force with dogs which they call Baux, which give not over their chase for any heat that is. Whereupon mine opinion is, that the Race of white dogs is come of those dogs called Baux of Barbary, of the which Phoebus doth speak, I will set down none other thing of the Antiquity of hounds, but I will writ hereafter of the nature and complexions, as well of white hounds, as of Fallow, dun, and black, whid●… sorts are most commodious for Princes and Gentlemen.   

Of the nature and complexions of white dogs, called Baux, and surnamed Greffiers. Chap. 2.  
 
THe white Howndes have been brought in estimation in France, by the Lord great Seneschal of Normandy that was, and before him they were in small estimation, principally amongst Gentlemen, for asmuch as they serve not generally for all chases, but only for the Heart. The first of the race was called Sovyllard, the which was given by a poor Gentleman to the King jews deceased, who made no great account of him, because he loved the Dnune hounds above all other, of the which all his kennel was, and he made none account of others, unless it were to make Bloodhoundes. The Seneschal Gaston being present with the Gentleman, which offered this Dog, knowing well that the King lou●…d not the hound, did beg him of the King to make a present unto the wisest Lady of his Realm, and the King asked him who that was, that is (quoth he) Anne of Bourbon your daughter, I agreed not with you (quoth the King) in that you have named her the wyfest, but you may say less foolish than others, whereas there is few wise women in the world. Then the King gave the Dog unto the Seneschal Gaston, who led him not far before he was begged of him, for the Lord great Seneschal of Normandy did so importunately crave him, that he was constrained to grant him, afterwards the Lord great Seneschal gave the Hound in keeping to a hunter called james of Bresé, and from that time forwards they began to have bitches lined by that dog, and so to have a race of them: the next year following, the Lady Anne of Bourbon whi●…h loved hunting exceedingly, understanding of the beauty and goodness of this dog, sent a bitch to be lined by him two or three times, whereupon they engendered fifteen or sixteen dogs, and amongst the rest six that were excellent, called Clerault, joubard, Miraud, Meigrett, Marteau, and Hoist the good bitch. Sithence the race did daily increase, as it is at this present, although at the beginning the dogs of that race were not so strong as they be at this present time. For the mighty King Frances did renforce them by a fallow dog called Myrauld, the which Monsieur Anybauld the admiral did give him, & afterwards the Queen of Scots gave the King a white dog called Barraude, from the which Marconnay Lieutenant of the Chase, did get his race of dogs, which are excellent, and much stronger than the rest were, and to speak truly, such dogs are most proper for Princes, and with such they aught to be served, for as much as they are fair, gallant hunters, lusty rangers, and good of scent, which give not over their chase for any hea●…e that is, and are not easily overlaid or broken with throng of the riders, nor with the noise and cry of many men which daily attend Princes on Hunting. & keep their chase better without change than any other kind of Dogs, and are better to trust unto, nevertheless they must be accompanied with the horsemen, and do fear the water a little, especially in the winter when it is cold. I will not forget to set down what dogs of that race are best, for as much as in every litter that one half doth not prove good, understand then that those which are all of one colour, (as all white) are the best hounds, in like manner those which are spotted with red, the others which are marked or spotted with black or dun, or a colour like unto fryse, are of small valour, of the which some of them are subject to have their feet great, fat and tender: sometimes nature doth so work that it maketh some to come out all black, the which happeneth not often, but when it doth happen they are commonly seen to be good: and you must note that the Dogs of that sorts, are not in their chief goodness until they be three years old or thereabouts, and they are much inclined to run at tame beasts.   

Of Fallow hounds and their nature. Chap. 3.  
I Have red none other thing of the antiquity of Fallow hounds, but only that I have seen in an old written Book made by an Hunter, the which maketh mention of a Lord of britain called Hüett of Nantes, and the ●…uthour of that book did much esteem hunting, the which amongst other things gave this blazon to the hounds of that Lords kennelt.  

Hues, thy Fallow hounds in forests hunt apace,  
And kill at force, hart, hind, buck, do●…, fox, grey, and every chase,  
As thou thyself hast eke, above all others praise,  
To h●…llow well in hollow woods, unto thy hounds always.   
●…so I have seen in a Chronicle in the town of Lambale, a chapter which maketh mention that a Lord of the said place with a kennel of fallow and red howndes, did rouse a stag in a forest of the county of Poiucti●…ur, and did hunt and pursue him by the space of four days, in such sort that the fourth day he took him near to the city of Paris. And it is to be presumed that the fallow howndes are the ancient howndes of the Dukes and Lords of Britain, of the which the lord Admiral d'Anybauld and his predecessors have always kept and maintained the race, the which came first to be common in the time of the great King Frances father of Hunters. These fallow hounds be hardy and of good sent, keeping very well their chase without change, and are almost of the same complexion that the white hounds are, saving that they endure not heat so well, nor yet the press or throng of the prickers and galloppers, but they are swifter, more universal for all chases, and hotter in hunting: and if it chance that a beast do stray out in the champaign or the fields, they yet do never lightly forsake the chase, their complexion is strong, for they fear neither the cold nor the waters, and they run surely, and are very hardy, they are fair hunters, loving commonly the Heart better than any other kind of chase, and they are more opinionate and harder to be taught than the white howndes, and so are they able to endure greater pain and travail. The best that you shall find of the race of these Fallow hounds, are those which have their hear most lively red, and such as have a white spot in their forehead, or a ring about their neck, and likewise those which are all altogether fallow: but those that be lighter yellow, being marked or spotted with black or dun, are not greatly to be esteemed: those which are well jointed and dewclawed are best to make bloudhoundes, & there are some which have their tails shagged like ears of Corn, & those are commonly good & swift: & since Princes at these days have mingled the races of Fallow howndes one with an other, therefore they are become much stronger and better for the heart, the which is the right chase to yield pleasure unto Kings and Princes. But such hounds are not meet for mean Gentlemen, because they are commonly but for one chase: and they pass not greatly for the Hare and other small chases: and again, they are much inclined to run at tame beasts.   

Of the complexion and nature of dun Hounds. Chap. 4.  
 
OUr dun hounds are such as anciently our Kings of France, and Dukes of Alencon did most esteem. They be common, because they are fit for most chases, and therefore they are fittest for Gentlemen, for their nature and complexion is such, that they hunt all kind of chases which you would have them to hunt. The best of the race are such as be done on the back, having their four quarters red or tanned, and the legs of the ●…ame colour, as it were the-coloure of a Hare's legs. Sometimes you shall see some that have their hair on the top of their backs, dun or almost black, and their legs streaked and flecked with red and black, the which do commonly prove excellent, and although there are not many bad dun hounds to be seen, yet nevertheless, the light dun, having their legs fallow after a whitish colour, are seldom so stronng nor so swift as the other are, and Princes can not so much delight in them for sundry eauses. One cause is, for that they do much fear the throng of the huntesmen on horseback, and they are troubled with their noise, for as much as they are hot and of a great courage, and put themselves quickly out of breath hearing the Cry and noise of the hunters. Another cause is, that they fear heat, and do not greatly esteem a chase which doubleth or turneth before them, but if the chase hold endlong, you shall hardly find better or swifter hounds, although they be very opinionate hard to believe their huntsman, and very easily inclined to change, because of they●… heat and folly, and because of the great compasses which they cast when they are at default. And above all things, they stick much upon knowledge of their master, and especially his voice and his horn, and will do for him more than for any other huntsman. They ha●…e such emulation amongst themselves, that they know the voice of their fellows, and whether they be sure or not, for if they be babbler●… and liars, they will not lightly follow them. They are hounds of great travel, fearing neither cold nor water, and if they feel a chase to sink once before them, and that it begin to be spent once, then will they never for●… 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 they have killed it. They which will take pleasure in them, must use them 〈◊〉 this sort. At the first uncoupling of them, they must follow and encourage them as temperately as may be, and with very little noise, for that they are hot, and do quickly overshoot the track or path of the chase which they undertake, and therefore the huntesmen on horseba●…ke aught not over hastily to follow them until they undertake it endlong: nor likewise aught they not to come over hastily unto them at a default, and they must likewise beware that they cross them not, for fear lest they make them turn back upon them, and so in this manner they may take pleasure in them.   

Of black hounds anciently come from Saint Hubert's abbey in Ardene. Chap. 5.  
THe hounds which we call Saint Hubert's hounds, are commonly all black, yet nevertheless, their race is so mingled at these days, that we find them of all colours. These are the hounds which the Abbots of Saint Hubert have always kept some of their race or kind, in honour and remembrance of the Saint which was a hunter with Saint Eustace. Whereupon we may conjecture that (by the grace of God) all good huntsmen shall follow them into Paradise. To return unto my former purpose, this kind of Dogs hath been dispersed through the Countries of Hennault, Lorraine, Flanders, and Burgonye, they are mighty of body, nevertheless, their legs are low and short, likewise they are not swift, although they be very good of scent, hunting chases which are far straggled, fearing neither water nor cold, and do more covet the chases that smell, as Foxes, Boar, and such like, than other, because they ●…ince themselves neither of swiftness nor courage to hunt and kill the chases that are lighter and swifter. The Bloudhoundes of this colour prove good, especially those that are coal black, but I make no great account to breed on them, or to keep the kind, and yet I found once a Book which a Hunter did dedicated to a Prince of Lorraine, which seemed to love Hunting much, wherein was a blasone which the same Hunter gave to his Bloodhound called Soygllard, which was white.  

My name came first from holy Hubert's Race,  
Soygllard my Sire, a hound of singilar grace.   
Whereupon we may presume that some of the kind prove white sometimes, but they are not of the kind of the Greffyers or Bauxes which we have at these days.   

The tokens whereby a man may know a good and fair Hound. Chapt. 6.  
 
AHound which should be good and fair aught to have these marks following. First I will begin at the head, the which aught to be of a mean proportion, and is more to be esteemed when it is long, than when it is short snouted, the nostrils aught to be great and wide opened, the cares large, side, and of a mean thickness, the chine of the back compass bowed like a Roch, the fillettes great, also the haunches great and large, the thigh well trussed, and the ham straight and well compassed, the tail big near the reins, and the rest slender unto the very end, the hear underneath the belly hard, the leg big, the sole of the foot dry and form like a Fox's foot, the claws great: and you shall note, that seldom shall you see such dogs as are short trussed, (having their hinder parts higher than their foreparts) to prove swift. Now to declare unto you the signification of these marks, you shall understand that the open nostrils do betoken a dog of perfect sent, the ridge or chine of the back rochbent, and the ham straight, betoken swiftness, the tail great near the reins and long and lose towards the end, betokeneth good and great force in the reins, and that the dog is long breathed, the hard hear underneath the belly doth signify that he is painful, and fears neither water nor cold, the big leg, the Fox's foot and the great claws, do betoken that the foot of such an hound is not fat, and that he is strong in all his members, and able to endure long without surbaiting of himself.   

How a man may choose a fair Bitch to bear whelps: and the mean to make her go proud: also the signs under the which she may best be lined to bring forth dog whelps which shall not be subject unto diseases. Chap. 7.  
If you would have fair hounds, you must first have a fair Bitch, which is of a good kind, strong and well proportioned in all parts, having her ribs and her flanks great and large, the which you may make to go proud in this wise. Take two heads of Garlic, half the stone of a beast which is called Castor, with the juice of Cresseys', & a dozen of the flies called Cantharides, boil all these together (in a pot holding a pint) with Mutton, and give the pottage two or three times unto the bitch to drink, and she will not fail to go proud. And in like manner shall you make your dogs desirous of the bitch. etc.  
Afterwards, when you see that your bitch goeth proud, attend the full of the Moon until it be passed, and then 'cause her to be lined (if it may be, under the Signs of Gemini and Aquarius) for the dogs which shall be engendered under those signs, shall not be subject unto madness, and shall commonly be more dogs than bytches.  
Also some say that there is a Star named Arcture, and that such dogs as are whelped or engendered under that Star, shall be much subject unto madness. In like manner you must understand divers secrets, whereof the first is: that of what dog so ever a bitch shall be lined, the first time that she goeth proud, and at her first litter, whether it be by Mastiff, Greyhounde, or Hound, in all her other lytters which she shall have afterwards, she will always have one whelp which shall resemble the dog that first lined her: And for that cause you aught to have good regard that the first time she goeth proud, you 'cause her to be lined with some fair dog of a good kind, for in all the lytters which she shall have afterwards, there will be some one which will resemble the first. And although now adays men make small account of the first litter, seeing they are of opinion, that the first litter is much given to become mad, and are commonly weak and small, yet must you not fail to line your bitch at the first with a fair hound, and of a good kind, for if she should be lined with a Mastiff or a cur, the other litters will hold the same race, and yet if you should suffer her to slip without lining, she will pine away, and with great pain shall you recover her or make her fat again.  
another secret is, that if ye will have light and hot hounds, than line your bitch with a young dog: for if she be linedned with an old dog, the whelps will become more heavy, and less gallant. And herewithal understand that it is not good to cool a bitch when she is proud in the water, for the water doth congeal the blood within the veins and Arteries, which may 'cause her to become maungie, or else that she shall have worms, torments, and grypcs in her belly, and infinite other diseases which follow thereupon. When the bytches are lined, and that they begin to be sydebellyed, you must not lead them on hunting for divers causes. One is, because the forces which they shall use in hunting, do màrre and keep fro prospering the little whelps which are in their bellies. Also that in leaping over the hedges, and running through the woods, every lest rush or knock may make them cast their whelps, whereupon might ensue divers other evil haps which should be long to recite. Then the best is to let them only pass up and down the house or court, and never lock them up in their kennel, because they be importunate and longing, and therefore you must make them pottage once a day at the lest. Furthermore, if you would spay a bitch, it must be done before she have ever had litter of whelps: & in spaying of her, it shall not be good to take away all the roots or strings of the veins, for it is hard to take them away without hurting of the reins, and so shall you hinder her sooyftnesse ever after: but when some roots of those veins remain, the bitch shall be much the stronger, and more hardy, and shall the better endure pain and travel. Also you must take good heed that you spay her not when she is proud, for than shall you put her in great danger of death, but fifteen days after she hath left going proud. And when the little whelps begin to take shape within her belly, then is best spaying of a bitch.   

Of the seasons in which it is best to have young whelps, and how you may best govern them. Chap. 8.  
THere are certain seasons in the which little whelps are hard to escape, or to be brought up, especially if they be whelped in the end of October, because of the Winter and colds which then begin to reign, and for that milk and other nouritures which are most meet for them, do then begin to fail, and therefore it is then very hard (if they be whelped in such season) that they should escape death, for as much as the Winter hath overtaken them before they have force to endure the cold, and though they do escape, yet will they be small and weak. Another unmeet season for whelps is in july and August, because of the vehement heats, and the flies, fleas, and other vermin which then will torment them. But the best season to have whelps is in March, Apryll, and may, when the time is temperate and the heat not over great. Also it is the right time which nature hath appointed for the breeding of all living creatures, as Cows, Goats, Sheep, and such like, for that is the season most fit for their nurture. And seeing that whelps may be bred in all seasons, and that many delight to breed their kind, and to nourish them in what season to ever they come, I have therefore thought good according to my fantasy, to give understanding of means how to preserve them.  
first if they be whelped in Winter, you shall take a Barrel or a Pipe well dried, and knock out the head at the one end thereof, afterwards put straw therein, and set it by a place where there is ordinarily a good fire, then turn the open end towards the fire, to the end the whelps may have the air thereof, and you shall feed the dam with good pottage or broth made with Beef or Mutton.  
Then when the whelps begin to lap, you shall accustom them also unto pottage, but such as have no salt therein, because salt doth make them dry, and causeth them to become maungie, unto the which disease they are subject when they are whelped in winter.  
Also you shall put in their pottage much Sage & other hot, herbs: And if peradventure you see that their hair do fall, you shall then anoint them with oil of Walnuts & honey mingled together, & keep them in their tun or which as clean as you can, and change their straw every day: and when you perceive that they begin to go, you shall have a net made of strong thread, laced with a thong, and fasmed about the Tun or Pipe, even as they cover a Swyssers drum, so that you may keep them from going out, and that other dogs do not bite them, or that they be trodden upon or marred with men's feet. And you must make this pipe or tun in such sort that it may be opened when you will. And as touching other whelps which are bread in Summer, they must be put in some fresh place whether other dogs come not ordinarily, and you should lay under them some hardle or Watling with straw thereupon, lest the cold or moistness of the earth do annoyed them, and that straw must also be often changed. They aught also to be in some dark place, because the Flies shall so least annoyed them, and therewithal it shall be also good to anoint them twice a week with oil of Nuts mingled and beaten with Saffron bruised to powder, for that ointment doth kyil all sorts of worms, and recomfortes the skin and the sinews of dogs, and keepeth them from biting of Flies and Punayses. And sometime you must also anoint the bitch in like manner, and put there to the iupce of Berue or wild Cresseys', for fear lest she fill her whelps full of Fleas: and forget not to nourish her with pottage as is before rehearsed. When the whelps shall be fifteen days old, you must worm them, and eight days after you may cut off one joint of their tails, in such form and manner as I will prescribe hereafter in the treaty of Receiptes. Afterwards when they shall begin to see and to rate, you must give them good milk always hot, whether it be cows milk, Goats' milk, or Ewes milk: and note, that it shall not be good to wain them, and put them to keeping abroad, until they be two months old, and that for divers causes. One: because the longer they taste of their dams teat, the more they shall take of her complexion and nature, the which we may see by experience. For when a bitch hath whelps, let a mastyffe bitch give suck to that one halft, and you shall find that they will never be so good as those which the dam did bring up. Another cause is: that if you separate them one from another before they be two months old at the lest, they will be chill and tender, and it will be strange unto them by want of their dam which was wont to keep them warm.   

The signs and tokens which a man aught to regard, in judging whether the whelps will be good or not. Chap. 9  
THE ancient Authors would say, that a man may know the best whelps by the dams teats, and that such as commonly sucked the teats which are nearer the heart of the dam, are the best and the strongest, because the blood about that place is most lively and delicate. Others have said, that they might be known by a token which they have under the throat, whereas there are certain hairs like unto Hogs brystles, and that if there be odd hairs, it is a token of goodness, and that if there be even, it is an evil token. Some other have taken mark by the hinder legs, by the dewclawes, for if there be none (say they) it is a good token, and if there be but one, it is also good, but if there be two, it is an evil likelihood.  
Some again will look within the mouth of the whelp, thinking that such as have the roof of their mouth black should be good, and such as are red there, should not be much worth. And if they have their nostrils wide and open, it is a sign that they shall be of perfect sent. As to the consideration of other parts of the body, there is no great judgement, until they be three or four months old. Nevertheless, I take them which have long, large, and thick ears, and the hair under their belly hard and great, to be the best, and those marks I have proved and found true. Now because I have thereof spoken a little before, I will speak none other thing thereupon at this present.   

That it is best bringing up of whelps in villages in the country, and not in shambles. Chap. 10.  
WHen your whelps be brought up two months under the dam, and that you see they can feed well, then shall it be good to feed them abroad into the Uyllages to keep in some fair place which is near unto some water, and far from any Warren of Coneys, for as much as if they have scarcity of water, and when they come to be of force, they may chance to be subject unto madness, because their blood will become hot and dry, whereas the water would have made it colder and moister, and yet would also nourish them better: also if they should be near unto warennes, they might break out and be drawn to hunting amiss after Coneys.  
Therefore it shall be best to bring them up abroad with milk, bread, and all sorts of pottages, and you shall understand that to bring them up in villages of the country, is much better than to bring them up in a Butchery, for as much as they are not closed up, and that they may go out when they will to seed, and to learn the track of a chase. Also because they are accustomed unto the cold, the rain, and all evil weather, and are not so soon subject to running after tame beasts, when they are ordinarily bread amongst them, on that otherside, if they be bread in butcheries or shambles, the flesh and blood they should eat, would heat their bodies in such sort, that when they should become great, and that they should run in chase two or three rainy days, they would marfounder themselves, and would not fail to become maungie, and to be subject unto madness, and to run after tame beasts, because in the Shambles they feed ordinarily on blood, and neither learn to questnor to hunt any thing at all. To conclude, I never saw dog come to good perfection (especially to become a good haryer) which was fed and brought up in the Shambles.   

In what time men aught to withdraw their Whelps from their Nurse, and what kind of bread and flesh is best to give unto them. Chap. 11.  
IT shallbe good to withdraw the whelp from his nurse when he is ten months old, and to keep them all together in kennel, to th'end they may understand and know one an other. There is great difference to see a kennel of hounds nourished together, and all of one age: and another of hounds gathered here and there: because those which are brought up together, do better understand each other, and keep closer together in Cry, than those which are gathered from sundry places. When you have brought your whelps to kennel, you must hung clogs or billets of wood about their necks, to teach them to go coupled, the bread which should be given them, should be a third part of wheat, a third of Barley or Oats, and a third of Rye, because being so mixed, it keepeth them fresh and fat, and heals or preserveth them from sundry diseases, whereas if it were all Rye it might make them scour too much, and if it were all wheat, it would bind them too much, the which would 'cause many diseases, and therefore it is best so to mire one with an other. Men must give flesh to their hounds in winter, especially those which are lean, and hunt the Heart: but you should not feed haryers with flesh for divers considerations: for if you do, they will become fleshly, and given to hunt great beasts of chase, and will make none account of the Hare and the Hare also doth often convey her self amongst the herds of tame beasts, to be thereby rid of the dogs, and by that means the hounds might chance to leave their chase, and to run after the tamer beasts. But Buckhoundes and such as hunt the Heart will not so easily do it, because the Buck or Harte is of greater sent than the Hare, in such sort that his flesh is unto them more delicate and more greedily desired than any other. The best flesh that you can give Hounds, and that will best set up a weak hound, are horseflesh, ass and mules flesh, as for beef (either ox or cows flesh) and such like, the flesh is unto them of a more sour substance. You should never suffer your hounds to feed upon any flesh until it be flayed, to the end they may have no knowledge neither of the beast, nor of his hear. I allow and praise pottage made of Mutton, goats flesh, and the heads of beeves, for such lean hounds as are variers. And it shall not be amiss sometime to mingle therewith some brimstone, the which may warm them. Hereof I will more amply devise in the treaty of receyntes.   

How a Kennel aught to be situate and trimmed for Hounds. Chap. 12.  
 
A Kennel aught to be placed in some oriental part of a house, where there may be a large court well plained, being fourscore paces square, according to the commodity and ability of the Lord which oweth it, but the greater and larger that it is, the better it will be for the Hounds, because they shall have the greater pleasure to play themselves, and to skommer, through the midst of it, were meet and good to have a little channel of good fountain water, near unto the which you shall lay a great trough of stone to receive the course of the said water, the which trough shallbe a foot and a half high, to the end the hounds may drink thereat the more easily, and that trough musfe be pierced at the one end, to let out the water, and to make it clean when you would. In the highest place of the Court it shallbe good to build the kennel or lodging for the Hounds, in the which you must have two chambers, whereof the one shallbe larger than the other, and in the same should be a chimney, great & large, to make a fire when need shall require. The gates and windows of the chamber, must be set and situate against the rising of the Sun and the South: the chamber should be raised three foot higher than the level of the ground, and in the floor you should make two gutters and holes to the end the filthiness and urine of the Hounds may thereby avoid, the walls aught to be well whited, and the planks well mortised and joined, and so shall spiders, fleas, punayses and such like, the less breed and remain therein. You must always leave them some little door or wicket to go out into the court when they would skommer or ease themselves, then must you have in the chamber little bodsteades which shallbe raised a good foot from the ground, and therewithal let every bedstead have under it a roller to remove it where you will when you would make the place clean: and again that when they come from the chase, and that it were needful to warm them, you may roll them as near the fire as you will: also those bedsteads must be covered with hurdels or planks pierced, to the end that when the hounds do piss, the urine may drain to the ground. You must also have another chamber wherein the hunt may withdraw himself & keep his horns, cowples, and other things necessary. I thought not needful to speak of sumptuous chambers that which Princes cause to be made for their hounds, wherein there be closerts, stoves, & other magnificences, for as much as that hath seemed unto me, to be more annoyance than profitable for the hounds, for when they are accustomed to such heats, being so tenderly and delicately handled, and after shallbe brought to some place where they shallbe evil lodged, or if they hunt in the rainy weather, than should they be ready to marfounder themselves, and so to become maungie: wherefore I have always been of opinion, that when they come from the field, and that they be moiled, it is sufficient if they be well chaffed and laid dry, without accustoming them to such magnificence. And because sometimes men have not commodity to have fountains or brooks in every place, it is requisite to make little tub of wood or some troughs to put their water in. You must take heed that you give them no drink in a vessel of copper or brass, for those two kinds of metals are venomous of their nature, and 'cause the water which cometh in them to turn and to stink, which would greatly annoy the hounds. You must also have pretty little binges or baskets of wood to put their bread in, the which must be broken and cut by small gobbets in the same, because some Dogs are sometimes sick and of evil appetite. Also there are certain hours and times that hounds will not feed, and therefore the baskets should not be empty at any time, as we have set in portraiture before.   

Of the hunt, and how he aught to dress, govern, and attend his dogs. Chap. 13.  
A Good keeper of Hounds should be gracious, courteous, and gentle, loving his dogs of a natural disposition, and he aught to be both well footed and well winded, aswell to fill his horn as his bottle: the first thing which he aught to do when he rises, is to go see his Hounds, to make their lodging clean, and to dress them as the case shall require: after he hath so clen●… them, he aught to take his horn and found three or four times the call, to the end he may comfort them and call them to him: and when he shall see them all about him, then shall he couple them, and in coupling them he must take good heed that he couple not the Dogs together, for fear lest they fight one with another, and if there be any young hounds, it shallbe good to couple them with the old bitches, to teach them to follow: when they are all well coupled, the keeper must fill two great bags or pockets with small bones, and other good morsels, as fish, or horse feet fried, fat roast meats, and such like, than he shall break all into small gobbets into his bags, and hung one bag about his own neck, and give another unto one of his companions, that done, he must take two wisps of clean straw and put them under his girdle, with a little brush or duster to rub and dust his hounds when they shall come into the field: the other Huntesmen or varlets which shallbe with him aught to do as much. Afterwards every man shall take a fair wand in his hand, and let one go before to call the hounds unto him, another shall come behind which shall jerk them forwards, and if there be two others, they shall go on each side, and so all four together shall go lead the hounds through the green Corn fields and through the meadows, aswell to feed them, as for to teach them to know their voice, making them to pass through the herds of sheep and other such like beasts, to accustom them, and to make them to know them: and if there be any dog that is so i'll taught as he would run at a sheep or any such tame beast, you must couple him with a ramme 
A Ram.  or a stout Sheep, and with your wand you must all to pay him and beat him a good while, crying and threatening to the end that another time he may know the rate of such as use it. So must you also use to lead your hounds through the warens, and if they covet to run after the Coneys, you must threaten and chastise them, because young hounds do naturally love them. When you have thus walked them in the morning, and that the Sun beginneth now to be high, the hunt must go into some fair meadow, and call all his dogs about him, and then must they take their wisps and brushes, to brush and dust their hounds as softly as may be: for sometimes the hounds which hunt in the woods and forests do prick themselves, and catch thorns or have some scabs or blisters, so that the keepers of Hounds having a bevy hand in rubbing and trimming them, might galled of the skin, and rather do hurt than good. And furthermore it were very evil for the hound to lose his hair or his locks, for asmuch as he is uncessantly travailed in Woods and Forests, whereas the rinds the water drops, and other coldness doth fall upon him continually, and therefore it may suffice to rub and courrie the hound three times in a week, but Greyhoundes aught to be rubbed once every day. After all these things done, their keepers and Huntsmen must teach them to know the hallow aswell by the horn, as by the mouth, in this wise.  
First one of the Huntesmen must take one of the budgets full of delicates as before said, and go a crossbow shoot or further, according as the hounds are young or well entered: for if they be young, and have yet never been entered, than the hallow must be made the nearer, and they must not be uncoupled because the old hounds may lead them to the Hollow, but if they have been begun to be entered, then may they go further off and uncouple them, and then when the hunt shallbe two good Crossbow shot from his Hounds (the which his compaignions' must in mean while hold together) he shall begin to hallow, and to sound his Horn, and he shall otherwiles cry: How, How, How, that's he, that's he, How, to a Dear. And How, How, that that, or there, there, to an Hare, and he shall never cease to cry, to hallow, and to blow, until his hounds be come unto him: when his companions shall hear him begin to hallow, they shall uncouple their hounds & cry, list hollow, hyke hollow, list, list, list, then when they are come to the hollow, the hunt must take his bag of vi●…ualles, and cast unto them all the delicates, crying and comforting them as the Art requireth: then when he shall see that they have almost done eating of their reward, he shall give sign or token to his companions that they begin to hallow, the which (having not stirred from the place where they uncoupled their dogs, and (having another budget or pocket full of delicates and dogs dainties) shall begin to hollow on their side, and to blow their horns to make the dogs come unto them: then he which made the first hollow shall threaten them, and a little beat them with a wand crying again, list hollow, hyke hollow, list, list, list. And when the hounds shallbe come unto them, they must reward them with their delicates as the other did, and then after let them couple them up again fair and gently: for if one do roughly handle a young hound at the first coupling, he will not easily come again to the coupling another time. When they are coupled up again, they must lead them to their Kennel, and give them meat, leaving always some bread in their baskets, for such as shallbe of faint appetite, their straw must be changed three or four times in a week at the lest, and the hunt must wreathe wisps upon little sticks, and prick them in the ground to make them piss. It is a thing certain, that if you rub over a wisp or such like thing with Galbanum, all 
To make a hound to piss at one certain place.  your hounds will not fail to come and piss against it: and if perchance there be no fountain nor brook within the court of your Kennel, then must you put their water in troughs of stone or of wood as I have rehearsed before, the which must be changed and refreshed every day twice. Also in extreme heat, Hounds are oftentimes cumbered with louse, fleas, and other vermin and filthy things, and for remedy thereof you must wash them once a week in a bath made with herbs, as followeth.  
First you must have a great kettle holding ten great pots or small buckettes full of water, then take ten good stalks of an herb called Veruyne, and wild Cresseyes, and as much of the leaves of Sorrel, Marjoram, Sage, Rosemary, and rue, and let them boil well altogethers, casting amongst them two handful of Salt: then when all is well boiled togethers, and that the herbs be well consumed therein, you shall take them from the fire, and let them cool until the water be no more than lukewarm, and therewith wash and bathe your dogs one after another rubbing them softly with your wisps. And all these things are best to be done in great heats, thrice in a week at the lest also sometimes when whelps are lately brought from their nurses out of the villages, they will dread the waters and dare not adventure to pass through rivers, pools, etc. To help this the hunt must choose out warm and hot days, in the which about noon, he shall couple up all his hounds, and lead them to the side of some river or pool, and put of all his clotheses: then shall he take them one after another, and carry them a good way into the river to learn them to swim and abide the water: when he hath done this two or three times, he shall see that his hounds will not fear the water, nor will make any difficulty to pass or swim through the rivers and ponds. And in this manner good hunts shall use their hounds, for if they observe all these things above rehearsed, it is not possible but that their hounds shallbe well entered and ordered. And oftentimes it happeveth that hounds do hunt and chase in the rain and frost and other grievous weather, or else do enforce themselves to pass and swim through rivers and pools, when they do so, the Hunt aught to make them a good fire, and to rub and dry them, and when they be dry he should frotte and rub their bellies, to take of the dirt and clay which may hung thereupon, for if they go to kene●… wet and moiled with dirt, they should be in danger to marfounder and to become mangy: oftentimes also in running through the hard champagne, or stony ground, they surbate and beblister their feet, and to help that, the Hunt must first wash their feet with water and Salt, then take the yolks of eggs & heat them well with vinegar and the juice of an herb growing upon the rocks, and called Mouseare, then take pitch bruised to powder and mingle it with twice asmuch soot, and after put your said powder amongst the eggs and ●…yce of herbs afore said, making them all hot together and always stirring them, and you must take good heed that you overheate it not, because the moisture might so be consumed and the substance of the eggs would wax hard, which would mar all, but 〈◊〉 shallbe sufficient to heat it until it be somewhat more than lukewarm, and herewithal shall you rabbe every night the feet and folds between the claws of your hounds with a linen clout. I will stand no longer upon this point, hoping to speak thereof more amply in the treaty of receiptes.   

How a man should enter his young hounds to hunt the Heart, and of the quaries and rewards that he shall give them. Chap. 14.  
 
WHen the hunt hath taught his hounds to know and believe the hollow, and the sound of his horn, than the galloppers, prickers, and huntsmen on horseback seeing their hounds strong enough and about seventeen or eighteen months old, shall then begin to enter and to teach them, and they shall have them a field but once a week at the most, for fear lest they should mar them, for hounds are never sufficiently knit in their joints and members until they be two years old at the lest: and above all things whosoever would hunt the Heart at force, must understand three secrets. The first is that he never accustom his houdes to run a Hind, nor give them any quarry or reward thereof, because there is difference between the scent of a Heart and a Hind, as you may see by experience that hounds do oftentimes single that one from that other and yet hounds are of such nature that the first beast which a man doth enter them at, and that they first take pleasure in, and have been therewith rewarded, they do always remember it most, and thereby you may be sure that if you give them rewards or bring them to the quarry of a Hind, they would desire it more than the Heart. The second secret is, that it is not good to enter young hounds within a toil, for there a Heart doth nothing but turn and cast about, since he cannot run endlong, when the hounds are in manner always in sight of him, and if afterwards you should run a Heart (with dogs so entered) at force, and out of a toil, and that the Heart took endlong, eloygning himself from the hounds, they would quickly give him over: and yet there is another thing which doth more hurt unto such hounds as are entered into a toil, for if a Heart do turn two or three times before them, they take aswell the country, as the right track, breaking their course, & putting themselves out of breath, and neither learn to hunt nor to quest, nor to do any other thing but raise up their heads still to see the Harte. The third secret is that you enter not your hounds, nor begin to teach them in the morn●…ng if you can choose, for if a man do first accustom them to the fresh of the morning, if afterwards they chance to hunt in the heat of the day, they will quickly give over, but you may enter them and reward them in this manner. first you aught to have regard that the Heart be in prime of grease, because than he cannot so easily convey himself nor eloygne himself before the hounds, as he would do in May or in April, because they are heavier then, and cannot stand up so long, then may you choose out a Forest wherein the Relays be of equal proportion, and for your purpose, after place all your young hounds together with four or five old hounds to enter them. And then lead them to the furthest and last Relaye, and 'cause the Heart to be hunted unto them, with some good kennel of hounds which may keep him from resting or staying by the way, to the end that when he shallbe arrived and come unto them, and waxeth now weary and almost spent, you may then uncouple your old Hounds first, and when they have well beaten and found the track or sent of the Heart, being well entered in cry, you may also uncouple your young hounds, and hollow them in to the old hounds, and you must have three good prickers, or Huntesinen on horseback at the lest, to the end that if there be any young hound which would carry or hung behind, being opinionate or musing and plodding by himself, the Horsemen may beat him well and make him come in to the rest: and you shall understand that in what place soever you kill the Heart, you aught to slay his neck, and to reward your hounds therewith upon the grass all hot as it is, for so it shallbe much better and more delicate and profitable for your hounds, than when it is cold: you may also reward them in another manner. Take a Heart in nets or stalls, and cleave or split one of his forefeet from the twist of the cleas, unto the joint of the foot, or else cut off one of his feet or cleas altogether, afterwards untangle him out of the net or stall and let him go, a quarter of an hour after, you may bring all your young hounds and assemble them together, then take your Bloudhoundes and with them find out the view or Slotte of the Heart or Buck, and follow them wi●…h your young Hounds, and when you have followed them a crossbow shoot, you may then hallow and blow for your young 〈◊〉 that done you may uncouple your young hounds from the old, that the old hounds may first lead them: and you must have good prickers and huntesmen on horseback in the tail of them to make them hold in and close. Yet another way to bring your hounds to quarry and to reward them, you must have four or six huntsmen that be good and swift of foot, for else they may rather hinder than further the hounds, and to every one of these you may give two couple of hounds to lead in liames, and when the hounds have unlodged the Heart, they may go fair and softly, and not weary their young hounds before the cry: then when they shall perceive that the Heart hath run two good hours, and that he beginneth to sink before the hounds, they may cast of their young hounds, but they aught to have good regard that they cast them not of when he is at Bay: especially when his head is full sommed, for in that fury he would endanger them or kill them. Mine opinion is that the best entering of hounds is at the Hare, for that is their very best beginning, for as much as thereby they shall learn all doubles, and turns, as likewise to know and to come to the hallow, and also they become very tender nosed and perfect of sent by accustoming the beaten ways and champaygne Countries, and afterwards when a man would enter or teach them to the Heart, they will quickly forget and abandon the Hare. Here must be noted that all hounds aught to be well acquainted with their prickers or Huntesmen on Horseback which shall follow them, and therefore it is requisite that when the Huntesmen shall give them reward, and that they make the Ouarrie, the prickers and Huntesmen on horseback be there present to make much of them, & to speak to them, to the end that they may the better understand and know them.   


The Preface pronounced by the Hart.  

I Am the Heart, by Greeks surnamed so,  
Because my head, doth with their terms agreed,  
For stately shape, few such on earth do go,  
So that by right, they have so termed me.  
For. King's delight, it seems I was ordained  
Whose Huntsmen yet, pursu eme day by day●…,  
In Forest, chase, ●…nd Park, I am constrained  
Before their Hounds, to wander many away.  
Wherefore who list, to learn the perfect trade,  
Of Venery: and therewithal would know,  
What properties, and virtues nature made,  
In one (poor heart, o harmless heart) to grow,  
Let him give ear, to skilful Try strams lore,  
To Phoebus, Fowylloux and many more.    

Of the virtue and properties of the Heart. Chap. 15.  
THere is a bone found in the heart of an Heart, the which is very medecinable against the trembling of the heart, and especially for women great with child.  
2 Again take the pissell of an Heart and temper it in vinegar the space of four and twenty hours, and afterwards dry it, than beat it into powder, and drink the weight of a French crown thereof in Plantine water, and it shall heal either man or woman of the bloody flux.  
3 Likewise take a Hearts head when it is half shot out, & is yet bloody, & cut it in small morselles, and put it in a great viol or glass, then take the juice of an herb called Tutsome, and the juice of another herb called Spanish pepper or otherwise Cassis, afterwards you shall put the juice of all these herbs to the gobbets of the Hearts head, and lute and stop very close your viol or glass, suffering all these drugs to stand together the space of two days: that done, you shall distill them in a Limbeck of glass, and the water that cometh thereof willbe excellent against all venoms or poisons, aswell of the bitings of Serpents as others.  
4 Also the Hearts horn burnt and beaten into powder will kill worms both within the body and without, and will drive Serpents out of their holes and dens: the gatherbagge, or mugwet of a young Heart when it is in the Hinds belly, is very medicinable also against the biting of Serpents.  
5 The marrow or grease of an Heart is very good for the Gout proceeding of a cold cause, melting it and rubbing the place (where the pain is) therewith. Also the Hart first taught us to find the herb called Dyctamus, for when he is strike with an arrow or dart, he seeketh out that herb and eateth thereof, the which maketh the dart or arrow to fall out, and heals him immediately.    

Of the Nature and Subtleties of Hearts. Chap. 16.  
ISodore sayeth that the Heart is right contrary to the Serpent, and that when he is old, decrepyte, and sick, that he goeth to the dens and caves of Serpents, and with his nostrils he puffeth and forceth his breath into their holes, in such fort, that by virtue and force thereof he constreyneth the Serpents to come forth, and being come forth, he killeth them with his foot, and afterwards eateth and devoureth them. afterward he goeth to drink, and so the venom spreadeth through all the veins of his body, and when he feeleth the venom work, he runneth to chafe and heat himself, immediately he beginneth to void and purge himself, in such sort that nothing remaineth in his belly, coming forth by all the conduits and pores that nature hath made in him. And by this mean he renueth his force, and heals himself, casting his hair.  
When the Hearts pass the great rivers or some arm of the Sea, to go to Rut in some I'll or Forest, they assemble themselves in great herds, and knowing which of them is strongest and best swimmer, they make him go foremost: and then he which cometh next him, stayeth up his head upon the back of the first, and the third upon the back of the second, and consequently all the rest do in like manner, even unto the last, to the end that the one may relieve the other, and when the first is weary, another taketh his place.  
Plynie sayeth, that they can endure to swim thirty miles endways, and that he hath seen experience thereof in the isle of Cypress, from whence they go commonly unto the isle of Cylice, the which is thirty miles distant. Yea and he sayeth, that they have the vent and sent of the Rut from the one I'll to the other. To speak a truth, I have seen some hunted in Forestes adjoining to the Sea, which have been so sore hunted, that they launched into the Sea, and have been killed by fyshermen ten miles from the shore.  
The Hart doth marvel and is astonied when he heareth one call or whistle in his fist. And for proof, when you see an Hart 〈◊〉 before you in the day time, and that he be in the plain, call after hint saying, aware ware, or, take heed, and you shall see him turn back for doubt of the voice which he herded. He louet●… to hear Instruments, and assureth himself when he heareth a Flute or any other sweet noise. He heareth very perfectly when his head and his ears are set upright, but when he holdeth them down, he heareth not so well. When he is on foot and is not afraid, he marveleth at all things which he seethe, and taketh pleasure to gaze at them, as a Carter and his Cart, or any beast laden with any thing. Plynie saith, that an Hearts age is known by his teeth, by his feet, and by his head, as I will declare hereafter in the treatise of judgement of the Hart. Furthermore he saith, that the Antlier and croches of a Heart do multiply from the first head that he beareth, until he be seven years old, and that afterwards they multiply not but only in greatness, and that also according to the rest and good feeding, or the stirring that they shall have. They bear sometimes more and sometimes fewer croches, and that is the reason that men have judged a Hart of ten, as sometimes have been seen. Furthermore he saith that the first head which an Hart beareth, is dedicated and given to Nature, and that the four Elements do every of them take therein a portion. Isodore is of an other opinion saying, that the Hart doth bury and hide his first head in the earth, in such sort that a man shall hardly find it. And to speak a truth, I could never find any that were mewed or cast by their own accord, nevertheless I have seen one that said he had seen them, but therein I report me to that which may be thought. The Hart hath a property, that if he go to feed in a young spring or coppice, he goeth first to seek the wind, that he may find if there be any person in the coppice which may interrupt him. And if any man take a little bough, branch, or leaf, and piss or spit upon it, if he leave it in the spring or coppice where the Heart should feed, he will not fail to find it out, and then he will feed no more in that place. Plynie saith, that when the Hart is forced with hounds, his last refuge is to come about houses unto a man, unto whom he had rather yield himself than unto the hounds, having knowledge & understanding what things be most contrary and hateful unto him, the which I have seen by experience, that an Hind being ready to calf, hath rather avoided and eschewed the way and place where dogs did resort, than whereas men were accustomed to be, as also when she would conceive, she attendeth until the Star called Arcture be raised, and carrieth her calf eight or nine months, the which are calved in May commonly, although I have seen some fall later, according to the nurture and age of the Hind. There are some Hinds which have two Calves at once, and before she calueth, she purgeth her with the herb called Tragonce, and after that she hath calved, she eateth up the skin wherein the Calf did lie. Plynie saith moreover, that if a man take the Hind immediately after she have calved, he should find a stone in her body the which she hath eaten or swallowed to make her calf with more ease, the which stone should be very requisite and profitable for women that are with child. When the Hinds calf is great, she teacheth it to run, and to leap, and the coast that it must keep to defend itself from the hounds. The Hearts and Hinds may live an hundredth years, according to Phoebus saying. And we find in ancient historiographers, that an Heart was taken, a having collar about his neck full three hundredth years after the death of Cesar, in which collar Caesar's arms were engraved, and a mot written, saying, 〈◊〉 me fecit. Whereupon the Latin Proverb came, which says, Ceruin●…s annos vivere.   

Of the Rut and vault of Hearts. Chap. 17.  
 
Hearts do commonly begin to Uault about the midst of September, and their Rut doth continued about two months, and the older that they be, the hotter they are, and the better beloved of the Hinds. The old Hearts go sooner to Uault than the young, and they are so fierce and so proud, that until they have accomplished their lust, the young Hearts dare not come near them, for if they do, they beat them and drive them away. The young Deer have a marvelous craft and malice, for when they perceive that the old Hearts are weary of the Rut and weakened in force, they run upon them, and either hurt or kill them, causing them to abandon the Rut, and then they remain masters in their places. Hearts do much sooner kill each other when there is scarcity of Hinds, for if there be Hinds plenty, than they separate themselves one from another, and hide themselves in one place or other. It is a pleasure, to behold them when they go to Rutte and make their vault. For when they smell the Hind, they raise their nose up into the air, and look aloft, as though they gave thanks to nature which gave them so great delight. And if it be a great Hart, he will turn his head, and will look if there be none other near to annoy or interrupt him. Then the young dear being not able to abide them, and seeing them make such countenances, will withdraw themselves from them and run away. But if there be any of equal bigness, they begin then both of them to vault, and to scrape the ground with their fecte, shocking and butting one against another, in such sort, that you shall hear their blows of their heads a good half mile of, so long, till he which is master do chase away the other. The Hind beholding this pastime, doth never remove from her place, than he which hath the mastery, will begin to vault, and to bellow, casting himself with a full leap upon the Hind to cover her, and that quickly. They are very easy to be killed at such times, for they follow the paths & ways where the Hinds have go, putting their nose to the ground to follow by the sent, and never look nor vent whether any man be there abouts which may annoy them or not. During the time of their Rut they live with small sustenance, for they feed only of such things as they see before them, & rather regard the track of the Hinds. Their chief meat is the read Mushroom or Todestoole which helpeth well to make them piss their grease, they are then in so vehement heat, that every where as they pass and find waters, they tumble and lie therein, and sometimes for despite, they thrust their heads into the earth, a man may easily know the old Hart from the young, by hearing him when he belloweth. For the elder they be, the greater and more roaring their voice is. Also thereby you may know if they have been chased and hunted or not, for if they have been hunted or be afraid of any thing, they put their mouth against the ground and bellow softly, and yet with a great voice, the which the Hearts which are at rest neu●…r do. For they raise up their heads bellowing and braying aloud & without dread.   

In what season the Hearts mewe and take them to the thickets. Chap. 18.  
IN February and March, the Hart meweth and casts his head, and commonly the old Hart much sooner than the young. But if there be any which have been hurt at Rut or by any other mean, than nature is not so strong in him to help him. For all his substance and nurture can not suffice to heal him, and to drive out his head, by reason of the hurt which he hath. So are there some which losing their stones or pyssels at Rut or otherwise, do never mewe. For you must understand that if you geld an Hart before he have an head, he will never bear head. And on that other side, if you geld him when he hath his head or antlier, he will never cast or mewe it: In like manner, if you geld him when he hath a velvet head, for it will remain so always, and neither fray nor burnish. This giveth us to understand, that there is great virtue in the stones, for through their occasion oftentimes many men which bear heads of a goodly beam, do yet never mew nor cast them. When the Hearts have mewed or cast their heads, they begin then to withdraw themselves, and to betake them to the thicket, hiding themselves in some fair place where there is some good feed and water, upon the border of some field, to the end they may go to some piece of wheat, pease, or such like lusty feed. And you shall note, that young Hearts do never betake themselves unto the thickets, until they have born their third head, which is in their fourth year, and then they may be judged Hearts of ten, but very yongly. As also the Boars do never forsake their routs, until their third year, because they have not the courage, nor their tusks and arms are not yet sufficient to defend them.  
After the Hearts have mewed, they begin in the months of March and Apryll to thrust out their buttones, and as the Sun doth rise in his circle or course, and that their feed doth increase and wax hard, their heads in like manner and their venysone do grow and augment, and by the midst of june, their heads will be somed of as much as they will bear all that year, at lest if they be in a good corn country or where good feed is, and have no hindrance nor disquiet, and accordingly as the season of the year doth increase the crop of the earth, even ●…o will their heads increase in all respects.   

What is the cause that Hearts do hide themselves when they have mewed. Chap. 19  
Hearts do hide themselves when they have mewed for divers reasons. First because they are lean and wcake, by reason of the winter past, having no force to defend themselves. And also because they begin then to find feeding, & then they take their ease to restore their flesh and force. Another reason is, that they have lost their weapons of defence, the which be their heads, and dare not show themselves as well for fear of other beasts, as also for shame that they have, to have lost their strength and beauty. And also you shall see by experience, that if (in a corn field or pasture where an Hart feedeth after he have mewed) there be any Pies or jays, or such birds which chatter at them and discover them, they will straight way return unto their thicket, to hide themselves for the shaine and fear that they have. And you shall understand they will not leave their thicket (unless men do stir and remove them) until the end of August, when they begin to wax hot, and to hunt after the Hinds. When the Hearts that are in covert, do perceive that their heads do begin to dry, (which is about the. xxii. of july) than they discover themselves, going unto the trees to fray their heads, and to 〈◊〉 of the velnet.  
And when they have frayed their heads, they then do burnish their heads, some against coal heaps, some other against metal places, some in clay and other commodious things and places to do it in. Some bear read heads, some black, and some white, all which colour proceed of nature and of none other thing: for it should be very hard for the dust or powder of coals, or any such like thing to give them colour. The read heads are commonly greater and fairer than the rest, for they are commonly fuller of marrow and lighter: the black heads are heavier, and have not so much marrow in them: the white are the very worst and the worst nourished. All this I have known by experience of crossbow makers and makers of harquebuses, which put it often in their work, who have told me that the least black heads which come from the Scots or wild Irish (whereof men bring great number to Rochel to cell) are much heavier than those which we have here in France, for they have not so much marrow in them, although there is a Forest in Poictou called the Forest of Merevant, in which the Hearts bear small black heads, which have but little marrow in them, and are almost like to them of Ireland. There is another Forest about four leagues from thence called Chyssay, in the which the Hearts bear heads clean contrary, for they are great, red, and full of marrow, and are very light when they are dry. All these things I have thought good here to allege, to let you know that Hearts bear their heads according to the pasture and feed of the country where they are bread, for the Forest of Merevant is altogether in Mountains, vales and Caves, whereas their feed is dry, lean, and of small substance. On that other side, the Forest of Chyssay, is in a plain country, environed with all good pasture and corn grounds, as wheat, peason, and such, whereupon they take good nurture: which is the cause that their heads become so fair and well spread.   

Of the coats and colour of Hearts. Chap. 20.  
 
Hearts are of three sundry sorts of co●…, that is to say, brown, fallow, and read. And of enerie of these coats there proceed two sorts of Hearts. The one are great, and the other little. First of the brown Hearts there be some great, long, and side haired, which bear a very high head, red of colour, fair, and well beamed, which stand up long before hounds. For all long shaped Hearts have longer breath, and are swifter of body, than the short proportioned are. The other kind of brown Hearts are little, thick set, and short. Which bear commonly a black main, and become fatter venison and more delicate than the others, because they do more commonly keep in young springs & Coppises, than in the high woods. These kinds of Hearts are crafty, hiding themselves, because when they are in grease, they doubt to be found. For as much as th●…ir body will not endure to stand long before the hounds: So make they their feed very short, and bear their heads low and wide in sunder. And if they be old and feed in good ground, then are their heads black, fair, and well branched, and commonly paumed at the top. The other Hearts which are of a fallow coat, do bear their heads high, and white of colour: Whereof the beams are very small, and the Antliers long, slender, and ill grown, principally of that sort of fallow which draw upon the whitish dun hair. So also have they neither heart, courage, nor fort. But those which are of a lively red fallow, which have lightly a little black or brown list upon the ridge of their back, and their legs of the same colour, being long, and side, those be very strong, bearing fair and high heads, well furnished and beamed, having all the other marks or tokens which I will hereafter declare. Then the Hearts which are of a lively red hair, are commonly young Hearts. That sort of coated Hearts, should not greatly rejoice the huntsmen on horseback, because they stand up long, and are of very good breath.   

Of the heads and branches of Hearts, and of their diversities. Chap. 21.  
Hearts bear their heads in divers sorts and manners, some well grown, some other ill grown and worse spread, some other again counterfeit, and all this according to the age, country, feed and rest that they have, and you must note, that they bear not their first head which we call broochs (in a fallow Dear pricks) until they enter the second year of their age. In the third year of their age, they aught to bear four, six, or eight small branches, at their fourth year they bear eight or ten, at five, ten or twelve, at six, twelve, fourteen, or sixteen: and at their seventh year, they bear their heads beamed, branched, and somed with as much as ever they will bear, and do never multiply therein but only in greatness, and according to the feed and rest that they shall have. After they have once accomplished their seventh year, they will bear marks on their heads, sometimes more, and sometimes less, although men shall always know the old Hearts by these tokens which follow.  

1 First when the compass of the Burr is large and great, well pearled, and near unto the moisture of the head.  
2 Secondly, when the beam is great, burnished, and well pearled, being straight and not made crooked by the Antlyers.  
3 Thirdly, when the gutters therein are great and deep.  
4 Also if the first Antlier (which Phoebus calleth and termeth Antoiller) is great, long, and near to the Burr, the Surantlier near unto the Antlier the which aught a little to enlarge itself some what more from the beam than the first, and yet it should not be to long, and they aught to be both well pearled, all these things betoken an old Harte.  
5 Also the rest of the branches or horns which are higher, being well ordered and set, and well grown according to the bigness and proportion of the head, and the croches, palm, or crown being great and large according to the bigness of the beam, are tokens of an old Hart: and if the croches which are somed aloft, do double together in the crown or palm, it is a sign of a great old Hart.  
6 Also when Hearts have their heads large and open, it signifieth that they are old, rather than when they are crooked and close bowed. And because many men can not understand the names and diversities of heads according to the terms of hunting, I have thought good here to 'cause them to be portrayed and set forth with little explycations, to specify the name of every branch or part, as here under is declared.   
The thing that beareth the Antliers, Royals, and tops, aught to be called the beam, and the little cliffs or streaks therein are called gutters.  
That which is about the crust of the beam is termed pearls, and that which is about the burr itself in form of little pearls, is called pearls bigger than the rest.  
A. This is called the Burr, and that which is about the Burr, is called pearls. B. This first is called Antlier. C. The second Surantlier. D. All the rest which grow afterwards, until you come to the crown, palm, or croche, are called Royals & Surroyals. E. These little buds or broochs which are about the top, are called croches.  
This head should be called a Crowned top, because the croches which are placed and grown about the height thereof, are ranged in form of a Crown, although there are but few such seen now adays, unless it be in high Almain, or in moscovy.  
This head should be called a palmed top, because the croches which grow in the top, are form like unto a man's hand, and therefore it is to be called a palm top.  
ALl heads which bear not above three or four, the croches being placed aloft all of one height in form of a cluster of pears or of nuts, are to be called heads of so many croches.  
ALl heads which bear 〈◊〉 in the top, or having their croches doubling in manner as these are here portrayed, are to be called forked heads, because the croches are planted on the top of the beams like unto forks.  
ALl heads which have double Burrs, or the Antlyers, Royals, and croches tumed downwards contrary to the fashion of other heads, as you may see by this present portraiture, or such like other fashions, are to be called heads only.   


The Blazon pronounced by the Huntsman.  
 

I Am the hunt, which rathe and early rise,  
(My bottle filled, with wine in any wise)  
Two draughts I drink, to stay my steps withal,  
For each foot one, because I would not fall.  
Then take my Hound, in liam me behind,  
The stately Heart, in frith or fallen to find.  
And while I seek his slot where he hath fed,  
The sweet birds sing, to cheer my drowsy head.  
And when my Hound, doth strain upon good vent,  
I must confess, the same doth me content.  
But when I have, my coverts walked about,  
And harboured fast, the Heart for coming out:  
Then I return, to make a grave report,  
Whereas I find, th' assembly doth resort.  
And low I crouch, before the Lordings all,  
Out of my Horn, the fewmets let I fall,  
And other signs, and tokens do I tell,  
To make them hope, the Heart may like them well.  
Then they command, that I the wine should taste,  
So bids mine Art: and so my throat I baste.  
The dinner done, I go straightway again,  
Unto my marks, and show my Master plain.  
Then put my Hound, upon the view to draw,  
And rouse the Heart, out of his layre by law.  
O gamesters all, a little by your leave,  
Can you such joys in trifling games conceive?    

Of the knowledge and judgement which the Huntsman may take, to know an old Harte.  

The judgement of the Slot.  
The judgement of the ports and entries.  
The judgement of the Abatures and foylles.  
The judgement by the fewmets.  
The judgement by his gate and walks.  
The judgement by an Heart's frayingstocks.   
The which I will declare in chapters following, beginning first with the judgement of the Slot or view.   

The judgement and knowledge by the Slot of an Heart. Chap. 22.  
 
OLd Hearts leave commonly the blemishes & tokens which follow. First you must look upon the treading of his foot which must be great & long, and mark that if you found together the footing●… of two 〈◊〉, of the which that one hath 〈◊〉 long Slot, & that other a round, and that they be both in judgement of one bigness, yet the long Slot shallbe judged for the greater Heart than the round, for without all doubt his body will show itself bigger than the other: then must you look to 〈◊〉 heel which must be great & large, and the little cliff or slit which is in themidst thereof and separateth the two claws, must be large & wide open, the leg great, the bones short, thick, & not sharp, the toes round and great: commonly the great old Hearts 〈◊〉 low jointed, and do never tread double or 〈◊〉, because the Sinews which hold the joints of their feet and claws, are 〈◊〉 renforced, and do better hold tack with the weight of their body, than the young Hearts do, for their 〈◊〉 and joints are weak, and are not yet come to their force: and therefore they are not able to sustain the weight of their bodies, in such sort that sometimes the foot and the claws are forced to tread awry and to double, and thereby you may judge them young Hearts. Furthermore the old Hearts when they walk, do never overreach the forefoote with the hinderfoote, but tread short of it by four finger's breadth at the lest, the which the young Hearts do not, for in their gate the hinder foot overreacheth the forefoote, like unto a Mule or Hackney which ambleth: hollow footed Hearts (if 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 be not contrary) may be judged old Hearts: they which have an high and soft pace, in places where there are not many stones, are judged thereby to be strong, and that they have not been much run nor chased. And here you must understand, that there is great difference between the iudgementes●… of an hearts Slot, and of an Hind: Nevertheless when the Hinds be with Calf, a young hunter might soon be beguiled, because they open their claws wide like unto an Heart, by reason of the weightiness of their bodies, and yet the differences are apparent. For if you mark the heel of an Hind you shall per●… that there is no Heart of the second head so young, which leaveth not a greater and wider slotte than she doth, and therewithal the bones will appear greater also: herewithal, Hinds 〈◊〉 commonly their foot long, straight, and hollow, with little sharp cutting bones, otherwise also you may judge the Hind by her feed, because she croppeth the springs round like an 〈◊〉 and feedeth greedily: and contrarily the Heart of ten doth take it delicately, breaking it of endways to have the liquor as sweetly and tenderly as he may. And here let the Hunter mark one secret point, which is: when he is in the wood and shall find the slot of an Heart, let him first mark what manner of Slotte or footing it is, whether it be a worn footing or a sharp cutting foot, then let him mark the Country and Forest wherein he is, for he may judge in himself whether it be by occasion of the Country or not, for asmuch as commonly the Hearts bred in the mountains and stony places, have their toes and edges or sides of their feet much worn: the reason is, because in climbing of the Mountains, they stay only upon their toes and edges or sides of their feet, and not upon the heel, the which toes the Rocks and stones do wear continually: and so peradventure the slot might make it seem an older Heart than it is. Now in sandy countries it is contrary, for there the Hearts do stay more upon their heel than upon the toes, the reason is, that leaning or staying their feet upon the sand, it flieth and slippeth away from under the toes because of the weight: for the claw which is hard, maketh it slide, and then the Heart is constrained to stay himself upon his heel, which maketh it sometimes to grow the brother and greater. All these tokens are the true significations and marks whereby the Huntsman may know and perceive the age of the Heart. I would also have declared willingly to such as are but learners, what the heel, the toe, the bone, and other things do mean. But I see now adays so many which understand all those things, that I hold my peace for brevity.    

Of the judgement and knowledge by the fewmishing of a dear, and of the ten in the top, and of old hearts. Cap. 23.  
IN the months of May and April, men may begin to judge an old heart by the fumishing, the which they make in broad croteys: and if they be great, large, and thick, it is a sign that they are hearts of ten.  
In the month of June, & July they will commonly make their fumishing in great croteys very soft, & yet nevertheless there are some will make them broad until it be mid June.  
And from mid July until the end of August they make their fewmishing altogether formie, great, long, knotty, well knodde, anointed, and gilded, letting fall but few of them, the which they should let fall scattered without cleaving one to another, and without little pricks at the one end, and you must mark whether they be very fat and whether the Heart have been in the corn or not.  
And these be the marks or tokens by the fewmishing of an Heart of ten, & of old Hearts, although men may be deceived oftentimes: for if the Hearts have had any disturbance, or hau●… been hurt, than they make their fewmet oftentimes dry, burned and sharp at that one end, especially at such time as they fray their heads: but after they have frayed and burnished, their fewmet will lightly return to the natural course: in such case the Huntsman aught well to mark because the marks to sudge by are doubtful. In September and October there is no longer judgement to be had because of the Rut, and you must understand that there is difference between the fewmet of the morning & that of the evening, because the fewmishing which an Heart maketh when he goeth to relief at night, are better digested and moister, than those which he maketh in the morning, because the Heart hath taken his rest all the day, and hath had time and ease to make perfect digestion and fewmet, whereas contrarily it is seen in the fewmishing which is made in the morning, because of the exercise without rest which he made in the night to go seek his feed.   

Of the judgement of the breach or bearing down of the Spring or Boughs. Chap. 24.  
THe Huntsman may take knowledge and judge of the head of the Heart by the breach or bearing down of the boughs and branches, all the year long, excepting four months, which are March, April, May, and June, in which time they mewe their heads, and bear their velvet and bloody heads: and therefore in that season there is no great judgement to be had: but when their heads begin to harden, you may judge by the bearing down or breaking of the branches & boughs, until they have mewed again, for asmuch as when they enter into the thickets, they lift up their heads and fear not to break & bear down the branches, & thereby the huntsman may take knowledge: but when the Ha●…tes have soft heads or in blood, you can take small judgement because they couch their heads low and flat upon their back for fear lest they should knock them against the boughs, and so hurt them. When the Huntsman shall see that the Heart hath his head hard and soomed, and that judgement may be given by the entries where they go into the thickets, let him then look well thereunto, and especially in great springs, which have not been felled in eight or ten years before, and he shall see therein by the paths which the Hearts do make, that the branches and boughs are bowed and broken or born down on both sides, and by marking the breadth of the said entry, he may judge whether it were a broad open head or not: and if there be any place of thick where the Heart hath raised his head upright altogether, or that he stayed to hearken (for lightly when they hearken, they raise their heads and set up their ears) then may the Huntsman find percase some broken branches, or some bruised boughs, whereby he may judge the length and height of the beam, & the height of the Hearts head.   

Of the judgement of the gate and going of an Heart. Chap. 25.  
BY the gate & going of an Heart the Huntsman may know if he be great and long & whether he will stand long up before his hounds or not: for all Hearts which have a long step or pace, will longer stand up than they which have a short step, & also they are swifter, lighter, & better breathed: also the Hart which leaveth a great Slotte of his forefoote, doth never stand long up when he is chased. By these tokens the Huntsman may know the force of the Heart, and take the advantage for his hounds: and again a Heart which hath a long foot hath a greater body than they which are round footed.   

Of the judgement of the Abatures and beating down of the low twigs and the foils. Chap. 26.  
IF you will know whether an Heart be high or not, and likewise the greatness and thickness of his body, you must look where he entereth into a thicket amongst the fearnes and small twigs the which he hath overstridden, and mark thereby the height of his belly from the ground, which you shall perceive by the height of the brakes or twigs which he hath born down. His greatness is known by the sides of the brakes or twigs where his body hath passed for it is hard if you find not some dry broken sticks or such like whereby you may measure his greatness.   

The judgement to be taken by the places where he frayeth. Cap. 27.  
 
Commonly the old Hearts do fray their heads upon the young trees which men leave growing in springs: and the elder that an Hart is, the sooner he goeth to fray, and the greater tree he seeketh to fray upon, and such as he may not bend with his head: and when the Huntsman hath found his frayingstocke, he must mark the height where the end of his croches or palm hath reached, and where the branches shall be broken or bruised: and thereby he shall know and judge the height of the Hearts head, and if he do perceive that at the highest of his fraying there be four marks bruised at one's and of one height, it is likely that the same Heart beareth a crowned top, or croched at the lest. In like manner if you see that three antliers have touched three branches of one height, and two other that have left their marks somewhat lower, it is a token that he beareth a paulmed head. Although these tokens be very obscure and a man must have a good eye that will take judgement by the little small twigs and leaves, nevertheless you shall see sometimes that the old Hearts do fray upon small trees, as black Sallow and such like, aswell as the young Hearts, but young Hearts do never fray upon great trees, unless they be Hearts of ten. I will stand no longer hereupon because there be other more certain tokens and judgements hereunder mentioned.   

How the Huntsman aught to seek the Heart in his feeding places according to the months and seasons. Chap. 28.  
HEre will I give precepts to all Huntesmen leading their bloudhoundes with them in the Forests, how they shall govern themselves according to the months & seasons, for Hearts do change their manner of feeding every month, and as the Sun rises in altitude, & that thereby good pasturage and feed increaseth, so make they change of their feed. I will first begin at the end of their Rutte which is in the end of October, following orderly from month to month until I return about the month of September.  
And therefore in the month of November you shall ●…eke the heart in heaths and broomie places, whereof they then delight to crop the flowers and tops because those are hot and of great substance, the which doth restore their nature and recomfort their members, which are sore overweary with Rutte, and sometimes also they remain and lie in such heath and broom, especially when the sun is hot.  
In december they he●… together and withdraw themselves to the strongthe of the forests to have harbour from the cold winds, snows, and frosts, and do feed on the Holm tres, Elder trees, brambles, and briars, and such other things as they can then find green: and if it snow, they feed on the tops of the moss, and pill the trees even as a Goat will do.  
In januarie they leave hearding with rascal, & accompany themselves three or four hearts together, withdrawing themselves into the corners of the forests, and go to the good winter pasture & fog, or to the corn than sprung, as wheat, rye, & such other like.  
In February and March they go to the plumpes and tuftes of Coleworts, or of Hasill nuts or green corn, and in meadows to pigwort, woodbynd, birch, and such like, whereof they crop the tops. And in those two months they mewe and cast their heads, beginning to mark what coast may be most commodious for them to take hold, and to harbour in, until their heads be grown again, and then they part each from other.  
In April and May they rest in their thickets and holds, in the which they remain all that season, and stir not much until the beginning of rut, unless they be stirred against their wills, taking their harbour near unto some pretty springs and coverts, wherein there is much young frytes, and therein they will feed, as likewise also in pease, beans, tars, thetches, lyntelles, and such other Summer corn as they can find near hand: for they will not stray far if they find any feed near to their layre. Some Hearts there be which will venture far to such feed, and will go out therefore but once in two days. And note you well, that some Hearts be so crafty, that they have two lairs wherein they harbour: and when they have been three days on that one side of the forest, they will take an other harbour as long on that other side of the forest. And these be old hearts which have been sore stirred and put from their feed, which change their ●…aire, as the wind changeth to have perfect vent as they come out of their thickets what fault may perhaps be in their feed.  
And you shall also note, that in these Months of April and may, they go not to the soil, by reason of the moisture of the spring, and of the dew which giveth liquor sufficient.  
In June, July, and August they go to the springs and coppises, asbefore, and unto corn, as wheat, oats, rye, barley, and such like as they may found (but seldom to rye or barley) and then are they in their pride of grease. And let men say what they will, they go to the water, and I have seen them drink, but that is more commonly at this time than at any other time of the year, because of their disposition, and also by reason of the great vehement heats which take the dew from the spryngs, when they now begin also to grow hard. In September and October they leave their thickets and go to Rut, and at that time they have neither certain feed, nor layre, as I have before declared in the chapter of Rut.   

How the huntsman should go drawing with his hound in the Springs. Chap. 29.  
Immediately after Supper the Huntsman should go to his master's chamber, and if he serve a king, then let him go to the master of the games chamber, to know his pleasure in what quarter he determineth to hunt the day following, that he may know his own quarter: that done, he may go to bed, to the end he may rise the earlyer in the morning, according to the time and season, and according to the place where he must hunt: then when he is up and ready, let him drink a good draught, and fetch his hound to make him break his fast a little: And let him not forget to fill his bottle with good wine, that done, let him take a little vineyger in the palm of his hand, and put it in the nost●…lls of his hound, for to make him snuff, to the end his scent may be the perfecter, then let him go to the wood. And if he chance by the way to find any hare, partriche, or any other beast or bird that is fearful, living upon seeds or pasturage, it is an evil sign or presage that he shall haveb ut evil pastime that day. But if he find any beast of ravin, living upon pray, as Wolf, Fox, Raven, and such like, that is a token of good luck. He must take good heed that he come not too early into the springs and hewtes where he thinketh that the Heart doth feed and is at relief. For Hearts do go to their layre commonly in the Springs, yea, and though they were drawn into some strong hold or thicket, yet if they be old crafty Dearc, they will return sometimes to the bordure of the coppice, to harken or spy if there be any thing to annoyed them. And if they chance once to vent the huntsman or his hound, they will strait way dislodge from thence and go some other where, especially in the heat of the year. But when the huntsman perceiveth that it is time to begin to beat, let him put his hound before him, and beat the out sides of the Springs or thickets: and if he find of an Heart or Dear that like him, let him mark well whether it be fresh or not, and he may know as well by the manner of his hounds drawing, as also by the eye. For if he mark the paths and tracks where the Heart hath go, he shall see oftentimes the dew beaten of, or the foil fresh, or else the ground somewhat broken or printed a fresh, and such other tokens, as he may judge that the Heart hath go that way lately, and let him never mark the sayings of a meany of dreamers, which say, that when a man findeth copwebbes within the print of the slot, it is a sign that the Heart is go long before. Such people shall soon be deceived: for many times the cobwebs fall from the say, and are not such as Spiders make, but a kind of kell, which as I have seen of experience of an Hart passing by me within one hundredth paces, and I have go to see the slot straight ways, and before I could come at it the copwebbes or kelles were fallen upon it. So is there also another kind of men which mark when the slot is full of clear water in soft grounds, where an Heart hath passed, and say that he is go long before: but they never mark whether the ground be subject unto moisture or not, and yet they may well know, that being subject unto moisture, than the little sources which pass by channels unseen in the earth will soon fill the slot with clear water: which may 'cause a Huntsman to be deceived, and therefore let him look well to it: and also let him not altogether trust unto his hound. For some hounds will also beguile their master, and especially those hounds that are quickest of scent: which are not best for the mornings, because of the rinds and dews, and then they draw but slowly, making small account on their quest, as though the game were go far before them: but when the Sun is well up, and that the dew is cleared, and the sent of the earth is perfect, then have they good sent, and do their duty well. Then to return to our purpose, if the Huntsman find of an Heart which liketh him, that hath passed that way lately, and if his hound stick well upon it, then let him hold his hound short, for fear lest he lapyst: and again, in a morning, a hound shall draw better being held short, than if he were let at length of the Lyam: And yet some Hunters will give them all the Lyam, but they do not well. When he hath well considered what manner of heart it may be, and hath marked every thing to judge by, then let him draw till he come to the covert where he is go to: and let him harbour him if he can, still marking all his tokens as well by the Slot, as by the entries, foyelles, and such like. That done let him plash or bruise down small twigs, some aloft, and some bylowe as the art requireth, and therewithal whilst his hound is hot, let him beat the outsides, and make his ryngwalkes twice or thrice about the wood, one while by the great and open ways, that he may help himself by his eye: another while through the thick and covert, for fear lest his hound should overshoot it, for he shall have better sent always in the covert, than abroad in the high ways. And if he find that the heart be not go out of the ryngwalke, or do doubt that he have drawn amiss, then let him go to his marks which he plashed or shred, and draw counter till he may take up the fewmet, as well made in the evenings relief as in the morning: and let him mark the place where he hath fed, and whereon also to mark his subtleties and crafts, for thereby the huntesmen shall know what he will do when he is before the hounds. For if in the morning he have made any doublings towards the water, or else in his way, then when he beginneth to be spent before the hounds, all the faults, doublings, or subtleties that he will use, shall be in the same places, and like unto those which he hath used in the morning, and thereby the huntsman may take advantage both for his hounds, and for the huntesmen on horseback.  
And if it chance that the huntesmen find two or three places where the Dear hath entered, and as many where he hath comen out, then must he mark well which entry seemeth to be freshest, and whether the places where he came forth again, were not beaten the same night. For an Heart doth oftentimes go in and out of his harbour in the night, especially if it be a crafty old Dear, he will use great subtleties, beating one place divers times to and fro. Then if the huntsman can not find all his goyngs out, & comings in, nor can well tell which of them he were best to trust unto, he must then take his compass and ryngwalke the greater about the covert, so as he may therein enclose all his subtleties, entries, and comings out. And when he seethe that all is compassed within his ryngwalke, excepting only one coming in, whereby he might be come from the springs or feeds, then must he let his hounds draw hardly, and if it be possible, let him draw even to the Hearts layre or harbour, for he may well think that those paths or tracks will bring him to it. And in this manner huntesmen should harbour their dear, but not as many huntesmen do now adays. For if they can not quickly come to the harbour of an Heart, they then will foil the gaps, so to make him harbour, which is oftentimes a cause that they find nothing in their circuits or walks. And some again do trust altogether in their hound. And when they find the slot of an Hart, they will only plash or burst some bought at entry of the thicket, and then go under the wound, and if their hounds do wind any thing, than they never cast about, but trust so unto their hounds winding of it. Such men trust more in their hound, than to their own eyes. And me thinks a good huntsman should never greatly esteem a hound which hangs altogether upon windnig aloft: for he never putteth his nose to the ground, and therefore doth oftentimes beguile his master.   

How the huntsman should seek in the springs, or feed, to find an heart by the eye. Chap. 30.  
 
THe Huntsman aught to look over night in what coast the Dear go to feed: and if it be in a spring, then let him mark which way he may best come in the morning upon a clear wound. And also let him choose some standing in some tree on the border of the spring, from the which he may behold eassly all things that feed therein. In the morning let him rise two hours before day, and go to the covert, and when he is come near to the dears harbroughes, he should leave his hound in some house, or if he have a boy with him, he may leave his hound with the boy, and place him somewhere that he may quickly find him again if he have need of him: then let him go to his tree which he marked over night, and let him get up into it, looking into the spring, and if he espy an Heart which like him, then let him mark what head he beareth, and let him not stir from thence until he see him go to herbrough. Afterwards when he seethe that he is in the thick, he must mark the place whereaboutes he entered, by some little pretty tree or such like thing, that being done he shall come down and go fetch his hound: but here he shall mark one secret: that he go not about to herbor an Heart an hour at lest after he see him go to layre, because sometimes an Heart goeth to layre, at the bordure of the thicket, or else will come back thither to hearken or see it any thing there be which might annoy them, as I have said before: and therefore the Huntsman should not go so soon. And furthermore if in casting about the covert, he hear either Pies, jays, or such birds wondering, then let him withdraw him and stand close, for that is a token that the Heart is yet on foot, and then let him stay half an hour longer before he make his ringwalke. And when he hath well and surely herbored him, he may go back to the assembly and make report thereof, and descyfer the Hearts head which he hath seen, with all other good marks and tokens. And if he have taken up any of the fewmet, he should put them in his horn and bring them also to the assembly.   

How the Huntsman should go to seek an Heart in small groves or hewts, being privily enclosed within the greater springs in the Forests and strong coverts. Cham 31.  
 
Oftentimes the crafty dear which have been in times past run and chased with hounds, do keep long time close & come not out of the strong holds & thickettes, and feed in small privy groves and hewts, which have brne lately felled within the greater coverts: and thus they do most commonly in May & June rather than in any other season of the year: for as much as in those months they go not much to the water, but content themselves with the moisture of the dew and the earth, the which sufficeth them: but in July and August when the wood hardeneth, and the heat is vehement, than they must needs discover themselves and come out of their holds to go unto the water. Nevertheless, in what season soever it be, they cannot hide themselves abou●… four days, but that they must come out of the thickets, and that for sundry causes: whereof one is, that they will go to see where other Dear do lie, by whom they hope to find safeguard: for if they should be hunted they would f●…ee among them for change, that so the hounds might be deceived: or else sometimes they come forth to go to their feed. Nevertheless when they do so, they retire into their holds two or three hours before day. To prevent such crafty and subtle dear, the Huntsman must use this manner: First when he is in a fair thick or covert at the end of a Forest, and chanceth to find the slot of an Heart, being old trodden, as a day or two before, and that the ground is much broken with such old tracks, than he must cast and beat all the outsides: and if perchance he neither find him to have go out nor in, either lately, or of old, then may he well think that he goeth not out, and that he hideth and concealeth himself within the thickes: then let him get him under the wound, and let him go into the thickes, holding his hound short, creeping as secretly as he can: and if he perceive that ●…is hound have any thing in wind, and that by his countenance & gesture it should be like that he is not far●…e from the Heart, then let him withdraw and retire himself for fear lest he rouse him, and let him go in at some other side of the wood where it is not so thick: then if he chance to find any little ●…ewtes or springs privily copsed within the thick, where the Heart may feed by night, he may search it fair and well, and take up the fewmishyngs which he finds. But here must you note one thing, that is, that he may not go into such places, until it be nine of the clock in the morning, because such Hearts do sometimes take herbrough or layre within those little Copisses, to enjoy the comfort of the Sun, and about nine of the clock they withdraw themselves to the shadow for two principal reasons, whereof that one is for fear of the Flies and Horseflies, which would torment him, if he were abroad: the other, for to avoid the vehement heat of the Sun which would be at none days. And the Huntsman must take good heed that he enter not over fast into the thick, for that such Hearts do sometimes take layre very near those privy coppyses, because they are neither feared nor stirred. But it sufficeth for them if they be only in covert. And also in such springs, they come out to feed immediately after six of the clock in the evening: and therefore let the Huntsman be content to have seen the slot fresh and to have taken up the fewmishing: and afterwards let him retire himself as secretly as he can, and never tarry to see or mark the entries, but carry his hound in his arms with him. And when he is far enough from thence, let him counterfeit the Shepherd, or whistle in some pipe, lest the Heart have got him in the wind and so rouse, for if he sing or whistle, he shall enbolden him again. Afterwards he may rest half an hour or more in some place by, to the end that the Heart may be the better assured, and then let him cast about and make his ring. And if perchance he cannot find any fewmishing, and that the place be so thick of grass that he cannot well see the slot, then let him kneel down, having his hound behind him, looking upon the foils and tracks in the leaves and grass, and if they be well strained let him clap his hand upon the slot, and if he find that it be four fingers broad, then may he judge him an Heart of ten by the foils: but if it be but three fingers broad, he shall judge it a young Harte.   

How the Huntsman should seek an Heart in his feeds. Chap. 32.  
 
HEre you must understand that there is difference between springs or coppises, and other feeding places, for we call all pastures, fields, or gardens wh●…rein all sorts of corn and pothcarbes do grow, feedings: and when an Heart doth go to feed in such, we say that he hath been at his feed: then the Huntsman must be stirring carely to go seek the Heart in such places, for as much as the good people of the villages which are about such places do rise by the break of day, to turn their cattle on field. And therefore the Hearts withdraw themselves betimes into their thickes: & also the Cows, Goats, Sheep, & such beasts will break the slot or view where the Heart shall have passed: the which would be an occasion that the Huntsman could not perceive it, neither yet his hound could have sent thereof: and therefore let him in such place be stirring very early.   

How a huntsman shall go to found out an Heart again, when he hath been hunted and lost the night before. Chap. 33.  
 
IT happeneth very often that men fail of killing the Heart at force divers kinds of ways: sometimes by occasion of the great heat, or that they be overtaken with night, and many other kinds of ways which should be tedious to rehearse: when such chance happeneth, you shall thus do. First they which follow the hounds shall cast a mark at the last path or way where they shall fortune to leave the chase: that they may thither return to seek him on the morrow by the break of the day with the blondhounde and the hounds of the kennel behind them: for when there is occasion to seek an Heart again, you must not tarry for report nor assembly: because it is uncertain if the chase will long continued, nor into what coast he should be go: and therewithal that Hearts which have been hunted, do most commonly run end ways as far as they have force: and then if they find any water or soil, they do stay long time therein: and do so stiffen their joints there with that at their coming out, they cannot go far nor stand up long, and then also they are constrained to take harbour in any place that they may find, so as they may be in covert, and feed as they lie, of such things as they may find about them. When the Huntesmen shall be come unto the place where they left marks over night, they should part in sunder: and he which hath the best hound and most tender nosed, should undertake to draw with him endways in the tracks and ways where he seethe most likelihood, holding his hound short, and yet never fearing to make him lappise or call on: the other Huntesmen aught to take them to the outsides of the coverts alongst by the most commodious places for them to mark, and for their hounds to vent in: and if any of them chance to find where he hath leapt or go, he shall put his hound to it whouping twice, or blowing two motts with his horn, to call in his fellows and to 'cause the rest of the kennel to approach. The rest having herded him, shall straight ways go to him, and look altogether whether it be the Hart which they seek: and if it be, then shall they put thereunto the hound which best desireth to draw or to stick there, and the rest shall part every man a sundry way to the outsides and skirts of the covert: and if they find where he hath go in to some likely covert or grove, then shall they draw their hounds near unto them, and beat cross through it: And if there they renew their slot or view, let them first well consider it whether it be the right or not: but if he which draweth do perceive that it is right, let him blow two motes to call his companions, and to advertise the horsemen that they take heed, because his hound doth make it out better and better: and if he chance to rouse him, or that he found five or six lairs together one after another, let him not think it strange: for Hearts which have been run and spent, do oftentimes make many lairs together: because they cannot well stand on foot to feed, but feed lying: and many young Hunters which understand not the cause are oftentimes beguiled: for when they find so many lairs, they think it should be some heard of dear, that have lyen there: and therefore they aught to look well about them.   

How a Huntsman may seek in the high woods. Chap. 34.  
 
WHen a Huntsman shall seek for a Heart in an high wood, let him first have respect to two things, that is, the season and the thickes or other coverts of the Forest. For if it be in the heat of the y●…are, these horseflies, gnats, and such like, will drive the Dear out of the high wood: and then they disper●…e themselves into little thickets or groves which are near unto good feed. There are Forests of sundry sorts: some be strong of holves of Holme trees. Some other have thick tuft●… of white thorn. And some are environed with springs and coppyses. Wherefore the huntsman must be governed according to the coverts which he finds. For somewhiles Hearts do lie in the tuftes of white Thorn, under some little tree in manner wide open. Sometimes under the great trees in the high woods. And sometimes in the borders or skyrtes of the Forest, in some little groves or Coppyses. And therefore in such great coverts or high woods, a huntsman must make his ring walk great or little, according to the holds. For if a man drive an Heart into the high wood, it will be hard to harbour him or to come near him. And therefore if the huntsman do well, he shall never make report of a Stag or Hart harboured in such places. But I will speak no more of high woods, for me thinks men take such order for high woods now adays, that before many years pass, a huntsman shall not be cumbered with seeking or harbouring an Hart in high woods.  

Of the place where and how an assembly should be made, in the presence of a Prince, or some honourable person.  
 

WHo list (by me) to learn, Assembly for to make,  
For Keysar, King, or comely Queen, for Lord or Lady's sake:  
Or where, and in what sort it should prepared be,  
Mark well my words, and thank me then, for thanks I crave in fee.  
The place should first be pight, on pleasant gladsome green,  
Yet under shade of stately trees, where little sun is seen:  
And near some fountain spring, whose crystal running streams,  
May help to cool the parching heat, ycaught by Phoebus' beams.  
The place appointed thus, it neither shall be clad,  
With Arras nor with Tapystry, such paltry were too bad:  
Ne yet those hot perfumes, whereof proud Courts do smell,  
May once presume in such a place, or Paradise to devil.  
Away with feigned fresh, as broken boughs or leaves,  
Away, away, with forced flowers, ygathred from their greavess:  
This place must of itself, afford such sweet delight,  
And eke such show, as better may content the greedy sight:  
Where sundry sorts of hews, which grow upon the ground,  
May seem (indeed) such Tapystry, as we (by art) have found.  
Where fresh and fragrant flowers, may scorn the courtier's cost,  
Which daubs himself with Syvet, Musk, and many an ointment lost.  
Where sweetest singing birds, may make such melody,  
As Pan, noryet Apollo's art, can sound such harmony.  
Where breath of western winds, may calmly yield content,  
Where cafements need not opened be, where air is never penned.  
Where shade may serve for shrine, and yet the Sun at hand,  
Where beauty need not quake for cold, ne yet with Sun be tanned.  
In fine and to conclude, where pleasure dwells at large,  
Which Princes seek in Palaces, with pain and costly charge.  
Then such a place once found, the Butler first appears,  
He shall be foremost doctor there, and stand before his pears:  
And with him shall he bring, (if company be great)  
Some wagons, carts, some Mules or jades yladen till they sweat,  
With many a medicine made for common quaint diseases,  
As thirsty throats, and typpling tongues, whom Bacchus' pipe appeas●…s.  
These little pinching pots, which Pothecaries use,  
Are all too fine, fie fie on such, they make men but to muse.  
My Doctor brings his drugs, to counterpoise all quarrels,  
In Kilderkins and Fyrkins full, in Bottles and in Barrels.  
And yet therein he brings, (I would you witted it well,)  
Not rotten drams, but noble wine, which makes men's hearts to swell.  
And down he doth dismount, his things for to address,  
His flagons in the fountain fair, are placed more and less.  
Or if such fountains fail, my Doctor hath the skill,  
With sand and Camphor for to cool, his potions at his will.  
That done: he spreads his clot, upon the grassy bank,  
And sets to she●… his dainty drinks, to win his Princes thank.  
Then comes the captain Cook, with many a warlike wight,  
Which armour bring and weapons both, with hunger for to fight.  
Yea some also set forth, upon a manly mind,  
To make some means, a quarrel with, my Doctor for to find.  
For while cold loins of Veal, cold Capon, Beef and Goose,  
With Pygeon pies, and Mutton cold, are set on hunger lose,  
And make the forlorn hope, in doubt to scape full hard,  
Then come to give a charge in flank (else all the mart were marred,)  
First neats tongues powdered well, and Gambones of the Hog,  
Then Sausages and savoury knacks, to set men's minds on gogge.  
And while they skirmish thus, with fierce and furious fight,  
My Doctor clearkly turns the Tap, and goeth beyond them quite.  
For when they be so trapped, enclosed round about,  
No boot prevails, but drink like men, for that must help them out.  
Then King or comely Queen, than Lord and Lady look,  
To see which side will bear the bell, the Butler or the Cook.  
At last the Cook takes flight, but Butlers still abide,  
And sound their Drums and make retreat, with bottles by their side.  
Herewith to stint all strife, the huntsmen come in haste,  
They licence crave of King or Queen, to see their battle placed.  
Which granted and obtained, they set on such as lyu●…,  
And fiercely fight, till both be forced, all armour up to give.  
And home they go despoiled, like simple sakelesse men,  
No remedy but trudge apace, they have no weapons then.  
The ●…ield thus fought and done, the huntsmen come again,  
Of whom some one upon his knee, shall tell the Prince full plain,  
This little lesson here, which followeth next in place,  
Forgive me (Queen) which am to bold, to speak unto you grace.   

MY Liege forgive the boldness of your man,  
Which comes to speak before your grace him call:  
My skill is small, yet must I as I can,  
Presume to preach, before these Barons all,  
And tell a tale, which may such minds appall  
As pass their days in slothful idleness,  
The first foul nurse to worldly wickedness.   

Since golden time, (my liege) doth never stay,  
But fleeth still about with restless wings,  
Why doth your grace, let time then steal away,  
Which is more worth, than all your worldly things?  
Believe me (liege) believe me Queens and Kings,  
One only hour (once lost) yields more annoy,  
Than twenty days can cure with mirth and joy.   

And since your grace determined by decree,  
To hunt this day, and recreate your mind,  
Why sit you thus and loose the game and glee  
Which you might hear? why ring not the wind,  
With horns and hounds, according to their kind?  
Why sit you thus (my liege) and never call,  
Our hounds nor us, to make you sport withal?   

Perchance the fight, which suddenly you see,  
erewhiles between, these overbragging bluddes,  
Amazed your mind, and for a while did draw  
Your noble eyes, to settle on such suds.  
But peerless Prince, the moisture of such muddes,  
Is much too gross and homely for your grace,  
Behold them not, their pleasures be but base.   

Behold us here, your true and trusty men,  
Your hunts, your hinds, your swains at all assays,  
Which overthrow them, (being three to ten)  
And now are priest, with bloudhounds and relayes,  
With hounds of cry, and hounds well worthy praise,  
To rouse, to run, to hunt and hale to death,  
As great a Hart as ever yet bore breath.   

This may be seen, (a Prince's sport in deed)  
And this your grace, shall see when pleaseth you:  
So that vouchsafe, (O noble Queen) with speed,  
To mount on horse, that others may ensue,  
Until this Hart be rowzde and brought to view.  
Then if you find, that I have spoken amiss,  
Correct me Queen: (till then) forgive me this.   
Afterwards when all the huntsmen be come together, the●… shall make their sundry reports, and present their few●…y ●…hings unto the Prince or master of the game in field, one after another, every man rehearsing what he hath seen. And when the Prince or other chief hath heard them and seen their ●…ewmishings, he or she may then choose which of the Hearts he will hunt, and which he or she thinks most likely to make him or her best sport. And telling his or her mind to him that harboured the Hart, the same huntsman shall go back to his blemishes immediately. But for the better declaration and lively exmessing of all these things, I have here set in portraiture as well an assembly, as also the peesenting of a report made by a huntsman to a Prince upon sight of Slot, view, entry, ports, abatures, fewmishing, and such other tokens. For the better encouraging of such huntesmen as painfully do rise easily and late, to make their Lord and Master pastime, I have set it down in such terms as I can, desiring all Masters of ●…enerie and old huntesmen, to bear with my boldness in uttering of my simple knowledge.    

The report of a Huntsman upon the sight of an Hart, in pride of grease. Chap. 36.  
 

BEfore the Queen, I come report to make  
Then hushed and peace, for noble Trystrams' sake.  
From out my horn, my fewmets first I draw,  
And them present, on leaves, by hunter's law:  
And thus I say: my liege, behold and see  
An Hart of ten, I hope he harboured be.  
For if you mark, his fewmets every point,  
You shall them find, long, round, and well anoint,  
Knotty and great, withouten pricks or ears,  
The moistness shows, what venysone he bears.   

Then if my Prince, demand what head he bear,  
I answer thus, with sober words and cheer:  
My liege I went, this morning on my quest,  
My hound did stick, and seemed to vent some beast.  
I held him short, and drawing after him,  
I might behold, the Hart was feeding trim.  
His head was high, and large in each degree,  
Well palmed eke, and seemed full sound to be.  
Of colour brown, he beareth eight and ten,  
Of stately height, and long he seemed then.   

His beam seemed great, in good proportion led,  
Well burrde and round, well pearled, near his head.  
He seemed fair, tween black and berry brounde  
He seems well fed, by all the signs I found.  
For when I had, well marked him with eye,  
I stepped aside, to watch where he would lie.  
And when I so had waited full an hour,  
That he might be, at layre and in his bo●…re,  
I cast about, to harbour him full sure.  
My hound (by sent) did me thereof assure.  
Entering the thick, these fewmets did I spy,  
Which I took up, and laid my marks thereby.  
In privy paths I walked, and (creeping throw)  
I found the Slot, of other Hearts enough.  
Both young and old, I found of every size,  
But as for him, I hope that still he lies:  
So that your grace (by likelihood) may him find,  
He harboured is, according to my mind.   

Then if she ask, what Slot or view I found,  
I say, the Slot, or view, was long on ground,  
The toes were great, the jointbones round and short,  
The shin bones large, the dewclawes close in port:  
Short jointed was he, hollow footed eke,  
An Hart to hunt, as any man can seek.    

Of the words and terms of hunting, which the huntsman aught to understand when he shall make his reports, and when he shall speak before good masters of Venery. Chap. 37.  
I Have thought good here to declare the terms and words of venery, and how a young huntsman should speak before the masters of the game. First it is convenient that an huntsman be well stayed and temperate in his speech: for all hunters which have regard to the pleasure of their venery, aught to be sober and modest in talk. But at these days they take more delight in emptying of the bottles, than they have regard to their tongues. But if a young huntsman chance to light in company with elder masters, and that they ask him how he calleth the ordure of an Heart, Rayndeare, Goat, or fallow Dear, he shall answer that they are to be called the fewmet or fewmyshing, and that all beasts which live of browse, shall have the same term in that respect. But in beasts of ravin or pray, as the Boar, the Bear, and such like, they shall be called the Loesses. And of Hares and Coneys, they are called Croteys. Of other vermin or stinking chases, as Foxes, Badgers and such like, they are called the feance, of the Otter they are called the Sprayntes. Afterwards if one ask him how he will term the feeding of an Hart or such like, in terms of venery, he shall say that it is called the feed of a Dear. As to say: Lo here you may see where a Dear hath taken his feed. Of Boars and such like, you shall say the feeding, as to say, lo, here he hath fed. etc. So is there great difference between the feet of praying beasts, and the feet of a Dear. For in beasts of prey and ravin, as Bear, and Boar. etc. they are called traces. But the footing or track of a Dear, as Harte, buck, Rayndeare, and Goat, they are called the view, and the Slot. Also there is difference between the Fryth and the Fell. The fells are understood the Mountains, Ualleys, and pastures with corn, and such like. The Firths betoken the Springs and Coppyses. And if a Dear do feed abroad out of the woods, you shall say that he fed in the fells, otherwise in the Firths. A young hunter hath also to consider the difference between these words. Ways and Trenches. For by the first is meant the high and beaten ways on the outside of a wood or forest, and such also as lie through such woods being commonly beaten and traveled. And by this word Trench, is understood every small way, not so commonly used. And therefore if the huntsmen do say, the Hart is go down the way, it is to be understood that he meant the high beaten way: But when he hath taken some other by path or way into the wood or Forest, than a huntsmau will say he is go down that trench. etc. So is there also difference between a Trench and a path. For trenches as I say, be ways and walks in a wood or Forest. But paths are any place where a Dear hath go and left view or Slot either long before or fresh and new. As touching blemishes, they are the marks which are left to know where a Dear hath go in or out. And they are little bows plashed or broken, so that they hung downward. For any thing that is hung up, is called a Sewel. And those are used most commonly to amaze a Dear, and to make him refuse to pass where they are hanged up. When a huntsman goeth to rouse a dear, as to unharbor a Hart or so, he shall say to his hound when he casts him off, There boy there, to him, to him, to him. But if it were to a Boar or such like, he shall speak in the plural number & say, To them, to them. etc. When a Hart hath fed in the Fels, he is commonly wet with dew, & will not go to ●…is la●…re, until he be dried in the Sun or otherwise, and then commonly he lieth down upon his belly in some open place, & rouseth him when he riseth. That place hath with us no proper name, but only to say: here the Hart hath dried & roused himself. The places where an Hart or any other Dear lieth by day, are called lairs. But the lying places of Boars and such like, are called dens, and of a Fox the kennel. Afterwards, when a huntsman cometh to make his report, he shall say altogether what he hath seen and found. And if he found nothing but view or slot, & be demanded what manner of view or slot it was, he shall by rehearsal tell and describe wh●…t manner of Slot or view it was, as to say, a short or a long foot, with such and such marks. The like report shall he make of his ports & entries: but if his hap were to have seen the Heart or Dear, & had leisure to mark him, then if he be demanded what manner of Dear it was, and what head he beareth, he may answer first: He was of such, or such a coat, as fallow, brown, black, or dun, and consequently of such and such a body, bearing a high or low head, according as he hath seen. And if the Dear be false marked, as bearing sire Antliers or croches on the one side, and seven on the other, then shall the huntsman say: he beareth fourteen false marked, for the more doth always include the less. And if he perceiu that the Dear baere a fair high head big beamed, the Antliers near and close to his head, & well spread according to the height, then may he say, that he beareth a fair head, well spread, & well marked in all points, & palmed, crowned, or cro●…d according as he saw it. And likewise he may name how many it was in the top, as an Hart of ten, fourteen, sixteen, or so forth. And if any demand him if he judged by the head whether the Hart were an old heart or not, and how he knoweth, he may answer, that he judgeth by the burr which was great and well pearled, set close to the head of the Dear. And also by the Antliers which were great, long, and near to the burr, and accordingly by the tokens heretofore rehearsed.  
The claws which hung behind of a Dear or of a Goat, and such like, are called due claws. As to say when you find the slot or view deep, so as the print of them may be seen, behold here he hath left view of his dewclawes. Of a Boar they are called the guards. If a huntsman found view or Slot whereby he judgeth not that it is a great or an old dear, he may say it is likely to be of an Hart of ten or an heart of the first head. But if he found Slot that seem of a great Dear, he may say, a Hart of ten, with out any addition of words. And if he judge him to be a very old dear, he may then say an heart of ten, and so he was long since. And the greatest praise that he can give a Dear, shall be to say, A great old heart or Dear.  
And of a Boar, when he forsaketh the Sounder & feedeth alone, he shallbe called a Sanglier going into the third year. The next year he shall be called a Sanglier of three years old. The next year after that, he is called a Sanglier chaseable: the greatest praise that can be given him, is to say, A great Bore not to be refused. Of fallow beasts the company is called an herded, and of black beasts it is called a rout, or a Sounder.  
A Hart belloweth, a Buck groaneth, and a Robucke belleth when they go to Rut. A Hart goeth to the steep at noon in the heat of the day to keep him from the fly. An Heart breaketh where he leaveth Slot or view. When he leapeth into the water and cometh out again the same way, than he proffereth. If he pass through the water, he taketh soil, and where he cometh out, you shall say that he breaketh water. And after that you may call him an heart defowlant the water.  
An Hart or a Buck is flayed, a Hare strypped, and a For or such like vermin are raised. An Hart and a Buck likewise reared, roused, and unharbored. An Hart started, and a Fox unkennelled.   

How to set Relayes. Chap. 38.  
RElayes must be set according to the seasons and growth of springs. For in winter when the Hearts head is hard, they keep the strong coverts and thickets. And in spring time when their heads are tender, they keep in young firths and coppises, and in the weakest coverts that they can find, for fear lest they should knock and hurt their heads against the boughs. And therefore it is requisite to set men abroad which are brought up in hunting, and understand well their advantages, and with them a good pricker or huntsman on horseback, mounted upon a good curtal, which should be lightly clad, having good boots and high, with an horn about his neck. Phoebus saith, that they aught to be clad in green when they hunt the Hart or Buck, and in russet when they hunt the Boar, but that is of no great importance, for I remit the colours to the fantasies of men. These horsemen should go over night to their master's chamber, or if they serve a Prince, to the masters of the games or his lieutenants, to know which of them shall follow the kennel, and which shall be for the Relayes, and in which Relayes and where they shall bestow themselves, and what hounds they shall lead with them, what helps and varlets shall go with them. And those of the relayes shall do well to have every man a little byllet to remember the names of their Relayes: and then let them go to their lodging, and get them a guide which may conduct them in the morning. Afterwards they must look that their horses be well ●…hod and in good plight, giving them oats sufficient: That done, they shall go to bed, that they may rise in the morning two hours before day. If it be in Summer, they must water their horses, but not in Winter, and then they shall bait them well until the varlets shall bring the hounds for their relayes. Their guide being come, they shall break their fasts altogether. And in steed of Pystolets, they shall have each of them a bottle full of good wine at the pommel of their saddles. And when day shall begin to peep, then must they get on horseback, having with them their guide, their relayes, and all their equipage. If they would send a curtal to another of the relayes, then shall they say to one of their varlets, that he go with one of their companions to such a Relay. When they are come to the place appointed for their Relaye, they shall place their hounds in some fair place at the foot of some tree, forbidding the varlet that he uncouple them not without their knowledge and commandment, and that he stir not from thence nor make any noise. Then shall they go three or four hundredth paces from thence, on that side that the hunting is ordained, and shall harken if they hear any thing, or can discover the heart, for seeing him a far of, they shall better judge whether he be spent or not, then if they mark him when he is hallowed or cried at. For an Hart when he is spent, doth bear his head low if he see no man, showing thereby how weary he is. But when he seethe a man, he raiseth up his head, and maketh great bounds, as though he would have men think that he is strong and stout. As also the horseman shal●… withdraw himself aside for another reason. And that is, because the pages and they which hold the horses do commonly make such a noise, that he can not hear the cry. And also when the Hart doth hear noise, or hath the dogs in the wind, they will either tume back again, or wheel aside from the relaye: for which cause the horseman shall hold himself aside to choose & mark the Hart at leisure. And if he pass by his relaye, he shall mark diligently whether he sink or be spent, and also whether he hear the hounds in chase coming after him or not. And me thinks that in hunting an Hart at force, it were not best to cast off your relayes, until you see the hounds of the kennel which began the cry. So should you see who hunteth best, and also the swiftness of your hounds. But now adays I see few hunt the Heart as he aught to be hunted: for men give not their hounds leisure to hunt, neither is there passing two or three that can hunt: for there are so many hunters on horseback which can neither blow, hollow, nor prick perfectly, which mingle themselves amongst the hounds, crossing them, and breaking their course, in such sort, that it is not possible they should hunt truly: & therefore I say, that it is the horses which hunt, and not the hounds. I will now therefore teach the varlet how to foreslow the Relaye when the Hart is passed by. First he must lead his hounds coupled or tied unto the track, & let them follow so three or four paces right, then let him cast of one, and if he take it right, then may he uncouple the rest, and blow to them. For if he should cast off his Relay a far off, the hounds might hunt counter, which would be a great fault. And also if the Ha●…t be accompanied with any other Dear, than the pricker on horseback must ride full in the face of him, to try if he can part them or not, and if he can part them, then may he uncouple the hounds upon the view. And if a pricker on horseback chance to be at relaye on the side of a pool or water, and see the Heart make towards it, he should suffer him to go to soil therein his fill, and never blow nor make noise: then when he cometh out, he may let the Uarlet go●… with the hounds unto the place where he came out, and uncouple the hounds upon the view as before said. And he must never abandon them, blowing after them to call in aid, and bruising the ground or making marks all the way as he goeth, because if the hounds should hunt channge, or scatter and stray from the right ways, then may they return to the last mark, and so seek again the first chase.  
Ph●…bus sayeth, that you must rate the hounds which come far behind when the Heart is passed the Relaye. But for my part, I am of a contrary mind. For as much as the hounds of the Cry which have already hunted long time, do better keep their true track and do not so soo●…e cha●…nge, as the fresh hounds which are newly cast off at the Relayes. True it is, that if there be any old hounds which come behind plodding after the Cry, than the prickers on horseback, or the Uarlets which tarry behind, may call them after them, and lead them before the cry again. Or else if you have need of more Relayes, and that you perceive the Hart bendeth towards a coast where there is not much change, and that he should be forced to turn back again the same way: and also that there be good hounds enough before to maintain the chase, then may you take up the hindermost hounds and keep them fresh for his return: and if peradventure it happen that the pricker on horseback being at his relaye, should see an Hart of ten pass by him, and yet hear not the other huntsmen, nor their horns, then let him look well whether the Hart be embossed or not, and what hounds they were that came with him. And if he perceive that they were choice hounds and such as will not hunt change, than aught he to blow as loud as he can for other hounds, and to call in help. And if one come in, then let him follow the hounds which maintained the chase, and uncouple his hounds of relay, blowing and hallowing all the way as he goeth, and blemishing against or over the Slot or view of the Dear.  
A huntsman on horseback should be circumspect in these things, for sometimes some fresh dear may rouse before the hounds upon a sudden, by reason of the noise of the hounds and huntsmen, the which may be a great hurt: and peradventure shall seem to be embossed also, especially when Dear are in pride of grease: But if he perceive that the sure hounds of the kennel hunt it not, and that he hear not them come after in full cry, than aught he not to cast of his relayes, but only to mark which way he fleeth, & to blemish at the last thicket where he saw him enter, or at the last place where he had him in view, to the end that if he hear the hounds at default, he may go and tell them that the Hart which passed by his relay, was fallow, brown, or according as he saw him, and that he bore such and such a head. etc. And thereby they may judge and guess, whether it were the cafft Dear or not, and may go to seek him again, beginning then at the blemishes which he made upon his last view.   

How a huntsman should rouse an Heart, and cast off his hounds to him. Chap. 39  
 
WHen the Prince or Lord which hunteth shall have herded all reports, and that the relayes are well set and placed, and that the huntsmen and hounds have broken their fast or refreshed themselves, than he which seemed to have harboured the greatest and oldest dear, and him which lieth in the fairest covert, upon whose report the Prince or Lord would go to hunt, shall take his bloudhounde and go before to the blemi●…ings with his companions, and with all the prickers or hunters on Horseback which hunt with the kennel, who should have every one of them a good cudgel in his hand, which is called a Hunting coodgell or a Troncheon to turn the boughs and bear them from his face as he followeth the hounds in the woods or thickes: and this coodgell should not be beached or peeled until such season as the Heart have frayed his head: but when the Heart hath frayed, then may a Huntsman bear a coodgell beached or peeled lawfully: being come to the blemishes, let them alight to behold the Slot and such other marks as may be taken by the view or foot of a Dear, to the end they may the better know whether their hounds hunt change or not. Then when the Prince or Master of the game is come, and the hounds for the cry, all the horsemen must quickly cast abroad about the covert, to discover the Harte when he rouseth & goeth out of his hold, that they may the better know him afterwards by the cote, & by his h●…ad. And when the huntsman which harboured him, shall see all the rest of his companions about him with the hounds for the cry, he shall then go before them & rouse the Dear, for the honour is due to him: and then the rest shall cast of their hounds, he & all they crying, To him, To him, that's he, that's he, & such other words of encouragement. And here I will teach you two secrets: the one is that the huntesmen should not be to hasty with their hounds at the first rousing or unharboring of the dear, for as much as their heat may perchance make them overshoot & hunt amiss: the other is, that the hounds of the cry should always come behi●…de the huntsman which hath harboured, and behind his hound by threescore paces at the lest, until he have unharbored, for fear lest the Heart have crossed & doubled within the thicket, and they might foil or break the Slot, so that the bloodhound should not be able to draw and hunt so truly as else he would: for oftentimes old beaten Dear, when they go to layre, do use all policies and subtleties in crossing, doubling & such like. And therefore if the hounds of the cry come over near after the bloudhound, they shall break the Slot & view, so that he which harboured shall scarce make his ho●…de to hunt it: and if the bloudhounde as he draweth do chance to overshoot & draw wrong or counter, then must the huntsman draw him back and say, Back, back, soft, soft, until he have set him right again. And if he perceive that the hound do amend his fault & hunt right again, let him kne●…le down upon one knee to mark the Slot or the ports well & advisedly: and if he perceive that his hound draw right, let him clap him on the side & cherish him, saying. That's my boy, that's he, that's he, To him knave, and let him blemish there aswell for them that come after him, as also to show them that come with the kennel that the Heart passed there, and if the kennel be to far from him, he should cry, Come near, come near with the hounds, or else let him blow two motes, leaving blemishes both aloft & by low, all the way as he goeth, that if his hound overshoot or draw amiss, he may yet come back to his last blemish. Then if he perceive that his hound do renew his drawing, & that he draw stiff, so that it seemeth he be near the Heart, he must hold him then shorter & shorter, lest if the Heart should rouse for fear a far of, his hound (hunting upon the wind) might ●…arie him amiss, so that he should not find the layre. Whereby (& by the foils about it) he might have certain judgement: and if he rouse or unharbor the Dear & find the layre, let him not blow over hastily for the hounds, but only cry, Look ware, look ware, ware, ware, and let him draw on with his hound until the dear be descried, & rightly marked before he hollow. And if he find any fewmets as he draweth, let him mark well whether they be like to those which he found before or not, I mean those which he brought to the assembly: & yet sometimes he might so be deceived, but that is not often, but only when the dear hath changed his fee●…e. True it is that the fewmishing which a Dear maketh over night, be not like those which he maketh in the morning, when he draweth into the thicket to go to his layre: for those which he maketh at his f●…ede in the night or evening, be flatter, softer, & better digested, than those which he maketh in a morning: & the reason is because he hath slept & rested all day, which maketh perfect digestion: & contrarily those which he ma●…eth in the running, are neither so well digested nor so soft. For as much as all the night a Dear goeth & traveleth to seek his feed, & hath neither had rest nor leisure to digest his feed so well. And yet they will be like of form and proportion, unless the change of feeding be the cause of it. Or if the huntsman find the layre of the Dear, he shall lay his cheek or his back of his hand upon it, to feel if it be warm or not. Or he may know by his hound, for he will strain and lappyse, or whymper, or sometime call on plainly. All these tokens give a huntsman to understand, that the Hart is roused and on foot. Some Hearts be so subtle and crafty, that when they rouse and go from their layre, they coast round about, to seek some other Dear whereby the hounds which follo we them, might find change to hunt. Or else perchance they have some young Brocket with them in company always, whereby the hunt man may be beguiled. And therefore he shall not blow to cast off more hounds when he rouseth him, but only cry, ware, ware, ware, come near with the hounds. And let him draw after him still that way that he went fifty or threescore paces: And when he shall perceive that the Hart prepareth to flee, if he seem to be sure thereof, let him blow for the hounds, and cry to them, that's he, that's he, to him, to him. And let him draw still upon the Slot or view, blowing and hallowing, until the hounds be come in and begin to take it right, and therewithal he must go amongst them, with his hound in the lyam to encourage them, and to make them take it the more hotly. Afterwards when he seethe that they are in full cry, and take it right, he may go out of the thick, and give his hound to his boy or servant, and get up on horseback, keeping still under the wind, and coasting to cross the hounds which are in chase, to help them at default if need require. But if it should happen that the Heart turning counter upon the hounds in the thicket, had come amongst change, then let all the huntesmen menace and rate their hounds, and couple them up again, until they have go back either to the layre, or to last blemish made upon any slot or view, and so hunt on again until they may find the Heart. For some beaten dear will fall flat upon his belly, and never move until the hounds be even upon him.   

Certain observations and subtleties to be used by Huntesmen in hunting an Heart at force. Chap. 40.  
NOw that I have treated of such judgements & marks as the huntesmen may take of an Heart, and how they should behave themselves in harbouring of a Dear, I think meet likewise to instruct (according to my simple skill) the huntesmen on horseback how to chase and hunt an Heart at force: and that aswell by authority of good & ancient hunters, as also by experience of mine own hunting. And because at these days there are many men which bear horns and bewgles, and yet cannot tell how to use them, neither how to encourage and help their hounds therewith, but rather do hinder than further them, having neither skill nor delight to use true measure in blowing: and therewithal seeing that Princes and Noble men take no delight in hunting, having their eyes muftled with the Scarf of worldly wealth, and thinking thereby to make their names immortal, which in deed doth often lead them to destruction both of body and soul, and oftener is cause of the shortening of their life (which is their principal treasure here on earth) since a man shall hardly see any of them reign or live so long as they did in those days that every Forest rung with hou●…es and horns, and when plenty of flagon bottles were carried in every quarter to refresh them temperately. Therefore I should think it labour lost to set down these things in any perfect order, were it not that I have good hope to see the nobility & youth of England exercise themselves aswell in that as also in sundry other noble pastimes of recreation, according to the steps of their Honourable juncestors and progenitors. And therefore I adventure this travail, to set down in articles and particularities, the secrets and precepts of venery as you see.  
First then the prickers and Huntesmen on horseback, must understand, that there is diversity between the terms and words which they shall use to Buckhoundes, and the terms and words which they shall use in hunting of the Boar. For an Heart fli●…th and eloyneth himself when he is sore hunted, trusting to nothing else but unto his heels, nor never standeth in his defence unless he be forced: and therefore you shall comfort such hounds with loud and courageous cries and noises, aswell of your voice as of your horn also. But when you hunt a wild Boar or any such beast, you shall do the contrary, because they are beasts which are slower, and cannot flee nor eloyne themselves from the hounds: but trust in their tusks & defence: and therefore in such chases, you shall comfort your hounds with furious terrible sounds and noise, aswell of the voice as also of your horn, to the end you may make the chase flee endways. And you should always be near at hand, and hold in with your hounds, & make great noise lest the Boar should hurt or kill them. As touching the Heart and such other light chases or beasts of venery, the huntesmen on horseback may follow their hounds always by the same ways that they see him pass over, & never shall need to cross nor coast so much for fear lest they should rouse some change: and likewise because in hunting so, they shall always be best able to help at defaults: and let them never come nearer the hounds in cry, than fifty or threescore paces, especially at the first uncoupling, or at casting of their relayes. For if an Heart do make doublings, or wheel about, or cross before your hounds, if then you come in to hastily, you shall foil and mar the Slot or view, in such sort as the hounds should not be able to sent it so well, but should overshoot the chase, and that would mar the sport: but if the prickers and huntesmen on horseback perceive that an Heart (being run an hour or more) make out endways before the hounds in chase, & therewithal perceive that the hounds follow in full cry taking it right, than they may come in nearer towards the hounds, & blow a Rechate to their hounds to comfort them. You shall understand herewith that when a Heart feels that the hounds hold in after him, he fleeth & seeketh to beguile them: with change in sundry sorts, for he will seek other Hearts & Dear at layre, & rouseth them before the hounds to make them hunt change: therewithal he will lie flat down upon his belly in some of their lairs, & so let the hounds overshoot him: and because they should have no scent of him, nor vent him, he will truss all his. three feet vn●…er his belly & will blow & breath upon the ground in some moist place: in such fort that I have seen the hounds pass by such an Heart within a yard of him & never vent him: & this subtlety doth nature endow him with, that he knoweth his breath & his feet to give greater sent unto the hounds than all the rest of his body. And therefore at such a time he will abide the horsemen to ride full upon him, before he willbe reared, and this is one especial reason wherefore the horsemen & huntsmen should blemish at such places as they see the Heart entre into a thicket or covert to the end that if the hounds fall to change, they may return to those blemishes, and put their hounds to the right slot and view, until they have roused or found him again with their bloudhounde, or with some other stanche old hound of the kennel, in the which they may affy themselves. For old staunch hounds which will not hunt change, when they see an Heart roused & before them, they never call on nor once open: but if they be young rash hounds they will run with full cry and so take change. Wherefore in such respects the huntesmen on horseback must have great consideration, & let them never affy themselves in young hounds, unless they see some old stanche hounds amongst them: and if there be two prickers or huntesmen on horseback together, that one shall run to the hounds & rate them, that other shall hollow, and call them into the place where they made the default, & there let them beat well with their hounds, comforting them until they may find the Heart again. And if he hear any old sure hound bay or open, let him make in to him & look on the slot whether he hunt right or not: and if he found that it be right let him blow with hishorne, and afterwards hallow unto that hound naming him, as to say, Hyke a Talbot, or Hyke a B●…wmont Hyke Hyke, to him, to him, etc. Then the other huntesmen shall beat in their hounds to him, & by that means they shall renew the chase and find him again. I gain a Hart bringeth the hounds to change in an other manner: for as soon as he perceiveth that the hounds run him, and that he cannot eschew them, he will break into one thicket after another to find other Dear, and rouseth them, and heardeth himself with them. So that he holdeth herd with them sometimes an hour or more before he will part from them or break herded: then if he feel himself spent, he will break herded, and fall a doubling & crossing in some hard high way that is much beaten, or else in some river or brook the which he will keep as long as his breath will suffer him: and when he perceiveth that he is far before the hounds, he will use like subtleties as before to beguile them, lying ●…lat upon his belly in some hard way or dry place, and crossing all his four feet underneath him, breathing and blowing against the ground as before said, or against the water if he have taken the soylein such sort, that of all his body you shall see nothing but his nose: and I have seen divers lie so, until the hounds have been upon them before they would rise. In these cases the huntesmen must have especial regard to their old sure hounds, when they perceive a Dear to seek the heard so, for. the old sure hounds will hunt leisurely and fearfully, when the rash young hounds will overshoot it. And therefore never regard the young hounds but the old stanche hounds: and trust in the old hounds giving them leisure, and being near them to help and comfort them, evermore blemyshing as you perceive and find any Slot or view of the Dear that is hunted.  
And if so chance that the hounds be at default, or that they dissever and hunt in two or three sundry companies, then may they 〈◊〉 thereby that the Hart hath broken herded from the fresh dear, and that the said fresh dear do separate themselves al●…o. And they must not then trust to a young hound (as before said) how good so ever he make it, but they must regard which way the old staunch hounds make it, and make in to them looking upon the Slot, view, or soil. And when they have found the right, & perceive that the Hart hath broken herded from the other Dear, let than blemish there, and blow, and cry, There he goe●…h, that's he, that's he, ●…o him, to him, naming the hound that goth away with the vautchace, and hallowing the rest unto him. You shall also have regard that hounds can not so well make it good in the hard high ways, as in other places, because they can not there have so perfect sent, and that for divers causes. For in those high ways there are the track and footing of divers sundry sorts of cattle which beat them continually, and break the ground to dust with their feet in such sort, that when the hounds put their noses to the ground to sent, the powder and dust snuffeth up into their noses, & mars their scent. And again, the vehement heat of the Sun doth dry up the moisture of the earth, so that the dust covereth the slot or view of the Dear as he runneth, & that is the sent whereby the hounds hunt principally, whereas upon the green ground the Heart leaveth sent upon the grass or boughs where he passeth or toucheth with his body. Many other reasons there are to prove that in the high ways a hound cannot have so good sent as in other places, the which I pass over for brevity. And in such place an Heart will subtly make crosses and doublings, or hold the same long together to make the hounds give it over: such is the benefit of nature to give the dumb beast understanding which way to help himself, as it giveth also understanding to all living creatures to eschew and avoid their contrary, and their adversary, and to save itself by all means possible. But when the huntesmen shall find their hounds at default upon such an high way, then let them look narrowly whether the Heart have doubled, or crossed: and if they find that he have, as to run right end ways, & come back again counter upon the same, then let them cry to their hounds to encourage them, To him boys, counter, To him, to him. And let them tread out the counter slottes in sight of their hounds, helping & comforting them always, until they have brought them where he entered into some thicket or covert, and there let them stay their hounds until they make it good upon the sides of the high ways, or thickets, and not within the coverts: for when they are once entered into the coverts, they shall have much better sent, and shall not so soon overshoot it, as they should have done in the high ways. For there the grass, & the leaves & such other things do keep the sent fresher, and also the ground being moister, an Heart cannot so 〈◊〉 touch it with his feet or body, but he shall leave sent for the hounds: and let the huntesinen inake blemishes all the way as they pass, & beat the places well with their hounds, comforting and helping them the best that they can: and if any one hound call on alone, the huntesmen must make in to him, & look by the slot or other tokens what it should be that he hunteth: and if they find that he 〈◊〉 the chaffed dear, they shall rechate in for the rest of the hounds, & name that hound to them, as to say Talbot, á Talbot, á Talbot, as beforesaid. It happeneth oftentimes also that an Heart passeth by some coleharthes' or place where things have been buried: and then the hounds cannot have so good sent, because the hot sent of the fire smoothreth the hounds, & makes them forget the sent of the Heart. In such case the huntsmen may mark which way the Heart held head, and coast by the coleharthes' with their hounds quickly, until they come on the farside thereof: there let them beat well until their hounds make it good again by the slot or other tokens, or by the sent which they must needs find in the fresh air passing thus by and staying not. But if an Heart break out before the hounds into the champaign country, and that it be in the heat of the day, between noon & three of the clock: then if the huntesmen perceive that their hounds be out of breath, they must not force them much, but comfort them the best that they can, and though they hear not their best hounds call on upon the Slot or view, yet if they wag their tails it is enough: for peradventure the hounds are so spent with the vehement heat, that it is painful to them to call on, or that they be out of breath: and therefore in such case the huntesmen shall do well to follow afar off without overlaying or overriding of them as I have beforesaid. And if that hounds give over and be tired, then let the huntesmen blemish upon the last Slot or view, and go with their hounds into the next village, where they shall give them bread and water, & keep them about them under some tree or shade until the heat of the day be over, and let them sometimes blow to call in their boys or servants which follow on foot, and their other companions, about three of the clock, they may go back to their last blemish, and put their hounds to the Slot or view: and if any of their varlets or Boys had a bloudhounde there, let him put his bloudhounde to the Slot or view, and draw before the hounds with him, cherishing and comforting him, and never fearing to make him open in the string: for the other hounds hearing him open, will come in and take it right, leaving their defaults. Thus should the Huntesmen hold on beating and following until they have reared and found the Heart again. You shall understand that when a Heart is spent and sore run, his last efuge is to the water which hunters call the soil, and he will commonly therefore rather descend down the stream, than 〈◊〉 against it, especially if the hounds run him well. And it seemeth he hath naturally this understanding, that he knoweth if he should not swim against the stream when he goeth to the soil, the hounds would have greater sent of him, than when he descended down the stream. For the wind would always bear the sent upon them, and also it were more painful and greater travel to himself, to swim against the stream, than to swim down the stream. understand then that if a Heart be sore run, and come to a river or water, he will commonly take it, and swim in the very midst thereof, for he will take as good heed as he can, to touch no boughs or twygges that grow upon the sides of the river, for fear lest the hounds should thereby take sent of him. And h●… will swim along the river long time before he come out, unless he light upon some block or other such thing which stop him in the stream, and then he is forced to come out. In such places the huntesmen must have good regard to blemish at the place where he first took soil: and let them mark there well which way he maketh head, the which they may perceive either by their hounds, or by marking which way he fled when he came thither. Let them make their hounds take the water and swim therein: for they may ●…nde sent upon the bulrushes or weeds which grow in the river. Or otherwise, the huntesmen themselves may seek to find where the Heart hath forsaken the soil (which huntesmen call breaking of the water) and there they shall find by the grass or herbs which he hath born down before him, which way he maketh head. When they find assuredly which way he maketh head, then let them call their hounds out of the water, for fear lest they founder them with too much cold after their heat. And if there be three huntesinen of them together, let two of them get one of the one side of the river, and another on that other side, and let the third get him before that way that the Heart hath made head, to see if he can espy him swymming or lying in the water: the two huntsmen which shallbe on each side of the river, shall beat with their hounds each of them upon his side, & far enough from the banks. For they shall have better sent. xx. or. thirty. paces off, than they should have at the very side or bank of the river. And the reason is, that when the Hart cometh out of the water he is all wet and moiled with water, which poureth down his legs in such abundance, that it drowns the Slot or view. But commonly he rouseth and shaketh the water of him at his coming out thereof, so that by that time he have go. xx. or. thirty. paces, the Slot is better, and the hounds shall sent him much better. Nevertheless the huntsmen themselves should keep always near to the river: for sometimes the Hart will lie under the water all but his very nose, as I have before rehearsed: Or may percase lie in some bed of bulrushes, or in some tuft of sallowes, so that they might leave him behind them: and then assoon as they were passed, he might go counter back again the same way that he came. For commonly a Heart hath that crafty policy to suffer the hounds to overshoot him, and the huntsmen to pass by him. And assoon as they be passed, he will steal back & go counter right backwards in the same tract or path that he came. This happeneth not often, unless the river be full of sallows or such bushes, and near unto some forest. But let some one of the Huntesmen have always an eye to the River, & let the rest beat with their hounds. xx. paces from the banks, and so let them keep on altogether until they find where he broke water: and if they find any block or beam, or such thing that lieth cross overthwart the stream, let them look there whether he have broken water or not, for unless it be at such a place, or at such a let, a Heart will keep the water long, especially when he breaketh from the hounds over a champaign country: for at such times they will hold the water as long as they can, and also at such times they trust no longer neither in their thickets, nor in their swiftness, but are constrained to seek the soil as their last refuge. And here I think it not amiss to advertise you, that an Heart dreadeth the Northern winds, and the Southern winds much more than he doth the Easterly or Westerly winds, in such sort that if at his breaking out of a covert, when he seeketh to break from the hounds endwaies over the champaign, he feel either a north-wind or a southwind blow, he will never run into it, but turns his back and takes it in his tail, and this he doth for divers respects. The first is because the north-wind is cold and sharp, and drieth exceedingly, and the southwind is hot and corrupt, because it cometh under the circle of the Sun, the which overcometh him and sets him up quickly by the vehement sweltrie heat thereof. And if he should run into any of those two winds, it would quickly enter his throat when he is embossed and beginneth to be spent, and would dry his throat and his tongue sore, and would altar and chafe him much with the vehement heat thereof. Also those winds are commonly great and tempestuous, and if he should run against them, his head and horns would be as a sail to hold him back, the which might much let him in his running. Again, he knoweth that if he run into the wind, the hounds shall have the better sent of him, and need not so much to lay their noses to the ground but may hunt upon the wind. Also he himself doth covet always both to see and hear the hounds which follow him. And although Phoebus sayeth that all Hearts do commonly run down the wind how so ever it sit, yet have I found it otherwise by experience: and especially when it bloweth from the Seawardes, which is a moist wind, and then a Heart will covet to run against the wind: but doubtless a Heart doth fear the Northerlywinde and the southwind, as I have said before: and so do all other beasts, as Spaniels or hounds, the which will not hunt so well in those winds, as they do at other times. Also you shall understand, that a Heart doth foreloyne and break out before the hounds for divers reasons, especially in April or May, when his head is bloody and soft: for than if he be hunted he dareth not hold in the thickets or coverts for hurting of his head: but is 〈◊〉 to come forth of the strong holds, and then he breaketh over the champaign Countries, and seeketh to forloyne or to break from the hounds, and then he doubleth, crosseth, etc. Or it may be that a heart forsaketh the covert for an other reason: because in the thickets he travaileth more, & beateth himself sorer in bearing down the boughs before him: & cannot make way so well before the hounds: for they being much lesser than he, do run with greater ease in the hollow of the woods below, and in like manner h●… cannot cross nor double so well in the covert as he may do in the plain champaign. And for these causes he is constrained (as it were) to go out either into the hollow woods, or into the champaign. And there let the Huntesmen have good regard, for a hound may much sooner be at default in the hollow woods than in the strong coverts, having more scope to cast about & to rāg●… further out when they are hot & madbrayned, & so they may overshoot the slot, if the Huntesmen be any thing hasty with them, & overley them, or overeyde them and hunt change: the which they cannot so lightly do in the strong coverts, for there they run directly upon the foot of the Dear: and cannot cast out neither one way nor other so readily, for they fear evermore to lose the right track where the Heart went. And therefore a Huntsman shall take greater heed to change in the hollow high woods, than in younger springs: for a hound will sooner overshoot and hunt out in the hollows, than in the strong holds. Also in hollow high woods a Heart doth foreloyne more & breaketh further from the hounds, and hath more leisure to cross & double, and to seek the change amongst other Dear than he hath in stronger coverts: also an Hart doth forloyne or break out from the hounds for an other cause: that is when he feeleth himself sore laid to by the hounds, & seethe that no subtlety helpeth him, then becometh he amazed and loseth his courage, and knoweth not which way to take, but passeth at all adventure over the fields, and through the villages & such other places. Then should the Huntesmen draw near to their hounds, and if they perceive them at any default, they shall never go back to any Slot or view, but go on still, and hunt forwards: for a Dear that is spent or sore hunted, and that seeketh to foreloyne or break from the hounds, will never tarry to cross or double, but holdeth head onwards still as long as breath serveth him, unless he have some soil in the wind, than he may chance go aside to take the Soil, but else not. True it is that if he break out into the champaign for any cause before mentioned, & be not sore spent, nor begin to sink before the hounds, than he may chance to double, cross, and use other subtleties: but if he be spent, he will seldom use any subtlety, but only to lie flat upon his belly awhile, and that not long neither. Furthermore you shall now understand that there is great difference in finding out the subtleties of a Dear in the forests or strong holds, and those which he useth in the playinan chpaigne. For in the strong coverts you must cast about near unto the last Slot that you found, and you must hold in as near as you can. For if the huntesmen cast wide out in beating for it, they may chance to light upon change, which will carry out your hounds to your great disadvantage. But in the champaign you may cast about at large without dread of change: and that in the freshest and most commodious places, where they might soonest find view, and so make it out, and whereas also the hounds may have best sent. For in the sandhils and dry places, a hound can not make it out so well, by reason of the dust and sand which will strike up into his nose, and by reason that the Sun doth sooner dry up the moisture from the ground in those places. Again, because in such heathy places, and barren grounds, there is neither grass nor any thing whereon the Dear may leave sent so well: and that is the cause that Huntesmen may cast about in the most convenient moist places, and in the fresh under some bush or shade where the earth is not so much dried and parched with the Sun: and if they cannot make it out at the first casting about, they may then cast about the second time a larger compass: and if by that means they make it not out, then may they presume that he is within that compass and precinct which they have so cast about, or else that the Heart hath made some crossing or some doubling, or used some subtlety: then let them lead back their hounds to the place where they first fallen at default, and put their hounds to it upon the slot, or where the earth is broken as they went before, and let them beat it well with their hounds, speaking to them and cherishing them all that they can devise, aswell with their voice as with their horns: and let them look well to the ground to help their hounds. And it shall not be possible (thus doing) but that you shall rouse the Dear again within the circuit and compass that you had erst cast about: and at the lest if you do not, you shall yet find where he is go on, and so make it out, unless the extremity of the heat do altogether mar your hou●…des Hunting. Furthermore you shall remember, that when an Heart breaketh out from the hounds, by the two first places where you stay upon any crossing or doubling that he hath made, you shall perceive all the subtleties and policies which he will use all that day after. For if his t●…oo first doublings or other subtleties be in an high way, or in á water, than all the rest that he will use all the day after will be in the same manner. And then let the Huntesmen mark well on which hand he turneth when he parteth: for on which hand soever he turn the two first times, on the same hand he will turn (at his parting) all the day after, whether it be on the right hand or on the left hand: And therefore remember ever when you come at any default to beat first on that hand which he took at the two first defaults. Also an Heart doth oftentimes use great policies in the paths within the great woods and strong coverts, or else will follow such a path until he come to the outside of the wood, as though he would come out into the plain, and will immediately fall to double and cross, returning flat counter, sometimes two boweshot togethers: then the Huntesmen to make it out at such a default must take good heed that their hounds take not the counter, because the Heart is 〈◊〉 backwards therewith so far: and also they shall find the slot or view, (or at lest the foils of the view) fresher in the covert, than they should do abroad in the field, the which may carry them far back upon the counter. Wherefore at such defaults the Huntesmen shall not be to hasty with their hounds, but rather give them leisure, and let them hunt in dread and doubt until they have made it out perfectly. Also there be some Hearts, which when they rise out of their lairs will halt, or fall down upon their belly before the Huntesmen, and seem to reel and roil before the hounds, as if they were spent and sore hunted not long before: by such subtleties you may judge ●…asily that they are old beaten Dear, & well breathed, & will stand long up before your hounds, trusting much in their force & swiftnese: for a huntsman may easily know when a Heart is spent in deed, and when he beginneth to sink and will not long hold up, by divers tokens. First if he neither regard, hear nor see any man or any thing before hin●… when the hounds run him: or if he bear his head low, putting his nose down to the ground, and reel or folter with his legs, showing how feeble he is in deed, or if he espy a man before him, he raiseth up his head, and maketh great bounds and leaps on height as though he were lusty and fresh (as I have said heretofore) but such frisks will not last long: for when he is a little past by, he will stretch out his neck again and hold down his head and will reel and wallow as before said. Or else likewise you may know when a Dear is spent, if his mouth and throat be black and dry without any froth or foam upon it, and his tongue hanging out: likewise by his Slot or view where you find it, for oftentimes he will close his claws togethers as if he went at leisure, and straight way again will open them and stray them wide, making great glydings, and hitting his dewclawes upon the ground, or his shank bones sometimes, and will commonly follow the beaten paths and ways, and never double nor cross but very little. And if he come to a hedge or a ditch, he will go all alongst to seek some brack or beaten leap, because he hath not force to leap it roundly of himself. By all these tokens you may know when a dear is spent and ready to fall. Thus will I end this chapter, praying all expert huntsmen and masters of venery to hold me excused, if I have overskipped, or left out any thing meet to be set down, for as much as it is hard for any man to set down so well in writing, as he might put it in execution. But always remember that the Art itself requireth great skill, wit, and policy, in a huntsman: and that he govern himself according to the variety of occasions, and according to the presumptions that he shall see in the dears wiles and subtleties: therewithal that he have respect to the goodness or imperfection of the hounds, and to the crossings and doublings of the Dear together with the places where the same are made. And thereupon he may make his ring, and cast about little or much, according to the commodity of the place, time, & season. For hounds will moreover shoot in the heat, and in the time that there is most sent upon the herbs, flowers, and grass, than at any other season of the year. And therefore at such times and places, you shall do well to cast about a greater compass or circuit, and oftener also, seeking moist and fresh places for the better sent and advantage of the hounds. Thus doing, you have very evil luck if you loose a heart by default: so that you will take pains and give not over for a little discomfort. Yea when you are overtaken with the night, or that your hounds are surbayted and weary, yet a good huntsman should not thereat be abashed, nor discomfited, but blemish upon the last Slot or view, and to him again in the morning.   

How to kill an Hart when he is at bay, and what is then to be done. Chap. 41.  
WHen a Hart is at Bay, it is dangerous to go in to him, & especially in rutting time. For at that time their heads are venomous & most perilous, & thereupon came this proverb. If thou be hurt with heart, it brings thee to thy Bear, But Barber's hand will Boars hurt heal, thereof thou needst not fear.  
The which hath not been said for nothing, as hath been proved by many examples. For we read of an Emperor named basil, which had overcome his enemies in many battles, and had done great deeds of Chivalry in his Country, and was yet nevertheless slain with an Heart in breaking of a Bay. Behold gentle Reader the unconstancy of variable fortune. A Prince which had done so many deeds of prowess amongst men: which had both comforted his 〈◊〉, and discomforted his enemies: which had peaceably defended his people, and courageously assaulted such as sought to subvert his dominion, was at the last in the pride of his pleasure, in the pursuit of his pastime, and in the unexpected day of his destiny, vāq●…ished, slain, and gored with the horns of a brute Beast: yea (that more is) by a fearful beast, and such an one as dared not many days nor hours before have beheld the countenance of the weakest man in his kingdom: A Beast that fled from him, and a beast whom he constrained (in his own defence) to do this detestable mu●…der. This example may serve as a mirror to all Princes and Potestates, yea and generally to all estates, that they bridle their minds from proffering of undeserved injuries, and do not constrain the simple sakelesse man to stand in his own defence, nor to do (like the worm) turn again when it is trodden on. I would not have my words wrested to this construction, that it were unlawful to kill a Dear or such beasts of venery: for so should I both speak against the purpose which I have taken in hand, and again I should seem to argue against God's ordinances, since it seemeth that such beasts haué bene created to the use of man and for his recreation: but as by all Fables some good morality may be gathered, so by all Histories and examples, some good allegory and comparison may be made. And to return to the matter, I might recite many other stories and examples, but this may suffice to admonish all Huntesmen that they go wisely and warily to a Heart when he is at Bay: as hereafter I will more largely declare. You shall understand then, that there are Bays in the water and Bays on the land, and if an Heart be in a deep water, where the Huntsman cannot come at him, the best thing that he can do, shallbe to couple up his hounds, and that for many causes: for if they should long continued in the water, it would put them in great danger to founder and mar them, or if the water be broad & deep, they might chance (through eagerness of their game) to drown. For a Hart which is spent, will not willingly leave a great water, when he seethe the hounds and the huntsmen come in to him, but will swim up and down in the midst of the stream, and never come near the banks. And therefore I say the huntsman shall do well to take up his hounds, and to stand close upon a clear wound until the Heart may come out of his own free will, the which peradventure he will quickly do, when he heareth no longer noise after him. And if the huntsman stand clo●…e and upon a clear wind, he may chance to have a blow at him with his sword●… as he cometh out. But if he fail thereof, and that the heart be once past him, let him suffer him to pass far enough before he uncouple his hounds, for if a Hart hear any sudden noise coming after him, he may chance to return unto the soil. But if he perceive that the Heart will not come out of the water, then let him get a boat, or if he can swim, let him put off his clotheses, and swim to him with a Dagger ready drawn to kill him, and yet let him well beware how he assail him, unless the water be very deep. For if it be so shallow that an Hart may stand upon the bottom, he may chance to give the huntsman a shrewd blow, if he take not heed at the ●…rst encounter: marry where it is deep he hath lest force. It hath been my hap oftentimes to kill in this sort very great Hearts, and that in sight and presence of divers witnesses, and afterwards I have guided their dead bodies to the bank swymming. As touching the bay on the land, if the Heart be frayed and burnished, than the huntsman aught well to regard and consider the place. For if it be in a plain and open place, where there is no wood nor covert, it is dangerous and hard to come in to him: but if it be by an hedge side, or in a strong thirke or queadx, then whiles the Heart doth stare and look upon the hounds, the huntsman may come covertly amongst the bushes behind him, and so may easily kill him: and if the Heart turn head upon him, let him run behind some tree, or cover himself in the thick quickly, or shake some 〈◊〉 rudely and boisterously before him. Or else when you see an Hart at Bay, take up the hounds, and when the Heart turneth head to flee, gallop roundly in, and before he have ley sure to turn upon you, it is a thing easy enough to kill him with your sword.   

How to break up an Heart after the French manner, and to reward the hounds. Chap. 42.  
WHen the Heart is killed, than all the huntesmen which be at fall of him, shall blow a note, and whoupe also a dead note, to the end that the rest of the companies with all the hounds may come in. Being assembled, and the Prince or chief hunter come also, they shall bring the hounds to the Dear, and let them all to bite and tear him about the neck, then couple them up until their reward be prepared. Then the chief hunt shall take his knife, and cut off the Deares right foot before, and present it to the King as you see it here portayed. And before they proceed any further, they must cut down good store of green branches and boughs, and strew them upon the ground. Then shall they lay the Hart thereupon, laying him upon his back, with his four feet upwards, and his head under his two shoulders, as you may likewise see here portrayed.  
That being done, make a little fork with one tine longer than any other (as you may see also) upon the which fork you may hung all the dainty morselles which appertain to the Prince or chief parsonage on field. And before that you go about to take off his skin, the first thing that must be taken from him, are his stones which hunters call his doulcettes, and hung them on the fork by a little of their skin: then let them begin to take of his skin in this manner.  
First you must begin to slit it at the throat, and so all along his belly, unto the place where you took away his doulcets, then take him by the right foot before, and cut the skin round about underneath the joint of the dewclawes, and then slit it from thence unto the top of his breast, and do as much to the other forelegge: then slit and cut the skin in like manner of the hinder legs unto the top of the hanche, leaving at the place where you took away the doulcets: then begin at every leg, one after another to take of the skin: & when you come at his sides you must let cleave to the skin, a thin kind of red flesh which hunters call the apparel of an Hart, the which groweth above the benison and between it and the skin on both sides of his body. Thus when the skin is clean taken of saving only at the head, ears, skut, and the Tewell (at all which places the skin must still have hold,) before you go about to do any more, the chief Huntsman must call for a bowl of wine, and drink a good hearty draft: for if he should break up the Dear before he drink, the Uenison would stink and putrefy. You shall also present before the Prince or chief parsonage in field, some fine sauce made with wine and spices in a fair dish upon a chafyngdishe and coals, to the end that as he or she doth behold the huntsman breaking up of the Dear, they may take their pleasure of the sweet dainty morsels, and dress some of them on the coals, making them Carbonadies, and eating them with their sauce, rejoicing and recreating their noble minds with rehearsal which hound hunted best, and which huntsman hunted most like a woodman: calling their best favoured hound●…s and huntesmen before them, and rewarding them favourably, as hath been the custom of all noble personages to do. Then shall the huntsman take his knife in hand again and break up the Dear in this sort: spreading the skin on both sides upon the green leaves strewed for that purpose. first he shall take out the tongue, and put it upon the Fork, for it appertaineth to the Prince or to the chief parsonage: likewise two knots or nuts which are to be taken between the neck and the shoulders, and two others which are in the flanks of the Dear, and are called flankardes, and hung them upon the Fork: this being done, he shall first take out the right shoulder with his shoulder knife, the which pertaineth to the huntsman which harboured him. Then next that other shoulder pertaineth to the rest of the huntesmen. Then must he take the Brysket bone and the flaps which hung with it unto the neck, and that pertaineth also to him that harboured and roused him. Then shall he make his arbour and take out the paunch, and cut off the dears Pyssell, which is medicinable. Afterwards he shall take the sweet pudding (which is the fat gut that goeth to the dears tewel) and the uppermost gut next the stomach, and turn and clenze them both while they be hot, and put them on the fork, for they appertain to the best parsonage.  
All these being done, you shall take the Heart's heart, and slit it in sunder, taking out a bone which is therein, and raise the Noombles from his fillets, and between his hand●…s, and so up to the mydryffe between the bloudboulke and the sides, leaving the ravens morsel (which is the gryssell at the spoon of the brisket) and give two gashes on ead●… side of the brysket, to show the goodness of the flesh. And you shall take from the Noombles three knots or nuts, which are between them and the sides, and are called cynq and quatre. Those pertain to the chief huntsman, ehe Noombles, hand●…s and tenderlings (which are the soft tops of his horns when they are in blood) do pertain to the Prince or chief parsonage. The neck and the chine being taken from the sides, reserve the sides for the Prince, the neck for the varlet of the kennel, and the chine for the varlet that keeps the blood hound.   

How to reward the hounds, and first the blood hound. Chap. 43.  
 
THe hounds shall be rewarded in this manner. First let the blood hounds be present when you break up the Dear, that they may see him broken up, and let them be tied or made fast to some tree or bough, so far one from another that they fight not. Then the huntsman which harboured the Heart, shall take the cabaging of the head, and the heart of the Dear to reward his blood hound first, fór that honour pertaineth to him: when he hath done, he shall deliver it to the rest, that they may likewise reward there's: that done they shall sit down and drink, while the Uarlets of the kennel prepare the reward for their hounds, and that may be made in two sorts. first some use immediately assoon as the Hart is dead, (the huntsi●…ē having blown to assemble the rest unto his fall) to alight from their horses, and take off the Dear skin from his neck whilst it is hot, and when they have well skotd●…d it with their woodknives, that the hounds may the more easily tear off the flesh, they reward the hounds with that and the brains all hot and bleeding: and surely those rewards are much better than others which are given afterwards cold when they come home, and will much better flesh and encourage the hounds. But the rewards which are made at home (which are called cold rewards) are thus given. The varlets of the ken●…ell take bread, and cut it into gobbets into a pan, cutting cheese likewise in gobbets with it: then take they the blood of the dear, and sprinkle it upon the bread and cheese, until the bread and cheese be all bloody: and then they take a great bowl of milk warm, and mingle it altogether. Afterwards they shall spread the skin upon the ground in some fair place, and put out this reward upon it. Remember that you let it not abide long in the pan, for then the milk will turn and be sour. When it is thus prepared, put the cabaging of the head in the midst amongst it, and have a pail or tub of fresh water in a readiness near to the reward, to let your hounds lap in when they are rewarded. Then you shall set the head upon a staff (which must be smooth and clean for hurting of the hounds) and let one of the Uarlets carry it an hunbreth paces from you. Then the Prince or chief shall begin to blow and to hollow for the hounds, because that honour with all others appertain unto the Prince or chief parsonage. And if he or ●…e ca not or will not do it themselves, let them appoint who shall do it as for their honour. Afterwards all the huntsmen shall take their horns and blow, and hallow to the hounds to rejoice them. In this mean while the varlet of the kennel shall stand 〈◊〉 the reward with two wands (in each hand one) ●…o keep the hounds back until they be all come about ●…nd when they are all baying and calling on about him, l●…●…nd from the reward, and suffer the hounds to eat it. ●…n they have almost eaten it up, let him which hold ●…res head, hallow and cry, Hear again boys, h●…●…haw, haw. etc. Then the Uarlets of the kennel which stand ●…he reward, must rate away the hounds, and make them ●…m that halloweth. Then he shall show them the head ●…e Dear, lifting it up and down before them to make 〈◊〉 bay it: and when he hath drawn them all about him bayi●… shall cast down the head amongst them that they may●… their pleasure thereon. Then shall he lead them back a●… to the skin, and turn the skin upon them (being cold then kennel them up. Consider that it shall be best to k●… them immediately, for else if they should run about an well, it would make them cast up their reward again. 〈◊〉 ward being thus given and finished, the varlet and may go to drink.  

An advertisement by the Translato●… of the English manner, in breakin●… up of the Dear.  
IN describing this order how to break up a Dear observed the duty of a faithful translator, nothi●… changing the words of mine author, but suffering 〈◊〉 proceed in the French manner. But because I find it differe●… from our order in some points, therefore I have thought good here to set down such observations of difference as I have noted therein, lest the reader might be drawn in opinion, that the error proceeded only in my default.  
This being done, we use to cut off the dears head. And that is commonly done also by the chief parsonage. For they take delight to cut off his head with their woodknyves, skeins, or sword, to try their edge, and the goodness or strength of their arm. If it be cut off to reward the hounds withal, than the whole neck (or very near) is cut off with it: otherwise it is cut off near to the head. And then the head is cabaged (which is to say) it is cut close by the horns through the brain pan, until you come underneath the eyes, and there it is cut off. The piece which is cut from the horns (together with the brains) are to reward the hounds. That other piece is to nail up the horns by, for a memorial, if he were a great Dear of head.  
As for the dainty morsels which mine Author speaketh off for Princes, our use (as far as ever I could see) is to take the caul●…, the tongue, the ears, the doulcets, the tenderlings (if his head be tender) and the sweet gut, which some call the Inchpinne, in a fair handkerchief altogether, for the Prince or chief.  
It must be remembered (which he leaveth out) that the feet be all four left on. The hinder feet must be to fasten (or hardle as some hunters call it) the haunches to the sides, and the two forefeet are left to hung up the shoulders by.  
We use some ceremony in taking out the shoulder. For first he which taketh it out, cuts the thin skin of the flesh (when the dears skin is taken off) round about the leg, a little above the elbow joint. And there he raiseth out the sinew or muscle with his knife, and putteth his forefinger of his left hand, through under the said muscle to hold the leg by. If afterwards he touch the shoulder or any part of the leg, with any other thing than his knife, until he have taken it out, it is a forfeiture, and he is thought to be no handsome woodman. Then with his shoulder knife he cuts an hole ●…etweene the leg and the brysket, and there puts in his knife, and looseneth the shoulder from the side, going about with his knife, near●… to the outside of the skin, until he have quite taken out the shoulder, and yet left the skin of the side fair and whole. And if he do it not at three boots, it is also a forfeiture.  
We use not to take away the brysket bone, as far as ever I could see, but clive the sides one from another, directly from the place of assay, unto the throat. There is a little gristle which is upon the spoon of the brysket, which we call the ravens bone, because it is cast up to the Crows or Ravens which attend hunters. And I have seen in some places, a Raven so wont and accustomed to it, that she would never sail to croak and cry for it, all the while you were in breaking up of the Dear, and would not departed until she had it. Furthermore, we use not to take the heart from the noombles, but accounted it a principal part thereof. And about the winding up of the noombles, there is also some art to be showed: But by all likelihood, they use it not in France as we do.  
Also I can not perceive by mine Author's words that they make any Arboure, which if they do not, they may chance to break up their dear but homely sometimes. But if they cut away the brisket bone, them it is the less requisite, because they may come at the weasand, and convey it away easily. We use to reward our hounds with the paunch, being emptied first. These things of myself I have thought good to add, desiring the reader to take them in good part.   

The woeful words of the Hart to the Hunter.  
 

SInce I in deepest dread, do yield myself to Man,  
And stand full still between his legs, which erst full wildly ran:  
Since I to him appeal, when hounds pursue me sore,  
As who should say (Now save me man, for else I may no more.)  
Why dost thou then (o Man) (o Hunter) me pursue,  
With cry of hounds, with blast of horn, with hollow, and with hue?  
Or why dost thou devise, such nets and instruments,  
Such toils & toys, as hunters use, to bring me to their bents?  
Since I (as erst was say●…) do so with humble cheer,  
Hold down my head (as who should say, lo Man I yield me here.)  
Why art thou not content, (o murdering cruel mind)  
Thyself alone to hunt me so, which art my foe by kind,  
But that thou must instruct, with words in skilful writ,  
All other men to hunt me eke? O wicked wily wit.  
Thou here hast set to show, within this busy book,  
A looking Glass of lessons lewd, wherein all hunts may look:  
And so whiles world doth last, they may be taught to bring,  
The harmless Hart unto his bane, with many a wily thing.  
Is it because thy mind, doth seek thereby some gains?  
Canst thou in death take such delight? breeds pleasure so in pains?  
O cruel, be content, to take in worth my tears,  
Which grow to gum, and fall from me: content thee with my hears,  
Content thee with my horns, which every year I mew,  
Since all these three make medicines, some sickness to eschew.  
My tears congealed to gum, by pieces from me fall,  
And thee preserve from Pestilence, in Pomander or Ball.  
Such wholesome tears shed I, when thou pursewest me so,  
Thou (not content) dost seek my death, and then thou getst no more.  
My hear is medicine burned, all venomous worms to kill,  
The Snake herself will yield thereto, such was my makers will.  
My horns (which ay renew) as many medicines make  
As there be Troches on their Tops, and all (Man) for thy sake.  
As first they heal the head, from turning of the brain,  
A dram thereof in powder drunk, doth quickly ease the pain:  
They skin a kibed heel, they fret an anguayle off,  
●…o thus I skip from top to toe, yet neither scorn nor scoff.  
They comfort Feevers faint, and lingering long disease,  
Distilled when they be tender buds, they sundry grieves appease:  
They master and correct, both humours, hot and cold,  
Which strive to conquer blood: and breed, diseases manifold.  
They bring down women's terms, and stop them to, for need,  
They keep the mean tween both extremes, & serve both turns in deed:  
They clear the dimmie sight, they kill both web and pin,  
They soon restore the milt or spleen, which putrefies within.  
T●…ey ease an aching Tooth, they break the rumbling wind,  
W●…ich gripes the womb with colliq●…es pangs, such is their noble kind:  
They 〈◊〉 the scalding fire, which skorched with his heat,  
And skin the skalt full 〈◊〉 again, and heal it trim and neat.  
They poison do expel, from Keysar, King, or Queen,  
When it by chance or deep deceit, is swallowed up unseen.  
But wherefore spend I time in vain at large to praise,  
The virtues of my harmless hor●…tes, which heap my harm always?  
And yet such horns, such hear, such tears as I have told,  
I mew and cast for man's avail, more worth to him than gold.  
But he to quite the same, (o Murdering Man therewhyles)  
Pursewes me still and traps me oft, with sundry snares and guiles.  
Alas lo now I feel cold fear within my bones,  
Which hangs her wings upon my heels, to hasten for the nonce  
My swiftest starting steps, me thinks she bids me bide,  
In thickest Tuftes of coverts close, and so myself to hide.  
Ah rueful remedy, so shall I (as it were)  
Even tear my life out of the teeth of hounds which make me fear.  
And from those cruel curs, and brainsick bawling Tikes,  
Which vow foot hot to follow me, both over hedge and dykes.  
Me thinks I hear the Horn, which rends the restless air,  
With shryllest sound of bloody blast, and makes me to despair.  
Me thinks I see the Toil, the tanglings and the stall,  
Which are prepared and set full sure, to compass me withal:  
Me thinks the Foster stands full close in bush or Tree,  
And takes his level straight and true, me thinks he shoots at me.  
And hittes the harmless Heart, of me unhappy Harte,  
Which must needs please him by my death, I may it not astart.  
●…las and well away, me thinks I see the hunt,  
Which takes the measure of my Slottes, where I to tread was wont:  
Because I shall not miss, at last to please his mind,  
Alas I see him where he seeks my latest layre to find.  
He takes my fewmers up, and puts them in his horn,  
Alas me thinks he leaps for joy, and laugheth me to scorn.  
Hark, hark, alas give ear, This gear goeth well (sayeth he)  
This Heart bears dainty venison, in Prince's dish to be.  
Lo now he blows his horn, even at the kennel door,  
Alas, alas, he blows a seek, alas yet blows he more:  
He ieopardes and rechates, alas he blows the Fall,  
And foundes that deadly doleful Mote, which I must die withal.  
What should the cruel mean? perhaps he hopes to find,  
As many medicines me within to satisfy his mind.  
May be) he seeks to have my Suet for himself,  
Which sooner heals a merrygald, then Apothecary's pelf.  
(May be) his joints be numb, as Sinews shrunk with cold,  
And that he knows my Suet will, the same full soon unfold.  
(May be) his wife doth fear to come before by'r time,  
And in my maw he hopes to find, (amongst the slutte and slime)  
A Stone to help his wife, that she may bring to light,  
A bloody babe like bloody Sire, to put poor Hearts to flight:  
Perchance with sickness he hath troubled been of late,  
And with my marrow thinketh to restore his former state.  
(May be) his heart doth quake, and therefore seeks the bone,  
Which Huntesmen find within my heart, when I poor heart) am go.  
(It may be) that he means my flesh for to present,  
Unto his Prince for delicates, such may be his intent.  
Yea more than this (may be), he thinks such nurture,  
Will still prolong men's days on earth, since mine so long endure.  
But o mischievous man, although I thee outlive,  
By due degrees of age unseen, which Nature doth me give:  
Must thou therefore procure my death? for to prolong  
Thy lingering life in lusty wise? alas thou dost me wrong.  
Must I with mine own flesh, his hateful flesh so feed,  
Which me disdains one bit of grass, or corn in time of need?  
Alas (Man) do not so, some other beasts go kill,  
Which work thy harm by sundry means: and so content thy will.  
Which yield thee no such gains, (in life) as I renew,  
When from my head my stately horns, (to thy bchoofe) I mew.  
But since thou art unkind, ungracious and unjust,  
Lo here I crave of mighty Gods, which are both good and just:  
That Mars may reign with Man, that strife and cruel war,  
May set man's murdering mind on work, with many a bloody 〈◊〉.  
That drums with deadly dub, may countervail the blast,  
Which they with horns have blown full loud, to make my mind aghast.  
That shot as thick as Hail, may stand for crossbow shoots,  
That Cuysses, Greves, and such may serve, in stead of Hunter's boots.  
That girt with slege full sure, they may their toils repent,  
That Embuskadoes stand for nets, which they against me bend.  
That when they see a spi●…, which watcheth them to trap,  
They may remember ring walks made, in herbor me to hap.  
That when their busy brains, are exercised so,  
Hearts may lie safe within their layre, and never fear their foe.  
But if so chance there be, some dastard dreadful mome,  
Whom Trumpets cannot well entice, nor call him once from home:  
And yet will play the man, in killing harmless dear,  
I crave of God that such a ghost, and such a fearful fere,  
May see Dyana nakt: and she (to venge her scorns)  
May soon transform his harmful head, into my harmless horns:  
Until his hounds may tear, that hart of his in twain,  
Which thus torments us harmless Hearts, and puts our hearts to pain.   
THus have you an end of so much as I found meet to be translated out of mine Author for the Hunting of an Heart: Wherein I have dealt faithfully for so much as I translated, neither taking any thing from him, nor adding any thing but that which I have plainly expressed, together with the reasons that moved me thereunto. And that which I have left out is nothing else but certain unseemly verses, which because they are more apt for lascivions miudes, than to be interlaced amongst the noble terms of venery, I thought meet to leave them at large, for such as will read them in French.  
An end of the Hunting and Termes which are used in hunting the Heart.    

Of the hunting of the Buck. Chap. 44.  
Although mine Author were a Frenchman, & in France the hunting of the Buck is nothing so common as the hunting of the Heart is, yet somewhat he hath written thereof, the which (together with some experience of mine own) I have thought good here to place next unto the hunting of the Heart.  
It is needless to writ what difference of hear, head, and other proportions, there are between the Heart and the Buck, since both kinds of venery are common enough in this our noble Country. The Buck is fawned in the end of May, and hath all properties common with an Heart, but that the Heart goeth sooner to the Rut, and is sooner in grease, for when a Hart hath been. xiv. days at Rut, than the Buck doth but scarcely begin: there is not so much skill to be used in lodging of a Buck, as in harbouring of a Heart, nor needeth to use somuch drawing after him: but only to judge by the view and mark what grove or covert he goeth into, for he will not wander nor roil so far about as a Heart, nor change layre so often: and yet we use here in England to lodge the Buck as we use to harbour the Heart, for the Buck is much commoner with us than the Heart. He maketh his fewmishing in sundry manners and forms as the Heart doth, according to the season of the feed that he finds, but most commonly they are round: when they are hunted they fly into ●…rch strong covertes as they have been most accustomed unto, and never flee so far before the hounds, nor double, cross, nor use such and so many subtle policies as an Heart doth. For he turneth back upon the hounds oftentimes, and escheweth the high ways as much as he may, especially in the open plains: he is sometimes killed at Soil as an Heart doth, and will beat a Brook or River, but not so craftily nor can so long endure therein, nor dare take such great rivers and waters as the Heart will, he leapeth lightlier at the Rut than an Heart, and groyneth as an Heart belloweth, but with a base boyce rattling in the throat: the Heart & he love not one another, but do one of them eschew another's layre: they are sweeter of Scent unto the hounds than the Heart or the Rowdeare, and yet some think that the Row is the sweetest chase that is, but at lest their flesh is more delicate: and therefore if a hound have once fed thereon, he will love it above all other chases. The venison of a Buck is very dainty, good meat, & is to be dressed (in manner) like to the venison of an Heart: but the Hearts flesh willbe longer preserved: the Buck will heard more than the Heart, and lieth in the dryest places: but if he be at large out of a Park, he will herded but little from the month of May, until the end of August, or very near, because the fly troubleth him: they love the hilly places well, but they must have dales and bottoms to feed in: we hunt the Buck even as we hunt the Heart: saving that it is not needful to lay so many relayes, nor to lay out so far. Because he fleeth not so far out, but wheeleth and keepeth the covert as is before declared. The greatest subtlety that a huntsman hath need to beware of in hunting the Buck, is to keep his hounds from hunting counter or change, because we have plenty of Fallow dear, and they come oftener directly back upon the hounds than a red dear doth: the breaking up and reward are all one with the breaking up and reward of an Heart.   

Of the hunting of a Row. Chap. 45.  
THe Row is a beast well known and easy to hunt, and yet few huntesmen know his nature: he goeth to Rut in October: and remaineth therein fifteen days, he never companieth but with one make, and they never part until the Rowdoe have fawned. Then the do parteth from the Buck & fawneth as far from him as she can, for if he find it, he will kill the fawn: but when the fawn is great that he can run and feed, than the do returns to the buck & accompa●…ieth with him again lovingly. Yea and they will make as much haste to return togethers as may be, the cause whereof is that a Row do doth most commonly fawn two at once: & they be commonly also h●…cke & Do, so that being accustomed togethers in youth, they do love to keep company ever after. Some Row do hath been killed with five fawns in her, body at once, which is a strange thing in so small a beast. And here I thought good to note unto you that a fawn of a Row, is called the first year a Kid: the second a Girl: the third year an Hemuse: the fourth a Row buck of the first head: and the fifth year a Rowebucke and no more. Assoon as a Rowebucke cometh from Rut he casts his horns, and few of them after they be passed two years old, do fail to mew at Alhollantide: their heads grow out again very quickly for they fray them commonly in March: you may hunt him at all times alike, for his venison is never fat, nor never out of season: they hide their heads in moss, when they have cast and mewed them: all the favour that should be showed unto the Row dear, is unto the Does when they are with fawn, and until their fawns be able to live without them. They make marvelous good chase and stand up long, and flee far endways, and their flesh is good meat: you shall hardly know them either by their foot or fewmettes: they see not very perfectly, nor bear any great venison: that is to say, they be not very fat, unless it be innards: their kidneys will sometimes be hid with fat, and then are they in great pride of grease. When they are hunted they turn much and come often directly back upon the dogs, and when they may no more endure, they flee to the water, and beat the water like an Heart, wherein they will hung by some bough all under the water but their very snout, & will never stir until a man or a hound come even upon them: he keepeth in the strong thickets, and commonly in the highest grounds: sometimes also in the plains but that very seldom. The Rut of a Row dear is properly (amongst hunters) called his turn, as to say the Row goeth in his Turn. His crossings and doublings before the hounds are called Trasonings. He is not called a great Rowebucke, but a fair Row-bucke: the herded of them is called a bevy: if he have Beavie grease upon his tail when you break him up, then is he venison: otherwise he is meeter for to be given whole to the hounds than to be dressed for your dish: the hounds must be rewarded with the bowels, the blood, and the feet slit in sunder and boiled altogether, it is not called a reward but a dole: of all other things necessary to be understood for the hunting of a Rowdeare, I have sufficiently spoken in the hunting of an Heart, and the hunting of a Buck.   

Of the Raynedeare. Chap. 46.  
THe Raynedeare is a beast like unto an Heart, but great diversity in their heads: for a Raynedeares head, is fuller of antlyers and much bigger and wider in co●…passe: he beareth four and twenty branches or more, according to his age: he hath a great pawme on the Top like a Heart: and his antliers before are paw●…ed also: he flieth endways when he is hunted by reason of the great weight of his head: but when he hath stood up a great while and hath crossed, doubled, and used all his policies, than he sets his back and haunches against some Tree that nothing may assail him but only before, and holds his head low to the ground: and then few dare come near him, and his head covereth all his body. If any man come in to help the hounds behind him, then whereas a Heart will strike with his antlyer, he striketh with his feet, but not so great a blow, yet he willbe sure never to turn his head, for that is his chief defence: He is terrible to see both for hound and greyhound by reason of his great huge head, he is not much higher than a buck, but he is greater and thicker: when he raiseth up his head, it is much wider and brother than his body is: he feedeth like a Hart, and maketh his fewmets, sometimes round and sometimes flat, he liveth very long, and is killed with hounds, bows, nets, and other such engines: he beareth fatter venison when he is in pride of grease than any other Dear doth: he goeth to Rut after the Heart like a fallow Dear, and fawneth like as other dear fawn: he is seldom hunted at force, nor with hounds, but only drawn after with a bloodhound and forestalled with nets and engines, and that in the thick and greatest holds if you can, for so shall you soon overcome him by reason of his great head which cumbereth him. I will treat no more of him, because I do not remember that I ever herded of any in this ou●… Realm of England: it may be that there be some in Ireland: And therefore I thought not a●…isse thus to place him amongst the beasts of venery, although he be not here in use.   

The hunting of the wild Goat. Chap. 47.  
THere are two sorts of wild Goats, the one are called even so, wild Goats: and that other sort is called ●…arus or Saris. And although I have not herded or red that there be any of them in England, or at lest any that be hunted, yet because it may be well enough that there are some in Wales or in other Mountains, I have thought good to set down the nature of him, and the manner of hunting of him, as I found it in mine Author, placing him amongst the beasts of venery, since it appeareth by the holy Scriptures that his flesh is Uenison. The wild Goat is as big as an Heart, but he is not so long, nor so long legged, but they have as much flesh as the Heart hath, they have wreaths and wrinkles on their horns whereby their age is known: for so many years old as he is, so many wreaths you shall find about his horn: and as a Heart meweth and casts his head, so doth the wild Goat mew his wreaths & renew them, but he meweth not the beam, the which is as big as a man's leg if he be an old Goat. They have a great long beard, & are brownish grey of colour like unto a Wolf, and very shaggy, having a black list all alongst the chine of their back, & down to their belly is fallow, their legs black, and their ●…ayle fallow: their feet are like the feet of a tame Goat: the print and track whereof is great broad & round, rather bigger than the Slot of an Heart: their bones be according to the bigness of a tame Goat, but somewhat greater: they are fawned in May, & fawn as a Hind or Do, but they have but one fawn at once, the which they suckle and bring up as the tame Goat bringeth up her kid. Their feed is of corn and grass as other Dear feed: but they will eat ivy, moss and such like feed that is hard, better than any other Dear. In spring they make their feromets round, but afterwards they make them brother and flat, as a Heart doth when he comes to good feed. There is judgement to be taken by their fe●…mets, either round or ●…latte, even as there is of an Heart: they go to Rut about Alhallantide, and abide therein a month: when their Rut is past they put thē●…lues in herds and come down from the mountains & rocks, where they abide all the Summer: and that aswell to eschew the Snow, as also because they found no food on the mountains any longer: and yet they come not very low into the plains, but keep about the foot of the mountains, and there seek foo●… until it be towards Easter: then they return to the mountains, and every one of them takes him to his hold or strongest covert upon the rocks & crags, even as the Hearts keep the thickes. Then the he goats part from the female (which are called Geats, and the bucks Goats) and the Geats draw near to some little brook or water to fawn, & to abide there all the summer. When the Goats be so parted from the Geats, attending until the time of their Rut return, they run upon either man or beasts which pass by them, and fight one with another as Hearts do, but not altogether a like: for these make an unpleasant noise, & they hurt sore with their blows, not with the ends of their horns, but with the midst & Butt of their head: in such sort that they do oftentimes brea●…e a man's leg or his arm at a blow: & though he woundeth not with his blow, yet if he bear a man against a tree or a bank, he will surely kill him: and such force hath he also in the chine of his back, that though a man (how strong soever he be) should strike him with a bar of iron overthwart the reins, he will go on and never shrink at it. When he goeth to Rut, his throat and neck is marvelous great: he hath such a property that although he fall ten poles length down from an high, he will take no hurt thereby: and he goeth as surely upon the top of a rock, as a Hor●…e will go in an high way. They climb marvelously for their feed, and sometimes they fall, then can they not hold with their feet, but thrust out their heads against the rocks and hung by their horns until they have recovered themselves up again. That kind of them which is called 〈◊〉 or Saras, is of like proportion to this which I have already described, and is not much bigger than the tame Goat. His nature and properties are (in manner) all one with the wild Goat. Sometimes he would skrat his thighs with his soot, and thrusteth his hooves in so far, that he cannot draw them back again, but falls and breaketh his neck, for his hooves of his feet are crooked, and he thrusteth them far into the skin, and then they will not come out again. When they come from their feed, they go to the rocks & lie upon the hardest places that they can find. The Gaul both of this sort and that other, is very good for sinews that be shrunk up, when they are great & old, they are but too too fat venison, especially within the body. The Geateses have horns like the Goats in all respects, but not so great: both sorts of them have their season & grease time, like unto the Hart going to Rut at Alhallantide: than you may hunt them until their Rutting time come, for in winter they are very lean, feeding upon nothing but Pines & Fyrretrees, or such other woods as are always green, how little nurture soever they yield. Their leather is warm when it is carried in season, for neither cold nor rain will pierce it, if the hairy side be outwards: their flesh is not very wholesome, but breeds the fever through the abundant heat that is in it: nevertheless when they are in season, the venison of them is reasonable delicate to eat.   

How to hunt the wild Goats. Chap. 48.  
THe best time to hunt the wild Goat, is at Alhallontide, and the huntsman must tic by night in the high mountains in some shepherds ●…abane, or such cottage: and it were good that he lay so seu●…n or eight days before he mean to hunt, to see the advantages of the coasts, the Rocks, & places where the goats do lie, & all such other circumstances: & let him sct nets & toylcs, or forestallings, towards the rivers & bottoms, even as he would do for an Heart: for he may not look the his hou●…s will follow the Goat down every place of the mountains. if he have not hewers nor Huntesmen enough to set round about: then let him place his copanions on the tops of the Rocks, that they may throw down stones, and shoot with Crossbows at the Goats: a Huntsman shall seek them and draw after them with his bloudhounde, even as he doth after an Heart, and then cast off four or sieve couple of hounds to maintain the cry, & shall make three or four relayes to refresh those hounds which are first cast off: for when his hounds have once or twice climbed up the Mountains & cliffs, they will be so hot and so sore spent, that they can hunt no longer: then the Goat goeth down to the small brooks or waters in the bottoms, and therefore at such places it shallbe best setting of relayes, and let the relayes never tarry until the hounds come in, which were first cast off, for it willbe long sometimes before they come in: and yet there are some lusty young hounds which will never give over a Goat nor suffer him to take Soil. This chase requireth no great Art nor following, neither can a man follow on foot nor on horseback. The best help is in the Relayes which shallbe set in the bottoms, and for the reward, it may be done at pleasure and devise of the Huntsman, always provided that he reward not the hounds with the best morselles.   

Of the wild Boar, his properties, and the manner of hunting at him. Chap. 49.  
Having described the hunting of an Heart, and all other dear according to my simple skill, I have thought good to set down here a little treatise of the hunting at the wild Boar, and of his properties: although he aught not to be counted amongst 
Yet our Trystram reckoneth the Boar for one of the four beasts of Venery.  the Beasts of venery which are chasable with hounds, for he is the proper pray of a Mastif and such like dogs, for as much as he is a heavy beast, and of great force, trusting & affying himself in his Tusks & his strength, and therefore will not so lightly flee nor make chase before hounds, so that you cannot (by hunting of the Boar) know the goodness or swiftness of them, and therewithal to confess a truth, I think it great pity to hunt (with a good kennel of hounds) at such chas●…●…d that for such reasons and considerations as follow.  
First he is the only beast which can dispatch a hound at one blow, for though other beasts do bite, snatch, tear, or rend your hounds, yet there is hope of remedy if they be well attended: but if a Boar do once strike your hound and light between the four quarters of him, you shall hardly see him escape: and therewithal this subtlety he hath, that if he be run with a good kennel of hounds, which he perceyneth hold in round and follow him hard, he will flee into the strongest thicket that he can find, to the end he may kill them at leisure one after another, the which I have seen by experience oftentimes. And amongst others I saw once a Bore chased and hunted with fifty good hounds at the lest, and when he saw that they were all in full cry, and held in round togethers, he turned head upon them, and thrust amidst the thickest of them. In such sort that he slew sometimes fire or seven (in manner) with twinkling of an eye: and of the fifty hounds there went not twelve sound and alive to their Master's houses. I gain if a kennel of hounds be once used to hunt a Boar, they will become lyther, and will never willingly hunt fleeing chases again. For asmuch as they are (by him) accustomed to hunt with more ease, and to found great Sent. For a Boar is a beast of a very hot Scent, and that is contrary to light fleeing chases, which are hunted with more pain to the hound, and yet therewith do not leave so great Sent. And for these causes who so ever means to have good hounds for an Heart, Hare, or Rowdeare, let him not use them to hunt the Boar: but since men are of sundry opinions, and love to hunt such chases as lie most commodiously about their dwelling places, I will here describe the property of the Boar, and how they may hunt him. And the manner of kill him either with the sword or boarspear, as you shall also see it set out in portraiture hereafter in his place.   

Of the nature and subtlety of the Boar. Chap. 50.  
THe Boar is of this nature, that when his Dame doth pig him, he hath as many teeth, as ever he will have whiles he liveth, neither will their teeth any way multiply or increase but only in greatness and length. Among the rest they have four, which (with the Frenchmen) are called Defences: and we call them Tusks or Tusches, whereof the two highest do not hurt when he striketh, but serve only to whet the other two lowest: but with those lower Tusks, they strike marnelously and kill oftentimes: if a Boar happen to have his eyes blemished, or to hurt them dangerously, he will heal again very soon. A Boar may live five and twenty, or thirty years: it is easier to bring them into a Soil in April or in may, than in any other season: and that is because they sleep soundlier in those two months than at any other time of the year: for as much as they feed then upon strong herbs and buds of trees, which do so moisten their brains that they become very sleepy. Again the spring time reneweth their blood, which maketh them sleep the more sound. They go to Rut about the month of December, and their great heat endureth near about three weeks. And although their Sows become cold again and covet not the Boar, yet do not the Boar's part from them until it be januarie, than they withdraw themselves unto their holds, wherein they keep close sometimes three or four days together and never come out, especially when they have found●… the 〈◊〉, and do find sweetness in the root of the Fern. Sometimes a Boar will wander far out of the Forests or thick coverts to seek feeding: especially in time of the vintage in such Countries as wine is made: and wheresoever they become when day appeareth, there will they abide without respect of the place. It sufficeth if they find but some tuffte of thorns or brambles, and there will they lie until it be night again: they hearken earnestly and will hear a man very far off, especially when they be under the wind, but if they be up the wind, hear not greatly. They live and feed upon all kind of Corn and Fruits, as Apples, Pears, Plums, Akehornes, Chestnuttes, Beechmaste, and such like, and of all sorts of root●…s also, unless it be Rapes and Navy roots. Also in Apryll and May they feed on the buds of Plumtrees, & Chestnut trees, and all other sweet buds that they can find, especially upon the buds of broom and juniper, they will feed on no carrion unless it be of a dead Horse: they never become soul or mesled (as we term it) like unto our tame Swine. When they are in the marshes, they feed and live upon water Cresseys', wild Garlic, and such herbs as they can find. Being near to the Sea coast, they will feed upon all kind of shel-fishes, as Cockles, muscles, Oysters, and such like. Their season beginneth in the midst of September, and endeth about the beginning of December when they go to the Rutte: commonly a Boar will abide the bay before he go out of his den, and they lie most commonly in the strongest holds of Thorns, and thick Bushes: and when they are hunted they stick also in the strongest coverts, and will seldom leave them until it be dark night. And if it chaunee that there be a Sownder of them together, then if any one break Sownder, the rest will follow the same way. The Boar doth sooner forsake the hollow forests to seek strong coverts, than the Heart doth: thereupon it hath been spoken in Proverb, that a Boar is but a gest: and if a Boar be in a thick or strong covert, being come thither from a hollow wood or Forest, then if you hunt him, he will not fail to go back by the same way that he came thither: and when soever they are once reared, they flee continually & never stay until they come to the place where they were farrowed and brought up, for there they think themselves in sa●…egarde. This have I seen by experience by a Boar, which hath come fro●… his accustomed den to seek feed, and being hunted he went immediately & directly back close and rowteth not, then shall you say he grazeth: these terms you may use in making report of a Boar.   

The judgement whereby you may know a great Boar, and first by the foot. Chap. 52.  
COmmonly a man may know an old Boar or a great swine, by the foot where he hath go, whereof the print or form aught to be great and large, the toes round and thick, the edge of his hoof worn and blunt, without cutting or paring the ground, so much as a younger swine doth: the heel great, the guards (which are his hinder claws or dewclawes) should be great and open one from another, upon the which he beareth and stayeth him all the way when he goeth upon hard ground: his footing behind should be trodden sidewardes, and more outwards than his forefeet, to show the thickness between his thighs. The pleytes or wrinkles which are between his heel and dewelawes, should leave print or form on the ground, showing the stiffness and thickness of his hair: his steps great and long, the treading of his foot should be deep and great, to show the weightiness of his body.   

The judgement by his rowtings. Chap. 53.  
WHen a Boar rowteth in a hedge, for a root (which some call the Park) then may you perceive the greatness and length of his head, by the depth and largeness of his routing. So may you also know in soft places where he wormeth, or in such other places.   

The judgement by the soil. Chap. 54.  
WHen he soyleth and walloweth him in the mire, then is it easy to know his greatness, by the length & largeness of the soil. Or else at his departure-from the soil, you may perceive it where he hath go into some thick, by the leaves and braundrs which he shall touch: for he goeth out of the soil all my●…rie and dyrtie, the which will leave marks upon the leaves and branches of his height, thickness. etc. Sometimes when he cometh out of the soil, he will rub him against a tree, by the w●…ich you may see his height: and also he will commonly give two or three blows with his tusks upon the tree, as it were the staus' of a dagger, whereby the huntsman may take judgement and knowledge as well of his height, as also of the greatnes●…e of his tusks. You may know and judge also by his den: for a great Boar when he is at prime of his grease, will make his d●… deep: and at his going out thereof, will make hi●… loesses (which is his ordure) and by the greatness and length thereof you may judge the Boar. These loesses shall never be brought to an assembly, but let the huntsman content himself with the sight of them in places where he finds them.   

The difference between wild swine, and our hogs. Chap. 55.  
THe difference between wild swine and our hogs is great, and that in sundry respects. First they are commonly black, or grissed and streaked with black: whereas ours are white, sanded, and of all colours. Therewithal the wild swine in their gate, do always set the hinderfoote within the forefoote, or very near, and stay themselves more upon the toe than upon the heel, shutting their claws before close: and commonly they strike their guards (which are their dewclawes) upon the ground, the which sway outwards: & the sides of their hoofs do cut & pair the ground, the which our swine do not, for they sprea●…e and open their foreclawes, leaving ground between them: and they be commonly round and worn, leaning & staying more upon the heel than upon the toe. Again, they set not their hinderfoote within their forefoote, and their guards fall strait upon the ground and never shoyle or lean outwards: & they do beat down & foil the ground, and cut it not. Also the sole of their feet is fleshy, and maketh no plain print upon the ground as the wild swine do. There is likewise great difference in their to w●…ings: for a wild swine doth rout deeper, because his snout is longer: and w●…en they come into corn fields they follow a furrow, routing and worming all alongst by some baulk, until they come to the end. But tame swine rout here and there all about the field, and never follow their routing as the wild swine do. Likewise you may know them by the difference of their feeding in corn grown: for the wild swine bear down the corn round about them in one certain place, and tame swine feed scattering here and there.   

The difference between the male, and the female. Chap. 56.  
ALthough some hunters hold opinion, that there is small judgement to be taken of the difference between male and female, being young swine that yet do keep the sounder: Yet have I observed divers differences in my time, whereby you may know the male from the female, yea were they but pigs of a year old following the dams, whereof I will show mine opinion in this sort. The male pigs following the dam, do commonly scatter further abroad than the females do, and will nouzle and turn up the ground ten or twelve paces further of from their dams than the females do, and that (think I) is because they are hardy than the females are, for they follow the dam as close as they can, and dare not scatter abroad as the males do. You may judge them also by their gate, for every male pig or hog, goeth brother with his hinder legs than the female do: and commonly they set the track or print of the hinder foot, upon the outer side of the print of the forefoote, by reason of the thickness that he bears between the thighs more than the female, for the female is leaner between the legs, and goeth closer in her gate. You may also know them by their guards, for the male hath them commonly greater, and nearer to his heel than the female, which beareth them high, short, and lose, one being near unto an other, and therefore she striketh not her guards on the ground so often as the male doth, yea though she do, the print of them is but small and slight, and spoileth not outwards like the male. Also commonly the female hath not so great an heel as the male, and hath her claws longer and sharper before, and opening wider than the male. Also the soles of her hinder feet, are lesser and straighter than the males be.   

How to hunt the Boar with hounds at force. Chap. 57  
YOu shall not by your will hunt a young Boar of three years at force. For he will stand up as long or longer than a light young dear, which beareth but three in the top. But when he is in his fourth year, then may you hunt him at force, even as well as an Hart of ten: and yet he will stand up rather loger. Wherefore if a hunts●…an do go to rear a Boar of four years old, he shall do well to mark well whether he went timely to his den or not. For commonly these Boars which tarry till it be day light before they go into their co●…ches or dens, following their paths or ways long time, especially where they found fern or beech, whereupon they feed, are great murderers of dogs, and very hardy. The hunt●…man shall not need to be afraid to come over near unto such a Boar for rearing of him, for he will not likely be reared for him. But if he found of a Boar which soyleth oftentimes, and which routeth now here, & now there, never staying long upon one place, then is it a token that he hath been s●…arred, and withdraweth himself to some resting place at all adventures. And such boars most commonly come to their dens, cou●…hes, or holds, two or three hours before day. Then let the huntsman beware for coming over near to them, for if they once find him in the wind, or have the wind of his hound, they will be go, and he shall hardly come near them again, nor find them. If a Boar mean to tarry and abide in his den, couch, or fort, then maketh he some doubling, or crossing at the entry thereof upon some high way or beaten path, and then goeth into his hold, to lay him down in his couch or den: and by such means a huntsman being early in the woods, may judge the subtlet●…e or craft of the Boar, and according to that which he shall perceive, he may prepare to hunt with hounds which are hot or temperate. For if it be a great Boar, and one that hath line long at rest, he shall do well to hunt him with hounds that will stick to him: and let the huntsmen on horseback be ever amongst them, charging the Boar, and forcing him as much as they may to discourage him: for if you hunt such a Boar with four or five couple of hounds, he will make small account of them, and when they have a little chafed him, he will take courage, and keep them still at Bays, running upon any thing that he seethe before him: but if he perceive himself charged and hard laid unto with hounds and huntesmen, than he will become astonied, and loose courage, and then he is enforced to flee and to seek the country abroad. You must set Relayes also, but that must be of the staunchest and best old hounds of the kennel: for if you should make your Relayes with young hounds, and such as are swift and rash, then when a Boar is any thing before the rest of the hounds in chase, he might easily kill them in their furic, at their first coming in to him. But if he be a Boar which is accustomed to flee endways before the hounds, and to take the champagne country, than you shall cast of but four or five couple of hounds at the ●…irst, and set all the rest at Relayes, about the entry of the fields where you think likely that he will flee. For such a Boar will ●…ldome keep hounds at a Bay, unless he be forced: and if he do stand at Bay, the huntesmen must ride in unto him as secretly as they can without much noise, and when they be near him, let them cast round about the place where he standeth, and run upon him all at once, and it shall be hard if they give him not one skotch with a sword, or some wound with a boarspear: and let them not strike low, for than they shall commonly hit him on the snout, because he watcheth to take all blows upon his Tusks or there abouts. But let them lift up their hands high, and strike right down: and let them beware that they strike not towards their horses, but that other way: For on that side that a Boar feeleth himself hurt, he turneth head straight ways, whereby he might the sooner hurt or kill their horses, if they struck towards them. And if they be in the plain, then let ●…ast a cloak about their horses, and they may the better ride about the Boar, and strike at him as they pass: but stay not long in a place. It is a certain thing experimented and found true, that if you hung bells upon collars about your hounds necks, a Boar will not so soon strike at them, but flee endways before them, and seldom stand at Bay.  
An end of the Hunting of the Boar.   


Of the hunting of an Hare.  
 

I am an Hare, a beast of little strength,  
Yet making sport, of love and gentle gests,  
For running swift, and holding out at length,  
I bear the beil, above all other beasts.    

Of the properties of an Hare, and how to know the male, from the female. Chap. 58.  
I Will begin with the virtues & properties of an Hare, the which be very great & many, having consideration to the greatness and littleness of her. First the blood of an Hare, is a sore drier, and if you do anoint therewith any ytching place, or a ringwor●…e, it will dry it up and heal it. The Hare hath a little bone in a joint of her hinder leg called the stifling bone, which is very good for the Colic and the Cramp. Her skin burned to powder, is a sovereign medicine to stench blood. The Hare first taught us the use of the herb called wild succory, which is very excellent for those which are disposed to be melancholic: she herself is one of the most melancholic beasts that is: and to heal her own infirmities, she goeth commonly to sit under that herb: whereupon it hath been called in times past Palatius leporis, that is to say, Hare's pallayse. The Hare doth naturally know the change of weather from. xxiv. hours, to. xxiv. hours. When she goeth to her form, she will not let the dew or wet touch her as near●… as she can, but followeth the high ways and beaten paths, and breaketh the high stalks as she goeth with her teeth. And because some Hares by haunting the low watery places, do become foul and messed, such Hares do never follow the hard ways, nor make such paths to their forms, but use all their subtleties & pollecies by the sides of the Ry●…ers, brooks, and other waters. And you shall understand, that the females are not so commonly foul or r●…esled, as the males ar●…, & therefore a huntsman may judge by the relief and feed of the Hare what she is, and which way she formeth. They go to Buck commonly in Januarie, February, and March. Sometimes they seek the Buck seven or eight miles distant from the place where ●…hey use to sit; following the beaten high ways, as be hereafter declared. A Buck Hare will abide the hounds nearer him when he sitteth, than the female will, because be feeleth himself quicker, and his body better disposed and ha●…ier. If when a Hare riseth out of the form, she set up her ears, and run not very fast at the first, and cast up her Skut 〈◊〉 her bac●…e, it is a token that it is an old and crafty Hare. Although some say that there is no iudgem●…nt of difference between the male and the female Hares, yet have I found the contrary. For the male Hare or buck maketh his crole●…s always smaller & drier, and more sharpened towards the end. The female maketh them greater and rounder, and not so dry. And the cause is, that the female relieveth not so far out a nights, and is gr●…ater of body, which causeth her to make the greater Croteys also. You shall know a buck as you hunt him to the form●…: for you shall found that he hath more beaten the hard high ways, and feedeth further out into the plains, and maketh his doublings and crossings much wider, and of greater compass than the female doth. For she will keep close by some coverts side, turning and winding in the bushes like a Coney. And if she go to relief in the corn fields, she will not lightly cross over the furrows, but followeth them all along, and stayeth much upon the thickest tufts of corn to feed: Neither is she satisfied b●… feeding her belly full, but shreds the corn, and scattreth it as she goeth. Likewise you may know a Buck at rising out of the form, for he hath his ●…inder parts much more whitely, as if he were grey or downy: Or you shall know him if you mark his shoulders well before he rise, for they are redder than a female Hares be, and will have some loose long hairs growing on them. Again, you may know him by his head, the which is shorter and better trussed than the females is. The hairs about his lips and cheeks, are longér, & commonly his ears shorter, greater, and more whitely. The female ●…ath a long and lean head, her ears long, the hair upon the chine of her back, blackish grey. And commonly when hounds bunt a female Hare, she will use more crossing, doubling, & turning before them, passing seven or eight times one way, & never maketh out endways before the hounds. The male doth contrary: for if she hounds run him, and that he have once made a turn or two about his form, then farewell hounds: for he will lead them sometimes three or four miles endways before he turn the head, and that lightly into some coast where he hath been in times past, and from whence he hath been chased and hunted. For an Hare will go seven or eight miles end ways at once: & you may know when a Hare is so come from far by this means.  
When you see that your hounds sinned where an Hare hath passed at relief, upon the highways sides, & hath much doubled & crossed upon dry places, and never much broken out nor relieved in the corn, it is a token that she is but lately come into those quarters: and then commonly she will stay upon some high place, to look about her, & to choose out a place to form in, & also that better to save hirself, if she per●…iue either hounds or any thing else that follows or meets her. Or you may also know, because commonly Hares which stray so, do make their form close, because they are in doubt and dread. And when the hounds find them and put them up, they break and double, turning back towards their form: because it grieveth them to part from it, knowing not the country. But when they perceive that the hounds hold in to them, than they return by the same ways that they came. By these tokens you may know an Hare that is a passenger, which may chance to lead your hounds a lusty dance after her.    

Of the subtleties of an Hare, when she is run and hunted. Chap. 59  
I Might well maintain that of all chases, the Hare maketh greatest pastime and pleasure, and showeth most running in hunting, and is meetest for gentlemen of all other huntings, for that they may found them at all times, and hunt them at most seasons of the year, and that with small charges. And again, because their pastime shall be always in sight, whereby they may judge the goodness of their hounds, without great pains or travel. Also it is great pleasure to behold the subtlety of the little poor beast, and what shift she can make for her ●…lfe. Wherefore the hun●…n must be wary and wise to mark hit subtleties, the which I have predicted much, and therefore I am the bolder to set down in writing such 〈◊〉 as I have seen, known, and made. First the hunte●…man which shall be next the hounds, shall look and mark ●…any things when the Hare rises out of ●…ir form. As first what weather it is. For if it be rainy weather, than the Hare will hold the high ways more than at any other time. And if she come to the side of any young spring or grove, she will not lightly go in, but will convey herself, and squat under the side thereof, until the hounds have overshot her: and then she will return the self●… same way that she came, unto the place where she was start or put up, for she will not willingly go into any covert, because of the dew and wet that hangs upon the low twigs. In such a case, the huntsman shall do well, to tarry and stay an hundredth paces before he come to the woods sides, and then he shall see her if she come right back as before said. Then may he hallow in his hounds and call them back: for else it would be hard to make it out. When a Hare doth so as before said, because an hound will scarcely believe that the Hare were go directly backwards, therefore the Huntsman shall do well to hallow them in before they go any further: for else they will rather judge it to be the counter as she came first.  
next to this, a huntsman must mark in what place the Hare sitteth, and upon what wind she made her form. For if she form either upon the North wind, or upon the South wind, she will not willingly run into the wind, but will run upon a side wind, or else down the wind. Also if an Hare do form in the water, it is a token that she is foul and mesled. In hunting of such an Hare, let the huntesmen take good heed all the day unto the Brooks sides, for such an Hare will make all her crossings, doublings, etc. upon Brooks sides and plashes. Again, a huntsman ●…uste mark whether it be a buck Hare or a female, and whether she be wonted to the place where she sat, or a passenger: The which he may know by such observations as I have before rehearsed: for doubtless, a Hare which is bread and wont to a certain place, and especially a female Hare, (if a huntsman do mark the first way that she bendeth, or the first compass that she bendeth when she parteth first from the form) will all the day long hold the same ways, and cast about the same coasts, and pass through the same muses until her death or escape: unless it be as I said, some Buck which be come from some other place, or that the hounds run him so hard, that he be enforced to make out endways before the hounds, and so to go out of his haunt, the which they will all do commonly, by that time that they be well run two hours without default. But at the first they will do (in manner) nothing else bu●… turn, cross, and double, passing five or sire times one way, and in one self same path. And you must understand, that if you lose an Hare at any time, let the huntesmen yet remember and mark which paths she bet, and what way she coasted: for another time if you find the same Hare, she will doubtless keep the same places, and make the like doublings, crossings. etc. And by that means you shall prevent her subtlety, and much help the hounds in knowing which way she will bend.  
I have seen a Hare so crafty, that as soon as she herded the sound of an horn, she would rise out of her form, yea, had she been form a quarter of a mile distant from the huntsman that blewe, and would straight ways go swymm●… in some pool, and abide in the midst thereof upon some rushbed, before the hounds came at her, or hunted her at all. But at the last I discovered her subtleties, for I went close alongst by the pool, to see what might become of her, and uncoupled my hounds there abouts where I suspected she should be: and as soon as ever she heard the horn, she start, and leapt before my face into the pool, and 〈◊〉 to another bed in the midst thereof, and neither with stone nor clod that I could throw at her, would she rise nor stir: until I was fain to stryppe off my clotheses, and swim to her: yea, and she tarried me almost, until I laid my hand upon her, before she would stir. But at the last, she 〈◊〉 out and came by the hounds, and stood up afterwards three hours before we could kill her, swymming and using all her crossing and subtleties in the water. I have also seen an Hare run and stand up two hours before a kennel of hounds, and then she hath started and raised an other fresh Hare out of her form, and set herself down therein. I have seen other again, swim over two or three waters, the lest whereof hath been fourscore Tailors yards over. I have seen some again, which●… being run well by the space of two hours or more, hath crept under the door of a Sheepecote, and hid herself amongst the sheep. And I have seen Hares oftentimes run into a flock of sheep in the field when they were hunted, and would n●…er leave the flock, until I was forced to couple up my hounds, and fold up the sheep, or sometimes drive them to the Coat: and then the Hare would forsake them, and I uncoupled my hounds at her again and killed her.  
I have seen that would take the ground like a Coney, (which is called going to the vault) when they have been hunted. I have seen a Hare go up by one side of an hedge, and come down by that other side, in such sort, that there was no more but the thickness of the hedge between them. I have seen an Hare being sore run, get up upon an old brickwall six foot height from the ground, and squat or hide herself in the hole that was made for a scaffold. I have seen some swim over a brook eight yards broad, more than twenty times within the length of an hundredth paces, and that in my sight. For these causes the huntsman must be wary and circumspect in hunting of the Hare. For a hound which is a perfect good Haryer, may be bold to hunt any chase: for the Hare is the very proper beast to enter hounds well, and to make them tender nosed. But afterwards when you would make your hounds to the Heart, they will quickly forsake the Hare, because the venison of an Heart is mu●… more delicate and dainty than the Hares is: and hounds do much●… more desire it, because the Heart is also of greater sent than the Hare. An Hare liveth not above seven years at the most, especially the Buck. They are of this property, that if there be a Buck and a female which keep one quarter commonly together, they will never suffer any strange Hare to sit by them, nor to abide near them, unless it be their own young one's. And therefore hath it been an old saying, that the more you hunt, the more Hares you shall have, because when an Hare is killed, there will soon come other from some other quarter.   

How to enter young hounds to the Hare. Chap. 60.  
FIrst in hunting of the Hare, I would not have you to have above two or three huntesmen at the most, whereof one shall take charge to rate and beat on such hounds as bide plodding behind: and the other shall make them seek and call about. For if there be many huntesmen, they shall f●…yle the traces and footing of the Hare, or at the ●…ast will amaze the hounds (with the variety of their voices) when they are at default. For an Hare maketh sometimes so many doubles, crossings, etc. that an hound can not well tell where he is, nor which way to make it out, nor will do any thing else (in manner) but hold up their heads, and look to the huntesmen for help and comfort. Then let the huntsman cast about a compass, where they came first at default, and encourage them, the which he can not so well do, if the other huntsmen have beaten and foiled the trace with their feet, or the feet of their horses. And he which hunteth foremost, should carry with him a good big wallet of linen clot full of dainty morsels, to give his hounds, to the end that they may knowehim. For above all things it is meet, that an hound should know his master and hun●…sman, his voice, and his horn: and then when it cometh to the hallow, they will sooner come in to his voice, than to an other man's, and will leau●… all others to come unto him: therefore he should never hallow them amiss, nor without good cause. And if he would have his hounds come in to him, to make them go into some grove or covert, let him hallow thus, crying, Hear hav●…, here, haw, haw, And when the hounds are come in to him, let him seek some fair muse or gap to pass in at, and there let him cast a crust of bread, or somewhat to make them go in the more willingly, crying, Covert, covert, hyke in hyke. etc.  
Here I will discover unto you two secrets. Whereof that one is, that he which hath a kennel of young hounds to enter, he must mark well the country where he will make them their first quarry, and wher●…of he will make it. For according to the places where they shall be entered at the beginning, and according to the quarry which you shall give them, they will always afterwards prove. And therefore if at the first when you enter young hounds, you accustom them to be uncoupled in the plain champagne, and that they hunt there an Hare to the form, and start her, they will remember it all their life after. And then when so ever you uncouple them in a covert, they will make no great haste to hunt there, but will seek to hunt out into the plains, and such places as they have been accustomed ●…o in hunting of the Hare. Even so will they best love the coverts, if they be first entered there, and have found gain therein. And therefore it is requisite to enter your hounds in the country, where you mean to abide and to hunt most commonly: for hounds once accustomed to a place or kind of chase, will not willingly hunt otherwise. Another secret is, that you never enter nor accustom your hounds at first to hunt in the mornings, because of the dew and moisture of the earth. For if you once enter and accustom them to hunt in the fresh mornings, if afterwards you bring them on field in the heat of the day, and that they once feel the heat of the Sun, or some dry wind which hath drawn up the moist dew from the ground, they will neither hunt, nor call on willingly, but will run to seek the shadow, and there to rest them and sleep. Therefore I hold it best to accustom your hounds to be entered and hunted withal, in the height and heat of the day, rather than in the morning. And the best season to begin to enter your young hounds, is in October and November, for then the time is temperate, and the heats are not vehement: and then also young Har●…s which have not been hunted, are foolish, and are neither of force nor capacity to use such subtleties and policies, but hold on endways before the hounds most commonly: and do squat and start again oftentimes, the which doth much●… encourage the hounds, and doth much better enter them, than if they should flee into another quarter far before them. True it is and a thing often proved, that an Hare hath greater sent, and is more eagerly hunted by the hounds, when she feedeth and relieveth upon green corn, than at any other time of the year. And yet also you have some Hares, which naturally give some of them greater sent than some others, and are much more eagerly hunted and chased by the hound's. As these great wood Hares, and such as are foul & mesled & keep near to the waters. But the little read Hare, which is (in manner) like a Coney of bigness, is neither of so strong a sent nor yet are so eagerly hunted by the hounds as other Hares be. Such as feed upon the small br●…nches of wild time, or such like herbs, are commonly very swift, and will stand long up before the hounds. So have you some Hares more subtle & crafty, than some others are, especially the females, for they double & turn shorter than the Bucks do, and that pleaseth the hounds but a little. For it is grievous to hounds which are lusty & eager, to turn so often because they like better a chase which fleeth before them endways, that they may run with all their force. And for such Hares as double & cross so often, it is requisite at default to cast the greater compass about, when you beat to make it out. For so shall you found all her subtleties, & yet need to stick upon none of them, but only where she went onwards: for so doing, you shall abate the Hare's force, and constrein her to leave doubling & crossing. Some Hares will hold the high beaten ways only, where the hounds can have no scent, because there is neither bough, leaf, nor any moist place wherewith the Hare might leave sent of her body. The which she must needs leave if it were in woods, corn, high grass, or such other moist and cool places. And therefore when a huntsman shall found such an Hare, & shall see his hounds at default upon an high way, let him hunt on with his hounds still all alongst the way, until he find where the Hare hath broken from the way, or until he find some small dale, or fresh place by the way where the hounds may find sent. And he himself also must look narrowly upon the ground, as he goeth if he can find the footing of the Hare (which we call pricking) the which he shall easily know: for the fashion of an Hare's foot is sharp, & made like a knives point, and her little nails do always fasten upon the ground, so that he shall see the pricks of them in any moist place, or where the ground is soft: for an Hare when she fleeth before the hounds, doth never open her foot nor nails in sunder, as stinking chases and vermin do, but keepeth her foot always close like the point of a knife. So is there also certain places and seasons, in the which an hound can have no scent of an Hare, as in the winter season, in the plain champaign countries, where the ground is fat and rotten: and the Hare (having an hairy foot) when she fleeth, the uppermost of the earth and ground sticketh upon the sole of her foot, so that she carrieth it away with her, and that covereth and taketh away all the sent from the hounds: and again in such plains there are commonly no branches nor twigs which she might touch with her body and so leave sent thereby. Again there are certain months in the which a hound shall have no scent (or very little) of an Hare: as in the Spring time by reason of the vehement smell of the sweet flowers and herbs, which doth exceed the sent of an Hare. Likewise you must take heed that you hunt not in a hard frost, for so your hounds shall surbayte their feet and lose their claws, and yet at that season an Hare runneth better than at any other, because the sole of her feet is hairy. You shall use in manner the same terms and words to encourage your hariers, that you use to encourage your Buckehoundes, and such as you hunt any Dear withal: Saving only at the hallow to an Hare you say, Haw, Haw, Haw, here, Haw, here, etc. Whereas in hallowing of a Dear you say when the hounds come in, That's he, That's he, To him, to him, to him, etc. Again remember that when soever you entre your young hounds, you never help them to kill the Hare with your Greyhoundes, for if you accustom to coarse the Hare with your Greyhoundes before the hounds, then when soever you should hallow, the hounds would do nothing but lift up their heads, and look always to see the Hare before the Greyhoundes, and will never put nose to the ground, nor beat for it, nor hunt. But your best entering of young hounds, is by the help of old steynche hounds, which may best learn to cast for it at a doubling or default.   

At what time of the year it is best hunting of the Hare, and how to seek her, start her, and chase her. Chap. 61.  
THe best season to hunt the Hare with hounds, is to begin in the midst of September, and to leave at mid Apryll: and that, because of the flowers and vehement heats which begin after Apryll, and take away the scent of the Hare from the hounds. Then in September the Huntsman shall begin to give rewards unto his Haryers, and to renew their hunting of that chase. For (as I have said) at that time, Hares be young and feeble, and as the season passeth, so their force increaseth: even so your hounds the more that they hunt, and the more quareys that they have, the better, stronger, and perfecter they become. And again when the winter approacheth, the moistness and coolness of the earth increaseth, the which hounds do delight in rather than in great heat. When your hounds are two years old and upwards, you may hunt with them thrice in a week, and they will be the better. When a Lord or Gentleman will go on hunting, the huntsman must regard the time and place where he shall be, to the end he may go seek the Hare where most likely hunting is: as in the Pastures, Meads, or Green fields, and such like: and there he shall uncouple his hounds: and if there be any hound which light upon the trail of an Hare, where she hath relieved that night, let the Huntsman stay and be not over hasty, until the hounds make it out of themselves, and when he perceiveth that they begin to draw in together and to call on freshly, then let him comfort them with words, and name that hound which hunteth best, as to say: Hyke a Fyndall, Hyke, etc. It is most certain that hounds will have better sent of an Hare when she goeth towards the relief, than when she goeth towards her Form, yea although she go sooner to the one than to that other: and the reason is, that when a Hare is in the field and relieveth, she coucheth low upon the ground with her body, and passeth oftentimes over one plot of ground to seek good feed, whereby she leaveth grea●… Sent of her upon the grass or blades, and cro●…yeth also sometimes: and therefore the hounds have greater sent of her, than they have when she goeth out of the field (or out of the corn or high grass at lest) to go to her Form: For when she goeth to her Form, she doth commonly beat the high ways (as beforesaid) doubling, crossing, & leaping, as lightly as she can. Therefore when a huntsman seethe his hounds cross where a Hare hath relieved, & that they begin also to make it on unto her going out towards her Form, let him suffer his hounds to hunt fair and softly, and hasten them not overmuch for overshooting of it: and if his hounds fall at default, then is it a token that the Hare hath made some double or some cross, or that she hath go and come back again by one self same way: then shall he cry, Haw again, again here, Haw, and shall not stir any further forwards, for if he come too near the hounds, it would rather make them to overshoot it: but let him so stay them and make them beat for it, comforting and cheering them with words and with his voice, and beholding how they hunt & beat for it. But if they cannot make it out upon the high ways, then let him cast round about in the freshest and greenest places, and such as are most commodious for the hounds to take sent upon, for by that means at last he shall make it ou●… which way the Hare is go into some gro●…e or sp●…yng: and then his hounds may also beat the groves, and he himself must likewise beat the tuffts and bushes with his hunting stick, to help the hounds to start her. And if he chance to find an old Form, he must take some reward out of his wallet and cast it in the said old form, and call in the hounds into it, crying: Here, Haw, her●… she sat, here she sat, To her again. The Huntsman shall do well also to have a piece of the fat of Bacon or such like thing in his wallet, wherewith he may anoint the end of his hunting staff, and then when soever he would point his hounds to a Muse, or to any place, he shall need to do no more but strike on the ground with the end of his staff, and his hounds will go through the muse, or come into any place where he shall point them, and hunt it much the better. But if the huntsman when he hath cast about, do not find that the Hare is go out beyond the compass that he casts, then let him call back hi●… hounds to the place where they first came at default, and let him consider which way it seemeth that the Hare bend her head when she came into that way or place, and if she held on head, then let him beat with his hounds still onwards on both sides of the way: for oftentimes the Hare followeth the high ways very far, to double, cross and use policies, and will never step from the way in a mile together. And in such places the hounds can have no scent, by reason of the dust and other such things as I have before alleged, and yet they will squatte upon the outsides of the ways or very near to them: and therefore let the huntsman beat the sides of the high ways well. But if all these policies cannot help the hounds to make it out, then may the Huntsman well judge that the Hare hath turned backwards upon the hounds: and then let him take his compass greater and beat back with his hounds, and it shall hardly be possible but at the last he must make it out. And yet some Hares there be that will sit untili you tread upon them before they will rise, and some willbe taken in the Form. Now although I have so much spoken in praise of trailing of an Hare from the relief to the Form, yet me thinks it is more pain than needeth, and less pleasure than might be desired: because the hounds while they trail, do call on but coldly one after another: and that it should be much shorter and better pastime to seek and find her as followeth.  
When three good huntesmen are met, and perceive that their hounds do found where an Hare hath relieved in some fair corne-fielde or pasture. Then must they consider the season of the year and what weather it is: for if it be in the spring-time or in the Summer, than a Hare will not sit in the bushes, because these Pissemyers, Tikes, and sometimes Snakes and Adders will drive them out: then they are costreyned to sit in the cornesieldes, or fallow fields and open places. In winter they love to sit near the towns sides in some tuffte of brambles or thorns: especially when the wind is either Southerly or Northerly, for they fear both those winds also exceedingly. Then according to the season and place where the Hare shall wont to sit, they shall beat with their hounds to start her at the first: and using that means, they shall find more Hares, and have shorter sport than in trailing after them as before said: and they may so enter their hounds accustom & them, that assoon as they begin to beat the bushes with their hunting sticks, the hounds will in and strive who may first get in, like Spaniels at retrife of a Partriche. And when the Hare is start and on foot, then let the huntsman go where he saw her pass, and hallow in all the hounds until they have all undertaken it, and go on with it in full cry: Then let him rechate to them with his horn, and comfort them every way that he can best deui●…e: and when he perceiveth that they are in full cry, let him follow fair and easily, not making over much haste at first, nor making to much noise either with horn or voice: for at the first the hounds will easily overshoot a chase through too much heat: and therefore if the huntsman overlay them, he should but chaff them more, which might 'cause them both to overshoot it and to lose it. But when they have run the space of an hour, and that they are well in with it, and stick well upon it, then may the huntsman come in nearer to his hounds, because by that time their heat will be well cooled and they will hunt soberly. Above all things let him mark the first doubling that the Hare maketh as I have before said, and thereby he may govern himself all the day: for all the rest that she will make will be like unto it: and according to the policies that he shall see her use, and the place where he hunteth, he must make his compasses great or little, long or short, to help the defaults, always seeking the moystest and most commodious places for the hounds to scent in. There are two manner of huntings at the Hare, for some follow and never hallow before an Hare, nor after her, nor never help hounds at default: and me thinks that this is a noble kind of hunting, and doth best show & prove the goodness of the hounds: other again do mark which way an Hare bendeth at the first, and coast before her to meet ●…yr, and there hollow amain, and help the hounds also at defaults asmuch as they can. When hounds are hunted with in this sort, they become so light of belief that many times they leave the right track to go in to the hallow, and by that means the Hares can stand up but a while before them. And surely he that would hunt to kill many Hares, should do best to hunt this kind of way: but to try the good hunting of hounds, I do more praise that other way, which hunteth only upon the foot and scent: but this latter way is speedy, and best counteruayleth the subtleties of an Hare. I could have stood longer in descrybing the means how●… to breath and enter haryers. But because I have both spoken sufficiently in the hunting of an Heart, and also in these chapters before, which treat of the policies and subtleties that Hares use, whereby a huntsman may find precepts sufficient to govern himself, therefore I will now say no more of that point.   

How you shall reward your hounds when they have killed an Hare, which the Frenchman calleth the reward, and sometimes the quarey, but our old Tristram calleth it the hollow. Chap. 62.  
WHen your hounds have killed the Hare, let the varlet of your kennel, cut down some pretty bending wands of an Hasell or some such tree, & then let him take the Hare and lay her in some fair place upon the grass: then let the huntsman alight from his horse, and blow the death to call in all the hounds: that done, the varlet of the kennel shall keep of the hountes' with those little wands, and let them all bay about him. The huntsman shall blow still a good while, and afterwards shall clap and struck his best hounds on the sides, and show them the Hare, saying: Dead boys, dead: Then let him hulk her) (which is to open her and take out her garbage) and afterwards stryp off her skin before the hounds, taking away the Gall, the lights, and the skin, the which he shall hung up in some tree, where the hounds may not eat them, for they will make them sick. When the Hare is thus hulked and strippeth out of her skin, le●…te the Huntsman take out of his wallet some bread, cheese, and other small morsels, & put them into the bulk of the Hare, to wet and moisten them with her blood: then shall he cut off the forepart of the Hare, head and all: and yet if he have any young hound which is fearful, let him give him the Hare's head by himself for to encourage him the better. Then must the varlet of the kennel ty●… a cord to the forequarters of the Hare in five or six places, that one dog may not tear away all at a mouthful, and so beguile all his fellows. Afterwards let him hide it, and take his staff and go an hundredth paces from the rest: in mean while the huntsman shall power out the reward of bread and cheese upon the cleanest place of grass that he can find, and shall yet keep off the hounds with his hunting wand. This being done, he shall blow that all the hounds may come in together, & shall suffer them to eat this reward, clapping them upon the sides, comforting of them, and blowing with his horn. In mean while when they have almost done, he shall make sign to the varlet of the kennel which shall hollow and blow for the hounds: then the huntsman shall rate them & beat them to him, saying: List Hallow, Hike Hallow, hike. Then the varlet shall show them the Hare holding it as high as he can, & holding his cord always fast by the end: & when all the hounds be about him, he shall cast it amongst them, & suffer them to ●…eare it by piecemeal out of the cord: and then carry them to the water before he cou●…le them up again: or rather let him carry them home uncoupled, that they may scour at large and skommer: for a hound will be inclined to be sickly when he hath eaten of a Hare's flesh. And therefore let him give them bread after they have eaten the reward, to close up their stomachs withal, and lest they should cast it up again.  

The Hare, to the Hunter.  
 

ARe minds of men, become so void of sense,  
That they can joy to hurt a harmless thing?  
A silly beast, which cannot make defence?  
I wretch? a worm that can not bite, nor sting?  
If that be so, I thank my Ma●…er than,  
For making me, a Beast and not a Man   

The Lion licks the sores of wounded Sheep,  
He spares to pray, which yields and craveth grace:  
The dead man's corpse hath made some Serpents weep,  
Such rewth may rise in beasts of bloody race:  
And yet can man, (which brags above the rest)  
Use wrack for rewth? can murder like him best?   

This song I sing, in moan and mournful notes,  
(Which fain would blaze, the bloody mind of Man)  
Who not cotent with Hearts, Hinds, Bucks, Rows, Goats,  
Boars, Bears, and all, that hunting conquer can,  
Must yet seek out, me silly harmless Hare,  
To hunt with hounds, and course sometimes with care.   

The Heart doth hurt (I must a truth confess)  
He spoileth Corn, and bears the hedge adown:  
So doth the Buck, and though the Row seem less,  
Yet doth he harm in many a field and Town:  
The climbing Goat doth pill both plant and vine,  
The pleasant meads are routed up with Swine.   

But I poor Beast, whose feeding is not seen,  
Who break no hedge, who pill no pleasant plant:  
Who stroy no fruit, who can turn up no green,  
Who spoil no corn, to make the Ploughman want:  
Am yet pursewed with hound, horse, might and main  
By murdering men, until they have me slain.   

Sa how sayeth one, as soon as he me spies,  
Another cries Now, Now, that seas me start,  
The hounds call on, with hideous noise and cries,  
The spurgalde jade must gallop out his part:  
The horn is blown, and many a voice full shrill,  
Do whoup and cry, me wretched Beast to kill.   

What meanest thou man, me so for to pursue?  
For first my skin is scarcely worth a placke,  
My flesh is dry, and hard for to endue,  
My grease (God knoweth) not great upon my back,  
Myself, and all, that is within me found,  
Is neither, good, great, rich, fat, sweet, nor sound.   

So that thou showest thy va●…tes to be but vain,  
That brag'st of wit, above all other beasts,  
And yet by me, thou neither gettest gain  
Nor findest food, to serve thy glutton's feasts:  
Some sport perhaps: yet grievous is the glee  
Which ends in Blood, that lesson learn of me.     

Of the nature and property of the Conie. Chap. 63.  
THe Conie is a common beast and well known unto all men. The Conie beareth her Rabettes. thirty. days, and then kinteleth, and then she must be bucked again, for else she will eat up her Rabbits. She will have five, six, and seven at a litter. He that would have a warrayne well replenished with Coneys, should hunt them & beat them in twice or thrice in a week with some Spanell or cur for the purpose: for otherwise they will stray & feed out into the woods and cornefieldes near adjoining, and you shall never make them come in to their burrows or clappers again. Some hold opinion that they will follow a Hare to knot & ●…ngēdre with her: but for the reason before alleged, beat them i●… twice or thrice in a week. When a Buck●… Conie will go to the Do, he will beat upon the ground with his forefoote marvelously, and by that means he heateth himself: when he hath buc●…t, then falls he backwards & lieth in a trance as he were half dead: and then may a man easily take him. The flesh of a Conie is much better than the flesh of an Hare, for the Hare's flesh is much drier and more m●…lancholike: so is the skin of a Conie (if it be black) a very good fur, where as the Hare's skin is little or nothing worth.   

How to hunt and take Coneys. Chap. 64.  
HE that would take Coneys must hunt with two or three Spaniels or curs made for the purpose, amongst the hedges & bushes where he knoweth that the Coneys do lie: he may also have small Greyhoundes for the purpose to course at them: but in their default, the Spaniels or curs will drive them into their Burrowes: then set pursenettes upon all the holes, or as many of them as you can find, and put in a Ferret close musseled, and she will make the Coney's bolt out again into your pursenets, and so you shall take them. Remember that your Ferret be close muzzled, for else she will kill the Conie in the ground, and peradventure will not come out again of three or four days after. For default of a Ferret, you may make Coneys come out of their Burrowes with the powder of Orpyne and Brimstone, & make a smother with them, and it will make the Coney's bolt out of the earth, and so you shall take them in your pursenets. Mine Author telleth furthermore of making small low hedgerowes all alongst down by the side of some hedge which is well replenished with Coneys: and that the said low hedges should be made overthwart contrary to the standing of the quick hedge: & that sundry holes should be made in them, at the which he would set pursenets or other nets, and so take the Coneys, hunting them up & down with a Spaniel or cur. But he seemeth not to have seen our English Warreyns', nor our manner of taking of our Coneys. For (thanked be God) there are sundry Lords & Gentlemen in England, which have their grounds so well replenished, as they would ken a man but small thanks which should so smother their burrows with Brimstone or Orpin: for in deed that will mar a Burrow, & drine the Coney's clean from it. But we take them principally with ●…eyes: next with pursenets & Ferrets: thirdly with a drawing Ferret when they be young: and again we have a kind of dogs called tumblers, which will kill Coneys abundantly, & after a marvelous fashion. Of all these sorts of taking Coneys, together with the order to keep a Warreyn from vermin, I will hold no longer discourse: for in deed it is somewhat besides my purpose, since I account ferreting one of the coldest and unpleasantest chases that can be followed. Yet thus much I have thought meet to writ of it, following mine Author: and because in d●…ede it seemeth to be a kind of venery, at the lest he that hath a good warreyne of Coneys, a good Dovehouse, and 〈◊〉 fishepondes, shall need the less to go into the Forest or Chase for Beef, or Bacon, for these three are good neighbours.   

Of the hunting of the Fox and Badgerd. Chap. 65.  
NOw to speak of For hounds & Terryers', and how you should enter them to take the Fox, the Badgerd, and such like vermin: you must understand that there are sundry sorts of Terriers, whereof we hold opinion that one sort came out of Flaunders or the low Countries, as Irtoys and thereabouts, and they have crooked legs, and are short heard moste commonly. Another sort there is which are shagged and straight legged: those with the crooked legs will take earth better than the other, and are better for the Badgerd, because they will lie longer at a vermin: but the others with straight legs do serve for 〈◊〉 purposes, for they will Hunt above the ground aswell as other hounds, and enter the earth with more fury than the others: but they will not abide so long, because they are too too eager in fight, and therefore are constrained to come out to take the air: there are both good and bad of both sorts. And because it is good pastime, and brave fight, without great pain or travail to the huntsman, therefore I have thought good to set down here some precepts for the entering of Terriers, and for the better fleshing and encouraging of them.  
You shall begin to enter them assoon as they be eight or ten Months old: For if you enter not a Terrier before he be a year old, you shall hardly ever make him take the earth. And you must take good heed that you encourage them, and rebuke them not at the first: nor that the Fox or Badgerd do hurt them within the earth, for than they will never love the earth again. And therefore never enter a young Terryer in an earth where there is an old Fox or Badgerd: But first let them be well entered, and be a year old full or more. You shall do well also to put in an old Terryer before them which may abide and endure the fury of the Fox or Badgerd. You may enter them and flesh them sundry ways. First when Foxes and Badgerds have young cubbes, take all your old Terryers' and put them into the ground: and when they begin to bay, (which in the earth is called Yearning) you must hold your young Terryers' every one of them at a sundry hole of some angle or mouth of the earth, that they may hearken and hear their fellows yearn. And when you have taken the old Foxes or Badgerdes, and that there is nothing left in the earth but the young Cubbes, take out then all your old Terryers', & couple them up: then put in your young Terryers' & encourage them, crying, To him, To him, To him: and if they take any young cub, let them take their pleasure of him, & kill him within the ground: and beware that the earth fall not down upon them and smother them. That done, take all the rest of the Cubbes and Badgerds pigs home with you, and fry their livers and their blood with cheese, and some of their own grease, and thereof make your Terryers' a reward, showing them always the heads and skins to encourage them. When they have been rewarded or rather before, wash them with Soap and warm water to get out the clay which shall be clodded in their hear: for else they will soon become mangy: and that would be hard to be cured. You may enter them also thus: you must take old Foxes and Badgerdes alive with your old Terryers' and the help of such clampes and holdfastes as you shall see here portrayed: Take them and cut away their neither jaw wherein there wang teeth be set, and never touch the upper jaw, but let it stand to show the fury of the Beast, although it can do no hurt therewith: then make an earth in some of your closes, and make it large enough, because that the Terryers' may fight and turn therein the better, and that they may go in two together: then cover the borrow or earth with boards and turfs, and put the fox or Badgerd therein: then put in all your Terryers' both young and old, and encourage them with words, as hath been before declared, and as the Art requireth: and when they have yearned sufficiently, then begin to dig with spades and mattocks to encourage them against such time as you must use to dig over them: then take out the Fox or Badgerde with the clampes or pinchers, killing it before them, or let a greyhound kill it in their sight, and make them reward thereof. It shall be well to cast them some bread or cheese upon the vermin assoon as it is dead, for the better boldening and encouraging of them. If you will not cut the jaw of the Fox or Badgerd, then break out all his teeth that he bite not the Terryers', and it shall suffice as well.   

Of the nature and properties of a Fox and a Badgerd. Chap. 66.  
AS you have two kinds or more of every other chase by diversity of names: so of these vermin there are Foxes and their Cubbes, and Badgerdes and their Pigs: the female of a Fox is called a Bitch, and he himself a Doggefoxe: the Female of a Badgerde is called a Sow, and the male a Badgerde or a Borepygge of a Badgerde. Yet some will not allow this difference: but I can prove it by good reason and by the diversities of colour, nature, and proportion. the Badgerd pigs at coming out of the earth do commonly make and cast their fyaunts: and they never do it until they have made a hole in the earth with their snout or with their foot: and then they fyaunt within it and hide it: this the Fox cubbes do not. Also the Badgerd maketh his hole commonly in sand or light earth which is easy to dig, and in open places, to have the comfort of the Sun: for they sleep uncessantly, and are much fatter than Foxcubbes be. As touching their hear, they have a grey coat, and are somewhat whiter than the old, waxing greyer and greyer the elder that they be: some say that there is two sorts of these young Badgerdes (and I believe it) whereof that other sort goeth further out for their prey than these do: and that they cast their fyants longer somewhat like a Fox, and keep commonly in strong holds or in rocks, and make their earth or their Burrow deeper than these do. But yet there be not so many chambers nor angles in their Burrowes as there are in these: for it were unpossible for them to work so well in Rocks or in hard earth, as those others do in Sande. These two sundry sorts do not keep one another company: neither shall you lightly find one of them where that other is. Terryers' do fear the one more than the other, because they are much curster, and again they stink much worse. For the better understanding of the diversity, let us coin a word, and call the one Badgerdpigges, and the other Badgerdwhelpes, and say that the Badgerdwhelpes have their nose, their throat, and their ears yellowyshe, like unto a Marterns throat, and are much blacker than the pigs, and higher legged: Both sorts live upon all flesh, and will hunt after carrion: they do great hurt in Warreynes' and Connigrees, especially when they be full of little rabbits, for they make a hole right above the nest, 
We think that the Fox maketh a hole above as well as a Badgerd.  and go straight to them: Whereas the Fox followeth the holes mouth until he come at the nest. I have seen a Badgerde take a sucking Pig in my presence, and carried him clean away unto his earth. It is sure that they desire Hogs flesh more than any other: For if you train a piece of Pork or Hogs flesh upon their burrow, they will sure come out unto it. They pray also upon all Pullen, as Geese, Ducks, Hens, and such like. I can speak by experience, for I have brought up some ●…ame, until they were four years old, and being so brought up, they are very gentle, and will play with young whelps, and ne●…er hurt them, and the rest of the day that they neither feed nor play, they bestow in sleeping. Those which I have brought up, would come to me at a call, and follow me like whelps of hounds. They are very chill o●… cold, and if you let them lie in a chamber where there is any fire, they will creep so near it, that they will burn their coats and their feet also many times, and then are they very hard to be healed. They will be fed with any thing, bread, cheese, fruits, birds, or any thing that you will give them. When it snoweth or is hard weather, than they come not out of their holes sometimes in two or three days togethers, the which I have observed at their holes mouth, when it hath snowed and lyen there so thick, that they could not have stirred out, but that I might have perceived them: As I have seen that after three days they have come out for pure hunger, and go to pray for meat. It is a pleasure to behold them when they gather stuff for their nest or for their couch, as straw, leaves, moss, and such other things: and with their forefeet and their head, they will wrap up as much together, as a man would carry under one atme, and will make shift to get it into their holes and couches. This sub●…letie they have, that when they perceive the Terryers' begin to yearn them, and to 〈◊〉 at them, they will stop the hole between the Terryers' and them, lest the Terryers' should follow them any further: and then if the Terryers' bay still, they will remove their baggage with them, and go into another chamber or angle of their Burrow. They 〈◊〉 long, and when they ware old, than some of them fall blind, and can not come forth of their holes. Then if they be the Badgers, the Sows feed them, and if it be the Sow, the Badger feedeth her likewise. They die also of certain worms, and 〈◊〉, which they have all over their skin: even as you see that hounds have the mange and cankerwormes sometimes. And therefore it is that I counseled to wash your Terryers', as soon as they came out of the earth. All these things I have seen by experience: they are long lived, and hard to kill. For I have seen a well biting greyhound, take a Badger and tear his guts out of his belly, and yet the Badgerd hath fought still, and would not yield to death. True it is that they are very tender upon the snout, and you can not give them so little a blow upon the snout with a stick, but that they will dye immediately.  
As touching Foxes, I accounted small pastime in hunting of them, especially within the ground. For as soon as they perceive the Terryers', if they yearn hard, and lie near unto them, they will bolt and come out straight ways, unless it be when the bitch hath young Cubbes: then they will not forsake their young one's to dye for it. They make their earths and Burrowes as near as they can, in ground that is hard to dig, as in galte, clay, and stony ground, or amongst the roots of trees: and their earths have commonly but one hole, the which is very strait, and goeth very far in, before it come at their cou●…. But sometimes they take a Badgers old Burrow, which hath more chambers, holes, and angles. When a good Terryer doth once reach a Fox, they defend themselves shrewdly, but yet nothing like the Badgerd, neither is their biting so dangerous. If you take a bitch Fox in the time that she goeth on clycketing, and cut out her gut which holdeth her spreame or nature, together with the kydneys which Gelder's take away from a bitch which when they spay her, and then cut all into small gobbets, and put them into a pot hot as they be, then take Goome of Mastic and mingle it therewith, and cover the pot close, it will keep all the year, and will serve to make a train for a Fox, when you would, on this wise: Take a skin of Bacon, and lay it on a Grydyron, and when it is well broiled and hot, then dip it and puddle it in this sauce that is within the pot, and make a train therewith, and you shall see that if there be a Fox near to any place where the train is drawn, he will follow it. But he which maketh the train, must rub the soles of his shoes with cows dung, lest the Fox vent his footing. And thus you may train a Fox to a standing, and kill him in an evening with a crossbow.  
It is also a thing experimented, that if you rub a Terryer with Brimstone, or with the oil of Cade, and then put the Terryer into an earth where Foxes be, or Badgerdes, they will leave that earth, and come no more at it in two or three months at lest.   

Of the nature and properties of a Fox, out of another Author. Chap. 67.  
 
IT shallbe needless to speak of his shape or proportion, since he is so common a beast. His conditions are in many respects like unto y● Wolf. For first the bitch Fox bringeth forth as many cubs at a litter, as the she Wolf doth, sometimes more, and sometimes less, as the she Wolf doth also. But indeed she doth litter them deep under the ground, & so the Wolf doth not. She venometh with her biting when she is salt, as the Wolf doth. The life of a Fox & of a Wolf continued both like time. You shall hardly take a bytchfoxe when she is bragged and with cub, for than she lieth close about her burrow, and if she hear never so little noise, she whippeth in quickly before the hounds or any thing can come near her: she is a false and crafty beast like unto the Wolf. The hunting of the Fox is pleasant, for he maketh an excellent cry, because his scent is very hot, and he never fleeth far before the hounds, but holdeth the strongest coverts, and fleeth from the field, as a beast which trusteth not in his legs, nor yet in his strength. And if the Fox stand in his defence, it is by force, and yet always he will as near as he can keep the covert: yea though he find none other covert but a bush, yet he will flee to it. And when he perceiveth that he may no longer endure nor stand up before the hounds, then will he take the earth, and will trust to his Castles there, which he knoweth perfectly: yet there is he taken also, but then must it be digged, and that in a soft or light ground. If Greyhoundes course him, than his last remedy (if he be in the plain) is to bepysse or to beshyte the Greyhounds, that they may give him over for the stink and ●…thinesse thereof, yea, and Greyhoundes are more afraid of a Fox, than of a greater beast. For I have seen Greyhounds which would run hardly at an Hart, yea, would not refuse the wild Boar, nor the Wolf, and yet they would strain courtesy at a Fox. When a bitch Fox goeth on clycqueting, and seeketh a dog, she crieth with a hollow voice, like unto the howling of a mad dog: & likewise if she miss any of her cubbes, she maketh the self same noise: but when they are killed, they will never cry, but defend themselves till the last ga●…pe. A Fox will pray upon any thing that he can overcome, yea, were it a vermin, & will feed upon all sorts of carrion: but the meat which they most delight in, is poultry, as Hens, Capons, Geese, Ducks, small birds, or any thing that they find. And in default thereof, gentle master Raynard will be content with butter, cheese, cream, flaunes, and custards. They do much hurt in Warrens and coney burrows. And they kill Hares also by fraud, but not by force of running. Some Foxes do pray abroad in the woods and fields, like unto Wolves. And some there be which pray no where but in the villages and country Towns: and therein they are so subtle and crafty, that neither dog nor man can defend them. They lie lurking all day in ditches near unto houses, to see ho●…e dame Pertlot the husbandman's hen doth, and to see her chickens virtuously brought up. The skin of the Fox is a very good fur and a warm, but it is not very fair, and it stinketh always, unless it be very exceedingly well dressed. The grease and marrow of a Fox are very good to rub synew●…s that are shrunk. Of the rest of his subtleties and properties I will speak more at large in the hunting of him. He is taken with Hounds, Greyhoundes, Terryers', Nets and gins. But if the Nets and gins be not strong, he will soon dispatch them like a Wolf.   

Of the nature of a Badger, out of the same Author. Chap. 68  
THe Badgerd (saith he) maketh but slow speed before the hounds, and cannot long stand up. So that commonly she ●…igh teeth it out at the Bay, or else taketh the earth, & there is killed with Terryers'. For if you find a Badgerde abroad, it shall not be from her burrow lightly. A Badger prayeth upon any vermin or other thing, and will feed upon any carrion or fruit like unto the Fox. The Badgerd battles much with 〈◊〉, & is a very fat beast. Once in a year they engender as the Fox, and they litter them in their holes, even as the fox doth. Their biting is venomous, as the Foxes is, but they make better defence for themselves, and fight more stoutly, & are much stronger. The blood and grease of a Badgerd, is medicinable as the Fox's blood is also. Some hold a blind opinion, that if a young child should wear his first shoes of a Badgerdes leather. he should ever afterwards heal a horse of the Farcine if he did but once get up v●…on him. The flesh of a Badger is as much worth as that of a Fox, which is to reward the hounds withal, and yet that but of the grease, & certain parts of him neither. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●…ounds will eat of a Fox's flesh, but a Badgerdes is wallowish sweet & rammish. I myself have eaten of it, and digested it well, and without any manner of annoyance. The skin of a Badgerd, is not so good as the Foxes, for it serveth for no use, unless it be to make myttens, or to dress horscollers withal.   

The hunting of the Badgerd, out of the same Author. Chap. 69.  
 
HE that would hunt a Badgerde, must seek the earths and burrows where they lie, and in a fair moonshine night, let him go unto them upon a clear wind, and stop all the holes but one or two, & in those let him set sacks or pokes fastened with some drawing string which may shut him in as ●…one as ●…e str●…ineth the bag. Some use no more but to set an Hoop in the mouth of the sack or poke, and so put it into the hole: and 〈◊〉 as the Badgerd is in the poke and streyneth it, the poke slippeth off the hoop and followeth him into the earth, and so he lieth tumbling therein until he be taken, and these men are of opinion, that assoon as the Badgerds head is once within the Sack or hole, he will lie still and will not turn back again for any thing. The bags or Sacks being thus set, let your Huntsman cast off his Hounds, and beat all the groves, hedges, and tufts, within a mile or half a mile about, which are most likely: and when the Badgerd heareth any hunting, he will straightways home to his earth, and there is taken as beforesaid. Ever remember that he which standeth to watch the pokes, do stand close and upon a clear wound, for else the Badgerd will soon found him & then will forsake that earth to seek some other, or else to escape some other way: but if the hounds chance to encounter him, or to undertake the chase before he be gotten into his earth, or recovered near unto it, them will he stand at bay like a Boar, and make you good pastime.   

Of the hunting of a Fox above the ground out of the same Author. Chap. 70.  
HE that would hunt a fox above the ground, shall do well to beat with his hounds in the thickest queaches, & tufts or groves near unto 〈◊〉, and in thick hedgerowes and such other places. For commonly a Fox will lurk in such, to pray or espy his advantage upon dame Pertelot, & such other damsels that keep in those Courts, and to see young pigs well ringl●…d when they are young, for fear lest they should learn to turn up gentlemen's pastures, & to mar their meadows with routing, for surely M. Raynerd is a very well disposed man, and would be loath to see youth fall into such folly in any common wealth where he may strike a stroke. Also in the countries where wine is made, he will lie much in the Uineyards, & (as some hold opinion) will eat of the Grapes. One's he lieth always in covert & obscure places, like an honest plainmening creature, which careth not greatly for to come at the Court. Well, the Huntsman which would have good pastime at this vermin, shall do well to stop up his earths if he can find them: and let him stop them up the night before he means to hunt. About midnight when he may be sure that the Fox is go abroad to seek his pray, let the earths then be stopped with boughs and earth well and strongly rammed, that master Raynard get not in again over hastily. Some use to set up bleinchers, or sewels (which are white papers) or to lay two white sticks a cross before the hole, and hold opinion, that when a Fox espieth those sticks or sewels, he will mistrust that it is some engine to take him, and will turn back again: but I think not that so sure as to stop the earths. If the huntsman know not where the earths be, let him seek them out two or three days before he means to hunt, & stop them. But because sometimes a huntsman can not found all the blind earths that are in coverts and great woods: then if a Fox find out some of them, and so beguile the huntsman, he may yet get him out either quick or dead, without Terryers', in this manner. If there be any more holes than one in the earth, let him set pursenets or bags in one of the holes under the wind, even as he would set for a Badgerd, & let him stop up all the holes beside, but one, and let that one be above the wind as near as he can. Then let him take a piece of parchment or leather, and lay it in the hole, laying fire upon it, and putting brimstone, Myrrh, and such smothering grease upon the fire: there withal let him stop up the hole, & suffer the smother to go into the earth. This done, the Fox will not long abide in the earth, but will either start into the pursnet or bag, or else will sound dead the next day at some other of the holes mouths which were stopped. The best hunting of the Fox above the ground is in januarie, February, and March. Yet you may hunt him from Alhollantide, until Easter. When the leaves are fallen, you shall best see your hounds hunting, & best find his earths. And also at that time the Fox's skin (which is the best part of him) is best in season. Again, the hounds do best hunt a Fox in the coldest weather, because he leaveth a very strong sent after him. Always set your Greyhounds on the outsides of the coverts underneath the wind, and let them stand close, cast of at the first but the third part of your kennel to find him: The rest you shall 'cause to be led up and down the coverts, in paths and high ways, to cast off unto their fellows when he is found. It is not good to cast off too many hounds at once, because woods and coverts are full of sundry chases, and so you should have your kennel undertake sundry beasts, and loose your pastime. Let those which you cast off first, be old, staunch, and sure hounds. And if you hear such a hound call on merrily, you may cast off some other to him, and when they run it with full cry, cast off the rest, and you shall hear good pastime. For a Fox will not willingly departed out of the covert, where he hath been accustomed to lie, but will wheel about in the thicks, and thereby make you much the better pastime. The words of comforting the hounds, the hallowing, & all such like ceremonies, are even the same which you use in hunting of other chases and vermin. When he is dead, you shall hung him up on the end of a strong piked staff, and hollow in all your hounds to bay him, then make them reward with such things as you can get, for the flesh of a Fox is not to reward them withal, for they will not eat it.   

How to dig for a Fox or a Badgerde, and what instruments are meet for the same. Chap. 71.  
THey which will hear good pastime at a Fox, or a Badgerd within the ground, must be furnished with such tools and appertinances as follow, and as are here before this present chapter portrayed. First let there be in the company, five or six strong fellows which can well endure to dig 
They are but spades a●…d Mattocks which are not so needful to be portrayed.  and delve. Next you must have as many good and arrant Terriers, garnished with collars full of bells, to make the Fox or Badgerd start the sooner, and also their collars will be some defence to save them from hurting. But when your Terriers are out of breath, or that the Bells are stopped and glutted up with earth, or that you perceive the vermin is angled (which is to say, go to the furthest part of his chamber to stand at defence) than you may take off the collars: but at the first they serve to great purpose, to make the vermin either start or angle. Then to return unto my matter, a Lord or Gentleman which will follow this pastune, should have half a dozen Mats to lie upon the ground on, as they hearken to the Terriers: some use to carry a windbed which is made of leather strongly sowed on all the four sides, and having a Pipe at one of the corners, to blow it as you would blow a Baggepype, and when it is blown full of wound, to stop it up and lie upon it on the ground: but this were too great curiosity, & yet a Lord or Gentleman cannot take too great heed of the cold and moisture of the earth, for he may thereby take sundry diseases and infirmities. The instruments to dig withal must be these, sharp pointed Spades, round hollowed Spades, and flat broad Spades, Howes, or Mattocks, and Pickaxes, a Colerake and a pair of Clampes or Holdfasts, Shovels both shod and bore, an Axe and a sharp paring Spade, the sharp pointed Spade serveth to begin that trench first, where the ground is hardest and broader tools would not so well enter: the round hollowed. Spade serveth to dig amongst Roots, and may be so made with such sharp edges, that it will cut the roots also: the flat broad Spade, to dig withal when the trench is better opened and the ground softer: the Howes, Mattocks, & Pickaxes to dig with in harder ground where a Spade will make no riddance of the work: the Colerake to cleanse the hole and to keep it from stopping up: the clampes or holdfasts to take a Fox or Bagerd out alive, wherewith you may make pastime afterwards, or to help the terriers when they are afeard to bite a vermin: the Shovels both shod and bore, serve to cast out the earth which the Spades or Mattocks have digged, according to the hardness or softness of the ground wherein you dig: the paring Spade to keep the trench in fashion: and the Axe to cut the roots or any other thing withal. You shall also have a Pail to set water unto your Terriers at such times as they come out to take breath. All these instruments I have caused to be portrayed that you may the better perceive them. And with these instruments & such like necessary implements a Lord or Gentleman may fill a pretty little Cart or Wagon made for that purpose, that which he may 'cause to be carried on field with him, always provided that when the said carriage is loaded, he forget not to 'cause his Cook and Butler to hung good store of bags and bottles about the raves and pings thereof: for it will be both comely and comfortable. In this order of battle, a noble man or gentleman may march to besiege the Fox and Badgerd, in their strongest holes and castles. And may break their Casmats, Plotformes, Parapets, and work to them with Mynes, and countermines, until they get their skins, to make furs and myttens.   

How to enter your Terriers according to the ground, & how to trench, & dig. Cham 72.  
BEfore you put your Terriers into the ground, you must have consideration what kind of mould it is, and mark well the situation thereof, and as near as you can, judge where abouts the chief angles or chambers should be, for else you may work clean contrary, and rather hinder the Terriers than further than. Is if the earth or burrow, be hanging on a side of a bank, you shall do best to put in your Terriers below, towards the vale, to the end that you may make the vermin chamber on the top of the bank, where the earth is not deep, and where you dig to him with most ease. Again, if the earth be on the top of a bank, and the bank standeth in a plain plot of ground, than you shall do best to put in your Terriers, in those holes which are highest on the top of the bank: and strike with a staff upon the bank, to make the vermin flee down into the lowest parts, & there to chamber or angle themselves. It shall not be amiss, to put in a Terrier or twain at the first without any noise, to make the vermin dissever, & to chamber themselves. Foxes & Badgerds which have been beaten, have this subtlety, to draw unto the largest part of the burrow, where three or four angles meet togethers, and there to stand at bay with the Terriers, to the end they may afterwards shifted, and go to which chamber they list. In such a case strike hard upon the ground right over them: and if you see that they will not remove so, then take your round hollowed spade, and dig in to them right upon them. But when they are chambered, than you shall not dig right upon them, but right upon the Terrier. For if you dig right upon the vermin, it might make them to bolt into some other angle, and to enforce the Terryer to give them place. Therefore you shall dig right over the Terryers' with a round hollowed spade, the which will convey the earth with it, and is made principally for such a purpose. And when you have digged so long that you be come to the angle, than thrust your spade between the vermin and the Terryer, so that the vermin can not by any means come out upon your Terrier. For in some chamber you may chance to found five or six vermin together, which might hurt your poor terrier, and discourage him. When you have stopped them in thus, then work with your broad spades and other tools, and make a large trench if you will have good sport, and put in your Terryers' to the vermin, and you shall see bold fight of all fashions. You must take heed to the subtleties of the vermin, especially of Badgerds. For sometimes they will stop up the trench between them and the Terriers, and work themselves further in, so that your Terriers shall not be able to found them, nor to know what is become of them. Sometimes when you have found their Casmat and chief strength, you may take them out alive with your holdfasts or clampes, and therein use this policy and foresight. Take them with your tongues or clampes by the lower chap, the one clampe in the mouth, and the other under the throat, and so draw them out. For if you should take them out by the body or neck, they should have liberty to bite and snatch at the Terryers', which will be doing with them as you take them out. Being thus taken, put them into a sack or poke, to hunt with your Terryers' in your gardens or close courts, at your pleasure. He that will be present at such pastimes, may do well to be booted: For I have lent a Fox or a Badgerd ere now, a piece of my hose, and the skin and flesh for company, which he never restored again. Let these few precepts suffice for the hunting of Foxes and Badgerds.  

Of the Fox.  
 

RAynerd the Fox am I, a crafty child well known,  
Yea better known than credited, with more than is mine own:  
A bastard kind of c●…rte, mine ears declare the same,  
And yet my wit and policy have purchased me great fame.    

The Fox to the Huntsman.  

IF dogs had tongue at will to talk in their defence,  
If brutish beast might be so bold, to pled at bar for pennies,  
If poor Tom tooth might speak, of all that is amiss,  
Then might would bear no right a down: then men would pardon this,  
Which I must here declare. Then quickly would be known,  
That he which deals with stranger's faults, should first amend his own.  
Thus much myself may say, thus much myself can prove,  
Yet while I preach beware the 〈◊〉, for so it shall behove.  
I sigh (yet smile) to see, that man (yea master man)  
Can play his part in policy, as well as Raynard can.  
And yet forsooth the Fox is he that bea●…es the blame,  
But two leggd Foxes eat the ducks, when four legs bear the name.  
A wonder is to see, how people shout and cry,  
With hallows, whoupes, and spiteful words, when I poor Fox go by.  
Lay on him cries the wife, down with him says the child,  
Some strike, some chide, some throw a stone, some fall & be defiled:  
As Maidens, when they spurn, with both their feet at once,  
Fie on the Fox that forced them so, such falls might bruise their bones.  
But Raynard doth such deeds, and therefore strike him down,  
His case will serve to fur the cape of master huntsman's gown.  
His Lungs full wholesome be, in powder beaten fine,  
For such as cough & draw their wound, with pain & much pine.  
His pyssell serves to scour, the gravel of the stone,  
His grease is good for synews shrunk, or 〈◊〉 that grieves the bone.  
His tongue will draw a thorn, his teeth will burnish gold,  
And by his death a huntsman may, have profits manifold.  
The Hen shall roost at rest, which he was wont to rouse,  
The duck & geese may bring good broods, that pigs may 〈◊〉 their  
And all the Farmer's wealth, may thrive & come to good,  
Which crafty Raynard steals sometimes, to keep his brats in sows.  
Yea soft, but who says thus? who did that Lion paint?  
Forsooth a man: but if a Fox might tell his tale as quaint, blood.  
Then would he say again, that men as crafty be,  
As ever Raynard was for theft: even men which flies a fee,  
From every widows flock: a capon or a chick,  
A pig, a goose, a dunghill duck, or aught that salt will lick:  
Until the widow starve, and can no longer give,  
This was that Fox, fie down with him, why should such foxes live?  
Some Foxes lie in wait, and mark the Farmer's crop,  
What loads of hay, what grass for beef, what store of wood for lopp●…,  
What quantity of grain he raiseth on his rent,  
And fake a new lease o'er his head, before the old be spent.  
Fie on these Foxes fie, what Farmer can do welt,  
Where such vite vermin lie in wait, their privy gains to smell?  
Yea some can play their part, in slandering neighbours name,  
To say the wolf did kill the Lamb, when Raynerds eat that same.  
These faults with many more, can wicked men commit,  
And yet they say that Foxes pass, for subtlety and wit.  
But shall I say my mind? I never yet see day,  
But every town had two or three, which Rainards' parts 〈◊〉 play.  
So that men vaunt in vain, which say they hunt the Fox,  
To keep their neighbours poultry free, & to defend their flocks,  
When they themselves can spoil, more profit in an hour,  
Than Raynard rifles in a year, when he doth most devour.  
Not, not, the minds of men, which still be vainly bend,  
Must have their change of 〈◊〉, as first the Hare in Lent,  
The Hart in summers heat, and me poor Fox in cold:  
But whereto serve these sundry sports, these chases manifold?  
Forsooth too feared their thoughts, with drags of vain delight,  
Whereon most men do muse by day, whereon they dream by night.  
They must have costly clotheses, they must have dainty fare,  
They must have coudxs stuffed with down, they must have all in square.  
They must have new-found games, to make them laugh their ●…iill,  
The must have fowls, they must have beasts, to bait; to hunt, to kill.  
And all (when all is done) is nothing else but vain,  
So Solomon the wiseman said, and so says Raynerd plain.     

An advertisement of the Translator.  
I 〈◊〉 in mynè Author nothing written either of the wild Cat or of the Marten, and yet both those are vermin which we use here in England commonly to hunt, and in my judgement as necessary to be hunted as any vermin can be. For the question may be doubtful, whether either Fox or Badgerd do more hurt than the wild Cat doth: Since there are few gentlemen in England but have commodity by Coneys, either great or small: and I am sure that there is no vermin which doth more hurt in a Warren of Coneys, than a wild Cat doth. And therewithal I have herded some hunters say, that she l●…aueth as great sent, & maketh as good a cry for the time, as any vermin that is hunted, especially the Marten passeth all other 〈◊〉 for sweetness of scent, and her case is a noble ●…urre. The wild Cat's case is nothing so good fur, but it is very warm, and medicinable for sundry a●…s and pains in the bones and joints. Also hi●… grease is very good for sinews that be shrunk. These two chases are not to be sought of purpose, unless the huntsman do see them where they pray, and can go readily to him. But if a hound chance to cross them, he will hunt it assoon as any chase, & they make a noble cry, for the time that they stand up. At last when they may no more, they will take a tree, and therein seek to beguile the hounds. But if the hounds hold in to them, & will not so give it over, than they will leap from one tree to another, & make great shift for their lives, with no less pastime to the huntsmen. When they are killed, you must hold them up upon a piked staff, & hallow in all your hounds, & then reward them with some meat. For the flesh of these 〈◊〉 is not good for a hound. Thus much I have thought good of myself, to writ according to my country hunting.   

Of the hunting of the Otter. Chap. 75.  
THe Otter is a beast well known. She feedeth on fish, and lieth near unto Rivers, Brooks, Pools, and fishepondes, or Meres: her lying commonly is under the roots of trees, and sometimes I have seen them lying in ●… hollow tree, four or five foot above the ground: even as a Fox, Polecat, wildecat, or Badgerd will destroy a Warren, so will the Otter destroy all t●…e fish in your ponds, if she once have found the way to them. She dyveth and hunteth under the water, after a wonderful manner, so that no fish can escape her, unless they be very great and swift. A litter of Otters, will destroy you all the fish in a river (or at lest, the greatest store of them) in two miles length. They go salt at such times as firrets go salt, which time every man may eassy know. And they kindle & bring forth their young Otters, even as firrets do, sometimes more, & sometimes less. To speak a truth, they seem to be a kind of water firrets. There is great cunning in the hunting of them, as shall be said in the next chapter, & also it is possible to take them under the water, & by the rivers side, both in traps & in snares, as you may take a Hare with Harepypes, or such like gins. They bite sore and venomously, and defend themselves stoutly. And if they be taken in snares, if they abide long, they will soon shear themselves out with their teeth. I will not speak much more of their nature, but only that they are footed like a Goose: I mean they have a web between their claws, and have no heel but only a round ball under their sole of their foot: & their track is called the mark of an Otter, as we say, the slot of an Hart: and their fewmets are called spraynts, as hath been said before. An Otter abideth not much nor long in one place, but if she be frayed or find any fault (as they are very perfectly of smelling and hearing) they will forsake their couch & shift a mile or two up or down a river: the like will she do if she have once destroyed the store of fish, and find no plenty of feeding. From a pondgarden or good store of fishpondes she will not lightly be removed, as long as there is store of fish in them: for therein fish are taken with more ease, than in the Rivers or greater waters: but enough of their natures.   

How to hunt and take an Otter. Chap. 74.  
WHen a huntsman would hunt the Otter, he should first sand four servants or varlets with bloudhounds or such 〈◊〉 as will draw in the lyame, & let him send them, two up the River, and two down the river, the one couple of them on th●…t one side, & the other on that other side of the water. And so you shall be sure to find if there be an Otter in that quarter: for an Otter cannot long abide in that water, but must come forth in the night to make his 〈◊〉, & sometimes to feed on grass and heaths by the water's side. If any of their lyamhounds find of an Otter, let that huntsman look in the soft grounds and moist places to see which way he bend the head, up or down the river: or if he cannot perceive it by the marks, he may partly perceive it by that sprayntes & then he may follow his hound, & lodge it even as you would do a Dear, or a Boar. And if he find not the Otter quickly, he may then judge that he is go to couch somewhere further off from the water: for an Otter will sometimes seek his feed a mile (or little less) from his couch and place of rest: and commonly he will rather go up the River than downt: for going up the stream, the stream bringeth him sent of the fish that are above him: and bearing his nose into the wind, he shall the sooner find any fault that is above him. also you should make an assembly for the Otter as you do for that Harte, and it is a note to be observed that all such chases as you draw after before you 〈◊〉 them, lodge them, or herbor them, you should make a solemn assembly to hear all reports before you undertake to hunt them, and then he which hath found of an Otter, or so drawn toward his couch that he can undertake to bring you unto him, shall 'cause his hounds to be uncoupled a vowshotte or twain before he come at the place where he thinketh that the Otter lieth: because they may skommer and cast about a while until they have cooled their bawling and brainsick toys, which all hounds do lightly use at the first uncoupling: then the varlets of the kennel shall seek by the rivers side, and beat the banks with their bounds until some one of them chance upon the Otter: remember always to set out some upwards and some down the streams, and every man his Otter spear or forked staff in his hand, to watch his ventes, for that is the chief advantage: and if they perceive where the Otter cometh under the water (as they may perceive if they 〈◊〉 it well) then shall they watch to see if they can get to stand before him at some place where he would vent, & strike him with their spear or staff: and if they miss, then shall they run up or down the stream as they see the Otter bend, until they may at last give him a Blow: for if the hounds be good Otter hounds and perfectly entered, they will come chanting and trailing alongst by the rivers side, & will beat every tree root, every holm, every Osier bed, and tufft of bulrushes: yea sometimes also they will take the river and beat it like a water spaniel: so that it shall not be possible for the Otter to escape, but that either the hounds shall light upon him, or else some of the huntesmen shall strike him; and thus may you have excellent sport and pastime in hunting of the Otter, if the hounds be good, and that the Rivers be not over great: where the Rivers be great, some use to have a line thrown overthwart the River, the which two of the huntesmen shall hold by each end, one on the one side of the River, and the other on that ●…her: and 〈◊〉 them hold the line so slack that it may always be underneath the water, & so go on with it: and if the Otter come diving under that water, he shall of necessity touch their line, & so they shall feel & know which way he is passed, the which shall make him be taken the sooner. An Otters skin is very good fur, & his grease will make a medicine to make fish turn up their bellies as if they were dead. A good Otter hound may prove an excellent good buckhound, if he be not old before he be entered.  
Thus have you now as much as I can presently set down for that hunting of such chases as I think likely or possible to be hunted in this our country: yea some also percase which you will say are not in use with us at these days. But because I have sufficiently declared mine intent in mine Epistle in the beginning of this book, therefore I will spend no more time in excusing of myself: but will pass over unto that Wolf, & the Bear, which are as strange & stranger than any other that I hitherto named.  

The Otters oration  

WHy stand we beasts abashed, or spare to speak?  
Why make we not a virtue of our need?  
We know by proof, in wit we are too weak,  
●…nd weaker much, because all Adam's seed,  
(Which bear away the weight of wit in deed)  
Do daily seek our names for to distain,  
With slanderous blot, for which we Beasts be slain.   

first of myself, before the rest to treat,  
Most men cry out, that fish I do devour,  
Yea some will say, that Lambs (with me) be meat:  
I grant to both, and he that hath the power,  
To feed on fish that sweeter were than sour,  
And had young flesh to banquet at his fill,  
Were fond to fraunche on garbage, grains, or ●…wyll,   

But master Man, which finds all this fault,  
And streynes' devise for many a dainty dish,  
Which suffereth not that hunger him assault,  
But feeds his fill on every flesh and fish,  
Which must have all, as much as wit can wish,  
Us silly Beasts, devouring Beasts do call,  
And he himself, most bloody beast of all.   

Well yet me thinks, I hear him preach this Text,  
How all that is, was made for use of man:  
So was it sure, but therewith follows next,  
This heavy place, expound it who so can:  
The very Scourge and Plague of God his Ban,  
Will light on such as queyntly can devise  
To eat more meat, than may their mouths suffice.   

Now master Man, stand forth and here declare,  
Who ever yet could see an Otter eat  
Moore meat at once, than served for his share?  
Who seas us beasts sitte-bybbing in our seat,  
With sundry wines, and sundry kinds of meat?  
Which breed disease, yfostred in such feasts,  
If men do so, be they not worse than beasts?   

The beastly man, must ●…itte all day and quasse,  
The Beast indeed, doth drink but twice a day,  
The beastly man, must stuff his monstrous mass  
With secret cause of surfeiting alway:  
Where beasts be glad to feed when they get pray,  
And never eat more than may do them good,  
Where men be sick, and surfeit through food.   

Who seas a Beast, for saurie Sauces long?  
Who seas a Beast, or chick or Capon cram?  
Who seas a Beast, once lulled on sleep with song?  
Who seas a Beast make vensone of a Ram?  
Who seas a Beast destroy both whelp and dam?  
Who seas a Beast use beastly Gluttony?  
Which man doth use, for great Civility.   

I know not I, if diving be my fault,  
Me thinks most men can dive as well as I:  
Some men can dive in Seller and in vault,  
In Parlour, Hall, Kitchen and Buttery,  
To smell the roast, whereof the fume doth fl●…e;  
And as for gains, men dive in every stream,  
All frawdes be fish, their stomachs never squeame.   

So to conclude, when men their faults can mend,  
And shun the shame, wherewith they beasts do blot,  
When men their time and treasure not misspend,  
But follow grace, which is with pains ygot,  
When men can vice rebuke and use it not:  
Then shall they shine, like men of worthy fame,  
And else they be but Beasts well worthy blame.     

Of the hunting of the Wolf: and first of their nature and properties. Chap. 75.  
THe Wolf is a beast sufficiently known in France and other Countries where he is bread: but here in England they be not to be found in any place. In Ireland (as I have herded) there are great store of them: and because many Noble men and Gentlemen, have a desire to bring that Country to be inhabited and civilly governed (and would God there were more of the same mind) therefore I have thought good to set down the nature and manner of hunting at the Wolf according to mine Author. The Wolf (sayeth he) goeth on 〈◊〉 in February, in such sort as a Dog lineth a birth when she goet●… sault, wherein they abide ten or twelve days: many Wolves (where store be) do follow one she Wolf, even as Dogs follow a Bitch: but she will never be lined but only with one. She will suffer many to follow her, and will carry them after her sometimes eight or ten days without meat, drink, or rest: and when they are overwearied, than she suffereth them all to take their ease, until they rout and be fast on sleep: & then will she awake the Wolf which seemeth most to have followed her, and that oftentimes is the foulest & worst favoured, because he is overwearied and lankest: him will she awake and tyce him away with her far from the rest, and suffer him to line her. There is a common Proverb, which says that: Never Wolf yet saw his Sire: for indeed it happeneth most commonly that when all the rest of the Wolves do awake and miss the female, they follow them by the sent, and finding them oftentimes together, they fall upon that Wolf and kill him for despite. But if there be no greater store than one Dog Wolf and one bitch in a place, than this Proverb faileth: yea or sometimes also the rest of the Wolves are so long ere they do awake and follow, that they cannot so quickly dispatch or kill him according to their desire, and then also it faileth. Their whelps are able to engender within twelve months: & when their whelps be a year old, than they part from their Sire & from their Dam: yea sometimes sooner, but not before their teeth be cast & shot out again, for they cast teeth first when they are half year old, & when they are come up again, they never cast more all their life time. Then they departed from their dam when those teeth are come out again & grown hard, & they seek their adventure, & pray for themself: & if they chance to meet their sire or dam at any time after, they will fawn upon them, & lick them, & seem in their kind greatly to rejoice. A good example for sundry evil disposed children, which become ungrateful to their parents, which bring them up carefully: Since the brute beast can teach them their duty, only by the instinct & motions of nature. Also when a dog & a bitch of them do company once togethers, they will not lightly part in sunder: for though they pray in divers places, yet at night they will meet again, or at the lest once in two days if it be possible: and they bear meat unto their whelps togethers: but the dog will first eat his fill, and then carry the rest unto his whelps: But the bitch beareth the prey unto her whelps before she eat any thereof herself, and if the dog like it, and have not satisfied his hunger before, he will take it both from her and the whelps, and feed his fill thereon first. After he will leave the rest for them to feed on, if there be any, and if there be not, let them starve for him if they will, so that he maketh not account of any thing, until his belly be full, but the bitch doth oftentimes beguile him. She leaveth the prey far from their den, and if she perceive that the dog be go, then bringeth she it to her whelps: but if the dog be there & perceive that she hath brought nothing, he smelleth to her mouth & her lips: if she have nothing in deed than he beateth her: but if he smell by her that she had prayed, he constreyneth her to show it unto him, or else hunteth back himself by the counter of her footing, and so finds it out. Some hold opinion that the bitch washeth herself all over, because the dog should not smell whether she have prayed or not: but that I dare not swear on a book. Some heavy Wolves will never help their bitches to feed their whelps, but if it be in a place where there are no store of Wolves, as no more but he and his make, than he knoweth by the smell that the whelps are his, and helpeth the Bitch to pray for them, and to feed them, but uncurtuously as I said before. Wolves are fattest when they have small whelps: for they feed not only upon their own provision, but also upon that which their make & their whelps should eat also: they go nine weeks with whelp, and sometimes three or four days longer, & go salt but once in a year. Some hold opinion that a Bitch will not have young whelps nor engender as long as her own Dame is alive. They have whelps in all respects like unto our dogs, sometimes more & sometime less: for doubtless both the Fox & the Wolf are but a kind of wild Mastyfes and wild curs: they be of great force especially in their foreparts: they bite sore and dangerously, for sometimes they will kill a Cow or a Bullock: and they will roundly carry a sheep, a Goat, or a good porkines in their mouth & never touch the ground with it, & will run so fast away with it, that unless horsemen or Mastiff dogs do stay them, they will hardly be overtaken, either by the herdman or by an other creature: they pray upon all kind of things, and will feed upon any carrion or any vermin, they live not long nor above. xii. or. xiv. years at most. When he hath fed upon any vermin or serpent (as he doth often) then runneth he wonderfully fast. In such sort that I have seen a Wolf (being empty) outrun four or five brace of the best Greyhoundes that might be found: for there is no beast which runneth faster than he: and he holdeth marvelously also, when he is hunted with hounds, he flieth not far before them: and unless he be coursed with Greyhounds or Mastiffs, he keepeth the covert like a Boar or a Bear, & especially the beaten ways therein: most commonly he prayeth by night, but sometimes also by day when he is hungry: some Wolves will pray upon Dear, Goats, and swine, and sent as freshly and as tenderly as an hound: some also will eat a dog if they catch him: and foam of them kill children and men sometimes: & then they never feed nor pray upon any other thing afterwards, when they have once been fleshed & nousled therein, but die sometimes for hunger. Such Wolves are called Warwolues, because a man had need to beware of them, they be so crafty that when they assail a man, they flee upon him & lay hold on him before he perceive them: but if he perceive them first, than they assail him so subtly that he shall hardly escape their teeth, and can marvelously defend themselves from any weapon that a man hath for his defence. There are two causes which make them fet upon mankind: one is, that when they be old & feeble, & that their teeth begin to fail them, then can they not carry their prey as they were want: so that they learn with more ease to pray first upon children which they meet or espy, which pray can neither make resistā●…e, nor is needful to carry it far: & therewithal the skin & flesh is much more tender and delicate than the skin & flesh of any other pray. Another reason is, that in countries where war is made, & where battles & skirmishes are given, there they feed upon the dead carcases of men which lie slain in the field, as also in other places upon such as hung on the gibbets and trees being executed by justice: And the flesh of man is so delicate and toothsome, that when they have once tasted of it, they care for none other meat. I have seen a Wolf forsake the fold, and kill the heardesman. They are more crafty (if more may be) than the Fox or any other beast: when they are hunted they will take all their advantages, at other times they will never run over hastily, but keep themselves in breath & force always: they have always need thereof, for there pass few days but that they are coursed or cried at by as many as see them, in the countries where they haunt. A Wolf will stand up a whole day before a good kennel of hounds unless that Greyhoundes course him: most commonly he is taken in some village or hamm●…let, he will seldom stand at Bay, unless it be when he cannot longer endure: and then he becomes mad: the biting of a Wolf will hardly be healed as I have before said, for their biting is venomous & rancleth sore. And again, because they are oftentimes mad, & then there is no cure for their biting: when they have overfed themselves or are sick in their body, they eat grass as a dog doth, they can well abide hunger at some times, for a Wolf may bide without meat six or seven days: but then woe be to that pray that he next meeteth. The bitch wolf will never lightly part far from her whelps when they be young, for fear lest she should lose them. When a woife finds a litter of pigs, or a flock of sheep, he he will (by his will) kill them all before he feed upon any of them. They are hunted at force, taken with greyhounds or mastyfes, and hanged in gins and snares. But it had need to be a strong snare that should hold them unless help come in the sooner: they are also killed in ditches where they pass with needle's, venomous powders, & diverse such other things which men lay in baits for them. When the herds & sheep come down from the Mo●…taines to graze & feed in the valleys, than they descend also to seek their prey. They follow a camp commonly, to feed on that carrion of horses & such other beasts as men leave behind them. They bark & howl like unto dogs, & if there be two of them together they make such a terrible noise that you would think there were. xx. of them: this do they most commonly when it is fair weather, or when they are young and not past a year old, or that they be trained to any place for to hunt afterwards: and surely when they be so trained, they will hardly abide where they feed, and especially old Wolves, if it be at the first time that they have been trained: but if they once have been accustomed to it, than they will abide the better. Some of them be so crafty, that when they pray by night, they will fly a mile or two from thence before day, especially if it be in a place where they have been hunted or stirred, or that they find some train of flesh made for them. They cry not at all when they are killed, as our dogs do, but in diverse other properties they resemble a dog. It is hard or almost unpossible to keep or bring up a Wolf so young, or so fast tied in subjection, or so corrected and kept in awe, but that it will do some mischief at any time that it get liberty and find mean to do so: and the tamest that ever was yet, would (if it were led abroad) look this way and that way, to espy somewhat that it might be doing withal. For both a Wolf is doubtful that men mean harm unto him: and again he knoweth well in his own conscience that he doth many shrewd turns, and that therefore men hunt and pursue him: but for all that he will never leave his malicious nature: it is written that the right forefoote of a Wolf is medecinable for the swelling in the throat, and for the inflammation of the liver: their skins are excellent fur and durable.   

How to hunt them. Chap. 76.  
WHen a huntsman would hunt the Wolf, he must train them by these means. first let him look out some fair place a mile or more from the great woods where there be some close standing to place a brace of good Greyhounds in, if need be, the which should be close environed, and some pond or water by it: there shall he kill a horse or some other great beast, and take the four legs thereof and carry them into the woods and Forests adjoining. Then let four goodfellows take every man a leg of the beast, and draw it at his horse tail all alongst the paths and ways in the woods until they come back again unto the place where the dead beast lieth: there let them lay down their trains. And when the Wolves go out in the night to pray and to feed, they will cross upon the train and follow it, until they come at the dead carrion: there they will feed their fill. And then let the huntsman about the break of day go thither, and leave his horse a good way of underneath the wind, and come fair and softly to the place to espy if there be any Wolves feeding. If there be, he may retire & stir them not, and never look how much or how little they have fed: for it is sufficient if the huntsman see them, since they are so crafty & subtle as I have beforesaid. Then let him climb into some tree there by, & look which way the Wolf goeth, and where it is likely that he will lie. For as I have said, they will not lightly fairy whereas they feed, but rather will be go very early in the grey morning: for whether they came late or early, or whether they would lie in the Sun rather than in the covert, or that they would void and empty their bellies, or whether it be so that they have been lately stirred and hunted, I council the huntsman to be go betimes, and so shall he be sure to see certainly: and if he cannot see them, then let him look upon the carrion whether they have been at it or not: and how many he guesseth have been at it, according to the places that he shall see gnawn or fed upon: and then let him return to his Lord or Master, and make report accordingly. And let him mark and look in the ways which are about the next covert or the covert which they are go into, whether they be there entered or passed on further. And if his hound will stick willingly upon the track of a Wolf, and will challenge it, than he may cast about the covert and come not within any part thereof, and so shall he be best assured whether they be there stayed or not: for his hound will vent it out still as he goeth. And therewithal let him mark and judge whether they do all keep company still together or not, for many times some one will be go, and all the rest will abide, or else some one will abide, and all the rest will be go: but those which be full, do most willingly tarry always: and when they fed not their fill the day before, than they tarry longer than such as fed their fill over night, or young Wolves, or such other: for an old Wolf is so doubtful and so full of mistrust, that he will seldoine abide w●…re he feedeth. And therefore it were no bad policy, to leave but little meat at the place whereunto you tranyne, and to leave hard by the place, some weak beast tied, so that it can neither stray away nor make defence. And when the Wolves come and find but little carrion at the place, then to satis●…e their hunger, they will fall upon that beast and devour it: Which if they do not the first night, they will surely do it the next night if you observe that order: and by that means they will feed their fill, and the rather abide and tarry by it or near unto it: for they are gluttons, and desirous to keep the tenmant of their pray, when they have killed a beast and leave any of it. And when the Hun●…an shall by these means have been assured of their feeding two nights together, then may he make preparation to hunt them on the third day: or if they fail to come unto the train the first or second day, then let him send out Uarlettes to train from about all the coverts adjoining unto the same place: and so doing, he cannot miss but draw Wolves thither once within two or three nights, unless it be in February. In that month they make small account of any train, by reason of their heat in following the Saulte bitches. And sometimes also a Wolf will follow the train even until they come at the carrion, and yet when they come there will go their ways and not feed upon it. In such a case the Huntsman shall change his train and carrion, as if it were of Horse●…eshe, or beef, let him make it of sheeps or goats flesh, or the flesh of an Ass (which Wolves do love exceedingly,) or of Hogs flesh: for otherwise he should not be able to know whether there be any Wolves near unto the place where he trained or not: and if he doubt thereof, then shall he fayne a voice, and call or bark, and howl like a Wolf: and if there be any Wolves in the whole covert within the hearing they will answer him. Again, if they come to the carrion, and feed not in two or three nights one after another, or that they feed and go their ways and tarry not in any covert near adjoining, then let him overnight hung up the carrion in some trees, so high that they cannot come by it: and yet leave some bones upon the ground, to the end they may gnaw upon them. And let him tarry in the wood until it be as it were an hour before day: and let him leave by the carrion the garments of some Shepherd or Heardesman, that the Wolves may have no mistrust of him where he standeth: then when it is not passing half an hour or little more before day, let him put down the carrion and go his ways, and then the Wolves coming to it, and having not fed all the night before, will feed hungerly, and through their gluttony will forget themselves and abide until it be far forth days, and so go to kennel in the coverts adjoining: for they will be so hungry to feed, and they shall have so small time to satisfy their hunger, that they will be constrained to abide. But because commonly Lords and Noblemen do not rise so early as to see these pastimes and policies, therefore I think meet that when he hath beaten down the flesh as beforesaid, he 'cause some good fellows to go and to make fires between them and the last coverts that the Wolves fled unto: and let the fires be not passing a bowshotte or not so much one from another: and at every fire let some one or two of the company stand talking and laughing one with another: when the Wolves shall hear that, they shall be constrained (by reason that the day light is now come upon them) to abide there in the covert hard by the carrion. In mean while, the Lord or Gentleman shall be come and may hunt them at his pleasure: and that shall he order thus. first let him regard which way will be the fairest course for Greyhounds, and place them accordingly: and as near as he can let him forestail with his Greyhoundes the same way that the Wolves did fly the nights before, if the ground serve to course in, unless the wind be contrary, for than it were but folly to set them that way: otherways the Wolf will rather come that way than any other way. If the wind serve not that way, then let him set his Greyhoundes in the fairest place to course in upon a good wind: and let him set his Greyhoundes in ranks as near one to another as the number of his Greyhoundes will permit: always regarding the wind, and causing them which hold the Greyhoundes to stand close. That being so appointed, let him set hewers all round about the Covert where the Wolves do lie, to hew and make noise on every side but only that where the Greyhoundes do stand. If his own servants and company be not sufficient, he may do well to assemble the neighbours which devil near by: who will be glad to help him because the Wolves do them such great harms and damages. And let all those people stand as thick as they can all about the covert, but only on that side where the Greyhoundes are set, talking and walking one to another, and making all the noise that they can devise to force them unto the Greyhoundes. Then let the Huntsman go with his Lyamehounde and draw from the carrion unto the thickes sides where the Wolves have go in: and there the hunts shall cast off the third part of their best hounds, for a Wolf will sometimes hold a covert long time before he come out. The Huntesmen must hold near in to their hounds, blowing hard and encouraging them with the voice: for many hounds will strain courtesy at this chase, although they be lusty and arrant at all other chases. When the Wolf cometh to the Greyhoundes, they which hold them shall do well to suffer the Wolf to pass by the first rank, until he be come unto the second rank or further: and let the last rank let slip their Greyhoundes full in the face of the Wolf: & at the same instant let all the other ranks let slip also. So that the first rank staying him never so little, he may be assailed on all sides at once: and by that means they shall the more easily take him. It is best entering of Hounds at young Wolves which are not yet passing half a year or a year old: for a hound will hunt such more willingly and with less dread than they will hunt an old Wolf. And likewise the young Wolves can neither make so good defence, nor yet use such policies and subtleties as the old Wolf will. Or it shall be good to take Wolves alive in engines, and then break their teeth and enter your hounds at them. When the Wolf is dead, you shall make the reward thus. first let the hounds and Greyhoundes, but especially the hounds run in and all to bite and mussel the dead Wolf: then let the hunt open his belly all alongst and take out all his bowels: then let him take a Sheep or a Porkine and kill it, and stripe of the skin quickly and cut it all to gobbets, putting it into the body of the Wolf, and there let the hounds and Greyhoundes ●…ate it out. For default of a sheep or such hot meat, let him take bread cheese and such like scraps and broken morselles and put them into the Wolf for the hounds reward as before said. Note that both hounds and Greyhoundes will require greater fleshing and encouragement to a Wolf than to any other chase, and therefore all the cheer that you can use unto them, will be little enough: And if a Wolf chance to break upon the hewers, and so escape the course, yet be not thereat discouraged, but beat the same covert on the next day. For a Wolf hath this property, that when he hath once so escaped, he bethinketh him thereof, & returns thither on the next day to see what the matter was which stirred him so, or to see what is become of his companions if he had any, or to see if there be any carrion. And again he is so crafty, that he thinketh surely men will not hunt in the said place again so quickly: but if he find fault and perceive that any of his companions be killed, then will he be go from thence the next night, and come no more there of a great while: yea though you train him he may chance to come unto the train, but surely he will not tarry in any covert near unto that place. A man may know a doggewolfe from a bitch by the tracks of their feet: for the dog hath a greater heel, a greater toe, greater nails, and a rounder foot: and the Bitch casts her fiants commonly in the midst of an high way, whereas the dog casts them on the one or other side of the path. And now let these few things suffice for the hunting of the Wolf.   

Of the Hunting of the Bear, and first of her nature and properties. Chap. 77.  
THere be Bears of two sorts, that one much greater than that other naturally: although they be of equal age, or how long foever they live, but their properties and conditions are all one. saving that the greater be much stronger, the which I account no difference of nature. They are naturally very cr●…est & harmful unto all ●…ame beasts, and are very strong in all parts of their bodies but only the head. A small blow on the head killeth them: they go to make in December, some sooner & some later, according to their rest and good feeding: their heat endureth fifteen days and not passed. When the Shebeare doth feel her young within her, then doth she withdraw herself into some cave or rock, and their abideth until she bring forth her whelps: therefore you shall seldom hear of a Bear taken when she is with whelp. Sometimes a Bear, especially a Male, will keep close in his den forty days and nights without either meat or drink, having none other nourishment but only sleep and ●…ucking on his Toes: at forty days end they will come out, and though it be a fair day, yet will they enclose themselves again for forty days longer, always doubting that the winter will yet continued: and lightly as long as any hard weather lasteth, they will not come out of their dens. They are whelped most commonly in March: the most part of them are dead one whole day after they be whelped: but the Damme doth foe lick them, warm them, and cherish them, that she reviveth ●…hem at last. Their hear at first is more whitish than like black: they give them suck a month and not much more, and that is because their whelps are cursed and have cruel paws & sharp nails, and bite shrewdly: if they find not their fill of milk in the Dams teats, or that she remove when they suck, them they will bite the teat, & tear their Damme with their paws, whereupon many of them kill their whelps, and bite them sore sometimes. At lest assoon as the Dam perceineth that they begin to wax strong, she giveth them suck no longer, but goeth abroad, and prayeth or feedeth upon any thing that she can find, and then casts it up again before her whelps, by that means she feedeth them until they can pray for themselves. When they engender, they lie face to face. They feed upon Herbs, Fruits, Honey, Flesh, Milk, mast, beans, Pease, and of all manner of carrion and vermin. They will climb a tree for the fruit: and sometimes in the winter or hard weather, when all these things fail them, they kill Cows and other cattle to feed un: and yet few of them do so, unless it be sheep, Goats, or such little beasts. If they be in good plight (and especially the greater sort) they continue in their strength and force ten or twelve years. They live sometimes. xx. years, but they do oftentimes become blind, and then they cannot pray. They go very far for their prays, considering the greatness and weight of their bodies, & that is because they would not be found: but yet look where they pray, they remain and continued hard by their pray. If they be hunted, they follow a man, and yet never run upon him unless they be hurt: but if they be hurt, than they run upon any thing that stands before them. They are marvelous strong in their paws, wherewith they coll in a Man or a Dog, in such sort, that many times they kill and smother them, or break their bulckes with the force. Their nails have great force, but not such as would kill a beast: but with their whole paw they pull a dog unto their mouth, and then they tear him marvelously, for they bite sore, insomuch that if they get hold of a man's head, they will bite him into the brains: & as for an arm or a leg, they would crush it in pieces like glass. If you strike at them with a sword, they will break & bear off a great blow with their paws: they are so heavy, that when they be hunted they can make no speed, but are always within sight of the Dogs: they stand not at a Bay like to the Boar, but flee still wallowing as they can until help of men come in: and then if the hounds stick in and fight with them, they fight very valiantly in their own defence. Sometimes they stand upon their hinder feet as upright as a man: but that is a token of dread and cowardliness, but being upon all four they fight both the more strongly and the more stoutly: for than they declare that they will be revenged, and flee no longer: they have very perfect sent, & smell further off than any other beast, unless it be the Boar. For in a whole Forest they will smell out a tree laden with mast: when they be overwearied, they flee to some brook or water, & there they be overthrown: they may be hunted with Mastyfes, Greyhoundes, or hounds, & they are killed & chased with bow, boarspear, darts, & swords: so are they also taken in snares, caves & pits, & in other engines. If two men on foot having borespearesor javelins, or short pitchforkes, would stick well one to an others defence & revenge, they may kill a great bear for the Bear is of this nature, that at every blow she will be revenged on whatsoever come next to hands. So that when the one hath stricken the Bear, she will run upon him: & then if the other strike quickly, she will return to him again. So that the one may always help and secure the other: they do naturally abide in the great Mountains, but when it snoweth or is very hard weather, than they descend to seek food in the valleys & Forests, they cast their loesses fomtimes in round Croteys, & sometimes flat like a Bullock, according to the feed that they find: they are able to engen●…r when they be but one year old, & then they depart from their dams, they go sometimes a gallop, & sometimes an amble: but when they wallow than they go at most ease. When they are chased they flee into the coverts and forests, their season beginneth in may, and endureth until such time as they go to engender again: but at all seasons they be very fat both within and without. And by that means their season lasteth longer than any other beasts. When a Bear is hurt sore, and escapeth the huntsmen, she will open and stretch her wound, yea, sometimes she will draw out her own guts and bowels to search them whether they be pierced or not: and by that means many of them dye, when they might well escape. When they come from their feeding, they beat commonly the highways and beaten paths: and where so ever they go out of the high way, there you may be sure they are go to their den, for they use no doublings nor subtleties. They tumble and wallow in water and mire like unto sooyne, and they feed like a dog. Their flesh is delicate to some men's tooth: but in mine opinion, it is rammishe and unsavoury, at leastwise it can not be wholesome. Their grease is good for the gout and shrinking of the sinews, and the better, if it be mingled with other ointments. Their feet are the best morsel of them, for they be delicate meat. Their skin is a fur, but very course: meeter to lay upon a bed, than to wear otherwise. I have termed their fat, grease, & so is it to be called of all beasts which pray: and of all Dear & other fallow beasts, it is to be called Suet. As also their feed is called feeding, and a dears is called feed, as I have before declared.   

The manner of hunting the Bear. Chap. 78.  
THe best finding of the Bear is with a lyamhounde, and yet he which hath no lyamhounde, may trail after the Bear, as they do after a Row, or a Buck: but you may draw after the Bear in the vineyards, in the hollow masty woods, and such like places, according to the season: & so you may lodge them, and run and hunt them, as you do a Boar. For the more speedy execution, you shall do well to mingle mastiffs amongst your hounds: for they will pinch the Bear, and make her angry, until at last they bring them to the bay: or else they drive them clean out of the plain, into the covert, and never let them be in quiet, until they come to fight for defence: and by that means they are the sooner killed. For though the Bears bite a dog sore, yet they kill them not so soon as a Boar doth. The reward may be made after the death of the Bear, as it is made at the death of a Wolf.  
Thus have I now (what out of mine Author, and what by mine own experience and conjecture) set down the natures and hunting of as many chases as I think chaseable: yea, and these two last rehearsed, viz. the Wolf and the Bear, together with the Rayndeare also, I have not thought good to leave out, although they be not in use here with us in England: since they seem by the description, to be noble chases, and much esteemed in other countries. Now let me set down the Cures & Medicines for dogs, when they shall either be hurt, or fall into any surfeit, sickness, or infyrmities.   

Receipts, to heal sundry diseases and infirmities in hounds and dogs. Chap. 79.  
Hound's, and generally all kind of dogs, are subject to many diseases & infirmities. But above all other diseases, they are most cumbered with madness, whereof there are seven sundry sorts. The first kind is called the burning hot madness, or the desperate madness. And this kind of madness can not be healed, but is so harmful & contrary unto a dog's nature, that immediately after the venom thereof hath once crept into the blood of a dog, it burns and infectes him suddenly. And as soon as the brain feeleth itself vexed with the fume thereof, the dog tormenteth himself continually, and becometh desperate, as hath often been seen by experience: the dogs which have this madness, are known sundry ways. first when they run, they raise their tails right up, the which other dogs do not, that be sick of other kinds of madness. Again, they run upon any thing that standeth before them as well beasts, as other things, and have no respect, where nor which way they run, whether it be through Rivers, ponds, or waters. Also their mouth will be very black, and will have no foam nor froth in it. They endure not in this kind of madness, above three or four days at the most, by reason of the untolerable pain and travel thereof. When they may no longer endure, they howl a kind of howling in the throat, and hoarsely, but not like the howling of a dog that were sound. All beasts which they shall bite, as well dogs as other, if they draw blood on them, will doubtless run mad also.  
The second kind of madness, is called running madness, and is likewise uncurable. But the vyting thereof is not so venomous, nor so dangerous for other beasts, as the first is, for it vexeth not continually without intermission. And when a dog is mad of this kind of madness, the first dog which he biteth in the forenoon, doth bear with him all his venom, & will be in great danger to run mad: but as many as he biteth afterwards, may escape from running mad thereof. When dogs have this madness, they run not upon beasts, nor upon men, but only upon dogs, and hearken as they go to hear the barking of other dogs, to the end they may go shake them and bite them. They run in the high ways, and cast their fails between their legs, trotting like a Fox, and may continued thus nine months, but not past. These two kinds of madness are more dangerous than all the rest, and when a dog will become mad, of any of these two sorts of madness, you may know by these tokens.  
First they eat very little, they will smell upon other dogs, and when they have smelled on them, will shake and bite them, yet wagging their ●…ayles, and seeming to cherish them. They sigh sore, & shuffe with their noses, and look sydewayes or overthwarts. They are sad and heavy, yet running after butterflies and other flies. There are many other apparent tokens which I leave for brevities sake. When you perceive them by such tokens, shifted them out of the company of other dogs, and shut them up, for their breath is infective, and m●…y make other dogs mad: for such diseases are taken amongst dogs, as the pestilence is amongst men. The other five sorts of madness, are nothing like so dangerous: for dogs which are sick of them, do neither run nor bite. So that I esteem them rather sicknesses, than madnesses, although sundry huntsmen have hold opinion, that all the seven sorts of madness were uncurable. But I myself have healed sundry dogs, which have bi●… sick of these other five kinds of madness hereafter mentioned, with the Receiptes which I mean (God willing) to set down here in writing. And the said five sundry sorts of madness are thus named.  
The first is called the dumb madness, the which lieth within the blood, and is to be known by this note or sign: The dogs which are mad thereof, will not feed, but hold their mouth wide open, putting their feet into their mouth, as if they had some bone in their throat, & hide themselves commonly in moist & freshest places.  
The second is called the falling madness, for the dogs which have it, fall as they go, as if they had the falling evil, or the Saint John's sickness. And the disease lieth in their heaps.  
The third kind of madness, is called the La●…ke madness. For the disease is within their bodies, and maketh them skummer so much, that they become so tank, lean, and thin, that a man may thrust them through with his finger.  
The fourth is called the sleeping madness. The which cometh with a kind of little worms, that lie in the mouth of a dogs stomach, being there engendered through corruption of humours, the vapours and fumes whereof, do mount up into the brains of a dog, and make him sleep uncessantly, so that commonly they die sleeping.  
The fifth and last kind of madness, is called the 〈◊〉 or slavering madness. For when a dog hath it, his head swelleth, and his eyes become yellow as a Kyghts' foot, and he driveleth and slavereth at the mouth commonly.  
When a dog hath any of these kinds of madness, he will have no lust to eat, but liveth eight or nine days in this sort, doing no hurt to any thing, and in the end dieth for hunger: wherewithal you must understand, that dogs are of this property generally: Whensoever they feel any disease within their bodies (without any occasion of hurts, or such accidents) they will never feed lightly, until they be healed thereof. For proof, when a dog is sick, he will not eat the deyntyest morsel that you can proffer him, until he have eaten grass, and cast up all that was within him, and then he will eat. Some are of opinion, that the worm under a dog's tongue, is the cause of madness: but I think not so. Although it may be, that such as have been wormed, do not so commonly fall mad: yet sometimes they do, as may daily be seen.  
These diseases are taken amongst dogs, by breathing and companying one with another. And therefore it shall be best to shut up such as have them, from all the rest of your hounds, as is before said.  

The receipt to heal the dumb madness.  
TAke the weight of four French crowns, of the juice of an herb called Spathula putrida, which hath a leaf much like unto the herb called Ireos, or Flower de luce (but it is a little blacker) and put this juice into a little pewter pot. Then take as much of the juice of an herb, called Helleborus niger, in English Bearwort, & as much of the juice of rue. And if it be in such season that these herbs have no juice in them, you must make a decoction of them. And when you have all these juices together, take as much white wine as there was juice of rue. Then strain them all through a fair linen clot, and set them in a glass. Then take Scamony two drams. and let the Scamony be unpreparate, the which you shall mingle amongst all these juices. Then take the dog, & put a table napkin ●…owled in his mouth for biting, and put down this 〈◊〉 in●…o his throat, with so●…e horn or tunnel, holding up his head aloft, lest he cast it up again. When you have given him this receipt, you shall let him bleed with a kni●…e in the mouth, as you prick a hor●…e, in the gums of the upper jaw, & the ●…oofe of his mouth, & ●…ut him two or three veins in his gums, that he may bleed the better. Then kennel him with fair fresh straw, and he will a●…end. Note here that the herb commonly called Hearts horn, or Dog's tooth, is excellent good to cure any kind of madness, being dro●…ke eight drams of the juice thereof, with a little salt.   

A receipt for the falling or reeling madness, which proceedeth from the brain.  
TAke the weight of four french crowns, of the juice or seed of an herb called Pyonye, (that sort of Ryonye which beareth seed) & the weight of four French crowns, of the iuy●… of an herbs root called bryony, or Vitis alba, which groweth in the hedges, and hath a root as big as a man's leg. Then take as much of the juice of an herb called ●…ruciata, otherwise 〈◊〉, and four drams of Stavesaker, well brayed and beaten to poud●…r Mingle them all well together and give it your hound or dog, as afore said. Then slit his ears to make him bleed, or else let him blood on the two veins which come down his shoulders, (which in an horse are called the Arches, or the Archvaines') and if it help him not at the first, give it him once again, or twice if need require.   

A receipt for the sleeping madness, proceeding of worms.  
TAke the weight of six crowns, of the juice of the Wormwood called Absynthium 〈◊〉, or French Wormwoode, and the weight of two crowns of the powder of Heart's horn burned, and two drams of Agarick. Mingle them all together, and i●… they be too thick or too dry, then put white wine unto them, the weight of fo●…re or six crowns, and give it your dog to drink 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 before said.   

A receipt for the Rewmatique or slavering madness, coming like the jaundice.  
TAke the weight of six crowns, of the juice or decoction of the roots of Fenell, the weight of five french crowns of the juice or decoction of an herb, called (by the Frenchmen) Guy, which groweth in the white thorns (I take it to be that which we call Mysseldine, or Misseltoe) the weight of four crowns, of the juice or decoction of ground ivy, the weight of. iiii. crowns of the powder or dregs of the root of Pelypody, which groweth on an Oak or Chestnut tree: put them all together in a pottenger or skillet, and let them boil together in white wine. And when it is cooled a little, put it down your dog's throat as before said, even as hot as he may suffer it.   

A receipt, for the lank madness.  
AS touching the Lank madness, which keepeth within the bowels, and divers other diseases, as Gouts, Colds, Stoppings, and all other proceeding of cold causes, they are to be healed with Baths and Stones, as ensueth.  
Take two great kettles, that will hold each of them six pails full, where in you shall put (in each of them) ten handfuls of these herbs hereafter named. That is to say: of an herb called Artemisia or Mugwoort, of Rosemary, of read Sage, of the roots or leaves of an herb called Guymawe, or French Mallow (or in English, Marsh Mallows,) of the roots or leaves of Walwoort or Danewoort, of the roots or stalks of Fenell, of the leaves or stalks of balm, of rue, of Enula campana, (thereof both roots and leaves) of sorrel, of bugloss, and of melilot, & put them all into the said kettles. Then fill them with wine and water, two parts water, and the third wine, and let them boil together, until the third part or quantity be consumed. And when they be so sodden, take the kettles and pour out all these herbs into a Tun or pipe, wherein you shall put four payles full of good and strong lies of wine. Then take the kettles, & hung them on the fire again, filling them two parts with water, & the third with wine, as before said. Then take a new sack, and go seek out some Molehill, or anthil, and take the greatest read Aunts with their eggs and all, and let them boil in the said kettles, with three or four pyntes or great handfuls of salt, until they be consumed. And when it is boiled unto the third part, & that the water is very thick, pour them out into the Tun or Pipe unto the rest, and so let them stand altogethers, until they be little better than lukewarm. Then put your sick dog into it, and bathe him therein a long hour before you let him come out, having good regard how you hold him, for fear of drowning, or smothering him in the tun. Afterwards, put him in some warm place or couch, where he may take no air, for fear of foundering or marring. This order of bathing you may use with the same water, four or five days together, warming it always again: and it will serve for many dogs, one after another. But before you do thus bathe your dogs that are sick, purge them in this order.  
Take an ounce and a half of Cassia fistularis well cleansed, two drams & a half of Stavesaker in powder, two drams & a half of Scamony preparat in white vinegar, & four ounces of oil olive, temper them all together, and warm them a little over the fire, & give it your dog towards night, & let him eat no meat after it. The next day put him into the bath fasting.   

A Bath to bathe dogs, when they have been bitten with others, to prevent that they run not mad.  
IF your dog be bitten or shaken with a mad dog, immediately fill a barrel or tun with water, and take a bushel, or a bushel and a half of Salt, and cast it therein: Mingle and stir the Salt well about with a staff to make it melt. And then take your dog and plunge him therein over head and ears, eight or nine times. When he is well washed so, then let him go, and it will help and prevent the disease.   

A charm of words, to preserve dogs from madness.  
A Gentleman of Britain taught the Author (for the Translator will learn no such devices) to make two little rolls wherein were written but two lines, and those he put in an eggshell, and so put them down a dogs throat, which was bitten with a mad dog. And the writing contained but this: Y Run Qui Ran, cafiam cafratrem cafratrosque. This he said would preserve a dog from being mad: believe it he that list, for I do not.   

Of the Mange, Tettarres, Ringwormes, and scabs in a dog.  
THere are four kinds of Mange, viz, the read Mange, which maketh a dogs legs to swell. The skaly Mange, which groweth in patches, as broad as the palm of a man's hand, and taketh off the skin where it goeth. The common Mange, and the black Mange, which lieth under the skin, and maketh the hair to shed. Of these manges the read Mange is the worst, and most dangerous to heal. For it engendereth and breeds after a foundering or overheating of a dog, which he taketh in the winter, passing over brooks or pools, when he is hot and chafed. Or with lying in cold and moist places, before he be well dried or rubbed. Or it may come by being brought up in the shambl●…s, or butcheries, with the blood of Oxen or such like, which overheateth the blood in a dog. And those ki●…des of Mange are thus to be healed. First purge your dog with the receipt which I have before prescribed to be ministered before bathing, and on the morrow let him blood two ounces or more, upon a vain which is between the hough string, and the bone of his leg. And within two days next following, you shall anoint him with this ointment which followeth.  
Take three pound weight of the oil of Nuts (I think he means Walnuts) a pound and half of the oil of Cade, two pound of the oil of Worms, three pound of Honey, & a pound & a half of vinegar, boil them all together, until they be half wasted. Then put to it Rosen and Pitch, or Tar, of each two pounds & a half, & half a pound of new wax unwrought, melt them altogether, & stir them with a reed or a palm wand. When they are well melted & mingled, put therein (from off the fire) a pound & a half of Brimstone, two pound of Copporas well tried, twelve. ounc●…s of Uerdegreace, & stir them into it until it be cold. This ointment will kill & heal all manner of manges & itches, how strong or vehement soever they be. And before you anoint your dogs therewith, wash them & rub them all over with water & salt to cleanse their skins. Afterwards lead them to a good fire, & tie them there fast, until they may sweat a good hour & a half, giving them water to drink & lap their belly full. When they are thus dressed & warmed, feed them with good broths made with Mutton, boiled with a little brimstone to warm them within, & with good wholesome herbs, continuing that diet eight days.   

Another medicine for the Tettar.  
THe Tettar cometh unto many dogs naturally, or by kind, or by age, and it may be thus healed:  
Take away the hair in the places where the Tettarres are, & then rub the dog with lie, salt, and vinegar, until the ringwormes do bleed. And afterwards anoint them with this ointment.  
Take a pound of an ointment called unguentum enulatum, half a pound of another ointment called Pomphiligos, two pounds of the oil of Nuts, Tar a pound, a pound of the oil of Cade, half a pound of Brimstone, half a pound of Soot, half ●… pound of Vytrioll or Copperosse, four ounces of the lytarge of Gold, four ounces of white lead, four ounces of Uerdigreace, & six ounces of Roch Alum. Beat them all to powder, & boil and incorporate them together, with half a pound of vinegar. This ointment is most excellent for the Tettar, using it as before said.   

For the common Mange.  
THe common Mange cometh of ten-times by reason that the dogs lack fresh water to drink, when they desire it. Or else by foul & filthy lodging & kennelling. As in swinesties, or upon the straw whereupon other mangic dogs have line. And it may also come by foundering & melting of their grease. This mange may be easily healed, without the drugs and drams before rehearsed, but only with decoction of these herbs following.  
Take two handful of wild Cressyes, otherwise called Berne, two handful of Enula campana, of the leaves or roots of wild Sorrel, and the root of Roerb as much, and the weight of two pounds of roots of Frodyls, make them all boil well in lie & vinegar. When they are all well boiled, you must strain the decoction, & take the juice thereof, mingling it with two pounds of grey Soap, and when the Soap is well melted and mingled in it, them rub your dogs with it four or five days together, & it will heal them. This receipt & all the rest I have proved & found medicinable.   

A Receipt to heal the disease called the Wolf, which is a kernel or round bunch of flesh, which groweth and increaseth, until it kill the dog.  
THis disease or botch happeneth often unto dogs. And to heal it you must have good regard in what place it is. For if it be in any part of the body, where many veins be, or Arteries, then will it be very hard to take it away. But this is the mean to take a Wolf away in places where you may conveniently. There are two manners of curing of it. The one is by Incision, and that other by Receipt. He that will make incysion, must first look how many va●…es and arteries do come from any part of the body, unto the place where the Wolf is. Then must he have a sharp foursquare needle, that must be a little bended or crooked. That being threeded with a good strong thread, let him thrust his needle underneath the vain, and draw it through, and so let him with both ends of the thread, tie the vain as hard and close as he can, and cut off the ends. Thus shall he do with all the veins which have recourse into the disease, for bleeding & for marring his incision. Then let him take a razor, and cut round about the botch (within the knots that are tied about the veins) and so take away and cut out the botch or lump. Then ●…hall he immediately take a hot Iron, & sear●… the little ends and ●…ypes of the veins and arteries. Afterwards he shall first apply unto it a plaster made of Sanguis draconis, yolks of eggs, powder of burned linen, and good vinegar, bruised and tempered together. And he must mussel up his dog, for fear lest he bite the threads, which tie the ends of the veins and arteries, and dress him every day, with lard melted in warm water, and mingled and ●…rayed together with Pompiligos. Above all things take heed, that the veins bleed not at any time, till the dog be hole. I take this Wolf to be that which we call a Wen.   

Another approved receipt for the same.  
TAke three great black thorns, when they be green & fresh gathered, lay them. xxiv. hours in steep in a woman's terms: being wet & moiled therewith, prick them into the wolf or Wen, as far as they will go. And if the Wolf or Wen be so hard that they will not enter, then make holes before with some bodkin or great pin, and thrust the thorns fast in: and never take them out, until they fall out of themselves. This done, the Wolf will die, and fall away by little and little. Remember that the dog be fast muzzled, for plucking out the thorns.   

A receipt to kill Fleas, Lice, Tykes, and other vermin on dogs, and to keep them clean.  
TAke two handful of the leaves of Berne or wild Cressyes, as much of wild Sorrel, as much of Mynts, and boil them in lie made with vine leaves, and put amongst them, two ounces of Stavesaker. When it is well boiled, strain them clean, and take the decoction, and mingle therein two ounces of Soap, and one ounce of Saffron, with a handful of Salt. Mingle all this together, and wash your dogs therewith.   

A receipt to kill worms and cankers in a dogs ears, or upon any part of his body.  
TAke the husks of Walnuts, and bruise them well, then put them in a pot with a quart of vinegar, and let them stand so two hours. That being done, let them boil two or three whalmes upon the ●…ire. Then strain them in a fair linen clot, & put unto the decoction these powders, one ounce of Aloe eupaticque, called with us Aloes cabellina, one ounce of a Hearts horn burned, an ounce of Rosyne. Bruise all these into powder, & put them unto the decoction in some pot. When they have stood so together an hour or two, drop a little of it upon the place where the worms & cankers are, & it will kill them immediately.   

Another for the same.  
TAke an Ox gall, Rosine in powder, Aloes in powder, unsleakt lime in powder, & Brimstone in powder, mingle them altogether with the Ox gall, & it will kill the worms, & make them fall away. Some have used in times past, to put a dogs hairs odd into an Ash or Ceruisetree, but that is but a mockery.   

A receipt for dogs that are bitten with Vipers or Serpents.  
TAke a handful of Tutsome, a handful of rue, a handful of the leaves of a tree called Cassis or Spanish Pepper, a handful of the herb called B●…yllon or Blood, a handful of juniper, a handful of Mynts, and bruise & stamp them all together, until they be well beaten and stamped. Then put a glass full of white wine to them, and let them boil therein, a whalme or a wallop in a pewter pot. Then take the decoction with the weight of a crown of treacle, & give your dog a glasseful of it warm, & wash the bitten place therewith, tying a leaf of Boyllon with a pill of a juniper branch upon it, and it will heal.   

A receipt to heal dogs bitten or strike with a Boar, Bear, Wolf, or such like.  
ACcording to the place where a dog is hurt, you must apply and direct your medicines and plasters. If he be hurt in the belly, so that his guts fall out, and yet the guts not broken nor pierced, let the varlets of the kennel take the dog quickly, and put up his guts softly into his belly with the ends of his fingers, in such sort as a gelder doth when he spayeth a bitch. Then let him cut a slice or thin piece of Lard, and put it within the belly, right against the hole that is made. And be must have a lyngell in readiness to sow up the skin, and at every stitch that he taketh, let him knit his thread or lyngell. For else as soon as the thread should rot or break in one place, all the rest would slip, and so the wound would open again, before it be thoroughly healed. And in all places that a dog is hurt, if it be needful to stitch him up, put always a piece of lard in the wound or against it, and always anoint the wound with fresh butter, for that will make a dog be always lycking of it. And his own tongue is a good Chirurgeon where he may reach the wound. The needle wherewith a dog should be sowed, should be foursquare at the point. And the varlet of the kennel should never go on field to hunt either Boar, Bear, or Wolf, without such a needle, lyngelles, and Lard, in a readiness.   

A receipt to heal dogs which be bruised, or have any thing broken within them.  
IThapneth oftentimes, that a Boar bruiseth a dog with the force of his head, and yet draweth no blood on him, either upon the sides of the dogs bulk, or upon his thighs, or such sinewy places. Then if any thing be broken or put out of joint, it must first be put up again. But if it be no more but bruised, than make a plaster of the root of the herb called symphiton (with us in English Comfrey) the plaster of Mellylot, Pitch or Tarr●…, and oil of Roses, as much of the one as of the other. The which you shall mingle altogether, and make thereof a great plaster upon a clot, and cut it as big as may serve to cover the bruised place, and lay it thereunto as hot as the dog may suffer it, and it will heal him.   

A receipt to kill worms within a do gge, and to make him void them.  
TAke the juice of Woormewoode two drams, as much of Aloes Cabellina, as much of Stavesaker, and a dram of a Heart's horn burned, with a dram of Brimstone: Bruse and beat altogether, and incorporate them with the Oil of Walnuts, & make (as it were) half a glass full of it. And put it down your dog's throat, and it will heal him.   

A plaster to heal a dog, when he is surbayted on his feet.  
TAke twelve yolks of eggs, and beat them with four ounces of the juice or decoction of an herb, that groweth upon the rocks, and is called Pylozelle (in English, Mouseare) or with the juice of Pomegranates, boiled with vinegar. And for default of the herbs before named, take vinegar only, and when the yolks of the eggs are well beaten therein, then put Sut thereunto small brayed to powder, and mingle them all together, rubbing the soles of your dogs feet therewith, and binding it upon a linen clot unto the dogs foot. Then give the dog rest in his kennel, a night and a day, or more, and it will heal him.   

A receipt to kill the Canker in a dog's ears.  
TAke Soap, Oil of Tartre, Sal armoniac, Brimstone and Uerdigreace, of each the weight of a crown, and incorporate them altogether with white vinegar, and Aqua Fortis, and rub the Canker herewith nine mornings.   

A receipt to keep Bytches from going proud.  
BEfore a Bitch have had whelps, give her every morning nine days together, nine grains of Pepper in her meat, and she shall not become proud. Put them in to her, in some cheese, or bread, or hard meat.   

A receipt for dogs that cannot piss.  
TAke a handful of French Mallows (or Marshmallowes) as much of the leaves or seeds of Archangel, which groweth commonly by vines, the roots of fennel, the roots of blackeberries or brambles, as much of the one as of the other, and let them boil together with white wine until the third part be wasted: put this down your dogs throat to drink, and it will make him piss.   

A receipt for a soreness within the ears of a Dog.  
TAke berivyce, and put it in a ladle or a pottenger & warm it: then put to it the water of the leaf & flower of an herb or little bush called privet or Prymprynt, or of the water of the flowers of Woodbine's, and as much Honey as the end of a man's finger, the which you shall mingle with them: and put them all together into the dogs care, and move his head one way and another to make it sink in: then let him hold down his head that it may drop out again. Then take the oil of Bays and warm it, and drop it into his ear, stopping it up with some cotton or will dipped in the same oil: and continuing this five or six days it will heal him: but beware that he skrat not out the wool or Cotton.   

An approved medicine to kill all Tetters, Cankers, and Ringwormes.  
TAke a dram of Mercury sublimate in powder, and beat it well in a stone mortar, with the juice and inward substance of a Cythron without the bark: put it then in a little water and vinegar mingled together: and take the weight of a crown of Alum, and as much Soap, the which you shall bray and mingle with the things before named, and let them boil all together in a little pot until the third part be consumed: then lay the decotion thereof upon the Tetters or Cankers. But if the Canker be in a dogs pissell, or in the quick flesh, then boil your Sublimate, and cast water first upon the place, that it be not over sharp and corrosive for the dog to abide: afterwards do as beforesaid.   

A receipt for to heal wounds on a dog.  
THe juice of a red colewort is a sovereign medicine for wounds on a Dog, for it will of itself heal any wound and consollidate the muskels, because the flesh of a dog is hot and dry, and the colewort is naturally hot and moist. I could have prescribed many other receypts and medicines, but I trust that these (being principal and well approved) shall suffice.    

Of the Terms of Venery.  
I Have thought meet to writ a brief note or abstract of such terms & proper words as I have observed in venery, either by reading or by experience: aswell because mine Author hath done the like, as also because I find it very pertinent to the purpose. But because I found that his terms in the French are in many places much different from ours (& yet many hold opinion that we borrowed all our terms of Hunting, Hawking, and such like out of the French) therefore I have thought my part to set down such as I myself have ●…yther herd pronounced by old Huntesmen, or found approved in old Trystrams' book. And if the Reader do find that in any part of the discourses in this book, I have termed any of them otherwise, then let him also consider that in handling of an Art, or in setting down rules and precepts of any thing, a man must use such words as may be most easy, perspicuous and intelligible. But here (as near as I can) I will set them down in such terms as we aught by law of venery to name them: as followeth.  

The proper terms for the companies of all beasts, when they are more than one together.  
TO begin with the terms that are proper for the companies 
Companies of Beasts.  of beasts: you shall understand that Huntesmen use to say, An Heard of Hearts and Hinds, Bucks and Does: and A Trip of Goats and Geateses. A bevy of Rows. A Sounder of Swine. And a Rout of Wolves. I have not read any thing of the Raynedeare in this respect, and I could not hear any thing because in deed they are not in this Realm as far as ever I could learn. But in my judgement it should also be called An Herd of Raynedeare. Trystran addeth, A Richesse of Marterns, and a sloth of Bears. As for Hares, if they be two togethers, we say, a brace of Hares, and a Lease when there are three: as also a brace of Hearts or Hinds, Bucks or Does, is very properly spoken: but more than two or three Hares, you shall seldom see together at once. Two Coneys are called a couple, and three are called a couple & a half of Coneys. If they be many feeding out togethers, we say it is a fair game of Coneys. As for Fox, Badgerd & other such vermin, you shall seldom see more than one of them at once, unless it be when they engender: and then their increase is called A litter. This is asmuch as I think requisite to say of the terms for the companies of Beasts: Saving that. xx. is the lest number which maketh an heard of any Dear saving the Row: but six Rows make an heard. And of Swine twelve is the lest number, which may be called a Sounder: as also the same number serveth for a rout of Wolves.   

The terms of the Ages of all beasts of Venery and Chase: and first of the Heart.  
AN heart is called the first year a Calf, the second a Brocket, the third a Spayde, the fourth a Staggered, the 
Age.  fifth a Stag, and (as Trystrams' book teacheth) the sixth year he should be called an Hart. But I am rather of opinion that he is not to be called a Heart unless he be hunted or killed by a Prince. A Buck is called the first year a Fawn, the second a Pricket, the third a Sorrel, the fourth a Sore, the fifth a Buck of the first head, and the sixth a Buck. Of the Raynedeare I have neither herded nor red any terms. The Goat hath no difference (that ever I herded) after he pass the first year, and then is called a Kid. The Hare and the Conie, are called in their first year, Leverets, and Rabbits, and afterwards they have no difference, but to say, A great Hare, and an old Conie. Also you shall say by any Dear, A great Dear, & not A fair Dear, unless it be a Row. The which is called the first year a Kid, the second a Girl, the third an Hemuse, the fourth a Rowbucke of the first head, and the fifth year a fair Rowebucke. A Boar is the first year a Pig, the second an Hog, the third a Hogsteare, the fourth a Boar, and the fifth year a Singular, or (as I would think more properly spoken) a Sanglier, according to the French word. Foxes are called the first year Cubbes, and afterwards (Foxes) without any other difference than an old Fox, or such like. Also the Badgerd is the first year a whelp or a Pig (for I have herd Huntesmen use both those terms) and ever after a Badgerd great or old, etc. As for Wolf, Bear, and such like we have them not here. The Otter is called the first year a whelp, and ever afterwards an Otter, etc.   

The terms of a dears head, and such like beasts of Venery.  
THe round roll of ●…led horn that is next to the head of 
Hed.  an Heart is called the Burr, the main horn is called the Beam, the lowest Antliere is called The Brow Antliere, or Bea antlier, the next Royal, the next above that Surryall, and then the Top. In a Buck we say, Burr, Beam, Branch, Aduauncers, Pawlme, and Spelers. A Goats' horns are not termed by any difference, saving that there are certain wreaths and wrinkles about them, whereby his age is known, as hath been said before. The Boar's teeth are to be called his Tusks or his gar●…s and that is all the proper words or terms that ever I herded or red thereof. Note that when you speak of a Heart's horns, you must term them the Head and not the Horns of a Heart. And likewise of a Buck: but a Rows Horns, and a Goats' Hòrnes are tolerable terms in venery.   

The terms of the treading or footing of all beasts of chase and Venery.  
THe footing or print of an Hearts foot is called the Slot. 
Footing.  Of a Buck and all other Fallow dear, it is to be called the View. Of a Goat, the Breaking (and that is also a good term for an Hearts footing). Of a Boar, the track, or the Treading. Of an Hare diversly, for when a Hare is in plain fields, she Soreth: when she casts about to deceive the hounds, than she Doubleth: and when she beateth a hard high way, where you may yet find & perceive her footing, there she Pricketh: also in time of Snow we say the Trace of an Hare. Of a Fox and all such vermin I never herded any other word but only the Footing or the foot, etc. Of an Otter it is to be called the Marks, or the Marches. And we call it the foiling of a Dear if it be on grass where the print of the foot cannot well be seen.   

The terms proper for the ordure and natural excrements of chases.  
IT is a thing highly observed and not here to be omitted, that 
Ordure & Excrements.  the ordure of every beast of chase & venery hath his proper term. The reason is, by cause their ordure and excrements are one principal mark whereby we know the place of their feed, and their estate. So that a Huntsman in talk or making of his reports shall be often constrained to rehearse the same. Of an Heart therefore, and of all Dear the ordure is called Fewmets or Fewmishing: Of a Goat, and of an Hare the Crotising or Crottels: Of a Boar the Loesses: Of a Fox, and all other vermin, The Fyaunts: Of an Otter the Spraynts. And I have neither read nor herded what it is termed of a Wolf or a Bear: neither is it greatly material.   

The terms of the time that these chases seek each other to engender.  
WHen a Heart or buck seeketh to engender with Hind 
Rutte.  or Do, we say they go to the Rut: as also the Boat doth. A Row Dear is said to go in his Turn. A Boar goeth to the Brim: An Hare and Conie to the Buck: a Fox goeth on clicketing: a Badgerd as the Boar: A Wolf seeketh his Make or Match: And an Otter hunteth for his Kind.   

The voices and noises that every of them maketh at such times.  
AN Harte belloweth: a Buck groyneth: a Row belleth: a 
Voice or Sound.  Boat ratteleth: a Boar freameth: a Hare & a conie beateth or tappeth: a Fox barketh: a Badgerd shriketh: an Otter whineth: & a Wolf howleth, when they seek or hunt after their makes.   

The seasons of all Chases.  
THe Heart & buck (with the Boat) is in season from Midsummer 
Season.  until Holyroode day: The Row is in season between Easter & Mighelmas. The Boar from Christmas till shrovetide: The Hare from Mighèlmas till Midsummer: The Fox and the Wolf from Holy rood day till the Annunciation: & the Otter from Shrovetide until Midsummer. Coneys are all ways in season, either young or old: but their skins are in best season from Alhallontide unto Shrovetide. The Hind, Do, Rowdoe, Geate, & Swine, beginneth when the Male of every one of them ceaseth, and lasteth as long as they be fat or in good plight.   

The Fat of every one of these beasts.  
THe Fat of all kind of Dear is called Suet: and it may 
Fat.  be also very well said, This Dear was an high Dear of Grease, or so forth. But the Fat (of itself) is called Suet, ut supra. The fat of a Boar, Fox, and Badgerd, is called properly Grease. An Hare (by old Trystrams' opinion) beareth both Grease and Tallow, and the Row dears fat (only of all Dear) is termed bevy grease.   

The flaying, striping, and casing of all manner Chases.  
THe Heart and all manner of Dear are slain: and yet 
Flaying, striping, etc.  Huntesmen use more commonly to say, take off that dears skin. The Hare is stryped, and (as Trystram sayeth) the Boar also: the Fox, Badgerd and all other vermin are cased, that is to say, you must begin at the snout or nose of the beast, and so turn his skin over his ears all alongst the body, until you come at the tail: and that hangs out to show what beast it was, this is called casing: and yet a Badgerds' skin is to be stretched with four sticks on cross, to make it dry the better, because it is great and fat.   

Terms used when you bring any Chase to his resting place, or raise him from it.  
WE Herbor and Unherbor a Heart, & he lieth in his layre: 
Resting place.  we lodge & rouse a Buck, & he lieth also in his layre: we seek and find the Row and he beddeth: we form and start a Hare: we burrow and bolt a Conie, and both the Hare and Conie do sit and squat. We couch & rear a Boar: we kennel and unkenell a Fox: we earth and dig a Badgerd: we tree and bay both Martern and wild cat: we watch and vent an Otter. And we train and raise the Wolf, when we bring them to their resting place and put them from the same to be hunted. Of the Raynedeare, Boat, or Bear, I have neither read nor herd the terms in this respect.   

The sundry noises of hounds, and the terms proper for the same.  
AS you hear hounds make sundry different noises, so do we 
Terms of Cries and Noises.  term them by sundry terms: For hounds do call on, bawl, babble, cry, yearn, lapyse, plod, bay, and such like other noises, First when hounds are first cast off and find of some game or chase, we say, They call on. If they be to busy before they find the Scent good, we say They Bawl. If they be to busy after they find good Scent, we say They Babble. If they run it endways orderly and make it good, then when they hold in togethers merrily, we say They are in cry. When they are earnest either in the chase or in the earth, we say They yearn. When they open in the string (or a greyhound in his course) we say They lapyse. When they hung behind and beat too much on one Scent or place, we say They plod. And when they have either earthed a vermin, or brought a Dear, Boar, or such like, to turn head against them, than we say They Bay.   

The difference between hounds and Greyhoundes for terms.  
WE find some difference of terms between hounds, and 
Difference.  Greyhoundes. As of Greyhoundes two make a Brace, and of hounds a Couple. Of Greyhoundes three make a Lease, and of hounds a Couple and a half. We let slip a Greyhound, and we cast off a Hound. The string wherewith we lead a greyhound is called a Lease, and for a Hound a Lyame. The greyhound hath his Col●…er, and the Hound hath his Couples. Many other differences there be, but these are most usual.   

The different names of chases, when they be young in the nest, or sucking the Dam.  
A Young read dear is called a Calf: a young fallow Dear, a 
Yong.  Fawn: a young Row or Goat, a Kid: a young Boar, a Pig: a young Hare a Leveret: a young Conie, a Rabet: a young Fox is called a cub: a young Badgerd as the Boar's young: a young Cat, a Kittling: a young Martern, a Martemecubbe: a young Otter, a whelp. And likewise of Bear and Wolf as far as ever I read.   

The terms for the tails of all chases.  
THe tail of Harte, buck, row, or any other Dear, is to be called the single. The Tail of a Goat, is plainly called his Tail. The tail of a Boar, is to be termed his wreath. The tail of an Hare and Coney, is called their Skut. The tail of a Fox is called his Bush, or (as some use to say) his hollywater sprinkle. The tail of a Wolf is to be called his Stern. Of the rest I have not read.   

Terms to be used, when any chase goeth to the water by force.  
WHen an Hart or any dear is forced to the water, we say he goeth to the Soil. But yet therein also there is difference. For when a Hart first taketh the water, we say he Proffereth. When he goeth quite through a river or water, we say he breaketh Soil. And the Slot or view which is found of such a Dear, on that other side of the water, is to be termed, as of a Dear defoulant the Soil. The Hart, buck, Goat, and Boar, do also take soil oftentimes without enforcing. All other beasts are none otherwise termed, but plainly to take the water, saving only the Otter, and he is said to beat the Stream.   

Other general terms of the heart and his properties.  
AN heart when he is passed his sixth year, is generally to be called an Hart of ten, and afterwards according to the increase of his Head, whether it be Croched, Palmed or Crowned. When he breaketh heard and draweth to the thickets, he is said to take his hold. When a huntsman draweth after him with his hound, if he go into any grove or wood, he Coureth, and if he come out again, he Discoureth himself. When he feedeth in fields, closes, or corn, he feedeth: otherwise he Browseth. In the heat of the day he withdraweth himself for the flies, and then we say, he goeth to the Step. His head when it cometh first out, hath a russet pill upon it, the which is called Velvet, and his head is called then a velvet head, the tops thereof (as long as they are in blood) are good meat, and are called Tenderlings. When his head is grown out to the full bigness, than he rubbeth of that pill, and that is called fraying of his head. And afterwards he Burnisheth the same, and then his head is said to be full sommed. His stones are called his doulcets, and the call about his paunch is called his Kell. When he stayeth to look at any thing, than he standeth a●… gaze. When he bounceth by upon all four, than he tryppeth, and when he runneth very fast, than he streyneth. When he smelleth or venteth any thing, than we say he hath (this or that) in the wind. When he is hunted and doth first leave the heard, we say that he is syngled or emprymed. When he is foamy at the mouth, we say that he is embossed. And when he holdeth out his neck, we say he is spent or done. And when he is dead, we say that he is down. The reward to the hounds, is called a Reward or quarry.   

Term's general of the huntsman, in hunting of any chase.  
WHen huntesmen do beat any covert with kennel hounds for any chase, it is called drawing of the Covert. When they cast about a grove or wood with their Liamhound, than they make a ring. When they find where a Dear hath passed, and break or plash any bough downwards for a mark, than we say, they blemish, or make blemishes. When they hung up any paper, clout, or other mark, than it is to be called Sewelling or setting of Sewels. When they set hounds in a readiness whereas they think a chase will pass, and cast them off before the rest of the kennel come in, it is called a vaunt lay When they tarry till the rest of the kennel come in, and then cast off, it is called an Alloy. But when they hold until the kennel be past them, than it is called a Relay. When a hound meeteth a chase, and goeth away with it far before the rest, than we say he forel●…yneth. When a hound hunteth backwards the same way that the chase is come, than we say he hunteth Counter. And if he hunt any other chase than that which he first undertook, we say he hunteth change. When either Hare or Dear, or any other chase useth subtleties to deceive the hounds, we say they cross or double. The reward at death of any beast of venery, is called the quarry or reward. But of all other chases, it is to be called the hallow. And this is as much as I can presently call to remembrance, either by reading or experience, touching the terms of venery. Wherein I desire all such as are skilful, to bear with my boldness: promising that if any thing be amiss, it shall (God willing) be amended at the next impression, if I live so long.   
FINIS.   

A short observation set down by the Translator, concerning coursing with Greyhoundes.  
Because I find nothing in mine Author particularly written of coursing with Greyhounds, it seemeth unto me, that they have not that kind of venery so much in estimation in France, as we do hold it here in England. But that they use their Greyhounds only to set backsets, or receytes' for Dear, Wolf, Fox, or such like. Whereas we here in England do make great account of such pastime as is to be seen in coursing with Greyhoundes at Dear, Hare, Fox, or such like, even of themselves, when there are neither hounds hunting, nor other mean to help them. So that I have thought it correspondent unto this mine enterprise, to set down some brief rules which I myself have seen observed in coursing with Greyhounds. You shall understand then, that we use three manner of courses with Greyhounds here in England, that is at the Dear, at the Hare, and at Fox or other vermin. First for the course at the Dear (especially if it be a read Dear) you may divide your Greyhounds into three sundry parts. viz. Teasers, Sidelayes, and Backsets, or Receytes'. By this word Teasers is meant, the first greyhound, or brace, or lease of Greyhoundes, which is let slip either at the whole heard, to bring a Dear single to the course, or else at a low dear, to make him strain before he come at the sidelayes & backsets. For a dear is of this nature, that when be once hath set his head forward any way, he will hold on the same way, and never turneth and wrencheth as a Hare will do before the Greyhounds. Therefore a greyhound or a brace being let slip to tease as before said, will make a dear strain in his course before he come at the sidelayes or backsets, & then they (being fresh) shall the better be able to take him. It is commonly 〈◊〉 also in coursing of dear (specially read dear, ut su.) to lay a brace of greyhounds or more by the midway, & those are called sidelays, because they are to be let slip at the midside of a Dear. And that last sort of greyhounds towards that latter end of that course is called receipt or backset: These last Greyhounds are commonly let slip full in the face of the Dear, to the end they may the more amaze him: And so they with the help of the other teasers & sidelayes may the better take hold on him all at once and pull him down, whereas the sidelayes are to be let slip at that side of a Dear or after him, for fear lest they make him serve from the backsettes: A red dear will bear sometimes four or five brace of Greyhoundes before they can pull him down: such wonderful force he is of, and can so easily shake off a greyhound when he pincheth him. The best observation that is to be taken in making the course at a Dear, is that the Teasers do stand close and upon a clear wind: For a Dear will quickly find them else: but being past the Teasers how soever the rest lie, he will not lightly turn head. In coursing at a Dear if one greyhound go endways by another, it is accounted a Coat, so that he which doth so go by his fellow do reach the Dear and pinch: and in coursing of a red Dear that greyhound which doth first pinch, shall win the wager: but in coursing of a Fallow dear, your greyhound must pinch and hold, or else he winneth not the wager. It is also to be observed that when you lay to coarse a Dear, you mark the place & Country where you be. For in a padocke (which is a close course in a park paled or railed in) it is easy to see which way the course is to be made: since the Dear is held in with pales or rails & cannot serve: but in a plain heath or country, you must mark which way it is most likely that he will bend, & there lay your Greyhounds behind some bush or tree: that the Dear find not fault at them & so break back. This in effect is as much as it is needful to be considered in the course at a Dear. But never let slip a young Greyhound at a Dear without the company of some old fleshed dog: for every dog will not bite a Dear at the first course. And surely he that hath a good Haregreyhounde, shall do very evil to coarse a Dear with him, for it will both bruise him & make him lyther: and the course at the Hare is much the nobler pastime. To course the Hare you must sand either Harefinders before you to found some Hare sitting, or else yourself with your company may range & beat over the fields until you either found a Hare sitting, or start her. I have marked the harefinders in their seeking of a Hare in Northampton ●…hyre, and they will never beat but one end of a furlong: and that shall be the end which is down the wind or from the wind: for they hold opinion, that a Hare will not (by her will) sit with her head into the wind. He that will seek a Hare must go overthwart the lands. And every land that he passeth over, let him begin with his eye at his foot, and so look down the land to the furlongs end. First on the one side & then on the other: and so he shall found the Hare sitting in her form: as soon as he espieth her he must cry Sa How. Then they which lead the Greyhoundes may come near: and you may appoint which Greyhoundes shall course. Then let him which found the Hare go towards her and say, up puss up, until she rise out of her form. Some Hare will not rise out of her form until she be touched: and some will abyd●… to be lifted out by the ears, the which is a token of a Hare that will hold out and make a fair course. If the Hare sit near unto any close or covert, and have her head towards the same with a fair field behind her, you may ride with as much company as you have between her and the covert before she be put up, and then peradventure when she riseth, she will take towards the champagne: but lightly a Hare will make her course the same way that her head stands when she sitteth in her form. When a Hare is put up, you must give her ground (which is called law) xii. score yeardes or more, according to the ground & country where she sitteth: and then let slip your Greyhoundes. It is a gallant sport to see how the Hare will turn and wind to save her self out of the dogs mouth. So that sometimes even when you think that your greyhound doth (as it were) gape to take her, she will turn and cast them a good way behind her: & so saveth herself by turning, wrenching, & winding, until she reach some covert & so save her life. In coursing at the Hare it is not material which dog killeth her (which hunters call bearing of an Hare) but he that giveth most Coats, or most turns, winneth the wager. A coat is when a 〈◊〉 goeth endways by his fellow & giveth the Hare a turn (which is called setting a Hare about) but if he coast and so come by his fellow, that is no Coat. Likewise if one greyhound do go by another, and then be not able to reach the Hare himself and turn her, this is but stripping and no Coat. If there be no Coats given between a ●…rase of Greyhounds, but the one of them serveth the other at turning, than he which giveth the Hare most turns shall win the wager: and if the one do give as many turns as the other, than he which beareth the Hare shall win the wager. A coat serveth for two turns, and two strippyngs or jerkinnes (as some call them) stand for a Coat: also many times a Hare doth but wrench and not turn: for it is not called a turn unless the Hare be set about, and do turn (as it were) round about: two such wrenches stand for a turn. Also sometimes a Hare that is commonly coursed will know the country: and because she coveteth the hard beaten ways, she will (of her self) serve at such a way, and that is neither to be accounted a turn nor a wrench: but if neither of your Greyhoundes be able to turn the Hare until the end of the course, than he which went foremost throughout the course must win the wager. And for the better deciding of all these questions, if it be at a solemn assembly, they use to appoint Judges which are expert in coursing, and shall stand on the hills sides whether they perceive the Hare will ●…ende, to mark which dog doth best, and to give judgement thereof accordingly: some use when their Greyhoundes be both of a colour to bind a handkerchief about one of their necks for a difference. But if he were my Dog he should not wear the handkerchief, for I could never yet ●…ee any dog win the course which ware the handkerchief. And if standeth to good reason, that he which w●…areth the handkerchief should be cumbered therewith, both because it gathereth wind, and also because it doth partly stop a dogs breath: if the Greyhoundes be but young or slow, you may course with a lease at one Hare, but that is seldom seen, and a brace of Dogs is enough for such a poor beast. When you go to coarse either Hare or Dear, or to hunt any chase, it is a forfeiture (amongst us here in England) to name ●…yther 〈◊〉, Ipe, Monkey, or Hedgehog: and he which nameth any of these should be paid with a slip upon the buttocks in the field before he go any further. To course at a Fox requireth none other Irte than to stand close and upon a clear wind, on the outside of the covert by some bottom or place where it is likely that he will come out: and to give him head enough, for else he will turn back again, and there is no danger in giving of him head where there is plain ground, for the slowest dog that ever ran will overtake a Fox if he have field room. Some use to watch a Fox when he goeth out to his feed, & to stand in the most likely places in a moon shine night & so to coarse him: but that is but uncertain unless it be in clicketting time, when they go proud: than you shall hear them bark & howl one after another. But otherwise the surest coursing is when you hunt with hounds, to set your greyhounds underneath the wind very close in some bottom or little plain, & there to coarse the For when he cometh out. This course is short, but it is dangerous, for oftentimes a good Greyhound is marred with a Fox: & therefore few men will coarse a Fox unless it be with old Greyhounds which are bruised dogs, and which they make small account of: and you shall see an old bitten dog when he overtaketh a Fox, thrust his forelegges ●…ckwardes & fall upon him with his chest: & so save his legs from biting when he taketh the Fox: and again as soon as ever he layeth hold on him, he will shake him about his ears continually, until he have broken his back or killed him: for by that means he giveth the Fox no leave nor time to bite him. There is another kind of coursing which I have more used than any of these: and that is at a Dear in the night: wherein there is more art to be used than in any course else. But because I have promised my betters to be a friend to all Parks, Forests, and Chases, therefore I will not here express the experience which hath been dearer unto me, particularly, than it is meet to be published generally. But thus much I have thought meet of myself to add concerning coursing with greyhounds, the which is doubtless a noble pastime, and as meet for Nobility and Gentlemen, as any of the other kinds of venery before declared: Especially the course at the Hare which is a sport continually in sight, and made without any great travail: so that recreation is therein to be found without unmeasurable toil and pain: Whereas in hunting with hounds, although the pastime be great, yet many times the toil & pain is also exceeding great: And then it may well be called, either a painful pastime, or a pleasant pain.  
FINIS.   

Imprinted by Henry Bynneman, for Christopher Barker.   

The measures of blowing set down in the notes for the more ease and ready help of such as are desirous to learn the same: and they are set down according to the order which is observed at these days in this Realm of England as followeth.  
The Call for the Company in the morning. All to be blown with one wind.  
The S●…rake to the Field. To be blown with two winds.  
The uncoupling of the covert side. To be blown with three winds.  
The Seek, With two winds.  
When the Hounds do hunt a Game or Chase unknown. All with one wind.  
The Rechate. With three winds.  
The Straking from Covert to Covert. With two winds.  
When the 〈◊〉 doth break Covert. With four winds.  
The Earthing of a Fox, if he be coverable. With three winds.  
When the Fox is not coverable, to call away.  
The death of a Fox, either in field or covert. With three winds.  
And the Rechate upon it.  
Four sundry calls for a Keeper, in Park, Chase, or for●…est.  
The death of a Dear with Bow, or Greyhoundes.  
The death of a Buck with hounds. With two winds.  
The prise of an Heart Royal. With three winds. This to be blown thrice with three several winds, and the Rechate upon it.  
I Strake of nine, to draw home the company. With two winds.  
To blow for the Terryers' at an earth. With two winds.