Chapter X: Front Matter (10)

The next day being the 5. of Iuly, the L. L. generall with all the armie being vnder saile and now making for England, and but as yet passing the very mouth of the Bay of Cadiz, a galley full of English prisoners, with a flag of truce, met vs from Rotta, sent by the D. of Medina Sidonia, and sent as it should seeme, one day later then his promise: but yet their flag being either not big enough, or not wel placed in the galley, or not wel discerned of our men, or by what other mischance I know not: but thus it was: by one of our smallest ships that sailed formost, assoone as the said galley came within gunshot, there was a great peece discharged vpon her, and at that instant there was one man slaine outright, and 2. other grieuously hurt. The error being espied and perceiued, our ship gaue ouer immediatly from any farther shooting. Assoone as the galley came neere vs, my L. Admirall caused a gracious salutation to be sounded with his trumpets, and willed the captains forthwith to come aboord his ship: which they did, and then he feasted them with a very fine and honorable banket, as the time and place might serve. And then by them vnderstanding of that unfortunate mischance that had hapned by the shot of the said ship, he was very sory for the same, and yet such was the merciful prouidence of almighty God, that euen in this mischance also, he did hold his holy hand ouer the English. And al the harme that was done did light onely vpon the poore Turk, and the Spaniard himselfe. When this Lorde had well banqueted them, hee presently called for his barge, and did accompany the said galley to the Lorde general the Earle of Essex, who then did ride with his ship a good distance off: and there they being in like maner most honorably receiued, and intertained, the Spanish gentlemen deliuered vp their prisoners the English captiues, of whom some had bin there 6 yere, some 8, or ten: yea, and some 22. yeere, and vpward, and some of them but lately taken in S. Francis Drakes last voiage to the Indies. The number of the prisoners deliuered were but 39, and no mo, and were brought in, and deliuered by Don Antonio de Corolla and his brother, and, by Don Pedro de Cordua, and certaine others. If you demaund why, of one and fiftie Captiues, there were no moe deliuered then was, I presuppose, (and I thinke it true to) that at that time the residue were farther off in some remote places of Spaine bestowed, and so by that meanes, not able at this time to bee in a readinesse, but yet like enough that there is some good order taken for them hereafter, to be redeemed, and sent ouer into England.

If any man presume here so farre, as to enquire how it chanced, that the Lords generall rested so long at Cadiz, and went no farther, and why Port S. Mary being so faire a towne, and so neere to them, was forborne? and why Sheres aliàs Xeres? And why Rotta and the like? And why this or that was done? And why that or this left vndone? I will not answere him with our common English prouerbe, as I might, which is: That one foole may aske moe questions in one houre, then ten discrete men can wel answere in fiue dayes.

But that graue auncient writer, Cornelius Tacitus, hath a wise, briefe, pithy saying, and it is this: "Nemo tentauit inquirere in columnas Herculis, sanctiúsque ac reuerentius habitum est de factis Deorum credere, quàm scire." Which saying, in my fancy, fitteth marueilous well for this purpose: and so much the rather, for that this Cadiz is that very place, (at least by the common opinion) where those said pillers of Hercules were thought to be placed: and, as some say, remaine as yet not farre off to be seene. But to let that passe, the saying beareth this discrete meaning in it, albeit in a prety kind of mystical maner vttered: That it befitteth not inferiour persons to be curious, or too inquisitiue after Princes actions, neither yet to be so sawcy and so malapert, as to seeke to diue into their secrets, but rather alwayes to haue a right reuerend conceite and opinion of them, and their doings: and thereon so resting our inward thoughts, to seek to go no further, but so to remaine ready alwaies to arme our selues with dutiful minds, and willing obedience, to perform and put in execution that which in their deepe insight and heroicall designements, they shall for our good, and the care of the common wealth determine vpon.

This, and much lesse to, might suffice to satisfie any honest minded man. But yet if any will needs desire to be a little farther satisfied, albeit it neede not, yet then, this much I dare say and affirme, that vpon my knowledge, the chiefest cause why Port Saint Mary, and the rest were left vntouched, was this: For that it was most certainly knowen, that they were townes not woorth the saluting of such a royal companie, in which there was no maner of wealth in the world left, more then bare houses of stone, and standing walles, and might well haue serued rather as a stale, perchance, to haue entrapped, then as a meanes to haue enriched. And it had bin more then a suspicion of follie, for such an army as this, to haue sought to fight with the aire, and to haue laboured with great paine and charges, yea, and with some euident danger too, to haue ouerthrowen that, which could very litle or nothing haue profited, being destroyed: and yet nowe, can doe as little harme being left, as it is, vntouched.

And thus much for our iourney to Cadiz: for the accidents that happened by the way, for the winning, spoiling, and burning of the saide towne, for the ouerthrowe of the Spanish Fleet there, and for al other by-matters that happened, as appendances to the same, both in the time of our abode there, as also at the very last houre of our comming from thence.

As for our returne home, and our entrance into a part of Portingal by the way, with the taking, spoyling, and burning of the towne of Faraon there, and marching into the Spanish confines therabouts, &c. I minde to leaue it to some other, whose chance was to be present at the action, as myselfe was not, and shalbe of more sufficient ability to performe it.

* * * * *

The Most Honourable Tragedie of Sir Richard Grinuile, Knight. 1595.
[Footnote: At London, printed by I. Roberts, for Richard Smith, 1595.
(Written by Gervase Markham--KTH).]

That time of yeare when the inamored Sunne Clad in the richest roabes of liuing fiers, Courted the Virgin signe, great Nature Nunne, Which barrains earth of al what earth desires Euen in the month that from _Augustus_ wonne, His sacred name which vnto heauen aspires, And on the last of his ten trebled days, When wearie labour new refresh assayes.

Then when the earth out-brau'd the beautious Morne, Boasting his cornie Mantle stird with aire, Which like a golden Ocean did adorne, His cold drie carcasse, featurelesse, vnfaire, Holding the naked shearers scithe in scorne, Or ought that might his borrowed pride empaire, The soule of vertue seeing earth so ritch, With his deare presence gilds the sea as mitch.

The sea, which then was heauie, sad, and still, Dull, vnapplyed to sportiue wantonnesse, As if her first-borne _Venus_ had beene ill, Or _Neptune_ seene the _Sonne_ his loue possesse, Or greater cares, that greatest comforts kill, Had crowned with griefe, the worlds wet wildernesse, Such was the still-foot _Thetis_ silent paine, Whose flowing teares, ebbing fell backe againe.

_Thetis_, the mother of the pleasant springs, Grandam of all the Riuers in the world, To whom earths veins their moistning tribut brings, Now with a mad disturbed passion hurld, About her caue (the worlds great treasure) flings: And with wreath'd armes, and long wet hairs uncurld, Within her selfe laments a losse vnlost, And mones her wrongs, before her ioyes be crost

Thus whilst churning sorrowe ceaz'd her hart, _Grinuile_ (ô melt my spyrit in that name,) As sings the Swan her funerall depart, And waues her wings the ensignes of her fame, So he, with vertue sweetning bitter smart, Which from the seas long toyling seruice came: For why, sixe Moones, and so oft times the Sunne Was past, and had one halfe the signes ore-runne,

Ere he the earth, our common Mother saw; Now earlie greets black _Flores_ banefull Ile, (_Flores_, from whence afflictions selfe doth draw The true memorialls of a weeping stile;) And with _Caisters_ Querristers[1] which straw Descant, that might Death of his darts beguile, He tunes saluting notes, sweeter then long, All which are made his last liues funerall song.

Skillesse in deaths great Parliament he cals His fellow mat's, and minions to his fame, Shewes them long lookt for land, and how it brauls, Repulsing backe the billowes as they came, Much he triumphes, and passed griefe for-stals With present ioy (sorrow lights pleasures flame:) And whilst his hopes of _Happy-Fortune_ sings, _Misfortune_ by, controls them with her wings.

Desir'd reliefe, and euer welcome rest, The elements that forme the wearie man, Began to hold a counsaile in his brest, Painting his wants by sicknes pale and wan; With other griefes, that others force opprest, Aduising stay, (as what is but they can,) Whilst he that fate to come, and past, nere feard, Concludes to stay till strength decayd repaird.

Then casts he Anchor hulling on the maine, And all his shyps poore Citizens recounts, And hundred iust were free from sicknes paine, Fourscore and ten death their redress accounts; So that of all both sicke and sound vnslaine, Vnto two hundred wanting ten amounts. A slender armie for so great a guide, But vertue is vnknowne till it be tride.

Those whom their harts enabled to attempt, He puts a shoare to make supplie for neede; Those whom long sicknes taught of death contempt, He visits, and from _Ioues_ great Booke doth reede The balme which mortall poysen doth exempt; Those whom new breathing health like sucklings feed, Hie to the sands, and sporting on the same, Finde libertie, the liues best liuing flame.

Looke how a troope of Winter-prisoned Dames, Pent in th' inclosure of the walled townes, Welcoms the Spring, Vsher to Somer flames, Making their Pastimes in the flowrie downes, Whose beauteous Arras[2] wrought in natures frames, Through eyes admire, the hart with wonder crownes, So the wood-walled citizens at sea, Welcome both Spring and Sommer in a day.

The warring byllowes, seas artillerie, With long held siege, had bruz'd their beaten keele, Which to repaire the most, most busied be, Lab'ring to cure, what want in labours feele; All pleas'd with toyle, clothing extremitie In Hopes best robes, that hang on Fortunes wheele But men are men, in ignorance of Fate, To alter chaunce, exceedeth humaine state.

For when the Sun, towred in heauens head, Downe from the siluer mountaine of the skye, Bent his bright Chariot on the glassie bed, Faire christall, guilded with his glorious eye, Fearing some usurpation in his stead, Or least his Loue should too-long daliance spy Tweene him and _Virgo_, whose attractiue face, Had newly made him leaue the _Lyons_ chase.

In that same myd-daies hower came sayling in, A thought-swift-flying Pynnase, taught by winde, T' outstrip in flight Times euer flying wing; And being come where vertue was inshrinde, First vaild his plumes, and wheeling in a ring, With Goat-like dauncing, stays where _Grinuile_ shynd, The whyle his great Commaunder calls the name, Which is ador'd of all that speakes the same.

The great Commaunder of this little Barke, Which like an Eglet armes the Eagles side, Was _Midleton_, the ayme of Honors marke, That more had prou'd then danger durst haue tride, Now seeing all good fortunes sun-shine darke, Thrise calls Sir _Richard_, who as oft replyde, Bidding him speake, and ring his newes aloude, Ill, not apald, nor good could make him proude.

O then (quoth Midleton) thou soule of all What euer boasts in magnanimitie, Thou, whom pure Vertue her best part doth call, Better then valure, stronger then dietie, Whom men adore, and all the gods exhall Into the bookes of endlesse memorie, I bring thee tidings of a deadly fray, Begun in Heauen, to end vpon the Sea.

The glorious Senate of the Skyes was set, And all the gods were royaliz'd in state, When _Happy-fortune_ and _Ill-fortune_ met, Striuing who first should enter Heauen's gate, The one made mad the others fame to let, Neither but stirr'd with rage to wonder at, Confusedly, as water floods doe passe Their common bounds, such their rude entrance was.

The gods disturb'd, admire their strange aproch, Censuring their angers by their gloing eyes, _Ill-fortune_ was attended by _Reproch_, _Good-fortune, Fame_, and _Vertue_ stellesies;[3] One sweares the other doth her right incroch, Which is the elder house, none can deuise: The gods diuide, yet in the end agree The Fates shall iudge each others pedigree.

_Good-Fortune_, drawes from heauen her hye descent, Making hie _Ioue_ the roote of her large tree; She showes from him how many god-heads went, _Archangells, Angells_, heauen's posteritie: From thence, she shows the glorious thrid she lent, To _Monarks, Emperours_, and _Kyngs_ in fee, Annexing as Colatteralls to her line, _Honour, Vertue, Valure_, and _Endles-time_.

Naithlesse, _Ill-fortune_ will be elder borne, She saith, she springs from _Saturne, Ioues_ wronged Sier, And heauen, and earth, and hell her coate haue borne, Fresh bleeding harts, within a field of fier; All that the world admires, she makes her scorne, Who farthest seemes, is to _Ill-fortune_ nier, And that iust proofe may her great praise commend, All that _Best-chaunce_ begins, _Ill-chaunce_ doth ende.

Thus they, dispute, guilding their tongues report With instances, and argumental sawes, _Ill-fortune_, bids let all the worlde resort, And show within their Chronicles and lawes, The man whose liue-line neuer did consort, With sharpe affliction, deaths first grounded cause, Then will she yeeld, else, is shee victor still. Worlds good is rare, perpetuall is their ill.

Euen as the racket takes the balls rebound; So doth _Good-fortune_ catch _Ill-fortunes_ proofe, Saying, she wil her in herselfe confound, Making her darts, Agents for her behoofe; Bow but thine eies (quoth she) whence ha'ts abound, And I will show thee vnder heauens roofe Th' vnconquered man whom no mischance importunes. Crown of my kingdom, deaths man to misfortune.

At this, the casments of the skye broke ope, Discouering all what's girdled in her frame, Whilst _Happy-fortune_ through her eyes large scope Like a Cosmographer comments on the same; Three parts with praise she past and future hope, Then to the fourth, the Westerne world she came, And there, with her eyes festrawe paints a storie, Stranger than strange, more glorified than glorie.

See (sayd _Faire-fortune_, to her soule shapt _Foe_) How on the scourge that beates against the Ile Of _Flores_, whence they curst oblations growe, A winde-taught capring ship which ayre beguiles, (Making poore _Cephalus_ for-lorne with woe, Curse arte, which made arte framed saile such smiles) Richlie imbrodred with the Iems of warre, In thy dispight commaunds a lucky starrye.

In that faire vessel liues my garlands flower. _Grinuile_, my harts immortall arterie; Of him thy deitie had neuer power, Nor hath hee had of griefe one simpathie; Successe attends him, all good hap doth shower A golden raine of perpetuitie Into his bossome, whete mine Empire stands, Murdring the Agents of thy blacke commands.

Say, and say true, (for what but thou wilt say,) That euer _Grinuils_ fortunes came before thee, Of euer prostrate at thine Altars lay, Or with one wreath of Cipresse did adore thee? Proue one blacke storme in all his Sommers day, Whose threatening clouds compeld him to implore thee. Then wil I staine my milkwhite vaile with weeping, And as thine handmaide dye in sorrowes keeping.

As wounds the lightning, yet preserues the skinne, So did these words split _Lucklesse-fortunes_ hart, Her smiling _Superficies_, lockt within A deepe exulcerated festring smart; Heere shee perceiu'd her first disgrace begin, And wordlesse from the heauens takes her depart. Yet as she flewe her wings in flying cri'd On _Grinuile_ shall my fame and power be tride.

At her departure all the heauens were glad. Triumphing in _Ill-fortunes_ banishment, _Apollo_ set new _Anthems_ as _Ioue_ bad, Which spheare tunes made more then most excellent; No light in heauen but with new fier was clad, Making next _Ioue, Good-fortune_ president, Enrowling in the Bookes of destenie, This memorable famous victorie.

Only the _Fat's_ su'd for her backe repeale, (For they _Ill-fortune_ lou'd exceeding well) Many her deedes and Tropheis they reueale, And all her liues blacke legend, weeping tell; Yet all they speake, cannot in heauen preuaile, Which seene, in spight they follow her to hell, And there inhoused with their mother _Night_, All foure deuise, how heauen and earth to spight.

Hence sprang the loues of _Ioue_, the _Sonnes_ exile, The shame of _Mars_ and _Venus_ in a net; _Iunos_ forsaken bed; Saturns compile Of frantike discontentment, which beset All heauen with armes; _Diana_ hence had while To court her sleeping boy; whilst _Thetis_ let _Phoebus_ imbrace her in her _Neptunes_ stead, Who made complaints, breach of his bridall bed:

Yet not content with these disparagments, Much greater mischiefes issues from their minds, _Grinuile_, thy mountaine honour it augments Within their breasts, a Meteor like the winds, Which thrall'd in earth, a reeling issue rents With violent motion; and their wills combinds To belch their hat's, vow'd murdrers of thy fame, Which to effect, thus they begin the same.

Fast to _Iberia_ flies vntoward chaunce, _Iberia_, which we vulgar Christen _Spaine_, Vpon whose Sunne-burnt continent doth daunce Westerne _Ducallidon_, the greatest maine, Thither shee packs, _Error_ doth their aduance Her coale-blacke standerd in the hands of paine; And as escapt from rauishment or bale, With false teares, thus shee tunes a falser tale.

Great Empire (said shee) blessed in thy birth, Beautious created for-head of this round, That with thy smiles first lent to heauen mirth, And bout thy temples all perfections woond, Lodgd in th' immagin'd corners of the earth; Thou whom our centers Monarchesse art crownd, Attend my suite, baptisd in mournefull teares, Who but ere while triumphed on the spheares.

Nor for my selfe more then thine owne decay Which blindfold pleasure clouds as they arise, Be gracious, and retort the domefull daye Which thee and me to shame would sacrifice. Loe, on the great west-walling boisterous sea, Which doth imbrace thy gold-enclosing eyes, Of many sailes one man, of one poor Ile, That will my fame, and all thy faire defile.

His numberlesse great infinits of fame, Haue shut against me heauens great christall dore, The clouds, which once my feets dust had to name, Hang ore my forhead, threatning euermore Death to my praise; life to my infant shame, Whilst I with sighes mediate a new restore. And in my selfe behold my pleasures past, Swimming amongst the ioyes I cannot tast.

Th' ambrosian Nectar-filled banqueting, No more shall I communicate, or see, Triumphes in heauen, _Ioues_ masks, and reuelling, Are cleene exempt, both from my ioyes and me. The reason, for my loue to thee I bring, Trimming the locks with Iems of dietie, Making the gods a dread a fatall day, Worse then the Giants warre or Centaurs fray.

Poore goddesse, rob'd of all eternall power, Whose broken Statues, and down razed Fan's, Neuer warm'd altars, euer forgotten hower Where any memorie of praise is tane, Witnes my fall from great _Olympus_ tower; Prostrate, implore blame for receiued bane, And dyre reuenge gainst heauens impietie, Which els in shame will make thee follow mee.

Behold these robes, maps of my fortunes world, Torne, and distaind with eye-scornd beggerie; These rags deuide the Zones, wherein is hurld My liues distemprate, hote cold miserie; These teares are points, the scale these hairs vncurld, My hands the compasse, woe the emperie: And these my plaints, true and auriculer, Are to my Globe the perpendiculer.

Looke how I am, such art thou like to be If armes preuent not heauens intendiment, _Grinuile_, which now surfeits with dignitie, Burd'ning the Sea with my disparagement; Chiding the wanton winds if greedelie They kisse his sailes; or els too slowlie vent, Like _Ioue_, which bad the day be and it was, So bids he Conquest warre; she brings to passe.

The sole incouragement he giues his power, Is Prophet-like presaging of thy death, Courage he cries, euen in the dying hower, And with his words, recalls departing breath; O (sayes he to his Mat's) you are my glories tower, Impregnable, wall'd with vnuanquisht faith, You are the hands and agents of my trust, I but the hart reuoluing what we must.

Liue Saints, til we haue ript the wombe of _Spayne_, And wounded _Error_ in the armes of hell, Crushing the triple Myter in disdaine, Which on the seauenfold mounted Witch doth dwel, Angells rewards for such dissignes remaine, And on heauens face men shall your stories tell; At this they shoute; as eager of the pray, As Ants in winter of a sunne-shine day.

Thus like triumphant _Cæsar_ drawne in Rome, By winged _Valure_, and vnconquered _Chaunce_, He plowes the Sea (ô were it made his tombe) Whilst _Happy-fortune_ pypes unto his daunce. Yet may thy power alternat heauens doome, So pleaseth thee thy forward will t'aduance, And cheare the sinews of thy mighty arme, Whose out-strecht force shall quell his proud alarme.

Then giue newe fuell to his honours fier, Least slight regard wealth-winning _Error_ slay, And so old _Saturns_ happie world retyer, Making _Trueths_ dungion brighter than the day; Was neuer woe could wound thy kingdom nyer, Or of thy borrowed beautie make display, Because this vow in heauens booke doth remaine, That _Errors_ death shall consumate thy raigne.

Now, for my god-heads remnant liues in thee, Whose lost successe breeds mine eternall end, Take for thine ayde, afflicting _Miserie_, _Woe_, mine attendant, and _Dispayre_ my freend, All three my greatest great _Triumuerie_, Blood bath'd _Carnifici_, which will protend A murdring desolation to that will, Which me in thee, and thee in mee would kill.

Here, with her fixed Comet-blazing eyes, The damned _Augurs_ of vntimely death, Shee ends her tale, whilst from her harts caue flyes A storme of winds, no gentle sighing breath, All which, like euill spirits in disguise, Enter _Iberias_ eares, and to her sayth, That all the substance of this damned storie, Was zealous true, coyned for her _Spanish_ glorie.

Sworne to beleeue, for ill, in ill assies, _Spayne_ then enamour'd with the _Romane_ trull, Calls all her forces, more then Atomies, And tells _Ill-fortunes_ storie to the full; Many Parenthises shee doth deuise, And frost-relenting words doth choycely cull, Bewitching those whom oft shee had deceiued, With such like Hemlock as her selfe receiued.

The first and greatest one, commaunding all, The soule of mischiefes old created mother, Was _Don Alphonso Bassan_, proud in brall, The Marques _Sancta Cruces_ onely brother; Him shee coniures by typ's emperiall, And all that falshoods seeming trueth could couer, To vndertake this hie (she termed it) act, Which craues a curse of all that reads the fact.

Her selfe (shee said) and all the flowers of _Spayne_, Should vnder his, as heauens Ensigne warre: Thus from her harts foule dunghill flyes amaine Grosse vapours, metamorphosd to a starre; Her words in fumes like prodogies retaine His hart, by her tongues witchcraft bound so farre, And what shee will, that will hee vnder-take, Be it to warre with heauen for her sake.

The seeming Nectar of her poysoning speech, So well shee saw surprise his licoras sence, That for to reare her ill beyonds ills reach, With selfe-like tropes, decks self-like eloquence, Making in _Britain Dona_ such a breach, That her arm'd wits, conqu'ring his best wits sence, He vowes with _Bassan_ to defende the broile, Which men of praise, and earth of fame shal spoile.

To him shee giues the _Biscaynnoys_ for guard, Mechanicall Artificers for death, And those which of affliction neuer hard, She tempers with the hammer of her breath: To euery act shee giues huge lyp-reward, Lauish of oathes, as falshood of her faith; And for the ground of her pretended right, T'is hate, which enuies vertue in a Knight.

These two to her fast bound in vassailage, Vnto the Marques _Arumburch_ shee flyes, Him shee prouokes, him shee finds apt to rage, Imprisoning Pitties teares in flintie eyes; To him the power of _Siuill_ for a gage Shee doth bequeath; bidding his prowesse ryse, And clense his Countries face from widowes tears, To which he posts, like lightning from the sphears.

Lastly, to make vp mischiefes perfect square, To _Luis Cutino_ shee takes her flight, Him shee commaunds, he to her homage sware To guide a Nauie to this damned fight, Of Hulks and Fly-boats such as durst to dare. Shee giues him soueraine rule, and publique right, And then vniting all foure powers in one, Sends them to sea, to calme _Misfortunes_ mone.

And now behold (diuine for valiancie) Like flying Castells sayle they to this strand, Fiftie three saile, strong in artillarie; Best men of warre knowne in the _Spanish_ land; Fifteene Armados, Kings of soueraigntie, Which led the lesser with a mightie hand: And these in foure battalions hither flie, With whom three dayes I sailed in companie.

Then gentle _Grinuile, Thetis_ parramoure, Dearer than _Venus_, Daughter of the flood, Set sailes to wind, let not neglect deuoure Thy gracious fortunes and thine Angell goode, Cut through the maine, compell thy keele to scoure, No man his ill too timelie hath with-stoode And when _Best-chaunce_ shal haue repaird thy fortune, Time for this flight may iust reuenge importune.

Here _Midelton_ did end the passing peale Which gaue the warning to a dismall end, And as his words last knell began to faile, This damned Nauie did a glimmering send, By which _Sir Richard_ might their power reueale, Which seeming conquerlesse did conquests lend; At whose appearance _Midelton_ did cry, See where they come, for fame and pitty flie.

This certaine story, of too certaine ill, Did not extinguish, but gaue honour fier, Th'amazing prodigie, (bane of my quill,) Bred not astonishment, but a strong desier, By which this heauen-adopted Knights strong will, Then hiest height of Fame, flew much more hier: And from the boundlesse greatnes of his minde, Sends back this answer through his lyps refin'd.

Thanks hardie _Midelton_ for thy dilate, Perswasiue presage to auoyde my death, But if thou wed my fortunes with my state, This sauing health shall suffocate my breath, To flye from them that holds my God in hate, My Mistres, Countrey, me, and my sworne fayth, Were to pull of the load from _Typhons_ back, And crush my selfe, with shame and seruille wrack.

Nor if my hart degenerate should yeeld, To entertaine an amorus thought of life, And so transport mine honour to the field, Where seeming valure dies by cowards knife, Yet zeale and conscience shall new forces build, And others soules, with my soule holdeth strife; For halfe my men, and all that draw sound breath, Are gone on shore, for foode to conquer death.

If I forsake them, certaine is their end, If I obtaine them, doubtfull is our fall, Vpon my flight, shame and their sacks depend, Vpon my stay, hope of good hap doth call, Equall to me, the meanest I commend; Nor will I loose, but by the losse of all: They are the sinewes of my life and fame, Dismembred bodies perish cripple-lame.

This sayd, he sends a cock-boate to the shore, To summon backe his men vnto their ship, Who com'd a board, began with some vprore To way their Anchors, and with care to dip Their hie reuolues in doubt, and euermore, To paint deaths visage with a trembling lip, Till he that was all fearelesse, and feare slew, With Nectard words from them all dangers drew.

When _Midelton_ saw _Grinuills_ hie reuolue, Past hope, past thought, past reach of all aspire, Once more to moue him flie he doth resolue, And to that purpose tips his tongue with fier; Fier of sweete words, that easelie might dissolue And moisten flint, though steeld in stiffe attire, Had not desier of wonder praise, and fame, Extinkt the sparks, and still keepe dead the flame.

Greater, and better then inarked he, Which in the worlds huge deluge did suruiue, O let thy wings of magnanimitie, Not vainlie flatter, _Honour_ to acchiue, Gainst all conceit impossibilitie, By which thou murderst _Vertue_, keepe aliue, Nor in thy seeking of diuinitie, Kill not heauens fame by base mortalitie.

O _Grinuile_ thou hast red Philosophy Nature and Arte hath made thee excellent, And what thou read'st, hath grafted this in thee, That to attempt hie dangers euident Without constraint or neede, is infamie, And honor turnes to rashhes in th'euent: And who so darrs, not caring how he darrs, Sells vertues name, to purchase foolish starrs.

Deere Knight, thou art not forst to hazard fame, Heauens haue lent thee meanes to scape thine ill, If thou abide, as true as is thy name, So truly shall thy fault, thy death fulfill: And as to loue the life for vertues flame, Is the iust act of a true noble will, So to contemne it, and her helps exclude, Is baseness, rashness, and no _Fortitude_.

He that compard mans bodie to an hoast, Sayd that the hands were scouts, discouering harmes, The feete were horsemen, thundring on the coast, The brest, and stomacke, footmen, huge in swarmes. But for the head, in soueraigntie did boast, It Captayne was, director of alarms, Whose rashness, if it hazarded an ill, Not hee alone but all the hoast did spill.

Rash _Isadas_, the _Lacedemon_ Lord, That naked fought against the _Theban_ power, Although they crown'd his valure by accord, Yet was hee find for rashness in that hower: And those which most his carelesse praise affoard, Did most condemne what follie did deuoure; For in attempting, prowesse is not ment, But wiselie doing what we doe attempt.

Then sith t'is valure to abandon fight, And base to darre, where no hope is to winne, (Renowned man, of all renowne the light) Hoyst vp thy sailes, delay attrackts thy sinne, Flie from ill-boding starres with all thy might, Vnto thy hart let praise and pittie in. This sayd, and more desirous much to crie, Sir _Richard_ stayd him, with this rich replie.

Captayne, I praise thy warlike eloquence, And sober Axioms of Philosophie, But now's no time for schoole points difference, When Deaths blacke Ensigne threatens miserie; Yet for thy words sound of such consequence. Making flight praise, and fight pale obloquie, Once ere I die, Ile clense my wits from rust, And proue my flying base, my stay most iust.

Whence shall I flie? from refuge of my fame, From whom? euen from my Countreis mortall foe, Whither? but to the dungeon of my shame, Why shall I flie? for feare of happie woe, What end of flight? to saue vile life by blame, Who ist that flies? _Grinuile_? Captayne no, T'is _England_ flies, faire Ile of happines, And true diuine _Elizas_ holynes.

Shall then my life regard taynt that choice faire? First will I perrish in this liquid round, Neuer shall Sunne-burnt _Spanyards_ tongue endeare _Iberian_ eares with what shall me confound, The life I haue, I for my Mistris beare, Curst were that life, should it her scepter wound, And trebble cursed be that damned thought, Which in my minde hath any fayntnes wrought.

Now, for Philosophie defends thy theame, Euen selfe Philosophie shall arme my stile, Rich buskin'd _Seneca_, that did declaime, And first in _Rome_ our tragicke pompe compile, Saith, _Fortitude_ is that which in extreme And certaine hazard all base feares exile: It guides, saith he, the noble minde from farre, Through frost, and fier, to conquer honors warre.

Honie-tongd _Tullie_, Mermaid of our eares, Affirmes no force, can force true _Fortitude_, It with our bodies, no communion beares, The soule and spyrit, sole doth it include; It is that part of honestie which reares The hart to heauen, and euer doth obtrude Faint feare, and doubt, still taking his delight In perrills, which exceed all perrills might.

_Patience, Perseuerance, Greatnes_, and _Strong Trust_, These pages are to _Fortitude_ their King, _Patience_ that suffers, and esteemeth iust, What euer woe, for vertue fortunes bring; _Perseuerance_, holds constant what we must, _Greatnes_, that still effects the greatest thing. And armed _Trust_, which neuer can dispaire, But hopes good hap; how euer fatall deare.

The Roman _Sergius_, hauing lost his hand, Slew with one hand foure in a single fight, A thing all reason euer did with-stand. But that bright _Fortitude_ spred forth her light _Pompey_, by storme held from _th' Italyan_ land, And all his sailors quaking in his sight, First hoisted saile, and cry'd amidst the strife, There's neede I goe, no neede to saue my life.

_Agis_ that guilt the _Lacedemon_ streete, Intending one day battaile with his foes, By counsaile was repeld, as thing vnmeete, The enemie beeing ten to one in shoes; But he reply'd, Tis needful that his feete Which many leads, should leade to many bloes: And one being good, an Armie is for ten Foes to religion, and known naughty men.

To him that told _Dienecus_, his foes Couer'd the Sun with darts and armed speares, Hee made reply, Thy newes is ioy in woes, Wee'le in the shadow fight, and conquer feares. And from the _Polands_ words my humor floes, I care for naught but falling of the Spheares. Thunder affrights the Infants in the schooles, And threatnings are the conquerors of fooles.

As these, my case is not so desperate, And yet, then these, my darre shall be no lesse: If this in them, for fame was wondred at, Then this in mee, shall my desiers expresse; Neuer shall _Greece_, nor _Rome_, nor Heathen state, With shining honor, _Albions_ shine depresse, Though their great circuits yeelds their acts large bounds, Yet shall they neuer darr for deeper wounds.

And thus resolu'd, deere _Midelton_ depart, Seeke for thy safetie in some better soyle, Thy stay will be no succour in my smart, Thy losse will make them boast of better spoyle. And be assur'd before my last breath part, Ile make the Sunne, for pittie backe recoyle. And clothe the sea within a scarlet pale, Iudge of their death which shall my life exhale.

This ship which now intombs my iealous soule, Honestlie enuious of aspiring laude, Is cald _Reuenge_, the scourge which doth controule, The recreants that _Errors_ right applaud, Shall like her selfe, by name and fame enroule My spyrits acts, by no _Misfortune_ aw'd, Within eternall Bookes of happie deeds, Vpon whose notes, immortall Vertue reeds,

Say, if I perish, t'was mine honours will, My Countries loue, religion, and my Queene, And if that enuie glorie in mine ill, Say that I dyed, conqu'ring, vnconquered seene. Say fiftie three strong shyps could not fulfill, Gainst one poore mayden vessell their foule teene, But that in spight of death, or miserie, She fought, and foyled, and scapt captiuitie.

Replie not _Midelton_, mine eares are clos'd, Hie in heauen's for-head are my vowes ingrau'd, I see the banefull Nauie nowt disclosed, Begon betime, Fate hath thy fortune sau'd; To me good starres were neuer yet opposed, Glorie hath crownd me when I glorie crau'd, Farwel, and say how euer be my chaunce, My death at honours wedding learnt to daunce.

This sayd, away sailes Midelton with speede, Sad, heauie, dull, and most disconsolate, Shedding stout manlie teares at valures deed, Greeuing the ruine of so great estate; But _Grinuile_, whose hope euer did exceede, Making all death in daungers fortunate, Gan to prouide to quell this great vprore, Then which the like was neuer heard before.

His fights set vp; and all things fit prepard, Low on the ballast did he couch his sick, Being fourscoore ten, in Deaths pale mantle snar'd,[4] Whose want to war did most their strong harts prick. The hundred, whose more sounder breaths declard, Their soules to enter Deaths gates should not stick, Hee with diuine words of immortall glorie, Makes them the wondred actors of this storie.

Nothing he left vnsaid that tongue could say, To breede contempt of death, or hate of thrall, Honours reward, fame for a famous day, Wonder of eares, that men halfe gods shall call: And contrarie, a hopelesse certaine way, Into a Tyrants damned fists to fall, Where all defame, base thoughts, and infamie, Shall crowne with shame their heads eternally.

In this great thunder of his valiant speech, From whence the eares-eyes honors lightning felt, The _Spanish_ Nauie came within the reach Of Cannon shot, which equallie was delt On eyther side, each other to impeach; Whose volleys made the pittying skyes to melt, Yet with their noyse, in _Grinuiles_ heart did frame, Greater desier, to conquer greater fame.

And now the sunne was past his middle way, Leaning more louely to his Lemans bed, And the noones third hower had attacht the day, When fiftie three gainst one were basely led; All harts were fierd; and now the deadlie fray, Began tumultuouslie to ouer-spread. The sea with fier, the Element with smoake Which gods, and monsters from their sleep awoake.

In foure great battailes marcht the _Spanish_ hoast, The first of _Siuill_, led in two great squares, Both which with courage, more then can be most, Sir _Richard_ forst to giue him way with cares; And as the Sea-men terme it in our coast, They sprang their luffe, and vnder lee declares, Their manie forces feebled by this one, Whose thoughts, saue him, are rightly due to none.

And now he stands amidst the thickest throngs, Walld round with wooden Castels on the waue, Fiftie three Tygers greedie in their wrongs, Besiedge the princelie Lion in his caue: Nothing sees _Grinuile_ which to hope belongs, All things are fled that any hap could saue; Bright day is darkned by incurtaind night, And nothing visits them but Canons light.

Then vp to heauen he lifts his loftie hart, And cryes, old _Salon_, I am happy made. All earthlie thoughts cleane from his spirits part, _Vertue_ and _Valure_ all his sences lade, His foes too fewe, too strong he holds his part, Now doth he wish for millions to inuade, For beeing conqueror he would conquer all, Or conquered, with immortall honour fall.

Neuer fell hayle thicker then bullets flew, Neuer show'rd drops faster than showring blowes, Liu'd all the _Woorthees_, all yet neuer knew So great resolue in so great certaine woes; Had _Fame_ told _Cæsar_ what of this was true, His Senate-murdred spirite would haue rose, And with faire honors enuie wondred then, Cursing mortalitie in mightie men.

Whilst thus affliction turmoyld in this brall, And _Grinuile_ still imployed his Actor death, The great _San-philip_, which all _Spayne_ did call Th' vnuanquisht ship, _Iberias_ soule and faith, Whose mountaine hugenes more was tearmed then tall, Being twice a thousand tuns as rumour saith, Came rushing in, becalming _Grinuiles_ sailes, Whose courage grew, the more his fortunes failes.

Hotlie on eyther side was lightning sent, And steeled thunder bolts dinge men to hell, Vnweldie _Phillip_, backt with millions lent, Worse cracks of thunder then on _Phaeton_ fell, That with the dayes fier fiered the Element; And why? because within her ribs did dwell, More store of shot and great artillarie, Then might haue seru'd the worlds great victorie.

Three tire of Cannon lodg'd on eyther side, And in each tire, eleuen stronglie lay, Eyght in her chase, that shot forth right did bide, And in her sterne, twice eight that howerlie play; Shee lesse great shot, in infinets did hide, All which were Agents for a dismall day. But poore _Reuenge_, lesse rich, and not so great, Aunswered her cuffe for cuffe, and threat for threat.

Anon they graple eyther to the other, And doth the ban-dogge with the Martins skinne; And then the wombe of _Phillip_ did vncouer, Eight hundred Souldiers, which the fight beginne: These board Sir _Richard_, and with thronging smother The daye, the ayre, the time, and neuer linne, But by their entrance did instruct eight more, To doe the like, on each side foure and foure.

Thus in one moment was our Knight assaild, With one huge _Argosie_, and eight great ships, But all in vaine, their powers naught prevaild, For the _Reuenge_, her Canon loud-dogs slips, Whose bruzing teeth, so much the _Phillip_ quaild, That foundring in the greedie maine, he dips His damned bodie in his watrie tombe, Wrapt with dishonour in the Oceans wombe.

The other eight, fighting, were likewise foild, And driuen perforce vnto a vile retraite, None durst abide, but all with shame recoild, Whilst _Valures_ selfe, set _Grinuile_ in her seate; Onely _Don Luis Saint Iohn_, seeing spoild, His Countries honour by this strange defaite, Single encountred _Grinuile_ in the fight, Who quicklie sent his soule to endlesse night.

_George de Prunaria_, a Spanish Knight, Euer held valiant in dispight of fate, Seconded _Luis_, and with mortall might, Writ on Sir _Richards_ target souldiers hate, Till _Grinuile_ wakned with his loud rung fight, Dispatcht his soules course vnto _Plutos_ gate: And after these two, sent in post all those Which came within his mercie or his blowes.

By this, the sunne had spread his golden locks, Vpon the pale green carpet of the sea, And opned wide the scarlet dore which locks The easefull euening from the labouring day; Now Night began to leape from iron Rocks, And whip her rustie wagon through the way, Whilst all the _Spanish_ host stoode maz'd in sight, None darring to assayle a second fight.

When _Don Alfonso_, Generall of the warre, Saw all his Nauie with one ship controld, He toare his hayre, and loudlie cryd from farre, For honour _Spanyards_, and for shame be bold; Awaken Vertue, say her slumbers marre _Iberias_ auncient valure, and infold Her wondred puissance, and her glorious deeds, In cowards habit, and ignoble weeds.

Fie, that the spyrit of a single man, Should contradict innumerable wills, Fie, that infinitiues of forces can, Nor may effect what one conceit fulfills; Woe to the wombe, ceaselesse the teats I ban, That cherrisht life, which all our liues ioyes kills; Woe to our selues, our fortunes, and our minds, Agast and scarrd, with whistling of the winds.

See how he triumphes in dispight of death, _Promethean_ like, laden with liuing fier, And in his glorie spits disdainfull breath, Loathing the baseness of our backe retire; Euen now me thinke in our disgrace he saith, Foes to your fames, why make you Fate a lyer, When heauen and she haue giuen into your hand, What all the world can neuer back demand?

Say that the God of _Warre_; Father of Chiualrie, The _Worthies_, _Heroes_, all fam'd Conquerours, _Centaurs_, _Gyants_, victorious _Victorie_, Were all this _Grinuils_ hart-sworne paramours. Yet should we fightlesse let our shyps force flie: Well might we crush his keele with rocklike powers, And him with them ore-whelme into the maine, Courage then harts, fetch honour backe againe.

Heere shame, the fretting canker of the mind, That fiers the face with fuell from the hart, Fearing his weapons weakenes, eft assigned To desperate hardines his confounding dart, And now the _Spanyards_ made through words stone blind, Desperate by shame, ashamd dispaire should part, Like damned scritchowles, chimes to dead mens hours, Make vowes to fight, till fight all liues deuours.

And now the tragicke sceane of death begins, Acts of the night, deeds of the ouglie darke, When Furies brands gaue light to furious sins, And gastlie silence gaping wounds did marke; Sing sadlie then my Muse (teares pittie wins) Yet mount thy wings beyond the mornings Larke, And wanting thunder, with thy lightnings might, Split cares that heares the dole of this sad night.

The fier of _Spaynes_ pride, quencht by _Grinuils_ sword, _Alfonso_ rekindles with his tong, And sets a batelesse edge, ground by his word Vpon their blunt harts feebled by the strong, Loe animated now, they all accord, To die, or ende deaths conflict held so long; And thus resolud, too greedelie assay His death, like hounds that hold the Hart at bay.

Blacker then night, more terrible then hell, Louder then thunder, sharper then _Phoebus_ steele, Vnder whose wounds the ouglie _Python_ fell, Were bullets mantles, clowding the haplesse keele, The slaughtered cryes, the words the cannons tell, And those which make euen rocky Mountaines reele, And thicker then in sunne are Atomies, Flew bullets, fier, and slaughtered dead mens cries.

At this remorsles Dirgie for the dead, The siluer Moone, dread Soueraigne of the Deepe, That with the floods fills vp her horned head And by her waine the wayning ebbs doth keepe: Taught by the Fat's how destenie was led, Bidds all the starres pull in their beames and weepe: For twas vnfit, chast hallowed eyes should see Honour confounded by impietie.

Then to the night she giues all soueraigne power, Th'eternall mourner for the dayes diuorce, Who drowned in her owne harts killing shower, Viewes others torments with a sad remorse. This flintie Princesse, ayme cryes to the hower, On which to looke, kinde eies no force could force. And yet the sight her dull hart so offended, That from her sight a fogge dewe descended.

Now on our Knight, raines yron, sword, and fiers, Iron wrapt in smoke, sword bath'd in smoking blood, Fiers, furies king, in blood and smoke aspires The consumation of all liuing good, Yet _Grinuile_, with like Agents like expires His foemen's darts, and euermore withstood Th'assaults of death, and ruins of the warre, Hoping the splendour of some luckie starre.

On eyther side him, still two _Gallions_ lay, Which with continuall boardings nurst the fight, Two great _Armados_, howrelie ploy'd their way, And by assaulte, made knowne repellesse might. Those which could not come neere vnto the fray, Aloose dicharg'd their volleys gainst our Knight. And when that one shrunk back, beat with disgrace, An other instantly supply'd the place.

So that their resting, restlesse him containd, And theyr supplies, deny'd him to supply: The _Hydra_ of their mightines ordaind New spoile for death, when old did wounded lie: But hee, _Herculian_-like one state retaind, One to triumph, or one for all to die. Heauen had onelie lent him but one hart, That hart one thought, that thought no feare of smart.

And now the night grew neere her middle line, Youthfully lustie in her strongest age, When one of _Spaynes_ great _Gallions_ did repine, That one should many vnto death ingage, And therefore with her force, halfe held diuine, At once euaporates her mortall rage, Till powerfull _Grinuille_, yeelding power a toombe Splyt her, & sunck her in the salt waves wombe.

When _Cutino_, the Hulks great Admirall, Saw that huge Vessel drencht within the surge, Enuie and shame tyered vpon his gall, And for reuenge a thousand meanes doth vrge; But _Grinuile_, perfect in destructions fall, His mischiefes with like miseries doth scourge, And renting with a shot his wooden tower, Made _Neptunes_ liquid armes his all deuouer.

These two ore-whelm'd, _Siuills Ascension_ came, A famous ship, well man'd and strongly drest, _Vindicta_ from her Cannons mouthes doth flame, And more then any, our dread Knight oppresst: Much hurt shee did, many shee wounded lame, And _Valurs_ selfe, her valiant acts confest. Yet in the end, (for warre of none takes keepe) _Grinuile_ sunck her within the watry deepe.

An other great _Armado_, brusd and beat, Sunck neere _S. Michaels_ road, with thought to scape, And one that by her men more choicely set, Beeing craz'd and widow'd of her comly shape, Ran gainst the shore, to pay _Ill-chaunce_ her debt, Who desolate for desolations gape: Yet these confounded, were not mist at all. For new supplies made new the aged brall.

This while on _Grinuile_ ceazed no amaze. No wonder, dread, nor base astonishment, But true resolue, and valurs sacred blaze, The crowne of heauen, and starrie ornament Deck't his diuine part, and from thence did raze Affects of earth, or earth's intendiment. And in this broyle, as cheerefull was his fight, As _Ioues_, embracing _Danae_ by night.

Looke how a wanton Bridegroome in the morne, Busilie labours to make glad the day, And at the noone, with wings of courage borne, Recourts his bride with dauncing and with play, Vntil the night which holds meane bliss in scorne, By action kills imaginations sway, And then, euen then, gluts and confounds his thought, With all the sweets, conceit or Nature wrought,

Euen so our Knight the bridegroome vnto _Fame_, Toild in his battailes morning with vnrest, At noone triumph'd and daunst, and made his game, That vertue by no death could be deprest; But when the night of his loues longings came, Euen then his intellectuall soule confest All other ioyes imaginarie were Honour vnconquerd, heauen and earth held deare.

The bellowing shotte which wakened dead mens swounds, As _Dorian_ musick, sweetned his cares, Ryuers of blood, issuing from fountaine wounds, Hee pytties, but augments not with his teares, The flaming fier which mercilesse abounds, Hee not so much as masking torches feares, The dolefull Eccho of the soules halfe dying, Quicken his courage in their banefull crying.

When foule _Misfortune_ houering on a Rock, (The stonie girdle of the _Florean_ Ile,) Had seene this conflict, and the fearfull shock, Which all the _Spanish_ mischiefes did compile, And saw how conquest licklie was to mock The hope of _Spayne_, and fauster her exile, Immortall shee, came downe herselfe to fight, And doe what else no mortall creature might.

And as she flew the midnights waking starre, Sad _Cassiopea_ with a heauie cheare, Pusht forth her forehead, to make known from farre, What time the dryrie dole of earth drew neare, But when shee saw _Misfortune_ arm'd in warre, With teares she blinds her eyes, and clouds the ayre, And asks the Gods, why _Fortune_ fights with man? They say, to doe, what else no creature can.

O why should such immortall enuie dwell, In the enclosures of eternall mould? Let Gods with Gods, and men with men retell, Vnequall warres t'vnequall shame is sould; But for this damned deede came shee from hell, And _Ioue_ is sworne, to doe what dest'nie would, Weepe then my pen, the tell-tale of our woe, And curse the fount from whence our sorrows flow.

Now, now, _Misfortune_ fronts our Knight in armes, And casts her venome through the _Spanysh_ hoast, Shee salues the dead, and all the lyuing warmes With vitall enuie, brought from _Plutos_ coast; Yet all in vaine, all works not _Grinuils_ harmes; Which seene, shee smiles, and yet with rage imbost[5] Saith to her selfe, since men are all too weake, Behold a goddesse shall thy lifes twine breake.

With that shee takes a Musket in her hand, Raft from a dying Souldiour newlie slaine, And ayming where th' vnconquered Knight did stand, Dischargd it through his bodie, and in twaine Deuids the euer holie nuptiall band, Which twixt his soule, and worlds part shold remaine, Had not his hart, stronger then _Fortunes_ will, Held life perforce to scorne _Misfortunes_ ill.

The bubling wound from whence his blood distild, Mourn'd to let fall the hallowed drops to ground, And like a iealous loue by riuall illd, Sucks in the sacred moisture through the wound; But he, which felt deaths fatall doome fulfilld, Grew fiercer valiant, and did all confound, Was not a _Spanyard_ durst abord him rest, After he felt his deaths wound in his brest.

Hundreds on hundreds, dead on the maymed fall, Maymed on sounde, sound in them selues lye slaine, Blest was the first that to his ship could crall, For wounded, he wounds multituds againe; No sacrifice, but sacrifice of all, Could stay his swords oblations vnto paine, Nor in _Phillipie_, fell for _Cæsars_ death, Soules thicker then for _Grinuils_ wasting breath.

The _Nemian_ Lyon, _Aramanthian_ Bore, The _Hircanian_ Tyger, nor the _Cholcean_ Bulls, Neuer extended rage with such vprore, Nor in their brests mad monstrous furie lulls; Now might they learne, that euer learnt before, Wrath at our Knight, which all wrath disanulls, For slauish death, his hands commaunded more, Then Lyon, Tyger, Bull, or angrie Bore.

Had _Pompey_ in _Pharsalia_ held his thought, _Cæsar_ had neuer wept vpon his head, Had _Anthonie_ at _Actiome_ like him fought, _Augustus_ teares had neuer drowned him dead, Had braue _Renaldo_, _Grinuiles_ puissance bought, _Angelica_ from France had neuer fled, Nor madded _Rowland_ with inconstancie, But rather slayne him wanting victorie.

Before a storme flewe neuer Doues so fast, As _Spanyards_ from the furie of his fist, The stout _Reuenge_, about whose forlorne wast, Whilome so many in their moods persist, Now all alone, none but the scourge imbrast, Her foes from handie combats cleane desist; Yet still incirkling her within their powers, From farre sent shot, as thick as winters showers.