But th' other Maister, and the other Mat's,
Disented from the honour of their minds,
And humbly praid the Knight to rue their stat's,
Whom miserie to no such mischiefe binds;
To him th' aleadge great reasons, and dilat's
Their foes amazements, whom their valures blinds,
And maks more eager t'entertaine a truce,
Then they to offer words for warres excuse.
They show him diuers gallant men of might,
Whose wounds not mortall, hope gaue of recuer,
For their saks sue they to diuorce this night
Of desperate chaunce, calld vnto Deaths black lure,
Their lengthened liues, their countries care might right,
And to their Prince they might good hopes assure.
Then quod the Captaine, (deare Knight) do not spill,
The liues whom gods and Fat's seeke not to kill.
And where thou sayst the Spanyards shall not braue
T' haue tane one ship due to our virgin Queene,
O knowe, that they, nor all the world can saue,
This wounded Barke, whose like no age hath seene,
Sixe foote shee leaks in hold, three shot beneath the waue,
All whose repaire so insufficient beene,
That when the Sea shall angrie worke begin,
She cannot chuse but sinke and dye therein.
Besides, the wounds and brusings which she beares,
Are such, so manie, so incurable,
As to remoue her from this place of feares.
No force, no wit, no meane, nor man is able;
Then since that peace prostrate to vs repaires,
Vnlesse our selues, our selues make miserable,
Herculeen Knight, for pittie, pittie lend,
No fame consists in wilfull desperat end.
These words with emphasis and action spent,
Mou'd not Sir Richard, but inrag'd him more,
To bow or yeeld, his heart would neare relent,
He still impugns all thought of lifes restore;
The Maister-gunner euer doth consent
To act his wish, swearing, in beds of gore
Death is most louelie, sweete and amiable,
But captiu'd life for foulenes admirable.
The Captayne, seeing words could take no place,
Turnes backe from them vnto the liuing few,
Expounds what pittie is, what victors grace;
Bids them them selues, them selues in kindnes rew,
Peace if they please, will kindlie them imbrace,
And they may liue, from whom warres glory grew;
But if they will to desperate end consent,
Their guilty soules too late shall mourne repent.
The sillie men, who sought but liuing ioyes,
Cryes to the Captaine for an honord truce,
Life they desire, yet no life that destroyes
Their wonne renownes, but such as might excuse
Their woes, their wounds, and al what els anoyes
Beautie of laude, for other they refuse;
All which the Captaine swears they shal obtaine,
Because their foes, in doubtfull states remaine.
O when Sir Richard saw them start aside,
More chaynd to life then to a glorius graue,
And those whom hee so oft in dangers tryde,
Now trembling seeke their hatefull liues to saue.
Sorrow and rage, shame, and his honors pride,
Choking his soule, madly compeld him raue,
Vntil his rage with vigor did confound
His heauie hart; and left him in a swound.
The Maister-gunner, likewise seeing Fate
Bridle his fortune, and his will to die,
With his sharpe sword sought to set ope the gate,
By which his soule might from his bodie flie,
Had not his freends perforce preseru'd his state,
And lockt him in his Cabbin safe to lie,
Whilst others swarm'd where haplesse Grinuile lay,
By cryes recalling life, late runne away.
In this too restlesse turmoile of vnrest,
The poore Reuenges Maister stole awaye,
And to the Spanish Admirall adrest
The dolefull tidings of this mournfull day,
(The Spanish Admirall who then oprest,
Houering with doubt, not daring t'end the fray,)
And pleads for truce, with souldier-like submission
Anexing to his words a straight condition.