Till our whole navy lay their wanton mark,
Nor any ship could sail but as the ark:
Shot in the wing, so at the fowler's call,
The disappointed bird doth fluttering fall.
Yet Monk, disabled, still such valour shews,
That none into his mortal gripe dare close;
So some old bustard maimed, yet loth to yield,
Duels the fowler in Newmarket field.
Instructions to a Painter, p. 2.
It is curious to observe how long this characteristic difference, betwixt the English mode of fighting and that of the seamen of all other nations, appears to have distinguished them.