Not many moones have from their silver bowes Shot light through all the world, since those sworne foes To God and all good men ... that hell-borne crew Of pirates (to whome there’s no villanies new), Those halfe-Turkes and halfe Christians, who now ride Like sea-gods (on rough billows in their pride), Those renegadoes, who (their Christ denying) Are worse than Turkes, Turkes them in heart defying; These, these are they, that have from Christians torne, Of ships, sixescore but one, and the men borne (To th’ number of a thousand) to th’ Turkes shore, All they being slaves now tugging at the oare. Count from what time the worthy Mansfield came From that divels den (Argiers).... Just since that flame Of warre went out at sea, in that short space From thence till now these thieves have held in chase All ships which pass’d the Straights of Gibraltar, To rob or sinke them; were they men of warre, Merchants, or others; and when worst they thrive And nothing get, yet get they men alive. O wretched state of Christian soules so taken! To looke upon whose torments would awaken Tyrants, to thrust their armes up, through their graves, To gard from blowes these Christian galley-slaves. They that could safely stand but on the shoare To view a sea-fight, heare the cannons roare, See Turkes boord English ships, whilest Englishmen Like lyons fight, and fling them o’re.... But when Numbers of big-boan’d runnagates so swarme, That not one man of ours dare lift an arme At a Turkes head, the ship with blood imbrude, And over-mastered with damn’d multitude, Should any stand so, and get off unwounded, They would, to see this, bee with griefe confounded: But on these following lines fasten your eyes, Your selves may draw foorth all their miseries. Being boorded so, and rob’d, then are they tide On chaines, and drag’d t’ Argiers, to feede the pride Of a Mahumetan dog (eight in a row) (Each eighth man to the Argier king must goe), And th’ eighth part of what’s tane is still his prize; What men he leaves are any-ones who buyes And bids most for them, for they then are led To market, and like beasts sold by the head, Their masters having liberty by law To strike, kick, starve them, yet to make them draw In yoakes, like oxen, and if dead they beate them, Out are they throwne for beasts and ravens to eate them He that’s condemn’d to th’ oare hath first his face, Eyebrowes, and head close shaven (for more disgrace Cannot betide a Christian). Then, being stript To th’ girdle (as when roagues are to be whipt), Chain’d are they to the seates where they sit rowing, Five in a row together; a Turke going On a large plancke between them, and though their eyes Are ready to start out with pulling, he cryes