_Why should not I with patience suffer? some Have kist what brought them to their Martyrdom. Many a Saint hath suffer’d on a Cross; And our good King endur’d three Kingdoms loss. Shall I (fool) then at any cross take grief? _Tyburn’s_ the way to heaven for many a Thief. But must I now to Sea? well, ’tis no matter; Fortune now frowns, though heretofore did flatter. Let not my soul despond, since ’tis my hap, I’ll scorn that _Whore_, and trust to _Thetis_ lap: Though she may foam with anger, and the wind May aggravate her passion, I may find Her calm again, and set me on that shore, Where I may Moor, and put to sea no more. _Neptune_ may shake his _Trident_, and each wave, Or tumbling billow may become my _grave_. A thundring Cannon may pronounce my death, Or a small shot bereave me of my breath: All which may throng together in full crowds, To make m’a _winding-sheet_ of _tatter’d shrowds_. The winds shall sing my _requiem_, and my knell Shall be a peal of Ordnance, they shall tell My angry fates I’m dead, and the Sea must Intomb without the form of _dust to dust_. But I hope better things, and do believe, My good events will make the _furies_ grieve._ About the beginning of _September_ following, we set sail for the _Downs_. As soon as we had weighed Anchor, a thick melancholy cloud encompassed my thoughts, and so much sadness seized my spirits, as if I had been not so much taking my leave of my dearly beloved Country, as leaving the world. Though my soul could not foresee the least danger, nor be troubled at the apprehension of what slavery I was to undergo in my exilement; yet certainly I found this strange anguish and propassion to be ominous, proceeding from something divine, which is able to unriddle the Apocrypha of nature, and made my soul sensible of some approaching mischief. Having been about 5 days at Sea, one morning, just as the Sun began to gild our Hemisphere with his Golden rays, the Boatswain made us all turn out, & commanded all hands upon deck: coming aloft, I could not see a man in whose face there was not written the pale characters of fear and amazement; which were the infallible marks of some sudden and ensuing danger. Upon my first coming on board, I could discern a great many red nos’d fellows (a drunkards truest _indicium_) but the apprehension of present danger had now extinguisht all those flaming torches of their faces, without the help of water: The faces indeed of the stoutest amongst us, were so altered by this affrightment, that we knew not almost one another; losing our natural complexions through the extremity of passion. One was at his prayers, that never till then knew what a prayer was; another shedding of _briny