First, nine English slaves, besides John Rawlins; five of the Torbay men and one boy; four English Renegadoes and two Dutch; four Hollanders: in all, four and twenty and a boy.

So that lifting up our hearts and hands to GOD, for the success of the business; we were wonderfully encouraged, and settled ourselves till the report of the piece gave us warning of the enterprise.

Now, you must consider that, in this company, were two of Rawlins's men, James Roe and John Davies, whom he brought out of England; and whom the fortune of the sea brought into the same predicament with their Master.

These were employed about noon, being, as I said, the 9th of February, to prepare their matches; while all the Turks, or at least most of them, stood on the Poop, to weigh down the ship as it were, to bring the water forward to the pump, the one brought his match lighted between two spoons, the other brought his, in a little piece of a can. And so, in the name of GOD! the Turks and Moors being placed as you have heard, and five and forty in number; and Rawlins having proined the touchholes: James Roe gave fire to one of the pieces, about two o'clock in the afternoon; and the confederates, upon the warning, shouted most cheerfully.

The report of the piece did tear and break down all the biticle and compasses; and the noise of the slaves made all the soldiers amazed at the matter: till seeing the quarter of the ship rent and feeling the whole body to shake under them; understanding the ship was surprised, and the attempt tended to their utter destruction, never bear robbed of her whelps was so fell and mad!

For they not only called us "Dogs!" and cried out "Usance de la mar," which is as much as to say, "The fortune of the wars!" but attempted to tear up the planks, setting a work hammers, hatchets, knives, the oars of the boat, boat-hook, their curtleaxes, and what else came to hand; besides stones and bricks in the Cook Room: all which they threw amongst us; attempting still and still, to break and rip up the hatches and boards of the steering, not desisting from their former execrations, and horrid blasphemies and revilings.

When John Rawlins perceived them so violent, and understood how the slaves had cleared the decks of all the Turks and Moors beneath; he set a guard upon the powder, and charged their own muskets against them: killing them from divers scout holes, both before and behind; and so lessened their number, to the joy of all our hearts.

Whereupon they cried out, and called for the Pilot: and so Rawlins, with some to guard him, went to them; and understood them, by their kneeling, that they cried for mercy and to have their lives saved; and they would come down; which he bade them do. And so they were taken one by one, and bound; yea, killed with their own curtleaxes. Which, when the rest perceived, they called us, "English dogs!" and reviled us with many opprobrious terms; some leaping overboard, saying, "It was the chance of war!" Some were manacled, and so thrown overboard: and some were slain and mangled with the curtleaxes; till the ship was well cleared, and ourselves assured of the victory.

At the first report of our piece, and the hurly burly in the decks; the Captain was writing in his cabin: and hearing the noise, thought it some strange accident; and so, came out with his curtleaxe in his hand, presuming by his authority to pacify the mischief.

But when he cast his eyes upon us, and saw that we were like to surprise the ship; he threw down his curtleaxe, and begged to save his life: intimating to Rawlins, "how he had redeemed him from Villa Rise; and ever since admitted him to place of command in the ship; besides honest usage in the whole course of the voyage."

All which Rawlins confessed; and at last, condescended [agreed] to mercy: and brought the Captain and five more into England.

The Captain was called Ramtham Rise; but his Christian name, Henry Chandler: and, as they say, a chandler's son in Southwark. John Goodale was also an English Turk. Richard Clarke, in Turkish, Jafar; George Cooke, Ramedam; John Browne, Mamme; William Winter, Mustapha: besides all the slaves and Hollanders; with other Renegadoes, who were willing to be reconciled to their true Saviour, as being formerly seduced with the hopes of riches, honour preferment, and such like devilish baits to catch the souls of mortal men and entangle frailty in the tarriers of horrible abuses and imposturing deceit.

When all was done, and the ship cleared of the dead bodies; John Rawlins assembled his men together, and with one consent gave the praise to GOD: using the accustomed Service on ship board: and, for want of books, lifted up their voices to GOD, as He put into their hearts or renewed their memories. Then, did they sing a Psalm; and, last of all, embraced one another, for playing the men in such a deliverance, whereby our fear was turned into joy, and trembling hearts exhilarated; that we had escaped such inevitable dangers, and especially the slavery and terror of bondage, worse than death itself!

The same night, we washed our ship, put everything in as good order as we could, repaired the broken quarter, set up the biticle, and bore up the helm for England: where, by GOD's grace and good guiding, we arrived at Plymouth, the 13th of February 1622; and were welcomed like the recovery of the lost sheep, or as you read of a loving mother that runneth, with embraces to entertain her son from a long voyage and escape of many dangers.

Not long after, we understood of our confederates that returned home in the bark of Torbay, that they arrived in Penzance in Cornwall, the 11th of February.

And if any ask after their deliverance, considering there were ten Turks sent to man her, I will tell you that too.

The next day after they lost us [i.e., 7th], as you have heard, the three Renegadoes had acquainted the Master's Mate and the two English in her, with Rawlins' determination; and that they themselves would be true to them, and assist them in any enterprise: then, if the worst came, there were but seven to six.

But, as it fell out, they had a more easy passage than turmoil and manslaughter. For they made the Turks believe the wind was come fair, and that they were sailing to Argier, till they came within sight of England: which one of them amongst the rest discovered, saying plainly, "that land was not like Cape St. Vincent!"

"Yes!" saith he that was at the helm, "and [if] you will be contented, and go down into the hold; and turn the salt over to windward, whereby the ship may bear full sail: you shall know and see more to-morrow!"

Whereupon five of them went down very orderly, the Renegadoes feigning themselves asleep; who presently start up, and with the help of the two English, nailed down the hatches. Whereat the principal amongst them much repined; and began to grow into choler and rage, had it not quickly been overpassed. For one stepped to him, and dashed out his brains; and threw him overboard.

The rest were brought to Exeter: either to be arraigned according to the punishment of delinquents in that kind, or disposed of as the King and Council shall think meet.

And this is the story of this Deliverance, and end of John Rawlins's voyage.


Now, gentle Reader! I hope you will not call in question the power and goodness of GOD, who, from time to time, extendeth His mercy to the miraculous preservation of His servants; nor make any doubt that He hath still the same arm and vigour as He had in times past, when Gideon's three hundred men overcame the Midianites: and many ancient stratagems are recorded to have had a passage of success, even within our memories, to execute as great a wonder as this. Nor do I think you will be startled at anything in the discourse touching the cruelty and inhumanity of Turks and Moors themselves: who, from a native barbarousness, do hate all Christians and Christianity; especially if they grow into the violent rages of piracy, or fall into that exorbitant course of selling of slaves, or enforcing of men to be Mahomedans.

Nor can I imagine, you will call in question our natural desire of liberty, and saving of our lives, when you see, from instinct of nature, all the creatures of the world come to the law of preservation: and our Saviour Himself, alloweth the flying out of one city into another, in the time of persecution; and Paul, by saying "He was a Roman!" procured his delivery.

Well, then, it is only the truth of the story that you are amazed at: making doubt whether your belief of the same may be bestowed to your own credit! I can say no more. The actors in this comic tragedy are most of them alive. The Turks are in prison! the ship is to be seen! and Rawlins himself dare justify the matter! For he hath presented it to the Marquis! a man not to be dallied withal in these things; nor any way to be made partaker of deceit.

Nay, I protest I think he durst not, for his ears! publish (concerning the substance) such a discourse to open overlooking, if it were not true! As for illustration, or cementing the broken pieces of well-tempered mortar, blame him not in that! For precious stones are worn enamelled and wrought in gold; which otherwise would still be of value and estimation; but published and receiving the addition of art and cunning, who doth not account [them] the better, and esteemeth himself the ruler for their possession.

So, then, entertain it for a true and certain discourse! Apply it! make use of it! and put it to thy heart for thy comfort! It teacheth the acknowledgment of a powerful, provident, and merciful GOD, who will be known in His wonders, and make weak things the instruments of His glory! It instructeth us in the practice of thanksgiving when a a benefit is bestowed, a mercy shown, and a deliverance perfected. It maketh us strong and courageous in adversity, like cordial restoratives to a sick heart; and our patience shall stand like a rock, against the impetuous assaults of affliction. It is a glorious sun to dissipate the clouds of desperation; and cheer us thus far that GOD can restore us, when we are under the pressure of discomfort and tribulation: for preferment comes neither from the East, nor the West; but from Him that holdeth the winds in His hands, and puts a hook in the nostrils of Leviathan.

So that if He do not give way to our contentment, it is because He will supply us with better graces, or keep us from the adder's hole of Temptation, whereat, if we tarry, we shall be sure to be stung unto death.

In a word, it is a Mirror to look Virtue in the face! and teach men the way to industry and noble performances; that a brave spirit and honest man shall say, with Nehemiah, "Shall such a man as I! fly? Shall I fear death or some petty trial; when GOD is to be honoured! my country to be served! my King to be obeyed! Religion to be defended! the Commonwealth supported! honour and renown obtained! and, in the end, the crown of immortality purchased?"

The names of those [four] English Renegadoes as consented, and joined with the Slaves, in the recovery of the Ship, were these:

Richard Clarke, the Gunner; called in Turkish, Jafar.

George Cooke, Gunner's Mate; called in Turkish, Ramedam.

William Winter, Carpenter; in Turkish, Mustapha.

John Browne, in Turkish, Memme.

One Dutch Renegado.

Four Dutch Slaves.

One French Slave.

Five Englishmen and a boy, taken but three days before.

Nine English Slaves, which they took with them from Argier.

In all twenty-four men and a boy: which were all safely landed at Plymouth, the 13th of February, 1621 [i.e., 1622].


They saved alive, of the forty-five Turks and Moors, the Captain, one Henry Chandler (born in Southwark), an English Renegado: and five Turks more, who are at this present in Plymouth Gaol, &c.


Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from Madrigals, Canzonets &c.
John Dowland, Bachelor of Music, &c., and Lutenist to Christian IV., King of Denmark.
The Third and Last Book of Songs or Airs.
1603.

To my honourable good Friend
JOHN SOUCH, Esquire:
for many courtesies, for which I embolden myself;
presuming of his good favour, to present
this simple work, as a token of my
thankfulness.

The estimation and kindness, which I have ever bountifully received from your favour, have moved me to present this novelty of Music to you: who, of all others, are fittest to judge of it, and worthiest out of your love, to protect it. If I gave life to these, you gave spirit to me! for it is always the worthy respect of others, that makes Art prosper in itself. That I may therefore possess, and make manifest to the world, your singular affection to me; and my grateful mind, in my weak ability, to you: I have here prefixed your honourable name, as a bulwark of safety and a title of grace; thinking myself no way able to deserve your favours more, than by further engaging myself to you, for this your noble presumed patronage. "He that hath acknowledged a favour," they say, "hath half repaid it!"; and if such payment may pass for current, I shall be ever ready to grow the one half out of your debt: though how that should be, I know not! since I owe myself, and more (if it were possible) unto you.

Accept me wholly then, I beseech you, in what terms you please! being ever, in my uttermost service,

Devoted to your Honour's kindness,

JOHN DOWLAND.

The Epistle to the Reader.

The applause of them that judge, is the encouragement of those that write. My first two Books of Airs sped so well, that they have produced a third, which they have fetched far from home, and brought even through the most perilous seas: where having escaped so many sharp rocks; I hope they shall not be wracked on land, by curious and biting censures. As in a hive of bees, all labour alike to lay up honey; opposing themselves against none but fruitless drones: so in the House of Learning and Fame, all good endeavours should strive to add somewhat that is good, not malicing one another; but altogether banding against the idle and malicious ignorant.

My labours, for my part, I freely offer to every man's judgement! presuming, that favour once attained, is more easily increased than lost.

John Dowland.

Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from Madrigal, Canzonets, &c.

The Third and Last Book of Songs or Airs.

Farewell, too fair! too chaste! but too too cruel!
Discretion never quenchèd fire with swords!
Why hast thou made my heart, thine anger's fuel;
And now would kill my Passions with thy words?
This is Proud Beauty's true anatomy.
If that secure, severe in secrecy, farewell.
Farewell too dear! and too too much desired!
Unless compassion dwelt more near thy heart.
Love by neglect (though constant) oft is tired!
And forc'd from bliss, unwillingly to part.
This is Proud Beauty's true anatomy.
If that secure, severe in secrecy, farewell.

Time stands still, with gazing on her face!
Stand still, and gaze! for minutes, hours, and years, to her give place.
All other things shall change! but She remains the same,
Till heavens changèd have their course, and Time hath lost
his name.
Cupid doth hover up and down, blinded with her fair eyes!
And Fortune captive at her feet, contemned and conquered lies!
When Fortune, Love, and Time attend on
Her with my fortunes, love, and time, I honour will alone,
If bloodless Envy say, "Duty hath no desert!"
Duty replies, that "Envy knows, herself, his faithful heart!"
My settled vows and spotless faith, no fortune can remove!
Courage shall shew my inward faith! and faith shall try my love!

Behold a wonder here!
Love hath received his sight!
Which, many hundred years,
Hath not beheld the light.
Such beams infusèd be,
By Cynthia in his eyes;
As first have made him see,
And then have made him wise.
Love now no more will weep
For them, that laugh the while!
Nor wake for them that sleep!
Nor sigh for them that smile!
So powerful is the Beauty,
That Love doth now behold;
As Love is turned to Duty,
That's neither blind, nor bold.
This Beauty shews her might,
To be of double kind;
In giving Love his sight,
And striking Folly blind.


Daphne was not so chaste, as she was changing,
Soon begun, Love with Hate estranging.
He that to-day triumphs, with favours graced;
Falls before night, with scorns defaced.
Yet is thy beauty feigned! and every one desires
Still, the false light of thy trait'rous fires!
Beauty can want no grace by true love viewed,
Fancy by looks is still renewed;
Like to a fruitful tree it ever groweth,
Or the fresh spring that endless floweth.
But if that Beauty were of one consent with Love;
Love should live free, and true pleasure prove!

Me! me! and none but me! Dart home! O gentle Death!
And quickly! for I draw too long this idle breath.
O how long till I may fly to heaven above,
Unto my faithful and beloved turtle dove!
Like to the silver swan before my death I sing!
And yet alive, my fatal knell I help to ring!
Still I desire from earth, and earthly joys to fly!
He never happy lived, that cannot love to die!

"Say, Love! if ever thou didst find
A woman with a constant mind?"
"None but one!"
"And what should that rare mirror be?
Some goddess or some Queen is she?"
She! She! She! and only She!
She, only Queen of Love and Beauty!
"But could thy fiery poisoned dart,
At no time, touch her spotless heart,
Nor come near?"
"She is not subject to Love's bow.
Her eye commands, her heart saith 'No!'"
No! no! no! and only No!
One No! another still doth follow.
"How might I that fair wonder know,
That mocks Desire with endless 'No!'?"
"See the Moon!
That ever in one change doth grow;
Yet still the same! and She is so!"
So! so! so! and only so!
From heaven, her virtues she doth borrow.
"To her, then, yield thy shafts and bow!
That can command affections so!"
"Love is free,
So are her thoughts that vanquish thee!"
"There is no Queen of Love but She!"
She! She! She! and only She!
She, only Queen of Love and Beauty!

Flow not so fast, ye fountains!
What needeth all this haste?
Swell not above your mountains,
Nor spend your time in waste!
Gentle springs! freshly your salt tears
Must still fall, dropping from their spheres.
Weep not apace, whom Reason
Or lingering Time can ease!
My sorrow can no season,
Nor ought besides appease.
Gentle springs! freshly your salt tears
Must still fall, dropping from their spheres.
Time can abate the terror
Of every common pain:
But common grief is error,
True grief will still remain.
Gentle springs! freshly your salt tears
Must still fall, dropping from their spheres.

What if I never speed!
Shall I straight yield to despair?
And still, on sorrow feed,
That can no loss repair?
Or shall I change my love;
For I find power to depart;
And, in my reason, prove
I can command my heart!
But if she will pity my Desire, and my Love requite;
Then ever shall she live my dear delight!
Come! come! come! while I have a heart to desire thee!
Come! come! come! for either I will love, or admire thee!
Oft have I dreamed of joy,
Yet never felt the sweet;
But, tired with annoy,
My griefs each other greet!
Oft have I left my hope,
As a wretch by fate forlorn;
But Love aims at one scope,
And lost will still return.
He that once loves with a true desire, never can depart!
For Cupid is the King of every heart.
Come! come! come! while I have a heart to desire thee!
Come! come! come! for either I will love, or admire thee!


Love stood amazed, at sweet Beauty's pain;
Love would have said, that "all was but vain,
and gods but half divine!"
But when Love saw that Beauty would die,
He, all aghast, to heavens did cry,
"O gods, what wrong is mine!"
Then his tears, bred in thoughts of salt brine,
Fell from his eyes, like rain in sunshine,
expelled by rage of fire.
Yet, in such wise as anguish affords,
He did express in these his last words,
His infinite desire.
"Are you fled, Fair! where are now those eyes?
Eyes but too fair, envièd by the skies?
You angry gods do know!
With guiltless blood, your sceptres you stain!
On poor true hearts, like tyrants you reign!
Unjust! why do you so?"
"Are you false gods! why then do you reign?
Are you just gods! why then have you slain
the life of love on earth?
Beauty! now, thy face lives in the skies!
Beauty! now, let me live in thine eyes,
where bliss felt never death!"
Then from high rock, the rock of despair,
He falls! in hope to smother in the air,
Or else on stones to burst:
Or on cold waves, to spend his last breath;
Or his strange life, to end by strange death.
But Fate forbad the worst!
With pity moved; the gods then changèd Love
To Phœnix's shape, yet cannot remove
his wonted property.
He loves the sun, because it is fair!
Sleep he neglects, he lives but by air!
and would, but cannot die!

Lend your ears to my sorrow,
Good people, that have any pity!
For no eyes will I borrow,
Mine own shall grace my doleful ditty!
Chant then, my voice, though rude like, to my rhyming!
And tell forth my grief, which here,
In sad despair, can find no ease of tormenting!
Once, I lived! Once, I knew delight!
No grief did shadow, then, my pleasure!
Graced with love, cheered with beauty's sight;
I joyed alone true heavenly treasure!
O what a heaven is love firmly embraced!
Such power alone can fix delight,
In Fortune's bosom ever placed.
Cold as ice frozen, is that heart
Where thought of love could no time enter!
Such, of life reap the poorest part,
Whose weight cleaves to this earthly centre!
Mutual joys in hearts, truly united,
Do earth to heavenly state convert;
Like heaven still, in itself delighted!

By a fountain where I lay,
(All blessed be that blessèd day!)
By the glim'ring of the sun,
(O never be her shining done!)
When I might see alone
My true love fairest one!
Love's dear light!
Love's clear sight!
No world's eyes can clearer see!
A fairer sight, none can be!
Fair with garlands all addrest,
(Was never Nymph more fairly blest!)
Blessed in the highest degree;
(So may She ever blessed be!)
Came to this fountain near,
With such a smiling cheer!
Such a face!
Such a grace!
Happy! happy eyes! that see
Such a heavenly sight as She!
Then I forthwith took my pipe,
Which I, all fair and clean did wipe,
And upon a heavenly ground,
All in the grace of beauty found,
Played this Roundelay,
"Welcome, fair Queen of May!
Sing, sweet air!
Welcome Fair!
Welcome be the Shepherds' Queen!
The glory of all our green!"

O what hath overwrought
My all amazed thought?
Or whereto am I brought?
That thus in vain have sought,
Till time and truth have taught
I labour all for nought.
The day, I see is clear;
But I am ne'er the near!
For grief doth still appear,
To cross our merry cheer:
While I can nothing here,
But Winter all the year.
Cold, hold! the sun will shine warm!
Therefore now fear no harm!
O blessed beams! where beauty streams;
Happy, happy light, to love's dreams!

Farewell, Unkind! Farewell! to me, no more a father!
Since my heart holds my Love most dear;
The wealth, which thou dost reap! another's hand must gather.
Though thy heart still lies buried there!
Then farewell! O farewell! Welcome, my Love! welcome, my Joy for ever!
'Tis not the vain desire of human fleeting beauty
Makes my mind to live, though my means do die.
Nor do I Nature wrong, though I forget my duty;
Love, not in the blood, but in the spirit doth lie!
Then farewell! O farewell! Welcome, my Love! welcome, my Joy for ever!

Weep you no more, sad fountains!
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains,
Heaven's sun doth gently waste!
But my sun's heavenly eyes
View not your weeping,
That now lie sleeping
Softly! now softly lies sleeping!
Sleep is a reconciling!
A rest that peace begets!
Doth not the sun rise smiling,
When fair at e'en he sets?
Rest you! then, rest, sad eyes!
Melt not in weeping,
While she lies sleeping
Softly! now softly lies sleeping!


Fie on this feigning!
Is Love without Desire?
Heat still remaining,
And yet no spark of fire?
Thou art untrue, nor wert with Fancy moved!
For Desire hath power on all that ever loved!
Show some relenting!
Or grant thou dost not love!
Two hearts consenting,
Shall they no comforts prove?
Yield! or confess that Love is without Pleasure;
And that women's bounties rob men of their treasure!
Truth is not placed
In words and forcèd smiles!
Love is not graced
With that which still beguiles!
Love, or dislike! Yield fire, or give no fuel!
So mayest thou prove kind; or, at the least, less cruel!

It was a time when silly bees could speak.
And in that time, I was a silly bee
Who fed on time [thyme] until my heart 'gan break,
Yet never found the time would favour me.
Of all the swarm, I only did not thrive!
Yet brought I wax and honey to the hive.
Then thus I buzzed, when time no sap would give,
"Why should this blessed time to me be dry;
Since by this time the lazy drone doth live,
The wasp, the worm, the gnat, the butterfly?"
Mated with grief, I kneeled on my knees;
And thus complained unto the King of Bees.
"My liege! gods grant thy time may never end!
And yet vouchsafe to hear my plaint of time;
Which fruitless flies have found to have a friend,
And I cast down, when atomies do climb!"
The King replied but thus, "Peace, peevish bee!
Th'art bound to serve the time! and time, not thee!"

The lowest trees have tops! the ant, her gall!
The fly, her spleen! the little spark, his heat!
And slender hairs cast shadows, though but small!
And bees have stings, although they be not great!
Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs!
And Love is Love, in beggars and in kings!
Where waters smoothest run, deep are the fords.
The dial stirs, yet none perceives it move.
The firmest faith is in the fewest words.
The turtles cannot sing, and yet they love.
True hearts have eyes and ears, no tongues to speak!
They hear, and see, and sigh; and then, they break!

What poor astronomers are they,
Take women's eyes for stars!
And set their thoughts in battle 'ray,
To fight such idle wars;
When in the end they shall approve,
'Tis but a jest drawn out of Love.
And Love itself is but a jest
Devised by idle heads,
To catch young Fancies in the nest,
And lay them in fools' beds;
That being hatched in beauty's eyes,
They may be fledged, ere they be wise.
But yet it is a sport to see,
How Wit will run on wheels!
While Wit cannot persuaded be,
With that which Reason feels;
"That women's eyes and stars are odd,
And Love is but a feignèd god!"
But such as will run mad with Will,
I cannot clear their sight!
But leave them to their study still,
To look where is no light!
Till time too late, we make them try,
They study false Astronomy!

A Dialogue.

"Come, when I call, or tarry till I come!
If you be deaf, I must prove dumb!
If thy Desire ever knew the grief of delay,
No danger could stand in thy way!
What need we languish? Can Love quickly fly?
Fear ever hurts more than Jealousy!
Then securely, Envy scorning,
Let us end with joy, our mourning!
Jealousy still defy!
And love till we die!"
"Stay awhile! my heavenly Joy!
I come with wings of love,
When envious eyes, time shall remove.
O die not, add this sorrow to my grief,
That languish here, wanting relief.
Then securely, Envy scorning,
Let us end with joy, our mourning!
Jealousy still defy!
And love till we die!"


A true and just
RELATION
of
Major-General Sir Thomas Morgan's
PROGRESS
in
France and Flanders
with the
Six Thousand English,
in the years 1657 and 1658,
at the taking of
Dunkirk,
and
other important places.


As it was delivered by the General himself.


LONDON:

Printed for J. Nutt, near Stationers' Hall,

1699.

ADVERTISEMENT.