Harrison laments three things in his day:  the enhancing of rents, the daily oppression of poor tenants by the lords of manors, and the practice of usury—­a trade brought in by the Jews, but now practiced by almost every Christian, so that he is accounted a fool that doth lend his money for nothing.  He prays the reader to help him, in a lawful manner, to hang up all those that take cent. per cent. for money.  Another grievance, and most sorrowful of all, is that many gentlemen, men of good port and countenance, to the injury of the farmers and commonalty, actually turn Braziers, butchers, tanners, sheep-masters, and woodmen.  Harrison also notes the absorption of lands by the rich; the decay of houses in the country, which comes of the eating up of the poor by the rich; the increase of poverty; the difficulty a poor man had to live on an acre of ground; his forced contentment with bread made of oats and barley, and the divers places that formerly had good tenants and now were vacant, hop-yards and gardens.

Harrison says it is not for him to describe the palaces of Queen Elizabeth; he dare hardly peep in at her gates.  Her houses are of brick and stone, neat and well situated, but in good masonry not to be compared to those of Henry VIII’s building; they are rather curious to the eye, like paper-works, than substantial for continuance.  Her court is more magnificent than any other in Europe, whether you regard the rich and infinite furniture of the household, the number of officers, or the sumptuous entertainments.  And the honest chronicler is so struck with admiration of the virtuous beauty of the maids of honor that he cannot tell whether to award preeminence to their amiable countenances or to their costliness of attire, between which there is daily conflict and contention.  The courtiers of both sexes have the use of sundry languages and an excellent vein of writing.  Would to God the rest of their lives and conversation corresponded with these gifts!  But the courtiers, the most learned, are the worst men when they come abroad that any man shall hear or read of.  Many of the gentlewomen have sound knowledge of Greek and Latin, and are skillful in Spanish, Italian, and French; and the noblemen even surpass them.  The old ladies of the court avoid idleness by needlework, spinning of silk, or continual reading of the Holy Scriptures or of histories, and writing diverse volumes of their own, or translating foreign works into English or Latin; and the young ladies, when they are not waiting on her majesty, “in the mean time apply their lutes, citherns, pricksong, and all kinds of music.”  The elders are skillful in surgery and the distillation of waters, and sundry other artificial practices pertaining to the ornature and commendation of their bodies; and when they are at home they go into the kitchen and supply a number of delicate dishes of their own devising, mostly after Portuguese receipts; and they prepare bills of fare (a trick lately taken up) to give a brief rehearsal of all the dishes of every course.  I do not know whether this was called the “higher education of women” at the time.