The legend of Captaine Jones relating his adventure to sea, his first landing, and strange combat with a mighty beare : his furious battell with his six and thirty men, against the army of eleven kings, with their overthtow [sic] and deaths, his relieving of Kemper Castle, his strange and admirable sea-fight with six huge gallies of Spain, and nine thousand soldiers, his taking prisoner and hard usage : lastly, his setting at liberty by the Kings command, and returne for England.

THE LEGEND OF Captaine JONES. Continued from his first Part to his end.

VVIll nothing please the taste of these rough times But Rue and Wormwood stuft in Prose or Rimes? No Verse to make our Poets Laureate But smart Iambicks lashing King or State? Must all turne Mercuries, these times to fit By poysoning Fame with their quick-silver wit? That name that's got by some notorious ill, And merits Gives, is hatefull to our quill. But if the last brave acts of Captaine Jones Which can move mirth and fear, and break no bones, May be admitted in this ruffling age, Behold him here re-mounted on our stage.

Yet know we still are ty'd to our low strein, We must not once transcend his down-right vein. And if you meet ought savouring of a lye, (Reader believe't) 'tis Jones that speaks, not I. We left him priz'd on change, too dear 'twas thought, Twenty four Donns, & all not worth a groat, * 1.1 Cōpar'd to him, though each had had cōmand Over great Armies, prest for sea and land. Here see him shipt for his dear native coast; Where ere he comes you'l find he'l rule the roast With new found foes, who attempt his force to shake; But sleeping Lions 'tis not wise to wake. Now once more Neptune doth his waves inlarge, Swoln big with pride, that Fate had giv'n him charge And weighty convoy of this mighty man To whence he came; but ere the ship had ran Ten glasses out, comes Boreas with a cloud As black as ink; the steeres-man cries aloud Down with the top-saile, keep the sprit-saile tight, Haile the main bowling. Whilst this mask of light Usher'd with lightning plowes the angry deep High as her self in ridges, and as steep As Cair's tall Pyramids: the labouring ship Like a chaf'd Bear with Mastives, strives to keep Her beak aloft; some billowes she breaks throw, Others mount over her at poop and prow. Jones heard this stir unmov'd: from Neptune still He hop'd no good, nor ever fear'd his ill. Thus whilst the carefull sea-men work and pray, He careless, to his cabbin calls his boy,

And makes him read to him the ancient stories Of our old English Worthies, and their glories; How our S. George did the fell Dragon gore: The like atchievement of Sir Eglemore: Topas hard quest after th'elf-queen to Barwick: * 1.2 S. Bevis cow, & Guy's fierce boar of Warwick, These stories read, exalt his haughty minde Above the servile feare of sea or wind, The ships hard state grew now from ill to worse: Between two hideous seas acrosse her course, Her whole bulk groans: her beak and main mast break. Shook with this shock, she springs a dangerous leak: Which her slye foe soon findes, and to begin Like a dire dropsie, drenches all within. Thus whilst a treacherous in-mate fills her womb, She's forc'd to be her own destructions tomb. And overburthen'd with what bore her before, She's down-right foundred, and can work no more. Here might be seen the sad effects of feare Which severall wayes in severall men appeare: Some cry'd, some pray'd, whilst others sweare or rave, To leave the land to make the sea their grave. Jones swoln with the brave actions of his Knights, Big as the sea, ascends and Neptune cites To single combate: when a boisterous wave Which Neptune sent to make him Neptunes slave, Whurles him a cables length to sea, the ship Sinks with the rest, who give this world the slip. Well now Sir Jones 'tis time to shew your skill; You must swim stoutly for't, or drink your fill.

No danger frights thee, thou brave man of merit, Thy body is boy'd up by thy blow'n spirit. As a grim * 1.3 sea-calfe still presaging storms Wallows and wantons in cold Thetis arms: Just such is Jones: as if he had been bred With her finn'd frie within her watrie bed. No ship for help, no land for hope appeares; Horror of billowes roaring in his eares. Nothing supports but confidence alone, as ••f some prest Whale must take up Jones like Jonas. At last (alasse!) he findes he is no fish, His spirit'gins to leave his treacherous flesh. Continuall laboring makes his limbs waxe stark And stiffe with cold, his optick sense growes dark, Neptune insults, and brandishing his mace Makes his rude billowes dash him ore the face. Now see the fate of noble resolution, When Iones thought nothing but of dissolution, Man's constant friend a gentle Dolphin glides * 1.4 Between his thighes, on whom he mounts and rides In post with mighty speed, through wind and weather; So his kind fish holds out he cares not whither; Like a bold Centaur bravely he curvets From ridge to ridge; 'twas strange, how fast he sits In this rough road; but Iones learn'd from his cradle To ride without a stirrop or a sadle When on the mountains tops wilde mares he spide, He suckt them dry, and then straight up and ride.

At last at this high speed he gets the sight Of land, so neere, hee's ready to alight, When his kind fish much griev'd to leave the burthen She lov'd so well, to sea again doth turn With mighty speed, still Iones doth her bestride Beleeving now he should toth' India's ride. Faine would he turn her, but he knew not how, He never knew a bridles want till now: At last the faithfull fish preferring higher Her riders safetie then her own desire, She turnes her course about with happy hast, And so our errant Knight on land she cast. Some Spanish writers flatly do deny He suffered wrack, and plainly term't a lye: They say the ship that led this dangerous dance Was built by Lewis King Henty's sonne of France, And took that name from him, who beares that name * 1.5 As eldest sonne, who still is styl'd the same: They write Iones got this ground t'augment his glory And cheat the world with this stupendious story; But let the reader judge if this be true, And know pale envy still doth worth pursue. Well now to Iones againe, we may conceave He was not ill apaid to take his leave Of this rough element: nor did account it Much worse to goe on foot, then ride so mounted. 'Tis true, he road this lofty fish in state,

But 'twas too neer the boisterous fit of fate, He fear'd not Fortune nor her wheele, though fickle, Yet loth he was to be laid up in pickle; Or that his manly limbs should be a feast For sharks, or crabs, or congers to digest. His next work is to finde some habitation, Though he came safely there, 'twas in mean fashion, The self-same clothes which when Alonso brav'd him, He made him wear, and to the gally slav'd him. And though this last foul storm had little harm'd him, It seem'd to some strāge thing to have transform'd him Rigid and rough, long wet and feltred locks, * 1.6 Like Babels King, when turn'd into an Oxe: For a fresh-water souldier none could doubt him, The seas salt teares ran trickling round about him. In this cold plight he leaves the beachy strand, And coasts the maine with many a weary stand. At last he spies a house, not great, but good: For here he finds a brother of his brood, VVho had adventur'd in those wayes before, And rais'd some fortune by't, and gave it ore. He quickly finds that Iones had scap'd some wrack; Experience, charity, and pity spake On this behalfe; the good man bids him in, And with Y'are kindly welcome doth begin. He spak't in Dutch, which gladded Iones, for he Could speak't aswel as † 1.7 Grace dw worth awhee. VVhich language a Dutch Pilot well had taught him VVhen Greenfield to America had brought him. By this, the Stove's made ready, in goes Iones:

Dryes his wet garments, comforts nerves and bones. The table's set with homely wholesome cheare, And to make all compleat, strong Lubeck beere. A Dutch froe was his mate, more fat then faire, But wondrous free, and there to debonaire. Which mades Jones aske what Country 'twas that gave This noble welcome to her humble slave? He's answer'd, 'tis the Netherlands; the States Brave seat of warre, where many broken pates Are got and given, and for his wants supply The good strong towne of Flushing stood fast by, Where Sir John Norrice did command in chiefe For England's glory and the States reliefe. This tickled Jones with joy; for Horace Vere, Norrice, and he had been (I know not where) Comrades in armes, ere Jones did entertain That crosse designe with Cumberland for Spaine. But now a bed does well, to take some rest Where this good host directs his weary guest! And having slept his fill, he timely rose, Takes a most thankfull leave, and on he goes. His purpose is to take his passage over At the next Port he finds: from thence to Dover. But first at Flushing he resolves to touch, Where his old friend, the Bulwark of the Dutch, Brave Norrice holds his troop; Here Iones arrives, Just as he came from Jaile, except his Gives, Clad in his slavish robe of Fryers gray, His cap true blew; no company, but they That will not leave him whilst he hath a ragge. * 1.8

Such as possesse the Begger with his bagge. Winds, storms, nor seas, nor ought that could undo him, Could make them flinch, like friends they stick close to him. And thus accompanied he doth approach Toth' Generalls house, neither with steed nor coach; But in his manly foot-march: 'twas the time When Norrice with his Chiefes were set to dine. Jones presseth to the Parler from the Hall, And there accoasts the noble Generall. Who ey'd him quickly, and cryes out (ô fate! Live I to see the strength of England's State? Breath'st thou brave man at armes? Jones art thou he? Or is it Mars himselfe disguis'd like thee? Quoth Jones, The scourge of Spaniards and of Spaine, Whom they have felt and foyl'd, but to their paine, Stands here; and yet would breath some few yeare longer To prove King Philip or my self the stronger. The rest was deare imbraces, and his place By Norrice side; and then a hasty grace. Now might I dwell upon the luscious cheare, Which here grew cold, whil'st each mans eye and ear Fed on the person and discourse of Iones, And quite forgot their toasts and marrow bones. And whilst his strange adventures past, he tels; The Captaines, Serjant Majors, Collonels Fast to admire him, and are fill'd with wonder, And feel no hunger though their bellies thunder. Here mark his constancy, beyond these men, He eats and talkes, and eats and talkes agen.

Their mawes are cloy'd to heare those deeds of his, His stories are his meales Parenthesis. But when he spoke of Spaine, 'tis past beliefe, What fearefull wounds he gave the chine of beefe, A capon garnish'd wich slic'd lemmons stood Before him, which he tore as he were wood; And made it leglesse ere he made a pause, Meerly in malice to the Spanish sawce. He wrecks his wrath on every dish that's nigh him, And spoil'd a custard that stood trembling by him; Grow'n pikes and carps, and many a dainty dish, That far excell'd his tame Crotonian fish. At last his fury 'gan to be asswag'd, And then the Generall all his friends ingag'd, To give him Souldiers welcome in a rowse Of lusty Rhenish, till both men and house Turne round. Once two great deities conjoyn'd To worke his fall, with hideous seas and wind: Now onely Bacchus takes the man to taske; And layes sore to him with his potent caske. And whilst with lusty grape ore born Iones reeles, H'assaults his head, and so trips up his heeles. But up he rose againe with vigour stout, And sweares though foil'd, hee'l try an other bout. They all were now high flow'n, when Collonell Skink Fills a huge bowl of sherry Sack, to drink A health to Englands Queen, and Jones is he Must take't in pledge; and so he did: but see The strange antipathy between this man And Spanish grape as well as Spanish Don.

Against them both his stomach fierce doth rise, No sooner drunk but up again it flies. This odde distemper made him half asham'd, But there's no help, he was with wrath inflam'd, Nor was he pleas'd with Skink of this affront, (For so he took't) he knew Skink could not want The wine of Rhene for healths: why then in Sack, Unlesse it were to lay him on his back? Fir'd with this thought, he catcht at his buff-coat, Then grapples close; and had pluckt out his throat, But that the wary General interposes His hands and friends between their bloody noses: And with strong reasons, smiles, and smooth aallyes, He damps the fury of these fiery boyes, And left them (as he thought) well reconcil'd, But by th' effect he found he was beguil'd. The night dispers'd them now to severall wayes, As they were quarter'd. Jones with Norrice stayes, Who sent him the next morn a brave rich suit, Intended for himself, with all things to't. Scant was he dress'd, when Skink unto him sends A Captain, boldly to demand amends For last nights work, and Jones to do him right, A bullet must exchange in single fight. For which himself and Second would not misse, Where Jones design'd to meet with him and his. This Jones accepts, and sweares before that night He shall heare from him, how and where he'l fight. He thus dispatcht, Sir Roger Williams enters, To whom much kind discourse past ore; he venters

To tell his difference with Skink i which told, Sir Roger like a Britain true and bold, Protests himselfe his Second, hasts to Skink, Tells him, h' had need fight well, as well as drink: That Iones and he at the South-postern gate Early next morn would meet him and his mate, With sword and pistoll hors'd, and there agree To fight it two to two, or Iones and he. Then comes to Iones, supply'd him with a horse Well rid and fierce; Bucquoy had felt his force Before Breda; then gives that sword and belt Which Prince Llwellin wore, when slain neer Bealt. * 1.9 The hour come, these champions soon appear, They spend no time in words; in full career, Iones charges bravely close up to his brest, And fires, but fortune turn'd it to the best: Makes him through hast forget to prime his pan, So mist his shot, and so preserv'd the man. Vext with this faile, he flings with all his might, Worse than the bullet, had his hand gone right, His pistoll at his face; 'twas aim'd so neare, It raz'd his cheek, and took quite off his eare. Skink's bullet pierc'd the blow of Iones his saddle, And slightly circumcis'd his foremans noddle, The Seconds stood attending the event Of this first charge, both resoluetly bent, If either in th'incounter had been sped, To run the same adventure they both did.

But when they saw the bravery of their fight, Both having lost their blood, the quarrel slight: They both detest such men should be destroy'd, By which their countrey should be sore annoy'd: With joynt consent their power they unite To ride up to them, and break off the fight: Thus got between them, all best meanes they use To take it up: which both inrag'd refuse. They urge the equall termes on which they stood, In point of honour: both had lost their blood, Both fought it well; how light their quarrels ground, Not worth one drop of blood, much less a wound. Then bid them look on their dear countries woe, Whose breasts must suffer for the ill they doe. Reason takes place of wrath, they both accord, And mischeifs engin rests: they sheath the sword. And thus (in few this dangerous duell ends, Fierce foes they met, and now return good friends: Their Surgeons stanch their blood, for yet they bled, And clap a cap on Iones his nether head. This newes comes quickly to the Generals ear, Who when he heard their lives were out of feare, He gently chides them that they would expose Their limbs unto the various chance of blowes In single duell, when the common good No longer stands then such good members stood. Ten dayes are spent ere Iones could stand upright, Through his slight hurt: which come, the noble Knight

Brave Norrice he takes leave of, with the rest Of that brave martiall crew, and then addrest Himself for England: Joy thou happy Isle, Thy Son returns that hath kept all this quoile; Ye blustering boyes of Britain feast and quaff all: The man's at hand whose presence makes you laugh all. Welcome to Dover thou great son of Mavors, So spake the Mayor of Dover on his grave horse, Mounted to meet him with his reverent train, All gown, who cry him welcome home from Spain: After some short repast, on post he rides To Non-such, where her Majesty resides, Where he was soon brought up to kisse her hand, By his dear friend George Earl of Cumberland. But then when took to private conference, What newes of moment, what intelligence, What Spanish plots, what mysteries of state, Unto her Majesty he did relate, 'Twas wrapt in clouds too high for me to know it; Then pardon, Reader, that I do not show it. But 'twas observ'd he gave a written book Unto her hand: on which she daign'd to look, And seem'd to slight it in the publique face Of Court; yet made some use of 't in a place That's privy, so dismist him to his rest, Or her Courts welcome; as to him seem'd best. 'Twas now the time when * 1.10 Essex was in-gag'd In Ireland 'gainst Tyrone, with whom he wag'd

A bloody warre: which to the Queen and state; Seem'd long and costly: after much debate It is resolv'd to pick out such a man, Whose active force and spirit dares and can Put a full period to this warre at once, Without delay, and this was Captain Iones, On whom they pitch, who fed on hopes in vain To get some small command to conquer Spain. 'Tis first resolv'd he must reduce Tyrone, Till that be done he must let Spain alone. Thus his Commission's seald to raise his force, A compleat regiment of British horse: He's thence to waft them ore the Irish brine; And then his force with noble Essex joyn. Iones lost no time, goes in five dayes to Wales: Shewes his commission, tells them glorious tales; He need not beat a drum, nor sound his trumpet, His name's enough to make these Britons jump at This brave employment under such a Chief, Whose fame's reserve enough for their relief. Perplext he was in choosing his commanders, For he still fancied best his old Highlanders; But many worthies of the lower parts, Offer to him their fortunes and their hearts. But all respects put by, h' inlifleth ten Of his old gang, all hard bred mountain-men For his Life-guard, Thomas Da Price a Pew, Jenkin Da Prichard, Evan David Hugh, John ap John Jenkin, Richard John dap Reese, And Tom Dee Ba••gh, a fierce Rat at green cheese,

Llewelling Reese ap David, Watkin Jenkin, With Howell Reese ap Robert, and young Philkin; These for his guard, his Officers in chief, Lieutenant Collonel Craddock, a stout thief, With Major Howell ap Howell of Pen Crag, Well known for plundering many cow and nag, Captain Pen Vaure, a branch of Tom John Catty, Whose word in's colors was, YE ROGUES have at ye. Griffith ap Reese ap Howel ap Coh ap Gwillin, Reese David Shone ap Ruthero ap VVilliam, With many more whose names'twere long to write, The rest their acts will get them names in fight. We must conceive they all were men of fame For here we see them all men of great name. Iones with these blades advanceth to the * 1.11 dale There lines himself and them with noble Ale Of such antiquity as hath not been there The like since * 1.12 Robert of the Vale was seen there VVho us'd to sink those kinterkins of merit, To raise the heat of his prophetick spirit. His forces slipt, at last a board he goes, A lusty South-east gale so fairely blowes That forty houres easily brought him in To Dubline Harber where he lands his men, There getting knowledg where the Army lay, To the Lord Generall he takes his way From whom a noble welcome he receives, And good fresh quarter to his troops he gives.

Iones first informs himselfe in what condition Tyron's made up for warr, what ammunition, How fortifi'd in camp, what force, what watch, How victualled, all occasion he doth catch To take him tripping; when at length he found, He would not give nor take an equall ground, To hazard battell, he resolves to try him In such a way as he should not deny him, Unlesse with losse of honour; he indites This fearefull challenge which his squire writes: False traitor to thy country and thy Queen, I he who yet my peer have never seen In feats of armes, whose martiall hand hath slain Kings with their armies, half unpeopl'd Spain: Done more than I can write; I say, I he Urge thee to single duel: and to thee Give thee free choice of weapon, time, and place, On foot or horse-back: think it no disgrace, That I a private Captain, thou a Chief, (My deeds make me admir'd, thee thine a thief) Call thee to question, 'twere ambition In thee, to hope to fall by such a one, T' augment my praise I wish thee five times stronger. Live till I meet thee, and but little longer. This done, a Herauld is strait charged with it, In publique to Tyron's own hand to give it, Who to him hasts, and in the publique view Of all his Army sayes, (Tyrone) to you I have command to bring from Captain Jones This challenge; read it, and resolve at once.

He takes it, reads it, and admires the man, That sends him this high Brave, who if he can But half he writes, he counts himself but lost, To meet him; yet in sight of all his host This Brave was giv'n him: thus his honour lyes At stake, and therefore desperately replyes. Tell your brave man I am not conquer'd yet, Nor can by words but blowes, he shall be met, Before to morrow noon, on you green plot, Surrounded with the bog, neither with shot, Nor head steel'd dart: this sword I weare shall do't, Arm'd cap-a-pe, no horse, but foot to foot. He thus dispatcht, Tyrone doth straight seek out, Brain Mac-kill-cow a strong sturdy lout, Made up with nerves, and brawn and bone so mighty, He felt no burden were it nere so weighty. The strongest man in all his camp by half. Milo's great bull to him was but a calf, Bred in the Irish wildes 'mongst bogs and woods, And like an outlaw liv'd on others goods. And this is he on whom Tyrone now fixt, To personate himself in fight betwixt Him and our Jones, true armes of largest size, He donnes on him, then to his loynes he tyes Morglay his trusty sword, then sweares devoutly, If in this combat he behave him stoutly; He'l raise his meanes above two English Barons In lands and sheep and cowes and lusty garrons: Bryan's all confidence and hastens thither Where Jones and he must try their force together,

The place design'd was hardly twelve yards square, No traversing of ground, no boyes-play there, The rest was bog, ore which some planks were laid To passe them ore; and then to stop all aid, Were took from thence: here Iones our valiant fighter Advanceth first: Bryan with his fell smiter Is hard at hand, they spare no time for words, Their mettle is the whetstone of their swords. They clap together like two sons of thunder, Their blades struck lightning, whilst the earth quak'd under The burthen she bore; no stroke that's given, but death Seemes to attend it, till both out of breath Consent to make a stand, but this short rest Was like a sallet with a muttons brest To their sharp stomacks, to't they go again, And lay on load like devils, not like men. Their well-try'd arms do blush with their own blood, To find their flesh in whose defence they stood, Stand, whilst it fell: for that their keen swords whipt off As if they would each other make a chipt loaf. At last, as I have seen a man of war Exalt a Carrick, which exceeds him far, In bulk and strength: so Iones deales now with Bryan, With shuns and shifts, more like a Fox than Lion. For (to speak truly) this fell Pagan lout Doth so belabour Jones from head to foot, That both his eares doe oft with sorrow sing, And's eyes see starres at noon (a wondrous thing) We must conceive those furious blowes he dealt, Were well repaid with use, which Bryan felt.

But Iones esteeming it an equal thing To be self-conquer'd, and long conquering, Resolves to put the businesse out of doubt With one Passe more, which was the fatall bour. On this Resolve, with both his hands he prest The pummel of his sword against his brest, Then like a thunder-bolt tilts swiftly at him: With th' fear of this, Bryan had quite forgot him. That't was a bog behinde, so backward springs, And his whole body up to th' arm-pits flings, Amidst the bog. Jones driven with his own force, Missing his thrust falls headlong in the gorse, But pitcht upon his foe, by happy fate, With which ore-born, our Jones so mawles his pate, That th' helmet flies, and leaves his head to th' danger, Of being the anvill of our Iones his anger: And now the day is his, his strength he straines With hand and hilt to beat out Bryans brains: Who cries out quarter, Man of Mars I yeild My self and sword, the honour of the field. And where the power rests, 'tis much better far To give then take a life in chance of war. This and the bog doth cool the wrath of Jones, He spares his life and drawes him forth at once. Besides he scorn'd posterity should tell, That by his hand Tyrone so nobly fell. And thus Oneale his captive (as he thought) In this foul plight unto the camp he brought: Presents him to the General, and then spake, Sir if you have ten more Tyrones to take,

Command, Ile do't; here see him hither led By me, who all this charge and stir hath bred. The joy was great, but short; 'twas quickly known, This was but some impostor for Tyrone: And this an Irish Captive at first view Made known, who him and his condition knew. This bred a qualme in some, whil'st others smil'd To see their British Champions so beguil'd, And that Tyrone had bobb'd him with this jeer, To match his Cow-herd with our Mountaneer. Jones vext with this, retires unto his tent, An angry, dirty, desperate, male content. Three dayes thus spent, his wrath no longer beares This base affront; (like Scaevola,) he-sweares * 1.13 Hee'l kill Tyrone in midst of all his force, Though in the act himself be made a coarce: In this wild mood by night he doth convey Himself, where he suppos'd the Rebell lay: Who wisely rais'd his camp the day before, March'd farre through desart woods, and would no more Of these affronts; which to put off agen Might breed contempt of him with his own men. Two dayes Jones spends in quests to finde him out; At last he was encountred with a rout Of ravening wolves, who fiercely all at once Assail'd the back and face of manly Jones. 'Twas time to draw, else these wild Irish dogs Had been so bold to shake him by the logs: But when his sword was out he makes them feel, Their teeth are not so sharp as his true steel.

The first good blow he dealt took off a head, The second made one two: the next he sped, With a sore thrust at mouth, and out at taile: A sourth which his posteriors doth assaile, With his strong heel he hurles against a tree Twelve paces from his kick, and there lyes he: His sword rips out anothers empty paunch; The next limps off from him with half a haunch. We must conceive 'twas time to lay about him, For here were those that fought to eat, not rout him. Nor scap'd he free, the rich sword skarf he wore About his loynes, they all to fitters tore. His boots pluckt off by bits, some flesh to boot, No quarter free from skarres from head to foot. And (to conclude) from these wilde Irish witches * 1.14 He scapes scant with a hands breadth of his breeches. Wearied with blowes and kicks, at last they fly him, And take a snarling leave as they go by him. Thus Iones half worried, hasts unto the camp. There's none could say the clothes he wore were damp With night perdues, unlesse they meant to flout him; For (to speak truth) he had no clothes about him. Thus come, he sweares by the immortall powers, He had maintain'd a battel full five houres, With forty duels, five and twenty kill'd, Routed the rest; who all had took the field

'Gainst him alone; all rais'd with him to fight, To his destruction, or t'eclipse his might, By that old timerous treacherous kern Tyrone, Who durst as well meet death as him alone. The plight our Iones appear'd in, made none doubt But he had had at least a devilish bout, If not with Devils; on him each man seeth The fearfull character of nailes and teeth. We may not stand to shew what Essex's sense Was on these actions, nor the consequence They did import: the progresse of this story, Hastens our muse to Iones his farther glory. Fame these atchievements brings to Englands State; Which held the Queen and Councel in debate About this man; and all at last suppos'd, In policy he's not to be expos'd To the close dangerous plots of such a foe, Who neither values faith nor honour, so His mischiefs take successe: and thus the State Lose this dear Limbe, and then repent too late. Some looking deeper into Iones his spirit, Knowing he knew too much of his own merit, Hold it not safe he should be open to The windy baits of that so subtile foe, To gain him to his part; whose haughty mind Would soon take fire; then could not be confin'd. And if by such a plot they should be crost, They all conclude that Kingdome were but lost. These grounds invite them wholly to decline His warfare there; so on some grand design

Pretended they invite his quick repaire To Englands Court to act this great affaire. Heco mes, but leaves his British troops to fight Tyrone to death; whose acts who please to write, May meet with subjects brave to rant upon, But for my self I am quite tyr'd with one. And thus transported from the Irish strands, At Aberust with a Welch Port he lands; * 1.15 Where ere two dayes he fully spent for rest, A goodly vessel with crosse winds opprest, Comes boyling in; Iones by her colours knows She is of Spain: his colour comes and goes At sight of hers; that such a godly prey, Should come (as 'twere) to meet him in his way. He musters strait a troop of british lads, Who on their mountaine geldings clap their pads; With rusty bills instead of staves in rest; Such were their horse, such were their arms at best. Then with a fowling-piece the ship they haile, With confidence that she would straight strike saile: But she makes answer, that she was too hot, From her broad side with twenty Culver'n shot. This struck a stand, till Iones cry'd out what doubt ye? The day is ours, masters lay about ye, Lead the forlorn up bravely, and be bold, Ile bring the reare, for they know me of old, If once my name or person they descry, My life for yours they'l either yeild or fly. Made bold with this, in full carreere they ride Up to the ridges of the flowing tide.

But when they came brest-high amongst the waves, Their horse more wise by halfe then these mad knaves, Snort at the foaming billowes, turne their tailes, And make a faire retreat from Sea and Sailes; Which lest it should seem done on termes of feare, Jones to the front, now hastens from the reare, And leads them back againe in good array, Neither with hasty flight, nor much delay. At his returne he searcheth all that coast, To finde a herring-boat or two at most; With which he doubts not but hee'l sinke or take This lusty Ship; whose bravest men will quake To heare his name. But Fate that had decreed To save her, caus'd her hoyse her sayles with speed. So with a strong fore-winde away she flyes, And leaves our Iones to seek some other prize. Thus crost in this designe to Court he went, Where he is met with noble complement; And from the Queen such grace he doth receive, As he deserv'd, and stood with her to give. Now for the great affaire that call'd him back, The Lords must pump for't in a cup of Sack To helpe invention: Iones must be preferr'd To some imployment, be it nere so hard. In deep consult and long discourse they sat on't, And studied for't; at last they lighted pat on't. It is resolv'd, that he must be the man To goe in ambassy to Prester John. The businesse carryed with't a glorious face; Employ'd ambassador unto his Grace.

The dangerous voyage to a place remote, Affects him most to get his name more note In forain Lands; hee'l not refuse the work, Were't to the Great Magul, or the Great Turk. A lusty Ship's prepar'd, againe he goes; But what this great imployment was, who knowes? Reader I know thy thoughts are strongly bent To know this first designe, on which he went. But know this first, that Princes secret wayes, Are such as Ships cut thorow deepest Seas, Which shut still as they ope, and him that sounds And enters too far in, their deepnesse drownes. If bare conjectures may give light to thee, Here take them freely; harmelesse thoughts are free. Perhaps this high blown spirit now is sent To forain aire, where it may purge and vent, And so returne more fit the State to serve In their commands, who yet must him observe. Perhaps he went this Priestly Prince to gain Unto our Church; who gave good proof in Spain Of's power in this; or to negotiate Commerce betweene the Aethiop and our State, For tuskes of Elephants to hast our knives, Apes and Baboones and Pugges to please our wives; Which things satiety makes common there, And curiosity orepriseth here. Be't what it will, our Jones is gone upon't, And we may know he will make something on't. His treacherous friend the Sea his charge receives, And with some flattering gales his hopes deceives,

Making the Land his firmer friend appeare Still lesse; untill at last it brought him where He lost her sight: for three months time he makes Good way; at last the wind his wings forsakes The Ship's becalm'd, and to the Port she seekes, Shee gaines not halfe a league for thirteene weeks. Jones finds this lazie warre offends him more, Then all those hideous stormes out-rid before. These sad effects this sleepy calme attend; Victuall and beverage spent; lesse hope of end. Then feare of further miseries ensues, The Sea with calmes his patience doth abuse, Turnes divelish States-man, puts on a smooth face Salutes and kills them with a soft imbrace. 'Twas now farre worse with Iones then erst with Skink For three weekes his owne Urine is his drink, Which his hot body had so oft sublim'd. 'Tis grow'n a cordiall, like gold thrice calcin'd. Breeses of wind at last his sailes display, And waft him into the Barbarick bay, Then to the Arabick, next the Pilot laves His boisterous charge in Mare rubrum's waves. And lastly he attaines beyond all hope, Errocco the sole Port of Aethiope, And here he lands, and empties many a bowle To allay the fury of his thirsty soule. After some rest he gets intelligence, Where 'twas the Prince then kept his residence; Where he repaires, and's told when he comes thither, The Prince and towne are both remov'd to gether

Some ten miles off. The Prince and town? (quoth Iones) I have met my match: here's people make no bones Of things beyond beliefe. And yet 'twas true; This towne was tents which fifty thousand drew, And rais'd in th'instant wheresoere the Prince State downe to sport, or shew magnificence. By Mount Amara now his Court he reares; A Mount far differing from the name it bears: * 1.16 If Paradise had ere a second birth Below the seat of Saints, 'tis there on earth. An humble valley is the Garden where This Mount is rais'd; a vale so rich, so rare; Nature grew bankrupt drawing this rich plot; And striving to be quaint, she quite forgot To keep reserves: for by this worke we know, Shee made it such she could make no more so. Amidst this vale is rais'd this lofty structure, Five leagues upright. It's outsides architecture Unpolish'd Marble; but so rich, so faire You'd think't a pillar of one stone in th'aire, By some high power unto Atlas given, To ease his shoulders whil'st it proppeth Heaven. This goodly Mount a specious plaine doth crowne, Imbost with Natures gemmes, a velvet down That's alwayes greene; no frost, no winter here, Continuall Spring: here Phoebus all the yeare From rise to set, doth alwayes fire his eye, As loath to put so faire an object by.

Here grow those happy trees from whence there springs That precious oyle, which erst anointed Kings, And sacred Priests. Nor croud they here to take One sense alone; the sent and sight partake. So are they rank'd, as well to give a grace, As sweet perfumes, for tribute to the place. No orchard here, nor garden but the plaine; The choisest fruit all Europe doth containe, Grow here unplanted, here's the luscious Grape, That makes Joves Nectar: 'twas not Helens rape That ruin'd Troy: the Apple got from Thence, * 1.17 Had worth enough to do't. Here every sense Would surfeit, but each objects rarity Gives appetite without satiety, Roses and Tulips Flora gathers here When we have none, to crown her golden hair, And here Medea pickt (if Jones speak truth) Those herbs which turnd antiquity to youth: The only Phoenix deignes to wether here, The only place like her without a peer: Left all these sweets-should want sweet har∣mony A numerous quire of nightingales, comply To warble forth the sweet Amara's praise, Who turnes their mourning notes to merry layes. Amidst this plaire there glide; a silver brook, So gently, that the suttlest eye may look, And find no motion; on his violet banks

Thick Cipres trees marshall themselves in ranks, To keep out Phoebus: whose enamor'd beames, Peep through each little crink to view his streames: His pavement azure gravell intermixt With orient pearls, and diamonds betwixt, Which as the aires soft breath his surface purles, Vary their glosse, and twinkle through his curles: Like a steel'd glasse presenting to the eye, The spangled beauty of the starry skye. Here Dolphins leave the sea to wanton; here Carps since the deluge their grown bodies cheer. * 1.18 Umbrana's too; such had * Vitellius known, A province should have gone to purchace one: Such is Amara, such is Tempe field, Elysium on earth unparaleld, 'Twas here this royall Priest now kept his Court: A place well suting with his fame and port. And here comes Jones, where having mad's addresse, Letters of credence given at his accesse In Latine writ: in the same tongue he gives Jones gratious words, which language Jones conceives To be Arabick, for the Latine tongue He nere indur'd to learn nor old nor young, But that's all one, ther's no reply expected, Unto a rich pavilion he's directed By men of State, where he is well attended, With all that's rich, and to his rest commended. Some few dayes spent, and time for audience got, When Prester John in royall State was set;

Jones studying how t'expresse his eloquence In some strange language which might pose the Prince, Now trouls him forth a full mouth'd Welsh oration, Boldly deliver'd as became his nation. The plot prov'd right, for not one word of sense Could be pickt from't, which vex'd the learned Prince. His learned Linguists are call'd in to heare, Who might as well have stopt each others eare For ought they understood, and all protest It was the very language of the Beast. Jones hath his end, and then to make it known He had more tongues t'expresse himselfe then one; In a new tone he speaks, not halfe so rich, But better known, 'twas English; unto which An English Factor is interpreter Between our Captain and John Presbyter; His businesse takes effect (what ere it was) And great expresses of respect doe passe To Jones from him, as one he thought most rich In unknown tongues exprest in his first speech, And so admires him for he knowes not what: But Jones may thanke his mother-tongue for thot. His businesse done, hee's led for recreation, To take the pleasures of that pleasant nation, To mount Amara's top, the chiefest grace, And perfect beauty of that Kingdoms face; And finding his great heart was most enclin'd To martiall feats, all in one motion joyn'd T'invite him to their deserts, where he might Make triall of his force in manly fight,

With their wild beasts, and promis'd him consorts All truly try'd t'assist him in those sports. The motion takes, a brave accoutred horse, And his owne armes, he and's associate force Advance to hunt; me thinkes I see them all Drawn to the life in canvasse * 1.19 'gainst the wall, In som mean house made for good-fellowship, How fierce they looke, how brave they prance and skip; With hounds and horns, and bil••s and picks and glaves, And speares and clubs, and many light-foot knaves: In this brave equipage they march away To the known haunts where these wild creatures pray. 'Twas Jones his trick of old to ride alone: In hard adventures hee'l admit of none To share with him, from them he steales aside, And in the desert by himselfe doth ride. Nor rode he long till just against him stalkes A ramping Lion new come from his walkes, Jones drawes, the furious beast with fiery eyes And bristled mane, against his bosome flies, But his keen sword met full with his fore pawes, And whipt them off; and so he scap't his clawes. Nor stai'd it there, but gave a cruel wound To his left jaw, and fel'd him to the ground. Then nimbly wheels about, and stept aside, Leaps from his horse which to a tree he ty'd: Then turns again, and with his sword falls to't,

To end this combat with him foot to foot, The wounded beast with all his power doth hasten, His fearfull fangs in Jones his throat to fasten. Whilst on's hin feet he assaults him bolt upright, With left hand arm'd, Jones stunnes with him the right; Strikes both his hin legs off: yet on his stumps The noble beast unconquered fiercely jumps Full at his face with open mouth, and there, (For his grim face could raise in Jones no feare) In shoots the deadly blade, and out behinde, Where't makes a second vent for lifes short winde; This thrust with right hand arm'd so home was lent That hand and hilt quite throw together went, Where taking hold of his strong stern (for truth He sweares) he drew't quite through his trunck this mouth. Then with fine force (the like was never seen) He strips his inside out, and's outside in. Thus tergiverst upon his steed he flings him, Then mounts himselfe, & to the Court he brings him. Never was royall beast so grosly jaded, But 'twas his fat which could not be evaded, Unto the gallants of the Court he shewes, How hard th'adventure was, what thrusts, what blowes; On every circumstance he doth dilate; Nor addes he much to truth, nor much doth bate: For much he spoke, the Lion made it good With losse of his foure legs, and his best bloud. This strang atchievement strikes them all with wonder, 'Twas never seen since Greeces Alexander.

Lysimachus, Lisander, nor Perdicas, * 1.20 Nor any of his Chiefs, ere did the like as Our Jones in this: 'Tis true, they write they kill'd, In single fight some few of these in field; But here's a force born with a higher saile, Transtorting tayle to head, and head to tayle. The Prince in words this high atchievement prais'd: But inward feare and jealousy it rais'd Of our brave Queen, whose scepter doth command Such men whose power no Nation can withstand. Jones might so far on his owne strength presume, as To seise his throne, as * 1.21 Cortez Montezuma's Had done before. These thoughts he oft re∣volves With troubled mind, and so in fine resolves To shift him thence: makes for his faire pre∣tence, Matter of high and hasty consequence, To be with speed convey'd unto our Queen; Except her selfe it must by none be seen. This past on Jones, who parts with high content, Nobly presented with faire complement. Amongst the rest, a Parrot that could speak All tongues but Iones his own; that had a beak Of perfect corall, plum'd as white as snow: This he accepts, and so to Sea does goe: Where under saile such welcome he receives, As one dire foe unto another gives. With calmes, and stormes, & winds, all crosse, that bear

The ship quite off the course that she would steer Long time thus spent, into a Bay he drives, And at a Port unknown at last arrives: Where he beholds a glorious Castle built High on a cliffe, whose walls pure gold, or guilt To him appear'd. Which object caus'd him land, To know who did this Princely seat command. He's told it is the Queen of No-lands place, The onle relict of her royall race, A Maiden Queen that here doth keep her Court, Where many Kings and Princes of high port Make their addresse, and lose themselves in love, To purchase hers, for not a man can move Her heart to wed, though nere so great his state, Or form exact, such was the will of Fate. Here as he lands, a large Cannow was sent To know from whence he was, and whither bent. In this a Dutch man came by happy Fate, Who could his Language to the Queen translate. This man he tels as briefly as he can, His voyage from his Queen to Prester John: How by crosse winds in his return he's blow'n, And forc'd into this port to him unknown. Jones is resolv'd to see and to be seen Of this great Princesse, that our virgin Queen Might know when he returns what form, what port This royall virgin carried in her Court. Thus like an errant Knight all arm'd compleat, He marcheth boldly to her Palace gate, All massie polish'd brasse; at his first ward,

Six milk-white Panthers fierce were chain'd for guard. Thence through a large great specious Court he past, And so ascends twelve ivory steps at last, With ebon columnes, unto which were tide Twelve sharp kept Lions, who all yawned wide When strangers doe approach. Jones through them all Is safely guarded to a goodly Hall. From thence ascends to roomes of greater state, And comes at last where this Princesse royall sate Upon a strange rich bed, not stuff d with down, But closely wrought, and like a bladder blow'n; Three Aethiops on each side, to fanne the air With Ostridge plumes perfum'd as rich as faire. Her beauty could not boast of white and red, But jet like black; about her crisp curl'd head And cheeks, there hang rich flaming stones and pearls, That past Mark Anthony's Egyptian girls. In briefe; if Tuscan liv'd to limne the night Sparkling with starres, this were her picture right. No sooner to her sight doth Jones appear; Then to her heart his piercing eyes shot fire; Which Cupid blowes and rais'd into a flame, That warmes her zeale to invocate his name. No part of Iones but in her eye exceeds All humane shape; some god he must be needs. But when at here request he doth relate The chances of his past and present state; Never was eare with Orpheus harp possest As hers with Iones, whil'st he his life exprest.

Those that have warm'd themselves by these strong fires May eas'ly guesse what fruits her wild desires Produc'd to Iones; The observance of the Court, With feasts and banquets, and all Princely sport, Are at his foot: he cannot name nor wish That meat he likes, but straight 'tis in his dish. In this high state some months he takes his ease, Whil'st this sick Princesse feeds on her disease: At last a sharp alarm damps these desires, Which threatned death, but could not quench her fires A Prince there was mighty in bulk and mind, Whose Kingdoms confines unto No-land joyn'd: Descended in his race from Og of Basan; You'd think his very name might well amaze one, Bahader Cham Mombaza's King; h'had been A long hot suter to this mighty Queen, But still repuls'd: now this unruly fire Supprest with scorn, breaks forth from love to ire. A mighty hoast he rays'd, and marcheth through The heart of No-land, to command, not wooe: Approaching neer her Court, he sends her word She must be his owne Queen at bed and board, Or see her Kingdome burn in higher flames, Then his for her: yet (for his spirit shames To warre with women) if she can find out One man in all her Realm, that is so stout In her defence with him his sword to try, Hee'l bravely win her, or hee'l bravely dye. Her Courtiers quail'd at this, who knew his force

Could not be parallel'd by man nor horse. Nor could it chuse but make the Queen look black, Not pale. Th'interpreter at Iones his back Rounds in his eare this proud imperious speech; Had she been thence, h'had bid him kisse his breech For this proud message: up howere he starts, And this loud answer with his mouth he farts; Goe tell Bahader Cham Mombaza's King, One Mars begot in's wrath will have a fling With him ere night, that one who at one breath Don Dego and Gonzago did to death, Will looke him dead; nor will I only be This Princesse champion, but (thy Cham to see) I'le walke through beds of Scorpions: for I hear He dares enough, and I can brooke no peer. This high reply nere mov'd the haughty Cham, Let Iones be what he will hee's still the same. The day's his owne before the fight's begun: Were Mars himself in stead of Mars his son. A back and brest and helmet strong he dond, Well wrought and varnish'd by some Indian hand, A whale-bone bow he takes of speciall strength, With arrowes barb'd, at least two yards in length: A crooked Scimiter whose edge was flint, Queintly conjoyn'd and some tough speel was in't, To make it proof against the strength of steel. Oft had this sword made head-strong Giants reel. By his right side a massie Mace he hangs, With which his sturdy foes to death he bangs. A buckler like a Spanish ruffe he wore

About his neck, full halfe yard deep, or more: He wore not this for his defence, or grace, But to keep off his urine from his face. For you must know that member was still mounted: The bravest womans man on earth accounted. And thus prepar'd, this lusty Termagant, Ascends his Castle on his Elephant. And then advanceth to a spacious Green, Before the Castle of this maiden Queen. A brave Arabian courser is prepar'd For Jones, his owne true armes he dons for guard, Llwellins sword to doe; and so descends Down to the Green, where the fierce Cham attends. Iones was to seek what kinde of fight were best, To make against this Giant and his beast. Both farre exceed in strength himselfe and horse, And therefore art must now be joyn'd with force: No brest to brest, a nimble charge, and gon. His ready steed as soon comes off as on. Had not the well try'd armes he wore prov'd true, The Chams smart whale-bone bow had made him rue This bold attempt: but what can whales weake bones, VVhen whales themselves came short to swallow Iones; Thus thrice he charg'd, and thrice he came off cleer, At last he came close up in full career, And turning short, the horses hind feet slipt: Through which mischance the Carry-castle ript His bowells forth, with's tusk; down falls the horse: The surious beast claspt Iones with his probosce;

And mounts him high; but in his rise he found The meanes to give Bahaders face a wound, And cuts in th'instant off, the trunke that claspt him: So downe the Elephant was forc't to cast him. This hard exploit none ere perform'd before, But one of Caesars Soldiers and no more. * 1.22 The wounded beast inrag'd with paine cries out VVith hideous voice, and plung'd and branc'd about The Green, till from his seat the Prince he throw'th, And then (for by the Cham from his first growth, This feat he had been taught) though mad with paine, He strives to mount him on his back againe. But Iones had lopt off his strong trunk before, Whereby he could performe this feate no more. Here Iones denies he bred this docill beast, Taught to his hand, he got him to the East; And his report must have beliefe before us, Who swears it was the same that carry'd * 1.23 Porus Against the Macedon. I cannot see How by wise natures rules this thing should be, Unlesse in Plinies Volumes it appeares, That Elephants may live two thousand years. Now Iones leaps up in hast, and swiftly flyes, With sword in hand, where bruis'd Bahader lyes; And ere he could get up, one washing stroke His head & buckler from his shoulders took;

Which when twas off, they may compare't that will, To the grim S Johns head on Ludgate hill. His numerous Army struck with grief and fright At his sad fate betooke it selfe to flight, And thus was No-lands Queen redeem'd by Iones From bondage, rape, and No-lands losse at once. Now if she lov'd our Captaine well before, In reason she must love him tenne times more, Which she exprest by laying at his foot Her people, No-land, and her selfe to boot: But whether 'twas the god of loves deep curse, That she refus'd for better, or for worse, Those mighty Princes which to her he sent, To make her dote on a non-resident; Flings snow-balles at his heart, and flames at hers; To keep conjunction from these errant Starres; Or whether Iones his genitals had got Some lame defect by Skinks late desperate shot And so his noble heart made him refuse, What having got he could not rightly use. 'Tis not in me to judge, but this I know, Her violent fires scorcht her, and him his snow, So cold that to avoid her amorous sight, He leaves her court, and steales to sea by night: So Jason us'd Medea erst, but hee's So wise to take with him the golden fleece, Which Jones contemn'd to doe, and thought himselfe When safe return'd, his countries Mine of welth. No certain ground I have here to relate, This great deserted Queens unhappy fate,

But Sr. John Mandevils, who doth deliver, As Iones reports, he came soon after thither, And found the peoples outside all in black; A sad expression for their Princesse wrack▪ Who told him lately there arriv'd a man, All white, who for them wondrous things had done, Redeeme'd their Queen and kingdome from the shame Of rape and rapine, which Bahader Cham Came there to act, and was in open field, By this white man in single combat kild. Their Queen enamor'd with this matchlesse man, Refus'd and left by him: when nothing can Quench her wild fires but Carthage Queens hard fate, Whilst on the Cliffe with pensive thoughts she sate, A sudden spring she gave, and so commends Her selfe to sea, where life and love she ends. No more of this sad stuffe: let's all at once Joyne in a joyfull welcome home to Iones. In six moneths saile he steers by Goodwin sands, Casts anker at the Downes: the next day lands, Hasts to the Queen at London, there expresses Every particular of his addresses To Prester John; the great affaires successe As she desir'd: Lastly, in his progresse, He might have married the great Queen of No-land, But this the Queen gave credit to at no hand, 'Till'twas confirm'd by Sr. John Mandevill, Whose strange reports they may believe that will. Now let us well observe the happy Fate, Which still provided for the Queen and State.

Jones had not rested fully three dayes here, But out there breaks a great and fearfull fire Off 〈◊〉〈◊〉 rebellion; and to quench it, none's So 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈…〉〈…〉mmon sense, as Captain Jones. Brave Essex through affronts turn'd male-content, Hatches i••'s brest a desperate intent, To seise the Person of the Queen, and those He found most nere about her his strong foes. Her Grace and Counsell call for Jones, to know What in his judgment now were best to doe. Who first her gratious pardon doth beseech. And then delivers this short pithy speech. First guard the Court with Westminsters strong bands, Call in the neighbouring Counties by commands. Out with your houshold men, shut up your gates; Wee'l make your foes turn taile with broken pates. Then call to you the richest of your Citt's, But seek no cash; for in their bags their wits Are close knit up: but onely thus much make Them know, their wives and fortunes lye at stake; That they shall want no succour, whilst your hand Can grasp the sword, and scepter of this Land. Thus arme their hearts, & rouse them from their beds, And then let us alone to arme their heads. She now requires, that Jones in person goe To Essex, his intents to sound and know; To use all fairest meanes that may reduce him, From those leud wayes, to which lost men seduce him. He undertakes it; hastens to the Lord, And is admitted in as soon as heard.

And here he finds Sr. Walter Rawleigh with him; Some ill was in't, his fancy straight doth give him. He knew he came not to the Earl for good, But to provoke him to some madder mood. Therefore from thence our Jones doth Rawleigh rate, Shaking his martiall truncheon ore his pate: Bids him pack thence to th'knaves of his Grand Jury, Hee'l make him else th'example of his fury. Rawleigh was wise, and rul'd by his best sense; Gives place to time, and so withdrawes from thence. Then Jones these Councells to the Earl began, How full of dangers were the wayes he ran. How weak his power; much lesse unto the force Of Englands then his Raine-deer's to a horse. Thus his brave Family must be destroy'd, His honours lost, his ancient house made void: Beside, his cause was naught; for though himselfe Nere read the lawes of this great Common welth. Yet he had heard some Lawyer say long since, There was no law to captivate our Prince. Thus all the harmlesse blood that shall be spilt In this bad cause, must lye on Essex guilt. Lay hand on heart most noble Peere, (quoth Jones) The Queen can pardon, and inrich at once. Be you but good, she can be gratious, Your own experience can informe you thus. Thus Jones possest his noble heart so far, He is resolv'd to wave the chance of war; Himselfe and house he yeelds unto the Queen, And her cold mercy, which too soon was seen.

This is the last great act I can relate, Of his good service for the Queen and State: Rewards fit for his worth there were prepar'd, Which his high spirit past by without regard: And his great Queen was seriously bent, To put him in some place of government; But Nature onely taught the man to fight, And his rude Mother not to read and write. Which was the chiefest cause that made him hate To be imploy'd in mysteries of State▪ Besides, he was not pleased that her Grace Cut off this Noble man before his face, Whom he brought in; it may be his owne lot, With axe or cord for nought to goe to pot. Thus ignorance, a discontented mind, And worth ill weigh'd, doe make him fall behind Occasions lock; which lost, he never more, Though bred and breath'd on hills, shall get before. Now time and bruises, and much losse of blood, Had made Iones feel cold age was not so good As fiery youth; he needs must find a fail Of what he was: declin'd from top to tail. Which made him wish he might put up his rest, And breath his last in his own Countries brest. And for this cause he went unto her Grace, And begg'd of her a Muster-masters place, In Wales, neere his first home: where he may spend His later dayes in peace, and in it end: And yet to leave behind his martiall art, To Wale's posterity, before he part.

This sute with speed and readinesse is granted, And so to Wales our Muster-master's janted. Here many years he spent in telling more, Or lesse of those strange things he did before: At last in his old age he growes so wilde, He needs must marry, to beget a childe. Which though he mist, the mastery he must have Ore every sex, Iones sent her to her grave▪ Devotion now with his old age increast, He meditates thrice every day at least. His only prayer was the Absolution In our old Liturgy, with some confusion Of short ejaculations in his bed, For some old slips, and for the bloud he shed; Especially for those six Kings he kild Without remorce at the Juzippian field: At last death comes, whose power he defi'd From first to last, and, thus he liv'd and di'd.

Now you wild blads that make loose Innes your stage To vapour forth the acts of this sad age, Your Edghil fight, the Newberies and the West, And Northern clashes; where you still fought best: Your strange escapes, your dangers voyd of feare, When bullets flew between the head and eare: Your pia maters rent, perisht your guts, Yet live, as then ye had been but earthen buts: Whether you fought by Dam me, or the Spirit, To you I speake, still waving men of merit, Be modest in your tales, if you exceed My Captain's hard atchivements, I'le proceed

Once more to imp my rurall muses wings, And turne my lyre so high, I'le break her strings, But I will reach ye, and thence raise such laughter, As shall continue for sive ages after.

The Captaines Elegie.

ANd art thou gone brave man? bath conqering death Put a full period to thy blustering breath? Thus hath she plaid her master-piece? and here Fixt her nil supra on thy sable beere? Scap'st thou those hideous storms, those horrid sights, With many Giants; cruel beasts, fierce Knights? Such dangerous stratagems, such foes intrapping, And now hath death don't? sure she took thee napping, For hadst thou been awake to use thy sword, She would have shun'd thee, and have ta'ne thy word For thy apparence, till the last return Of her long term. Or did thy mettle burn Through thy chapt clay unto Elysiums shades T' incounter with the ghosts of those old blades, Great Caesar, Scipio, Annibal; 'cause here Thy fiery spirit could not finde its peer? How couldst thou else finde time to fold thy armes In thy still grave, now Mars raines bloudy stormes, On Christian earth? great Austria would be ours Without pitcht field, without beleaguering towrs: Wert thou but here, thy sword would strike the stroke To breake or bring their necks to Britaines yoke.

Perhaps it was the providence of Fate, To snatch thee up, lest thou shouldest come too late, Now souldiers drop pel mel, whose soules might thrust Thine from the chiefest place, which thou from first Hast gain'd on earth; now what shall England doe? Limp like some grandame that hath lost her shooe. Put case a new Tyrone again should spring From his old urne, no some such furious thing As fierce Mac-kil-cow, where were then our Jones, To bring these Rebels on their marrow bones? Or say 'gainst Spaine our pikes we re-advance, For their old Sack, as such a thing may chance, Where shall we then finde out that Martiall man, That kild six thousand with nine score? hee's gone. And we that lick the dish that Homer lapt in, What fury now shall our dull braines be rapt in? We must goe sing Sr. Lanchelot and rehearse Old Huan's villanous prose in Wilder verse; Or else put up our pipes, and all at once, Crie farewell wit: all's gone with Captaine Jones. Well goe thy wayes (old blade th'hast done thy share For things beyond beliefe time (never feare) Will give thee being here: th'hast left us stuffe, To build thy Pyramid, more then enough, To equall Cayre's, and happily twil out last it, So with thy glorious deeds we may rough cast it. Farewell great soule, and take this praise with many; Except thy foes, thou nere did st harme to any: And thus farre let our Muse thy losse deplore, Well she may sigh, but she shall nere sing more.

His EPITAPH.

T Read softly (mortalls) ore the bones Of the worlds wonder Captaine Jones: Who told his glorious deeds to many, But never was believ'd of any: Posterity let this suffice, He swore all's true, yet here he lyes.

FINIS.

Notes

• * 1.1

  24. Spanish comman∣ders given in ex change for him.
• * 1.2

  Sir Topas rime in Chaucer.
• * 1.3

  Alway portending stormes when they are seen to play.
• * 1.4

  The Dol∣phin is al∣wayes ob∣serv'd to be a lover of man.
• * 1.5

  The eldest son of the King of France al∣waies stiled the Dol∣phin.
• * 1.6

  Nebuch••∣nizzar.
• † 1.7

  The saw in W〈…〉〈…〉
• * 1.8

  Lowsie.
• * 1.9

  The Prince of Sonth-Wales, Who was slain neare Bealt, a town in Brecknock∣shire.
• * 1.10

  Robert Earle of Essex.
• * 1.11

  A little village by Milford.
• * 1.12

  An old Welch Pro∣phet, who foretold the landing of Henry the seventh there.
• * 1.13

  Scaevola against Porsenna in Livie.
• * 1.14

  Lup••ntbro∣pos, Witches that take shipes of Wolves up∣on them in Ireland.
• * 1.15

  A Towne and Fort in the County of Cardigan.
• * 1.16

  Read pur∣chas in his relations of Aethio∣pia, tou∣ching this Mount.
• * 1.17

  The Apple which three goddesses, Juno, Pal∣las and Venus, con∣tended for, which was given by Paris to Venus: whereupon followed the destru∣ction of Troy.
• * 1.18

  A great epicure and Emperor of Rome.
• * 1.19

  painted cloths in Inns and victualling houses.
• * 1.20

  Read Gur∣tius, tou∣ching these.
• * 1.21

  A private Span••sh Comman∣der, that took this great King of Mexico▪ with a handfull of men.
• * 1.22

  Read the Commenta∣ries de bello Africno.
• * 1.23

  Read Curtius touching that Ele∣phant of Porus, who often re∣mounted his master with his trunk in that battell between him and A∣lexander.