‘No torture nor pain shall make me forsake Nor flye from my reason for my Betty’s sake; I do slight all the torments bestow’d by the Turk When I think on my dear, and in gallies do work. ‘But [tho’] a renegado to make me they strive, I’le never consent to ‘t whilst I am alive, But will a couragious true Protestant be: I’le be true to my faith and be constant to thee. ‘Ah, Betty, when billows do rage and do roar For want of thy sight I am troubled sore: Whilst other are troubled with terror and fear, Yet I am cheer’d up with the thought of my dear. ‘No prison is like to the want of thy sight, Which locks up my bliss, for thou art my delight: Though distant I am, therefore only opprest, Yet still my dear Betty doth lodge in my breast. ‘In the midst of my sorrows, whilst others do mourn, ’Tis the want of my love that doth make me forlorn; Yet [I] would not enjoy thee in this cursed place, Though for want of thy love my tears trickle apace. ‘But be of good cheer, for every one knows ’Tis an ill wind indeed that no comfort blows; And again I do hope thee in England to see, Then who’l be so happy as Betty and me? ‘And now, thorough Providence, I am return’d: By shipwrack I ’scap’d, for our ship it was burn’d; No torment like mine was when I was a slave, For the want of my Betty was worse than a grave.’ _THE BENJAMIN’S LAMENTATION FOR THEIR SAD LOSS AT SEA BY STORMS AND TEMPESTS:_ Being a brief narrative of one of his Majestie’s ships called the Benjamin, that was drove into harbour at Plymouth, and received no small harm by this tempest. To the Tune of _The Poor Benjamin_. Captain Chilver’s gone to sea, _I, boys, O boys!_ With all his company, I! Captain Chilver’s gone to sea, With all his company, _In the brave Benjamin, O!_ Thirty guns this ship did bear, _I, boys, O boys!_ They were bound for Venice fair, I! Thirty guns this ship did bear, And a hundred men so clear, _In the brave Benjamin, O!_ But by ill storms at sea, _I, boys, O boys!_ Which bred our misery, I! But by ill storms at sea Were drove out o’ th’ way _In the brave Benjamin, O!_ We had more wind than we could bear, _I, boys, O boys!_ Our ship it would not steer, I! We had more wind than we could bear, Our masts and sails did tear _In the brave Benjamin, O!_ The first harm that we had, _I, boys, O boys!_ It makes my heart so sad, I! The first harm that we had We lost our fore-mast head: _O the poor Benjamin, O!_ The seas aloud did roar, _I, boys, O boys!_ We being far from shore, I! The sea no favour shows Unto friends nor foes, _O the poor Benjamin, O!_