She will be Neptune’s greatest grace; She vows our chiefest foes to chase, And Triton with triforked mace Doth sweare Noe Remora there shall her stay, Leviathan must give her way, And all the divills that this day Dwell there. 11 The syrens sitt and sweetly sing, And hold it for a happy thing That now they shall enioy the King Oth’ mayne, And say it’s a most Christian worke To curb the Pope and scourge the Turke, And ferret those that theeving lurke Neer Spaine. 12 Our freinds are glad and mirth doe make, Our foes are sad, their hearts doe quake, Soe some doe laugh, and some doe shake For woe, And I amongst the rest make sport, Singing to you in civill sort, And if you have not thank’d me for’t Then doe. 13 God blesse King Charles with length of daies, That doth deserve immortal praise, In this and many thousand waies Our guide. God blesse the Queen and ship so tall, God blesse the great, God blesse the small, The blade that made this song and all Beside. _SAYLORS FOR MY MONEY._ A new Ditty composed in the praise of Saylors and Sea Affaires, briefly showing the nature of so worthy a calling, and effects of their industry. To the Tune of _The Iovial Cobbler_. Countrie men of England, who live at home with ease, And little thinke what dangers are incident o’ th’ seas, Give eare unto the saylor who unto you will shew His case, his case: _how ere the winde doth blow_. He that is a saylor must have a valiant heart, For, when he is upon the sea, he is not like to start; But must with noble courage all dangers undergoe: Resolve, resolve: _how e’re the wind doth blow_. Our calling is laborious, and subject to much [care]; But we must still contented be with what falls to our share. We must not be faint-hearted, come tempest, raine or snow, Nor shrinke: nor shrinke: _how e’re the winde doth blowe_. Sometimes on Neptune’s bosome our ship is tost with waves, And every minute we expect the sea must be our graves. Sometimes on high she mounteth, then falls againe as low: With waves: with waves: _when stormie winds do blow_. Then with unfained prayers, as Christian duty bindes, Wee turne unto the Lord of hosts, with all our hearts and minds; To Him we flie for succour, for He, we surely know, Can save: can save: _how ere the wind doth blow_.