My observations on Cremona.
“Cremona is a very beautifull citie, seated under a very pleasant and holesome climate, built with bricke, and walled with bricke wals, wherein are five gates; and it is invironed with trenches and rampiers, and pleasantly watered by the river Abdua. There is a pretty bricke citadel at the entrance to the towne, a little without the wall, even at the west end. It seemeth to be very auncient, but it is exceeding low: it is guarded by a Garison of Spaniards in the behalfe of the King of Spaine, to whom it belongeth as being a member of the Dukedom of Milan. In the citie I saw many faire and sumptuous buildings and some stately places. The principal Church hath the highest Tower in all Italy…This Tower is easily to be seene to Milan in a cleare day, being full fiftie miles off. [not as tall as Salisbury, taller than Strazbourg…story about Governor Gabrinus Fundulius wanted to have Pope John 22 and Emperor Sigismundus thrown down from top, but his “heart failed him.”
…In this citie are made passing good swords as in most places of Italy….I did eate fried Frogges in this citie, which is a dish much used in many cities of Italy: they were so curiously dressed, that they did exceedingly delight my palat, the head and the forepart being cut off. [in suburbs outside the Pulsella gate is a well, “which when it had once very foule water, and unwholesome to drinke, was so purged of the impurity by certaine signes of the crosse…[war history..] [ends by mentioning Virgil, “whom in my youth I reverenced as my master: and therefore I will ever till the fatall day of my life honour the memorie of that incomparable man. In this city did that famous Poet consecrate himselfe to the Muses, and spent some time on the study of good letters, according as hee did in Milan, as I have before mentioned. Thus much of Cremona.
I rode from Cremona about five of the clocke in the morning of the eighteenth day of June being Saturday, and came to a solitary post-house twenty miles off, by a little brooke about noone. The first wheat that I saw cut this yeare was at that posthouse, which was about sixe weekes sooner than we use to cut our wheat in England….came to Mantua, which was twenty miles beyond it, about halfe an houre after seven of the clocke in the evening.