IDENTILIN$$ F0900B|1635|pp. 148-50\EWS\mf(MH)\5-5-85\P&C:DAS\cd(DFo)\8-4-00\P:EWS\o(CSmH 60123)\6-13-01\C:JMK\7-13-01;JSC\7-26-01\P:js\fc(TxAM)\10-28-05 109.00B.0HE %XTHE STORME. /%1To M%2%5r%6 Christopher Brooke, %1from the Island voy-/age with the Earle of%2 Essex. 109.00B.001 T%+Hou which art I, ('tis nothing to be so) 109.00B.002 Thou which art still thy selfe, by this shalt know 109.00B.003 Part of our passage; And, a hand, or eye 109.00B.004 By %1Hilliard%2 drawne, is worth a Historie, 109.00B.005 By a worse painter made; and (without pride) 109.00B.006 When by thy judgement they are dignifi'd, 109.00B.007 My Lines are such. 'Tis the preheminence 109.00B.008 Of friendship onely to'impute excellence. 109.00B.009 England, to whom we'owe, what we be, and have, 109.00B.010 Sad that her sonnes did seeke a forraine grave 109.00B.011 (For, Fates, or Fortunes drifts none can southsay, 109.00B.012 Honour and misery have one face one[oue_CSmH] way.) 109.00B.013 From out her pregnant intrailes sigh'd a winde 109.00B.014 Which at th'ayres middle marble roome did finde 109.00B.015 Such stronge resistance, that it selfe it threw 109.00B.016 Downward againe; and so when it did view [CW:How] 109.00B.017 How in the port, our fleet deare time did leese, [p.149] 109.00B.018 Withering like prisoners, which lie but for fees, 109.00B.019 Mildly it kist our sayles, and, fresh, and sweet, 109.00B.020 As, to a stomack sterv'd, whose insides meet, 109.00B.021 Meate comes, it came; and swole our sayles, when we 109.00B.022 So joy'd, as %1Sara%2'her swelling joy'd to see. 109.00B.023 But 'twas, but so kinde, as our countreymen, 109.00B.024 Which bring friends one dayes way, and leave them \(then. 109.00B.025 Then like two mightie Kings, which dwelling farre 109.00B.026 Asunder, meet against a third to warre, 109.00B.027 The South and West winds joyn'd, &, as they blew, 109.00B.028 Waves like a rowling trench before them threw. 109.00B.029 Sooner then you reade this line, did the gale, 109.00B.030 Like shot, not fear'd, till felt, our sailes assaile; 109.00B.031 And what at first was call'd a gust, the same 109.00B.032 Hath now a stormes, anon a tempests name. 109.00B.033 %1Ionas%2, I pitie thee, and curse those men, 109.00B.034 Who when the storme rag'd most, did wake thee /(then. 109.00B.035 Sleep is paines easiest salve, and doth fulfill 109.00B.036 All offices of death, except to kill. 109.00B.037 But when I wak'd, I saw, that I saw not. 109.00B.038 I, and the Sunne, which should teach me,'had forgot 109.00B.039 East, West, day, night; and I could onely say, 109.00B.040 If the world had lasted, yet it had beene day. 109.00B.041 Thousands our noyses were, yet we 'mongst all 109.00B.042 Could none by his right name, but thunder call: 109.00B.043 Lightning was all our light, and it rain'd more 109.00B.044 Then if the Sunne had drunke the sea before. 109.00B.045 Some coffin'd in their cabbins lie,'equally 109.00B.046 Griev'd that they are not dead, and yet must die. 109.00B.047 And as sinburd'ned soules from grave will creep, 109.00B.048 At the last day, some forth their cabbins peepe: [CW:And] 109.00B.049 And trembling aske what newes, and doe heare so [p.150] 109.00B.050 As jealous husbands, what they would not know. 109.00B.051 Some sitting on the hatches, would seeme there, 109.00B.052 With hideous gazing to feare away feare. 109.00B.053 Then note they the ships sicknesses, the Mast 109.00B.054 Shak'd with an ague, and the Hold and Waste 109.00B.055 With a salt dropsie clogg'd, and all our tacklings 109.00B.056 Snapping, like too-too-high-stretch'd treble strings. 109.00B.057 And from our totter'd sailes, raggs drop downe so, 109.00B.058 As from one hang'd in chaines, a yeare agoe. 109.00B.059 Yea even our Ordinance plac'd for our defence, 109.00B.060 Srives[sic] to breake loose, and scape away from thence. 109.00B.061 Pumping hath tir'd our men, and what's the gaine? 109.00B.062 Seas into seas throwne, we suck in againe; 109.00B.063 Hearing hath deaf'd our Sailers, and if they 109.00B.064 Knew how to heare, there's none knowes what to \(say. 109.00B.065 Compar'd to these stormes, death is but a qualme, 109.00B.066 Hell somewhat lightsome, the Bermudas calme. 109.00B.067 Darknesse, lights eldest brother, his birth-right 109.00B.068 Clames o'r the world, & to heaven hath chas'd light. 109.00B.069 All things are one, and that one none can be, 109.00B.070 Since all formes, uniforme deformitie 109.00B.071 Doth cover; so that we, except God say 109.00B.072 Another %1Fiat%2, shall have no more day. 109.00B.073 So violent, yet long these furies be, 109.00B.074 That though thine absence sterve me,'I wish not \(thee. [CW:%1The%2] 109.00B.0SSom 109.00B.0$$ One 74-line st., no ind; poem is first in section headed "LETTERS /TO SEVERALL /P%9ersonages%0.