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And I should bee in the hot parchinge clyme To dust and ashes turnd before my tyme. To mew mee in a ship is too enthrall Mee in a prison, that were like to fall: Or in a cloyster saue that there men dwell In a calme heauen, heere in a swageringe hell: Long voiages are longe consumptions, And ships are cartes for executions, Yea they are deaths; ist not all one too flie Into another world, and there to die? Thy armes imprison mee, and my armes thee Thy hart thy ransome is take myne for mee. Thou nothinge I not halfe soe mvch shall doe In thes warres, as they may which from vs two Shall springe. Thousands wee see, which trauell not To warrs, but staye, swordes, armes, and shott To make at home; and shall not I doe then More glorious seruice, stayinge to make men?| Thou which art I (tis nothinge to bee soe) Thou which art still thy selfe by these shalte know Part of our passage, and a hand or eie By Hilliard drawne is worth an historie, By a worse paynter made: and with out pride When by thy iudgment they are dignified My lynes are such, tis the preheminence Of frindeship onlye too impute excellence. England to .whome wee owe what wee bee, and haue |
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