Where I no thing but guts of fishes handle;
The like of this on earth man never saw,
A living man within a monster’s maw.
Noe in his ark might goe and also come,
But I sit still in such a straitened roome,
As is most uncouth, head and feet together,
Among such grease as would a thousand smother.
In all the earth like unto me is none,
Farre from all living I heere lye alone,
Where I entombed in melancholy sink,