of that conquest, which, had she wanted, I do not think her fortunes left her would have made up fifty pounds, a small revenue for so deserving a lady, and most useful in those uncharitable regions against woman-kind, who, though much esteemed by the Persians, yet seem rather, in those parts, created for slavery and fancy, than to enjoy liberty or praises, prizes not a little sought for and desired by those female weak ones.

After some discontents, and fourteen days' sickness of a flux, got either by eating too much fruits, or cold on Taurus, that religious gentleman, our ambassador, Sir Dormer Cotton, died in Cashin the three-and-twentieth of July, 1628. We obtained a dormitory for his body among the Armenian Christians residing there, who, with their priests, assisted us. His horse was led before, with a mourning velvet saddle on his back, his coffin had a crimson satin quilt, lined with purple silk; over him was laid his bible, sword, and hat: such of his followers, as were able, waited on it; and Doctor Gough (a reverend gentleman) put him into the ground, where, though his memory and virtue cannot die, yet I would he had a monument-a more eminent memorial.

After a month's stay in Casbin, where we left buried our two ambassadors, the King sent each of us two long coats, or vests, of cloth of gold, in sign of

favour. And, after much attendance upon MahometAly-Beg, we got licence to depart, with letters from the Pot-shaugh, for our safer travel. He delivered us, withall, a letter to our gracious King, from the King of Persia, sewed up in a piece of cloth of gold, fastened with a silk string, and sealed with a stamp of letters, after their fashion.*

SIR THOMAS SHERLEY,

The oldest of the three brothers, was, at an early age, instructed in military discipline; and being animated by the love of arms, succeeded in obtaining the command of three hundred men in Holland. Here he behaved so gallantly, that Lord Willoughby, in 1589, conferred the honour of Knighthood upon him. This sphere of action was, however, too narrow for his ambition; "he was ashamed," says Fuller, "to see his two younger brothers worn like flowers in the breasts and bosoms of foreign princes, whilst he himself withered on the stalk he grew on. This made him leave his aged father and a fair inheritance in Sussex, and to undertake sea voyages into foreign parts, to the great honour of his nation, but small enriching of himself." Being determined to do something by which he might gain renown, and

Sir Thomas Herbert's travels.

having revolved many schemes in his mind, he at length resolved, in the spirit of the times, to make war against the Infidels for the honour of the religion of peace, and he accordingly undertook an expedition against the Turks. Having equipped three well-built ships, manned with 500 soldiers, he set sail, in 1602, on this religious crusade. Being driven on the coast of Italy, he proceeded to Florence, and was received with great honour at that court. After remaining a short time there, he again embarked, and bent his course towards Turkey. He had not been long at sea before he met with a large ship, with which he immediately engaged; and after protracted fight succeeded in boarding her, but the crew obstinately maintained the conflict for eight hours more, before they would surrender. Sir Thomas having, in this engagement, lost one hundred men, and the spoil being by no means equal to so great a loss, the soldiers became mutinous, and a party of them deserted with one of his ships. He then sailed to Leghorn, where, after a stay of eight days, a fresh tumult broke out amongst his crew. In order to keep them quiet, he again put to sea, but arriving off the coast of Sicily, Peacock, one of his Captains, fled with another ship, leaving him only his own vessel.*

* Genealogica Historia Domus de Shirley, Harl. MSS. 4023.

A more detailed account of the remaining incidents, attending this adventure, is contained in a black letter fragment, in the British Museum, commencing with sig. C. It proceeds in the following words.

"Of Sir Thomas his attempts in Turkey, and the treacherous revolt of the rest of his company.

It is the nature of fortune seldom to be singular, either in her frowns or favours, but that one is commonly heaped on the neck of another, as appeared in the waning state of Sir Thomas's hopes. For, the next morning after this revolt of Peacock, a like part was played, even in his own ship; for the most part of his men begun a dangerous mutiny against him. They plainly told him, that they would be no longer under his command, and did absolutely refuse to follow the courses and plots that he had laid, alleging, with unkind words and uncomely speeches, that their hopes and expectations were deceived of him; that he was both uncircumspect in his attempts, and unfortunate in his actions; they utterly disliked his intendment, refusing to hear any thing that might sound of it, there being no possibility of good, and a certain and continual assurance of danger: lastly, they protested unto him that they would still keep the sea, and be no longer restrained of their own purposes, but lay hold upon all occasions

that should be offered to enrich themselves and satisfy their longing hopes, per fas aut nefas, by any means whatsoever.

Sir Thomas being much perplexed with the contemptuous and unruly behaviour of his men in his own ship, first used threats and menaces, befitting his place and command; but, the mutiny being general, and that he that was their general being forsaken and left alone, he did but thereby add fuel to that fire that raged so sore in the minds and tongues of his mutinous company, that he was enforced, at last, to leave all the extent of his authority of a commander, and, as a common and a private person, with tongue, gesture and countenance unanswerable to his mind, in mild terms and gentle words, to entreat them that they would not thus despise and forsake him, whom they before had called their captain and their general, and had vowed to follow in all his fortunes. Let not, (quoth he,) the conceit of our hard success discourage your hopes, so far, as to make a desperate account both of yourselves and me; neither suffer the remembrance of those runagates that have so treacherously forsaken me, to draw you on to do the like by their example. I have made choice of you, into whose hands I have committed my life, and whatsoever is dear unto me. Two ships I have already lost, not by the unsteadfast fortunes of the sea, but by the