I am pursued; all the Ports are stopt too; Not any hope to escape, behind, before me, On either side I am beset, cursed fortune My enemie on the Sea, and on the Land too, Redeem'd from one affliction to another: Would I had made the greedy waves my tomb And dyed obscure, and innocent, not as Nero Smear'd o're with blood.

Full happie is ye tailyor-man, And yet he hath a foe, A cunning enemie that none So well as tailyors knowe.

Then thou speak'st death, I am sorry I mistooke; They both are fatall, theres but little choice; The first inthral'd my father, the last me, No deadlier swords ever us'd enemie; My lot's the best that I dye with the sound, But he lives dying in a death profound.