Ortho-epia Gallica Eliots fruits for the French: enterlaced vvith a double nevv inuention, vvhich teacheth to speake truely, speedily and volubly the French-tongue. Pend for the practise, pleasure, and profit of all English gentlemen, who will endeuour by their owne paine, studie, and dilligence, to attaine the naturall accent, the true pronounciation, the swift and glib grace of this noble, famous, and courtly language.

The Marriner. Chap. 15.

HOnest men who will go for Calis, let him make hast. To Calice ho.

Aboord ho.

Doth the vvinde serue?

The vvinde is at Norde, North and

North West.

What take you for a passenger?

A French Crowne: two Crownes man and Horse.

The ship is it vvell armed: for I haue feare of those Pyrates of Donkerke.

Feare them not, for the ship is verie vvell equipped with Artillerie and Munition.

Go into the Proue. Lets hoyse saile on Gods name, it is calme, and bloweth not a whit.

We shall haue the winde by and by in Pupp: I see by the racke.

The Tide swelleth. See the waues mount.

The Sea begins to rise, and rage from the verie bottome.

See how these huge waues beate against the sides of our ship.

Here ye these terrible whirlwindes,

how they sing ouer our saile-yardes.

We shall haue by and by a storme. The tempest makes a great noyse.

The heauen begins to thunder from aboue.

It thundreth, it lightneth, it raineth, it haileth: it is best to strike saile, and to vire the cables.

To the Deck ho: to the Sterne: This waue vvill carrie vs to all the Diuels.

O God the Sauiour.

O my friends: O thrice and foure times happie are those vvho are on firme land setting of beanes?

God be mercifull vnto vs, and our Ladie of Lorretto.

Dish, dash, plash, crack, rick-rack, thwack, bounce, flounce, rounce, hizze, pizze, vvhizze, sowze, O God helpe vs and the Virgine Marie.

Paish, flish, flash, rowze, rittle, rattle, battle, rish, rash, clash, swish, swash, robble, hobble, bobble. O Saint Iames, Saint Peter, and Saint Christopher.

O Saint Michael, Saint Nicholas, now and neuer more.

O God we are now at the bottome of the Sea.

I giue eighteene hundred thousand crownes of reuenue to him who will set me a land.

Lets land here: let vs go a s••ore.

I vvill giue you all that I haue in the world to set me a shore.

Will you go a shore in the midst of the Ocean Sea?

What a horrible tempest?

By Saint Grison what meanes this?

Shall we take our sepulture here among these waues? I see neither heauen nor earth.

I must make vvater a litle. I pardon all the world. I die my friendes.

Fare you all well.

The tempest is now ended.

O that it is faire weather againe.

Truly it hath lightned and thundred lustily.

I beleeue that all the Diuels are vnchained to day, or that the good Ladie Proserpina is trauelling of childbirth.

Beleeue that all the fiue hundred thousand hundred millions of Diuels dance the morrice.

Thunder Diuels, fart, fist, fissell.

A fig for the waue. We are in the hauen of Calice.

Let vs more Ancres.

Cannonier, shoote of a peece of Artillery.

We are saued: I go to lodge with mine hostesse at the three Kinges, or at the greene Dragon.