Then gentle _Grinuile, Thetis_ parramoure, Dearer than _Venus_, Daughter of the flood, Set sailes to wind, let not neglect deuoure Thy gracious fortunes and thine Angell goode, Cut through the maine, compell thy keele to scoure, No man his ill too timelie hath with-stoode And when _Best-chaunce_ shal haue repaird thy fortune, Time for this flight may iust reuenge importune. Here _Midelton_ did end the passing peale Which gaue the warning to a dismall end, And as his words last knell began to faile, This damned Nauie did a glimmering send, By which _Sir Richard_ might their power reueale, Which seeming conquerlesse did conquests lend; At whose appearance _Midelton_ did cry, See where they come, for fame and pitty flie. This certaine story, of too certaine ill, Did not extinguish, but gaue honour fier, Th'amazing prodigie, (bane of my quill,) Bred not astonishment, but a strong desier, By which this heauen-adopted Knights strong will, Then hiest height of Fame, flew much more hier: And from the boundlesse greatnes of his minde, Sends back this answer through his lyps refin'd. Thanks hardie _Midelton_ for thy dilate, Perswasiue presage to auoyde my death, But if thou wed my fortunes with my state, This sauing health shall suffocate my breath, To flye from them that holds my God in hate, My Mistres, Countrey, me, and my sworne fayth, Were to pull of the load from _Typhons_ back, And crush my selfe, with shame and seruille wrack. Nor if my hart degenerate should yeeld, To entertaine an amorus thought of life, And so transport mine honour to the field, Where seeming valure dies by cowards knife, Yet zeale and conscience shall new forces build, And others soules, with my soule holdeth strife; For halfe my men, and all that draw sound breath, Are gone on shore, for foode to conquer death. If I forsake them, certaine is their end, If I obtaine them, doubtfull is our fall, Vpon my flight, shame and their sacks depend, Vpon my stay, hope of good hap doth call, Equall to me, the meanest I commend; Nor will I loose, but by the losse of all: They are the sinewes of my life and fame, Dismembred bodies perish cripple-lame. This sayd, he sends a cock-boate to the shore, To summon backe his men vnto their ship, Who com'd a board, began with some vprore To way their Anchors, and with care to dip Their hie reuolues in doubt, and euermore, To paint deaths visage with a trembling lip, Till he that was all fearelesse, and feare slew, With Nectard words from them all dangers drew. When _Midelton_ saw _Grinuills_ hie reuolue, Past hope, past thought, past reach of all aspire, Once more to moue him flie he doth resolue, And to that purpose tips his tongue with fier; Fier of sweete words, that easelie might dissolue And moisten flint, though steeld in stiffe attire, Had not desier of wonder praise, and fame, Extinkt the sparks, and still keepe dead the flame.