Maister, he sayes, euen heers the opned dore, Through which my spirit bridgroome like must ride, (And then he bar'd his wounded brest all gore) To court the blessed virgine Lambe his bride, Whose innocence the worlds afflictions bore, Streaming diuine blood from his sliced side, And to that heauen my soule with courage flyes, Because vnconquered, conquering it dyes. But yet, replyed the Maister once againe, Great vertue of our vertues, strive with fate, Yeeld not a minute vnto death, retaine Life like thy glory, made to wonder at. This wounds recouerie well may entertaine A double triumph to thy conquering state, And make thee liue immortall Angell blest, Pleaseth thee suffer it be searcht and drest. Descend then gentle _Grinvile_ downe below, Into my Cabin for a breathing space, In thee there let thy Surgion stanch our woe, Giuing recuer to thee, our wounded case, Our breaths, from thy breaths fountaine gently flow, If it be dried, our currents loose their grace: Then both for vs, and thee, and for the best, Descend, to haue thy wound bound vp and drest. Maister, reply'd the Knight, since last the sunne Lookt from the hiest period of the sky, Giuing a signall of the dayes mid noone, Vnto this hower of midnight, valiantly, From off this vpper deck I haue not runne, But fought, and freed, and welcomd victorie, Then now to giue new couert to mine head, Were to reuiue our foes halfe conquered. Thus with contrarie arguments they warre, Diuers in their opinions and their speech, One seeking means, th' other a will to darre; Yet both one end, and one desire reach: Both to keepe honour liuing, plyant are, Hee by his fame, and he by skilfull leach, At length, the Maister winnes, and hath procurd The Knight discend, to have his woundings curd. Downe when he was, and had display'd the port Through which his life was martching vp to heauen, Albe the mortall taint all cuers retort, Yet was his Surgion not of hope bereuen, But giues him valiant speech of lifes resort, Saves, longer dayes his longer fame shall euen, And for the meanes of his recouerie, He finds both arte and possibilitie. _Misfortune_ hearing this presage of life, (For what but chimes within immortall eares) Within her selfe kindles a home-bred strife, And for those words the Surgions doomes day swears. With that, her charg'd peece (_Atropos_ keene knife,) Againe she takes, and leueld with dispairs, Sent a shrill bullet through the Surgions head, Which thence, through _Grinuils_ temples like was led. Downe fell the Surgion, hope and helpe was reft, His death gaue manumition to his soule, _Misfortune_ smyld, and euen then shee left The mournfull Ocean, mourner for this dole; Away shee flyes, for all was now bereft, Both hopes and helpe, for life to win deaths gole; Yet _Grinuile_ vnamaz'd with constant faith, Laughing dispisd the second stroke of death.