Chapter VII: Part 7

At first both the navies did fight in a line,
Three hours with much fury and force, but in fine,
The enemies fleet into three squadrons flew,
And Sir Jeremie Smith (Admiral of the Blew)
By lot was to face,
Persue, and to chase
Out the Zelanders squadron, the strongest that was.
They fought it out furiously, all the day after,
And fiercely encounter’d, like wild-fire and water,
A frigat of ours called the _Resolution_,
Was burnt by the Dutch in this depth of confusion.

The White and Red squadrons did ply that two other
So fast that they almost were choak’d with the smother
They tugg’d very hard who should stand it out longest
Our Blew was the weakest, the Zealand the strongest,
And yet they fight
’Till so late at night,
That powder and darkness depriv’d them of sight.
The two Holland squadrons both turn’d tail and fled
Pursued by the squadrons of our White and Red,
Upon Thursday morning betwixt nine and ten,
The Zealand’s were cripled and hopp’d home agen.

To aid the Blew squadron a thousand stout men
Were sent (in the frigats) by Sir William Pen,
And Talbot doth tell us ere he did retire,
On Wednesday night he saw six Dutch ships on fire;
Two hundred almost
Of our men were lost,
Such victories seldom are gain’d without cost;
The Zealanders Admiral some think is gone
Unto his last home, when his flag was shot down,
’Tis highly presum’d by the best knowing men,
They nere will be able to fight us agen.

The prestmen wel mingl’d with stout voluntiers
Did drink away dolor and fight away fears:
Our small shot did stand to’t with valiant desire,
Their guns spit and sparkl’d like bay-leaves in fire;
Our cannons did roare
They sunk and they tore,
Thousands that heard them will nere hear them more.
It is better far in a good cause to dye,
Then with a bad conscience to live great and high:
And in acts of honour there’s no better thing,
Then dye a true martyr for God and the King.

Our White and Red squadrons Du Ruiter engag’d
Five hours, till at last his fierce fury aswaged,
He fought as if he had been Mars his own son,
From ten in the morning, till three afternoon.
Our Red and our White
Did dazel his sight,
They made him to turn and to run away quite,
For no other reason as some men suppose
But courage did fall from his heart to his hose:
Though bad men seek victory, and think to win it,
It never will prosper, if God be not in it.

Our frigots persued him, our canons did roare,
Until they were come within two miles of shore:
Our great ships persu’d, and continu’d the slaughter,
So far till they were within six fathom water:
They durst not look back,
To see what we lack,
But posting for life, to their harbors they tack;
Their flags being struck, and not set up again,
’Tis thought that Van Trump and Du Ruiter is slain.
He that doth protect us, will save us from evil,
In spight of the Dutch, the Dane, or the Devil.

Besides all the damage our shipping hath done
To vessels and men, in their fight, and their run,
Two very stout ships we have taken and fir’d,
And in them five hundred and ninety men tyr’d,
With tugging for that,
They cannot get at
To make England stoop to their pittyful state;
When slaves are turn’d princes, no tyrant so evil,
When beggers are mounted, they ride to the Devil,
No souls so insulting as such sordid slaves,
As climb to preferment on honest mens graves.

Our gen’rals and navy, are all safe and sound,
The Prince and the Duke have our foes in the pound;
They in their own harbors are pris’ners at ease,
The King of Great Brittain commands where he please.
We ride on the ocean,
And waite for the motion,
To venter again they have no great devotion.
Had they not crept in, they’d been burnt to a cinder
And Holland by this time, had been turn’d to tinder.
God bless King and Queen, with the Duke and all such,
As are friends to Great Brittain, and foes to the Dutch.

_A NEW BALLAD OF A FAMOUS GERMAN PRINCE AND A RENOWNED ENGLISH DUKE._

Who on St. James’s Day One thousand 666 fought with a Beast with Seven Heads, call’d Provinces; not by land, but by water; not to be said, but sung; not in High English nor Low Dutch but to a new French tune, called _Monsieur Ragou; or, The Dancing Hobby-horses_.

There happen’d of late a terrible fray,
Begun upon our St. James’s Day,
_With a thump, thump, thump, thump, thump,
Thump, thump, a thump, thump_,
Where Rupert and George for Charlemaign
Swing’d the Dutch again and again
(As if they had been but the French or Dane),
_With a thump, etc._

’Twas brave Tom Allen led the van,
Stout Uther, and bold Tiddiman,
_With a thump, etc._;
And then our immortal generalls
With twenty thousand thunder-balls
Pierc’d their boggie flesh-mud-walls,
_With a thump, thump, etc._

The game was hot, and then you’ll swear
That Jordan (Heart of Oak) was there,
_With a thump, thump, etc._;
And gallant Holmes, that never fails,
Torn and hurt, yet still prevails,
Valiant with or without his sails,
_With a thump, thump, etc._

The _Royal Charles_ was all their aim,
(For there they knew was princely game),
_With a thump, etc._
_Seven Provinces_ here spend their quire
(De Ruyter’s mighty triple tyre),
But had his answer all in fire,
_With a thump, thump, etc._

For here our glorious Prince and Duke
Gave him such a sore rebuke,
_With a thump, etc._,
That now De Ruyter finds it clear
The warlike English have no peer,
Who dare do anything but fear
_A thump, thump, etc._

The _Soveraign_ came to revenge her wrongs
(Becalm’d a while for want of lungs),
_Without any thump, etc._,
But soon as her dredful sail displaied,
Good Lord, what lanes and wrecks she made!
The devill a Dutch came nigh or staid,
_For fear of a thump, thump, etc._

Her balls of fire, the Flemming sees,
Are thrice as big as a Holland cheese,
_With a thump, etc._;
And now they ran, they ran, they ran,
And left poor Zealand shift as it can;
They made him there rere, who would be the van--
--_Van Trump, Trump, Trump, etc._

The King’s own colours (Red and White)
Pursu’d the Boors all day and night,
_With a thump, etc._
O how ’twould Lords and Commons please
To see our _Soveraign of the Seas_
Chasing their _Seven Provinces_,
_With a thump, etc._

Over flatts and banks we fir’d their tails
Till we heard their croaking nightingales,
_With a thump, etc._
This difference ’twixt two navies stands:
Ours built for the sea, and theirs for the sands;
We had sent them else to their last Netherlands
_With a thump, thump, etc._

Their shott still at our tackling flew,
Lest when they ran we should pursue,
_With a thump, etc._;
For though the Dutch are sea-men grown,
Bold English are the marks-men known,
And therefore kill them six for one,
_With a thump, thump, etc._

Our rere was Smith, with other two
(Spragge and Kempthorn) both true blew,
_With a thump, etc._
And here the Zealanders came on,
Who stoutly gave us gun for gun,
Till Holland-like they also run,
_With a thump, thump, etc._

‘In, in, in, in,’ said valiant Spragge,
‘Wee’l beat this vapouring Trump to th’ Hague’
_With a thump, etc._
His chaplain fell to his wonted work,
Cryed, ‘Now for the King and the Duke of York!’
He prayed like a Christian and fought like a Turk,
_With a thump, thump, etc._

Six thousand Dutch (a Low-Country dish)
We sent to their own cozen the fish,
_With a thump, etc._
The rest into holes so tamely crawl
That little _Fanfan_ dar’d them all,
Great Rupert’s sloop is an admirall.
_With a thump, thump, etc._

What Amsterdamnable cowards are these
To boast that they were lords of the seas,
_With a thump, etc._
Their impudent Gazette proclaims
How bravely they lock’d up the Thames!
But had no leave from Charles or James,
_And therefore had a thump, thump, etc._

And now De Witt’s new Holland Rump
(Who rides the States) will burn to th’ stump,
_With a thump, etc._;
For George in England once before
Hath fir’d one Rump, and will do more,
Till men and bells all Dutch-land o’re
_Sing rump, rump, etc._

Then let them invent some other cheat,
Go hang their captains ’cause th’ are beat
_With a thump, etc._
Let Monsieur and Myn Heer that snarls
At our _Soveraign_ and _Royal Charles_,
Beware of Ruperts and Albemarles.
_With a thump, thump, etc._
[Sir JOHN BIRKENHEAD.]

_THE SECOND PART OF THE LATE AND TERRIBLE FIGHT ON ST. JAMES’S DAY, ONE THOUSAND 666._

To the Tune of the First Part.

A Second Part I here indite
Of the English and Dutch bloody fight,
_With a thump, thump, thump, thump, thump,
Thump, thump upon thump_.
This only tells what was done since
The renowned Duke and famous Prince
Made the Seven-headed Beast to wince,
_With a thump, etc._

As you the first so sing this too
To the French tune call’d Monsieur Ragou
_With a thump, etc._
Or else because that this discourses
Of Beaufort’s and De Ruyter’s forces,
Call the tune the Dancing Hobby Horses,
_With a thump, etc._

Sing not High English in Low Dutch,
Though now our foes are truly such,
_With a thump, etc._
This must be sung, not said at all,
And they that sing must rise and fall;
In this ballad too the tune is all,
_With a thump, etc._

The terrible fight on St. James’s Day
Ended with Ruyter’s running away,
_With a thump, etc._
The first part did th’ officers prayse,
The Duke of York and King now saies
The sea-men too deserve some bays,
_With a thump, etc._

For though the officers bear the bell
The private sea-men rang the Dutch knel,
_With a thump, etc._
The Bores fought well, with brandy drunk;
But in two houres their courage sunk,
And then like beaten stock-fish stunk,
_With a thump, etc._

Goliath-like look’d Houndsfoot and Skellum,
But Monk and’s fryers with sling and stones fell ’um,
_With a thump, etc._
Ruyter swears that Trump came not to ’s aid;
Trump swears Ruyter ran like coward, afraid.
We had done both their works had they staid,
_With a thump, etc._

While Trump and Ruyter sneake in th’ Welling
The brave English land at Uly and Schelling
_With a thump, etc._
A thousand homes with eight score ships
We fired like so many chips,
And made the States to bite their lips,
_With a thump, etc._

This was a most prodigious rap,
To loose five millions at a clap,
_With a thump, etc._
We beg but one boon more, kinde Fates,
Their India fleet, and then, proud States,
Wee’l make you shit as small as rats,
_With a thump, etc._

Old Rome neere did ought worth a doyt,
Compar’d with Holmes’s brave exploit,
_With a thump, etc._
The tale of ten years’ war for Hellen
Homer had never thought worth telling
Had he but heard of Uly and Schelling,
_With a thump, etc._

Twelve East-land ships did likewise fall in-
To the hands of stout Sir Thomas Allen,
_With a thump, etc._
And now, in spite of Adelar
And Beaufort too, we’ve pitch and tarr
And ropes enough to end the warr
_With a thump, etc._

Our victory hath but one flaw,
The unhappy loss of the _Breda_,
_Without any thump, etc._
On the Dutch coast she ran aground,
And without men was strangely found:
They merit hanging if not drown’d,
_With a thump, etc._

This vessel’s luck was never good;
In her five captains lost their blood,
_With a thump, etc._
At her mishap we must not grutch;
’Twas Heaven’s will it should be such,
Because that the ship’s name was Dutch.
_With a thump, etc._

Alas! alas! poor baffl’d Hans,
The Dane can’t ayd thee, nor dares France.
_Thou, thou hast had thump upon thump,
Thump, thump upon thump._
The Monsieur’s fleet a mangy crew is.
Monk’s brave boys eat beef and brewis,
Cry, ‘A f---- for Denmark and King Lewis!’
_With a thump, etc._

Bow then to Charles, distressed States,
After so many broken pates,
_With a thump, thump still upon thump, etc._
Beg peace, or next your banks shall rue,
And we will give the Divel his due;
He shall take Monsieur, the sea drown you;
_Then are ye both thumpt, and mumpt, and mumpt, etc._

Now, to conclude, I will take care,
As ballads use to end with prayer,
_With a thump, etc._;
For ballads made of the old fashion
Should still conclude with supplication
For King and Queen, and the whole nation,
_With a thump, etc._

God bless the Swede, he’s not our foe,
And Spain’s King too, though France say no;
_They both wish the Dutch well thumpt, thumpt, etc._
Heaven send our fleet auspicious gales,
Our King and Queen a Prince of Wales,
And then let who will bite their nayles
_When we all our foes have thumpt and mumpt, etc._

_THE DUTCH DAMNIFIED; OR, THE BUTTER-BOXES BOB’D:_

Being a brief and true account how Sir Robert Holmes, Sir Philip Howard, and Sir William Jennings, with eleven companies of foot, five fire-ships, and some ketches and boats, burnt and destroy’d near a hundred and sixty saile of Dutch ships in the Uly; as also they burnt the rich town of Brandaris, in the Island of Schelling, consisting of above a thousand houses, richly furnisht, with goods of extraordinary value; our seamen and souldiers returning richly laden with their enemies’ spoyle, being sufficiently rewarded for their noble enterprise, and all this performed (by God’s Providence) with the losse of ten men on our side.

The Tune is _A Fig for France and Holland too_, etc.

Ring bells for joy, let none be sad,
For now we have news will make you glad,
Will make you blith and merry too
To see how the Dutch are forc’d to bow:
Their brags and boasts will not prevail,
We’ll teach them for to lowre their sail.
_Then, Hogan Mogans, b’ware your pates,
For now we shall make you distressed States._

We paid you home in July last,
And soundly did your sides bumbast;
If that you had not swiftly run
You surely had been quite undone:
But now we are landed on your shore,
And found the way to make you poor.
_Then, Hogan Mogans, b’ware your pates,
For now we shall make you distressed States._

For all your idle vain excuses
E’re long we shall pull up your sluces;
Our men have found a way to land,
As you by this will understand:
It will be but a bitter pill
When such sad news your hearts do fill.
_Then, Hogan Mogans, b’ware your pates,
For now we shall make you distressed States._

You in your harbours lurk for fear,
Not thinking such bad news to hear;
We scorn to come and steal your sheep,
And then like thieves away to creep:
Your towns to burn, and ships to fire,
Is work that Englishmen desire.
_Then, Hogan Mogans, b’ware your pates,
For now we shall make you distressed States._

Sir Robert Holmes, that valiant knight
Had orders upon Tuesday night
The Uly Island for to burn
And quite destroy’t ere he return:
Sir Philip Howard did him assist,
Sir William Jennings he did his best.
_Then, Hogan Mogans, curse your fates,
For now we shall make you distressed States._

They chose eleven hundred men
To pull the Dutch out of their den;
With fire-ships, ketches, boats, and hoyes,
Well mann’d with lusty English boyes:
With joyful hearts they leave the fleet,
And sayle away their foes to meet.
_Then, Hogan Mogans, curse your fates,
For now we shall make you distressed States._

At length they spy’d without all faile
One hundred and seventy saile
Of merchant ships which anchored were
In Uly road, being void of fear.
Sir Robert Holmes he thought it meet
With fire-ships to destroy that fleet.
_Then, Hogan Mogans, ’ware your pates,
For now we shall make you distressed States._

So hotly they pursued the game
That straight the fleet was on a flame:
Some frigats which the rest did guard,
Just like their neighbours, so they far’d;
Our men most furiously were bent,
And burnt them down incontinent.
_Then, Hogan Mogans, ’ware your pates,
For now we shall make you distressed States._

This being done away we haste,
The Schelling Island for to waste,
And there we fright our cowardly foes,
And land our men where none oppose.
Then up we martch into the isle,
Our crafty foes for to beguile.
_Then, Hogan and Mogans, ’ware your pates,
For now we shall make you distressed States._

When they heard of our coming nigh,
Away they fled, all that could flye,
And left their goods and all the rest,
To be dispos’d as we thought best.
The bravest town in all that place
We burnt quite down and did deface.
_Now, Hogan Mogans, beware your pates,
For now we shall make you distressed States._

Our men had plunder there good store,
To make them rich, they’l ne’er be poor;
They brought away great store of plate,
And now they quaff their cups in state;
Their cabbins are like gold-smith shops,
God send us many such like crops.
_Now, Hogan Mogans, curse your fates,
For now we shall make you distressed States._

Their trugtail’d frows were in a maze
To see their town all on a blaze;
They wept and waild and wrung their jaws,
And cursed their States, which was the cause.
May all that’s enemies to our King
Be brought to such like banquetting.
_Now, Hogan Mogans, curse your fates,
For now we shall make you distressed States._

_A SONG ON THE DUKE’S LATE GLORIOUS SUCCESS OVER THE DUTCH._

One day, as I was sitting still
Upon the side of Dunwich Hill,
And looking on the ocean,
By chance I saw De Ruyter’s fleet
With Royal James’s squadron meet;
In sooth it was a noble treat
To see that brave commotion.

I cannot stay to name the names
Of all the ships that fought with James,
Their number, or their tonnage;
But this I say: the noble host
Right gallantly did take its post,
And covered all the hollow coast
From Walderswyck to Dunwich.

The French, who should have join’d the Duke,
Full far astern did lag and look,
Although their hulls were lighter:
But nobly faced the Duke of York,
Tho’ some may wink and some may talk,
Right stoutly did his vessel stalk
To buffet with De Ruyter.

Well might you hear their guns, I guess,
From Sizewell Gap to Easton Ness,
The show was rare and sightly:
They batter’d without let or stay,
Until the evening of that day,--
’Twas then the Dutchmen run away,
The Duke had beat them tightly.

Of all the battles gain’d at sea
This was the rarest victory
Since Philip’s Grand Armado.
I will not name the rebel Blake;
He fought for whoreson Cromwell’s sake,
And yet was forced three days to take
To quell the Dutch bravado.

So now we’ve seen them take to flight
This way and that, where’er they might,
To windward or to leeward;
Here’s to King Charles, and here’s to James,
And here’s to all the captains’ names,
And here’s to all the Suffolk dames,
And here’s to the House of Stuart.

_NEWS FROM THE COAST OF SPAIN;_

_Or_,

A true relation of a brisk and bloody encounter, which happened upon the 13th of February, between the _Tyger_ frigot, Captain Harman commander, and the _Schaherleas_ of Holland, Vice-Admiral of Young Evertson’s squadron, Pasqual De Wit captain, near Cadize in Spain; where the said De Wit, to vindicate his honour (being suspected of cowardice by the Spaniards, for quitting his station upon the _Tyger’s_ approach), challenged Captain Harman to fight next day, and having double man’d his ship, the number being 270 men, came up with the _Tyger_, who had but a 180 men on board, within a league of Cadize Bay, within the view of all the inhabitants. These two ships being come within half pistol shot one of another, fired their broadsides, where the _Tyger_ did such execution that he disabled their adversaries’ topmast-yard, killed and wounded 80 of their men, without any considerable damage to himself; and immediately laying him aboard on the bow, after half an hour’s dispute, entered his men and made him yield; carrying his prize, miserable, shattered, and torn, to the admiration of all the people: the Dutch having lost 140 men, besides 86 wounded: and the English losing but nine, and fifteen wounded, amongst whom the Captain himself was shot under the left eye by a musquet shot, but is in good hopes of recovery.

To the Tune of _Digby’s Farewell_.

Come, all you brave sea-men of courage so free,
Come lend your attention and listen to me,
For here is good news that is late come to town,
Which is for your credit and England’s renown;
Of brave Captain Harman ’tis now I must tell,
Who near unto Cadiz behav’d himself well,
And taught a Dutch captain, whose name is De Wit,
To know he had valour and made him submit.

The _Tiger_ from Tangier to Cadiz made way,
Whereas the De Wit, the Dutch admiral lay,
But soon as the Dutchman our frigate espy’d
They straight into port with all diligence hi’d,
Which caused the Spaniards about for to say,
He quitted his station and durst not to stay;
Whereat the proud Dutchman did fume and did fret,
And wisht in his heart that they never had met.

Then taking advise of young Evertson straight,
A challenge he sent with the _Tiger_ to fight,
To regain his honour if so it might be,
The which was accepted immediately.
His ship with stout seamen he then double mann’d,
And thought that our English was merely trapann’d;
But in the conclusion he found it not so,
They paid him his reckoning before he did go.

Two hundred and seventy men he had there,
And but half so many the _Tiger_ did bear
Of brave English hearts, and of courage most free,
That scorn’d to be dounted in any degree:
Then up they did come within half pistol shot,
Their broad-sides they fired, and men went to th’ pot,
Whilst all the whole town did come out to behold
And see them encounter with courage most bold.

With broad-sides of bullets and shot that was bar’d
We quickly disabled De Wit’s top-mast yard,
And fourscore men they had wounded and slain,
Which made them to fret, but it was but in vain.
‘We’l bear in upon ... [_line and a half missing_];
We’l show them such valour as never was shown;
I’le take their ship prize, or I’le venture my own.’

Then quickly they grappled, and then the dispute
Was desperate and bloody, whilst cannons were mute,
For half an hour’s space the hot service was such
Our men remain’d victors and conquered the Dutch;
And then they submitted themselves to be prize,
Which all the brisk Spaniards beheld with their eyes,
And our English valour did highly commend,
Since Harman had forc’d the proud Dutch for to bend.

The prize was so shattered and torn in the fray
They scarcely could get her safe into the bay;
For to Harman’s honour De Wit must confess
He nere was so thumped before, I do guess.
’Twill teach him hereafter more humble to be,
To yield to his betters in every degree;
By woeful experience he now can relate,
What ’tis to sell honour at so dear a rate.

Of Dutchmen one hundred and forty was slain,
And eighty-six wounded, which languish in pain;
Of all our brave English we lost but just nine,
And therefore we have no great cause to repine,
Besides fifteen wounded, the truth for to tell;
All which through God’s mercy we hope will do well.
Such blessings the Lord has for England in store
We lost not much more then a man to a score.

Brave Harman, who fought where the battel was hot,
Was struck through the cheek with a chance musket shot,
But yet there is hopes he’l recover again
And live for to win more renown on the main;
However his valour is highly extol’d,
’Mongst our English worthies he shall be enrol’d,
Who fought for true honour, glad tydings to bring,
How well he had serv’d both his countrey and King.

Then cheer up, brave seamen and Englishmen bold
You here, by this story, which here I have told,
No sea-men nor souldiers can with us compare;
Although they have odds yet to fight them we dare.
Throughout the whole world a terrour shall prove
If we can continue in union and love:
And thus you may see by these lines I have writ,
How stout Captain Harman did conquer De Wit.

_CAPTAIN MANSFIELD’S FIGHT WITH THE TURKES AT SEA._

Our goodly ship was loaded deep, with anchors three beneath her bow;
’Twas east-north-east we steer’d our course, and as near the wind as
we could stow.
We had not sailed glasses three, nor yet ten leagues from our
loading port,
Before we spyed ten Turkish men-of-war, and after us they did resort.

‘O hail! O hail! you English dogs, O hail! and strike your sails
quickly,
For you shall go with us this night, and ever after into slavery.’
O then bespoke our captain bold, and a well bespoken man was he,
‘If you must have my topsails down, come on board and strike them
for me.

‘To the top, to the top, my merry boatswain, to the
main-top-mast-head so high,
And sling me here that main-top-mast-yard, and see your business
you supply.
To the top, to the top, my boatswain’s mate, to the
fore-top-mast-head with speed
And sling me here that fore-top-sail-yard, for we never had more
need.

‘To the top, to the top, my little cabin-boy, to the
mizen-top-mast-head so high,
And spread abroad St. George’s flag, for under that we live or die.’
O then bespoke our gunner bold, and a well bespoken man was he,
‘Swab your guns, brave boys, while they’re hot, for powder and ball
you shall have free.’

‘Keep aluff, keep aluff;’ says the master’s mate, ‘keep aluff,
whilst that you may.
We’l fight it out like English boys; it ne’er shall be said we run
away.’
So to it we went like lions bold, as enemies do when they meet;
We fought from twelve to sun-rising, and spared but one sail of
their fleet.

O three we burnt, and three we sunk, and the other three run away;
And one we brought to old England, to shew them we had won the day.
All you that know our gallant ship, and want to know our captain’s
name,
It is Captain Mansfield of Bristol Town, and the _Marygold_, a ship
of fame.

_THE ALGIERS SLAVE’S RELEASEMENT; OR, THE UNCHANGEABLE BOAT-SWAIN._

No pain like the Jayl of Love, nor no such torments found
To those that loyal mean to prove, whose loves are firm and sound.
This loyal person ne’r would change; like a true lover he
Indur’d his fetters and his chains, and Betty’s captive be.

To the Tune of _Awake, oh my Cloris!_

Of a constant young seaman a story I’le tell,
That I hope all true lovers will please very well;
All his cry was still, ‘Though I continue a slave,
Yet the want of my dear is far worse than a grave.

‘All the tedious long night in close prison I lye,
But methinks I behold my dear love lying by;
In the midst of my pains this doth still give me ease:
That is pleasant to me, which some call a disease.

‘Sometimes to the gallies I’m forced to go,
Though amongst all my fellows like a slave I do row;
And when I am spent with this labour and pain
The thoughts of my love doth revive me again.

‘And when with strappadoes sometimes I do meet,
I find little pain, if I think on my sweet;
Thus ’twixt pleasure and pain my time I do spend,
Yet vow to be constant unto my life’s end.

‘No torture nor pain shall make me forsake
Nor flye from my reason for my Betty’s sake;
I do slight all the torments bestow’d by the Turk
When I think on my dear, and in gallies do work.

‘But [tho’] a renegado to make me they strive,
I’le never consent to ‘t whilst I am alive,
But will a couragious true Protestant be:
I’le be true to my faith and be constant to thee.

‘Ah, Betty, when billows do rage and do roar
For want of thy sight I am troubled sore:
Whilst other are troubled with terror and fear,
Yet I am cheer’d up with the thought of my dear.

‘No prison is like to the want of thy sight,
Which locks up my bliss, for thou art my delight:
Though distant I am, therefore only opprest,
Yet still my dear Betty doth lodge in my breast.

‘In the midst of my sorrows, whilst others do mourn,
’Tis the want of my love that doth make me forlorn;
Yet [I] would not enjoy thee in this cursed place,
Though for want of thy love my tears trickle apace.

‘But be of good cheer, for every one knows
’Tis an ill wind indeed that no comfort blows;
And again I do hope thee in England to see,
Then who’l be so happy as Betty and me?

‘And now, thorough Providence, I am return’d:
By shipwrack I ’scap’d, for our ship it was burn’d;
No torment like mine was when I was a slave,
For the want of my Betty was worse than a grave.’

_THE BENJAMIN’S LAMENTATION FOR THEIR SAD LOSS AT SEA BY STORMS AND TEMPESTS:_

Being a brief narrative of one of his Majestie’s ships called the Benjamin, that was drove into harbour at Plymouth, and received no small harm by this tempest.

To the Tune of _The Poor Benjamin_.

Captain Chilver’s gone to sea,
_I, boys, O boys!_
With all his company, I!
Captain Chilver’s gone to sea,
With all his company,
_In the brave Benjamin, O!_

Thirty guns this ship did bear,
_I, boys, O boys!_
They were bound for Venice fair, I!
Thirty guns this ship did bear,
And a hundred men so clear,
_In the brave Benjamin, O!_

But by ill storms at sea,
_I, boys, O boys!_
Which bred our misery, I!
But by ill storms at sea
Were drove out o’ th’ way
_In the brave Benjamin, O!_

We had more wind than we could bear,
_I, boys, O boys!_
Our ship it would not steer, I!
We had more wind than we could bear,
Our masts and sails did tear
_In the brave Benjamin, O!_

The first harm that we had,
_I, boys, O boys!_
It makes my heart so sad, I!
The first harm that we had
We lost our fore-mast head:
_O the poor Benjamin, O!_

The seas aloud did roar,
_I, boys, O boys!_
We being far from shore, I!
The sea no favour shows
Unto friends nor foes,
_O the poor Benjamin, O!_

The next harm that we spy’d,
_I, boys, O boys!_
Then we to Heaven cry’d, I!
Down fell our main-mast head,
Which struck our senses dead
_In the poor Benjamin, O!_

Then we with seas were crost,
_I, boys, O boys!_
And on the ocean tost, I!
Thus we with seas was tost,
Many a brave man was lost
_In the brave Benjamin, O!_

The next harm that we had,
_I, boys, O boys!_
We had cause to be sad, I!
The next harm that we had
We lost four men from the yard
_In the poor Benjamin, O!_

Disabled as I name,
_I, boys, O boys!_
We were drove on the main, I!
So the next harm we had
We lost our rudder’s head
_In the poor Benjamin, O!_

Then we fell all to prayer,
_I, boys, O boys!_
The Lord our lives would spare, I!
Then we fell all to prayer,
And He at last did hear
_Us in the Benjamin, O!_

Although we sail’d in fear,
_I, boys, O boys!_
The Lord our ship did steer, I!
Our prayers so fervent were
That we had passage clear
_Into brave Plimouth Sound, O!_

We came in Plimouth Sound,
_I, boys, O boys!_
Our hearts did then resound, I!
When we came to Plymouth Sound
Our grief with joy was crown’d
_In the poor Benjamin, O!_

When we came all on shore,
_I, boys, O boys!_
Every man at his dore, I!
When we came all on shore
Our grief we did deplore
_In the poor Benjamin, O!_

You gallant young men all,
_I, boys, O boys!_
’Tis unto you I call, I!
Likewise brave seamen all,
Lament the loss and fall
_Of the poor Benjamin, O!_

_THE TREACHERY OF THE SPANIARDS OF PORTO RICO TO THE DARTMOUTH FRIGOT AND HER COMPANY._

(‘Composed by Hovenden Walker on board the Dartmouth.’--MS. Note, by Pepys.)

When the Dartmouth friggot lay off the town
That’s call’d Porto Rico, of some renown,
The captain sent thither to know if he cou’d
Come peaceably in for water and wood.
They answered we were welcome there,
And might venture in without all fear
And said it should be their only care
Whatever we wanted to prepare.

On the governor’s promised honour then
We took up the pilot, who carry’d us in.
We rid undisturbed and safe all the night,
Nor smoak’d any cheat till the morning’s light
Discovered their base and d[amned] intent;
For when to the wat’ring place we went
We were seiz’d and into prison sent;
And then we found out what ’twas they meant.

Quoth the governor, ‘Now you shall ne’re be free
Till I your commissions and orders do see;
For your ship is become a forfeiture,
And I’le sink her if she but dares to stirr:
For here my guns can command you all.
If she goes not where I say shee shall
I’le batter her sides with my iron ball
From every fort and the city wall.’

The council was call’d, and demurely they sate,
To manage the business by grave debate:
The bald-pated rascals (as if they were full
Of politick tricks) did squint and look dull,
Yet knew not what to doe in the case;
They could hardly look us in the face,
Their action was so openly base,
And guilt made ’em conscious of their digrace,

Till the Don cry’d out to the grey-bearded knaves,
‘We’ve now got a parcel of brawny slaves,
With provision enough to furnish the town;
For (unless we are fools) the ship is our own:
And since they are in, we’ll make ’em sure,
Our harbour’s mouth is the prison door.
Take my advice, and I will secure
They never shall goe to sea any more.

‘And because that the ship is under command,
Nor can they the force of our walls withstand,
Wee’ll suffer these silly poltroons to go free,
For their friggot thereby gets no libertie:
But I’le order them to goe where I
Will maul ’em with more conveniency,
Or where upon the shoals they may ly,
And then they may bid their ship good-by.’

The business they had consulted so well,
They sent us away, and sent one to tell
That if our commander refus’d to obey,
And didn’t immediately order to weigh,
And further within the harbour sail,
For certain then that he would not fail
To send some bullets to ferk our t[ail],
And those would be words that should prevail.

‘In vain,’ said the captain, ‘you threaten us, sirs,
For I value your guns but as barking of currs;
Begin when you please, you shall find us to be
As brave English hearts as e’re saw the sea.
To-morrow I will certainly weigh,
And brave all your guns in open day;
Maugre whatever you do or say,
Your governour’s orders I’le not obey.’

Next day, to decoy us, he cunningly sent
A fawning excuse and a complement,
And said he would try to dispatch us that day
And send us in peace and in safety away;
But he had no design in the thing
But writing letters unto our King,
Which a messenger, he said, should bring
Before the sun was near setting.

Our top-sails were loose, and the sheats were haul’d home,
We waited all day, but no messenger come.
We saw on the shoar the friars so gay,
And some were in black, but most were in grey;
To ev’ry fort and castle they went;
But the Lord in heav’n knowes what they meant,
Unless (that it might be their intent)
To bless e’ry man, gun, and battlement.

No sooner the fryars were gone to their home
But we heard an alarm beat by the drum,
And then a command was sent us agen
To furl our top-sails and warp further in;
And if we didn’t immediately
With what the governour said comply,
From all his forts he’d let the guns fly,
And batter us most confoundedly.

Then straight from the city we plainly could see,
The souldiers were marching most hastily,
And headed they were by their fat general,
To every fort and each castle wall:
But we were quite careless all the while,
And at their grand folly did only smile,
Resolving the Spaniards to beguile
And leave ’em without their wish’t-for spoil.

By this time the busie old sun was gone down,
And candles were lighting about the town;
The commander then cheared his men so brave,
And the word for cutting the cable gave,
Which was done ith’ twinkling of an eye,
And the sails were set as suddenly,
Which as soon as e’re they could espy
A volley of small shott did let fly.

The warning when every castle had got,
They fired on us (like mad) theire great shott;
With louder huzzas we answer’d agen,
And shew’d ’em that we were true Englishmen;
Thus under sail alongst ’em we past,
And till convenient we kept all fast;
But halloo’d out, nor were agast,
And sent a broadside amongst ’em at last.

Thus fireing, and fireing, we held a good space,
And gave ’em the go by to their disgrace;
Three hours or more continu’d the fight,
With fire and smoke, and a very calm night,
And tho’ within pistol shott we were,
Yet nevertheless we got well clear,
Without much hurt or any fear,
And to tell you the tale are now come here.

_THE GOLDEN VOYAGE; OR, THE PROSPEROUS ARRIVAL OF THE JAMES AND MARY_,

Who having searched the ocean for treasure, finding the value of two hundred thousand pounds in gold and silver, was joyfully received at the city of London.

To the Tune of _Ladies of London_.

Listen awhile, and I here will unfold what seemeth to promise
promotion:
There is great plenty of silver and gold now newly took out of the
ocean:
Forty-three years this treasure has lain since the galion was
stav’d asunder
Among the scholes and the rocks in the main, yet this may be now
the world’s wonder.

It being seventeen leagues from the shore, ’tis wonderful if you do
mind it,
Many has search’d for this treasure before, but none had the fortune
to find it
Till the brave _James and Mary_ of fame, whom Fortune hath highly
befriended,
She most successfully sail’d on the main, and was from all dangers
defended.

She was inform’d where this treasure did lye by some that had gi’en
information;
Therefore some nobles did freely comply, without any more
disputation,
To fit her forth; this favour they show, it being their free will
and pleasure.
With a fair gale to the ocean they go, where they find great plenty
of treasure.

’Twas in the midst of September they went forth in the brave _James
and Mary_,
All the ship’s crew with a loyal consent, they being both cheerful
and airy;
And in short time they there did arrive where they was with rocks
so surrounded
That they did hardly know how to contrive to keep themselves from
being drown[d]ed.

There they was forced some time for to lose, and lye at an anchor
together;
As for their engine, they then could not use, because of the
turbulent weather;
Yet at the last to diving they went, where silver and gold they
received;
When in the water their breath was near spent they were by their
engine relieved.

Six weeks together they work’d in the cold, still diving in nine
fathom water,
Loading their _Mary_ with silver and gold; then up to fair London
they brought her,
Where they received her with delight, as you may observe by the
ditty,
And they unloaded her cargo in sight of many brave men of the city.

Carts heavy loaden came through the town, on which the whole
multitude gazed;
This to the seamen hath purchac’d renown, no question but they may
be praised:
Still far and near their fame let it ring, and let them be highly
commended,
Since they did venture so hard in this thing, and was with a
blessing attended.

But here is one thing we must not forget: while they were the
treasure possessing,
On the great rocks they might soon have been split had not Heaven
yielded a blessing;
Or while they search’d the depth of the main, to hazards they could
be no strangers;
Yet men and boys came all safe home again, tho’ they had gone
through such dangers.

_THE BOATSWAIN’S CALL; OR, THE COURAGIOUS MARRINER’S INVITATION TO ALL HIS BROTHER SAILERS TO FORSAKE FRIENDS AND RELATIONS FOR TO FIGHT IN THE DEFENCE OF THEIR KING AND COUNTRY._

To the Tune of _The Ring of Gold_.

Stout seamen, come away, never be daunted;
For if at home you stay, then is it granted
The fleet can never be mann’d for the ocean,
To fight the enemy and gain promotion.

Lewis, that Christian Turk, makes preparation;
His engines are at work in consultation,
Thinking to ruin quite all Christian princes;
But we their wrongs will right, at life’s expences.

The mighty force of France we never value;
For when we once advance we will not dally,
But on the ocean wide (through blest permission)
We’ll soon subdue their pride and grand ambition.

Therefore with courage bold, boys, let us venture;
Like noble hearts of gold now freely enter
Your names on board the fleet, all friends forsaking,
That we may soon compleat this undertaking.

Is it not that the land might be defended
By a victorious hand? tho’ France intended
To lay a heavy yoke on a free nation,
Boys, let a fatal stroke prove their vexation!

But yet methinks I hear some cowards crying,
The press they dread and fear as much as dying,
And sculk, like frighted slaves, here in distraction,
To hide in dens and caves from warlike action.

Yet some declare they’d fight, but a dear mother,
Who counts him her delight above all other,
She loves him as her life; parting would grieve her:
Another has a wife, he’s loath to leave her.

Thus cowards they can find excuses many
To tarry here behind; yet there’s not any
Right valiant noble soul heeds a relation,
He’ll fight against controul for this his nation.

Has not men wish’d and cry’d, ‘A war with France!’ boys,
That on the ocean wide we may advance, boys?
To storm and shake their throne, no danger fearing:
This still has been their tone oft in my hearing.

Where are those heroes now, those sons of thunder,
That would make Lewis bow and bring him under?
Your wishes now you have, France is the center;
Like seamen stout and brave, boys, freely venture!

In a fight fierce and hot once was I wounded;
We receiv’d showrs of shot, being surrounded;
Yet I again will go, and scorn to hide me;
I’ll face the daring foe, what e’er betide me.

He that has been in fight fears not another;
He leaves with much delight father and mother,
To embrace those true joys which men admire;
We can be merry, boys, in smoak and fire.

If we the conquest gain, that brings promotion;
If we by chance are slain, then the wide ocean
Shall be our watry tomb, near Neptune’s palace.
This, boys, shall be our doom, in spite of malice.

_THE UNDAUNTED SEAMAN_,

Who resolved to fight for his King and country; together with his love’s sorrowful lamentation at their departure.

To the Tune of _I often for my Jenny strove_.

‘My love, I come to take my leave, yet prithee do not sigh and
grieve,
On the wide ocean I will fight, for to maintain the nation’s right:
Under noble chief commanders I resolve to take my chance;
_On board I’ll enter, life I’ll venture, to subdue the pride of
France_.’

‘My dear,’ said she, ‘be not unkind, I shall no peace nor comfort
find;
My very heart will break for thee, if thus we must divided be:
While thou art with foes surrounded, where the loud-mouth’d cannons
roar,
_This warlike action breeds distraction, I shall never see you
more_.’

‘Let no such fear attend my dear, I hope to be as safe as here;
For King and country’s good I’ll stand, and vow to fight with heart
and hand.
None but cowards fear to venture, freely will I take my chance;
_On board I’ll enter, life I’ll venture, to subdue the pride of
France_.’

The youthful damsel then did cry, ‘I’ll part with gold and silver
too,
Another person to employ, that may be better spared than you.
Never shall I be contented while you leave your native shore
_This warlike action breeds distraction, I shall never see you
more_.’

‘My dear, all hazards will I run, methinks the work cannot be done
Except I do in person go to face that perjur’d potent foe:
We have warlike sons of thunder, which will valiantly advance
_To the wide ocean for promotion and to check the pride of France_.

‘My dear, the royal English fleet, with the Dutch navy, will
compleate
The work which fairly is begun: we fear not but Monsieur will run;
For we’ll drive the rogues before us, teach them such an English
dance:
_While they retire, still we’ll fire, check the growing pride of
France_.’

With sighs and tears this damsel said, ‘If you resolve to go to sea,
In sailor’s robes I’ll be array’d and freely go along with thee;
Life and fortune I will venture rather than to stay on shore:
_Grief will oppress me, and possess me, that I ne’er shall see
thee more_.’

Said he, ‘My dearest, stay on land, such idle fancies ne’er pursue;
Thy soft and tender milk-white hand [a]seaman’s labour cannot do:
Here I leave both gold and treasure to maintain my dear on shore.’
_But still she crying, and replying, ‘I shall never see thee
more!’_

‘Thy gold’s no more than dross to me, alas! my heart is sunk full
low,
The want of thy sweet company will surely prove my overthrow:
Therefore, dearest, do not leave me, here tormented on the shore;
_Let us not sever, love, for ever, lest I ne’er shall see thee
more!_’

Tho’ bitterly she did complain, her sighs and tears were all in vain;
He would not suffer her to go, so many cares and griefs to know:
But with sweet salutes they parted; she was left with tears on shore;
_Here often crying, and replying, ‘I shall never see him more!’_

_THE SEA-MAN’S ADIEU TO HIS DEAR._

This man was prest to serve upon the seas,
Which did his dearest very much displease;
She importuned the captain on her knee,
And proffered gold to have her love set free;
But all would not prevail; the captain’s ear
Was deaf, the maid’s complaint he would not hear.
When no entreaty could move his hard heart
She sadly took her leave, and so they part.

To the Tune of _I’le go to Sir Richard_.

Come, all loyal lovers that’s faithful and true,
Observe, where ever you be,
A pattern I here have presented to you:
It is good to be constant, you see.

But chiefly to thee, my own dearest, I speak,
With patience my absence to bear,
For now I am prest to serve on the seas,
And I must bid adieu to my dear.

Our King must have seamen and souldiers most stout,
His enemies’ heart for to fear,
And I for my honour will venture about,
And I must bid adieu to my dear.

MAID.

O tell me not so, mine own dearest, I pray;
For love’s sake take pitty on me;
I’le do my endeavour to please thee alway
If that I may have my love free.

’Tis far better staying with me on the shore,
Where pleasures and joys do abound,
Than for [you] to venture where cannons do roar,
In the depth of the seas to be drown’d.

O be not so cruel, my love, for to fight,
But tarry, my dearest, with me;
We’l find out a way in Love’s war for to fight,
And I’le strive for to set my love free.

MAN.

All that thou canst do, my love, will not procure
My freedom, I sorely do fear;
But I must the hardship of service endure,
And I must bid adieu to my dear.

My captain by no means will let me go free,
He likes me so well, I do hear;
Therefore it’s in vain to beg my liberty,
For I must bid adieu to my dear.

MAID.

I’le go to thy captain and fall on my knee;
Perhaps he’l take pitty on me;
If five pounds or ten pounds will buy thy discharge
He shall have it to set my love free.

THE CAPTAIN’S ANSWER.

Not ten pounds nor twenty will buy his discharge,
Fair maid, you must patiently bear;
He shall go to sea for his King to ingage,
And he must bid adieu to his dear.

I’le have him to serve me upon the salt main,
In battel with foes for to fight;
Then cease, pritty maiden, and do not complain,
For the wars is a souldier’s delight.

MAID.

Behold, noble captain, the sorrowful tears,
That down my cheeks trickle amain,
To move your hard heart to release me of fear
And to grant me my love once again.

No maiden’s heart ever was so full of woe,
Then, good sir, take pitty on me;
And let him no further into the wars go,
But be pleased to set my love free.

CAPTAIN.

O cease thy suit, damsel, and be not so sad,
Let reason thy mind now aswage;
Ten thousand such seamen must e’re long be had,
All against the proud foes to engage.

MAN.

My dearest, why dost thou the captain offend?
Thou seest he by no means will yield;
And I am resolved my blood for to spend
Upon the salt sea or in field.

Therefore be contented, and cease thy sad moan,
Take comfort, and do thou not fear;
If fortune befriend me, when as I am gone,
I shall once again see mine own dear.

MAID.

My dearest, since thou must be parted from me,
And here must no longer remain,
The thought of thy love all my comfort shall be
Until I do see thee again.

Each hour for thy welfare to God will I pray,
That He will in safety preserve
My own dearest lover by night and by day
Whilst he on the ocean doth serve.

This token, I prethee, love, for my sake keep,
Remember me when you it wear;
This parting kiss take, which doth cause me to weep,
And so heavens bless mine own dear.

MAN.

Adieu, my dear jewel: thy love I have found;
Our parting doth grieve me full sore.
The drums they do beat, and the trumpets do sound,
And I must stay no longer on shore.

_THE MAIDENS FROLICK; OR, A BRIEF RELATION HOW SIX LUSTY LASSES HAS PREST FULL FOURTEEN TAYLORS ON THE BACKSIDE OF ST. CLEMENTS, AND THE OTHER ADJACENT PLACES._

To the Tune of _An Orange_.

Of late near the Strand, we well understand,
Six lasses that took a brisk frollick in hand;
’Twas thus, I profess, they in seaman’s dress,
Not far from the May-pole, resolved to press
_Fourteen taylors_.

Young Nancy she ty’d a sword by her side,
And she was resolved for to be their guide:
This young female crew, Kate, Bridget, and Prue,
And she that went formost was Lieutenant Sue,
_Pressing taylors_.

These maids by consent, their minds fully bent,
First thro’ the back side of St. Clements they went,
Where just in the street they a taylor did meet;
They prest him, and streight he fell down at their feet:
‘_I’m a taylor_.

‘I tell you,’ said he, ‘I ne’er was at sea,
And therefore, kind gentlemen, pray set me free,
And pity these tears; I have liv’d forty years,
And never us’d weapon but bodkin and shears.
_I’m a taylor._’