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Each one his owne Priest, and one Sacrifice. Who liue that Miracle doe mvltiplie Where walkers in hott ouens doe not die If in despight of this wee swim, that hath Noe more refreshinge then our brimstone hath: But from the Sea into the Ship wee turne. Like parboyld wretches, on the coales to burne, Like Bagazett encagd, the Sheapherds coff, Or like slack sinewed Sampson his haire off Languish our Ships. Now as a Miriade Of Aunts, durst the Emperours loud Snake invade The crawling Gallies, Sea iayles, finnie chips Might braue our Venises, now bed rid ships Whether A rotten state, and hope of gaine Or to disvse mee from the queasie paine Of beinge beloud, and louinge, or the thirst Of honour, or faire death, out push mee first, I loose my eand,[sp:sic] for there as well as I A desperate may liue, and A coward die Stagg, dogg, and all which from, or towards flies Is paid with life, or pray, or doing dies Fate grudges vs all, and doth subtly laie A scourge, gainst which wee all forgett to praie Hee that at Sea praies for more winde, as well Vnder the Poles may beg cold, heate in hell. What are wee then? how little more alas Is man now, Then before hee was, hee was? Nothinge for vs, wee are for nothing fitt, Chance or our selues still disproportion itt. Wee haue no power, no sence, no will, I lie I should not then thus feele this Miserie| |
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