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cover their forces the more, as also to give advice to my Lord Thomas of their approach.
He had no sooner delivered the news but the fleet was in sight. Many of our ships' companies were on shore in the island, some providing ballast for their ships, others filling of water and refreshing themselves from the land with such things as they could either for money or by force recover.- By reason whereof our ships being all pestered, and rummaging every thing out of order.t very light for want of bal last, and that which was most to our disadvantage, the one half of the men of every ship sick and utterly unserviceable. For in the Revenge there were ninety diseased; in the Bonaienture, not so many in health as could handle her mainsail—for had not twenty men been taken out of a bark of Sir (ieorge Cary's, his being commanded to be sunk, ami those appointed to her, she had hardly ever recovered* England. The rest, for the most part, were in little better state.
The names of her Majesty's ships were these, as followeth: the Defiance, which was Admiral, the Revenge, Vice Admiral, the Bonartnture, commanded by Captain Crosse, the Lion, by George Fenner, the Foresight, by Thomas Vavisour, and the Crane, by Duffield; the Foresight and the Crane being but small ships only—the other were of middle size. The rest, besides the bark Raleigh, commanded by Captain Thin, were victuallers, and of small force or none.
The Spanish fleet, having shrouded their approach by reason of the island, were now so soon at hand as< our ships had scarce time to neigh their anchors, but some of them were driven to let slip their cables and set sail. Sir Richard Grenville was the last weighed, to recover the men that were upon the island, which otherwise had been lost. The Lord Thomas with the rest very hardly recovered the wind, which Sir Richard Grenville not being able to do, was persuaded5 by the master and others to cut" his mainsail and cast7 about, and to trust to the sailing of his ship: for the squadron of Seville were on his weather bow. But Sir Richard utterly refused to turn from the enemy, alleging that he would rather choose to die, than to dishonor himself, his country, and her Majesty's ship, persuading his company that he would pass through the two
; obtain s advised
3 regained 8 spread
* thnt 7 turn
f I. e.. were nil cumbered, and badly stowed. The syntax of this sentence, as of others that follow. Is very faulty. Cp. note on the style of the preceding selection.
squadrons in despite of them, and enforce those of Seville to give him way. Which he performed upon divers of the foremost, who, as the mariners term it, sprang their luff,8 and fell under the lee of the Revenge. But the other course had been the better, and might right well have been answered in so great an impossibility of prevailing. Notwithstanding out of the greatness of his mind he could not l>e persuaded.t
In the meanwhile, as he attended those which were nearest him, the gTeat San Philip, being in the wind of him, and coming towards him, becalmed his sails in such sort as the ship could neither weigh nor feel the helm: so huge and high carged* was the Spanish ship, being of a thousand and five hundred tons; who afterlaid the Revenge aboard.10 When he was thus bereft of his sails, the ships that were under his lee, luffing up, also laid him aboard; of which the next was the admiral of the Biscayans, a very mighty and puissant ship commanded by Brittan Dona. The said Philip carried three tier of ordinance on a side, and eleven pieces in every tier. She shot11 eight forthright out of her chase,1 - besides those of her stern ports.
After the Revenge was entangled with this Philip, four other boarded her, two on her larboard, and two on her starboard. The fight thus beginning at three of the clock in the afternoon continued very terrible all that evening. But the great San Philip, having received the lower tier of the Revenge, discharged with crossbarshot, shifted herself with all diligence from her sides, utterly misliking her first entertainment. Some say that the ship foundered, but we cannot report it for truth, unless, we were assured.
The Spanish ships were filled with companies of soldiers, in some two hundred besides the mariners, in some five, in others eight hundred. In ours there were none at all besides the mariners, but the servants of the commanders and some few voluntary gentlemen only.
After many interchanged volleys of great ordinance and small shot, the Spaniards delib I erated to enter the Revenge, and made divers attempts, hoping to force her by the multitudes of their armed soldiers and musketeers, but were still repulsed again and again, and at all
times beaten back into their own ships or into the seas. In the beginning of the fight, the George Noble of London, having received some shot through her by the arniados, fell under the lee of the Revenge, and asked Sir Richard what he would command him, being but one of the victuallers and of small force. Sir Richard bade him save himself, and leave him to his fortune.
After the fight had thus without intermission continued while the day lasted and some hours of the night, many of our men were slain and hurt, and one of the great galleons of the Armada and the admiral of the Hulks13 both sunk, and in many other of the Spanish ships great slaughter was made. Some write that Sir Richard was very dangerously hurt almost in the beginning of the fight, and lay speechless for a time ere he recovered. But two of the Revenge's own company brought home in a ship of lime from the islands, examined by some of the Lords and others, affirmed that lie was never so wounded as that he forsook the upper deck, till an hour before midnight; and then being shot into the body with a musket, as he was a-dressingn was again shot into the head, and withal his chinirgeonn wounded to death. This agreeth also with an examination, taken by Sir Francis Godolphin, of four other mariners of the same ship being returned, which examination the said Sir Francis sent unto master William Killigrew, of her Majesty 's Privy Chamber.
But to return to the fight, the Spanish ships which attempted to board the Kcvenge, as they were wounded and beaten off, so always others | came in their places, she having never less than two mighty galloons by her sides and aboard her. So that ere the morning fro"m three of the clock the day before, there had fifteen several arniados assailed her; and all so ill approved their entertainment, as they were by the break of day far more willing to hearken to a composition10 than hastily to make any nunc assaults or entries. But as the day increased, so our men decreased; and as the light grew more and more, by so much more grew our discomforts. For none appeared in sight but enemies, saving one small ship called the Pilgrim, commanded by Jacob Whiddon, who hovered all night to see the success;i? but in the morning, hearing with the Revenge, was hunted like a hare among many ravenous hounds, but escaped.
All the powder of the Revenge to the last barrel was now spent, all her pikes broken,
13 heavy ships is also his Burgeon
Khavin r the wound i« aercement, terms dressed i~ outcome
forty of her best men slain, and the most part of the rest hurt. In the beginning of the fight she had but oue hundred free from sickness, and fourscore and ten sick, laid in hold upon the ballast. A small troop to man such a ship, and a weak garrison to resist so mighty an army! By those hundred all was sustained, the volleys, boardings, and enterings of fifteen ships of war, besides those which beat her at large. On the contrary the Spanish were always supplied with soldiers brought from every squadron, all manner of arms and powder at will. Unto ours there remained no comfort at all, no hope, no supply either of ships, men, or weapons; the masts all beaten overboard, all her tackle cut asunder, her upper work altogether razed; and, in effect, evened she was with the water, but"1 the very foundation or bottom of a ship, nothing being left overhead either for flight or defence.
Sir Richard finding himself in this distress, and unable any longer to make resistance, having endured in this fifteen hours' fight the assault of fifteen several armados, all by turns aboard him, and by estimation eight hundred shot of great artillery, besides many assaults and entries, and that himself and the ship must needs be possessed by the enemy, who were now cast in a ring round about him, the Rcvenpe not able to move one way or other but as she was moved by the waves and billows of the sea,—commanded the master gunner, whom he knew to be a most resolute man, to split and sink the ship, that thereby nothing might remain of glory or victory to the Spaniards, seeing in so many hours' fight, and with so great a navy, they were not able to take her, having had fifteen hours' time, fifteen thousand men, and fifty and three sail of men-of-war to perform it withal; and persuaded the company, or as many as he could induce, to yield themselves unto God, and to the mercy of none else, but, as they had, like valiant resolute men, repulsed so many enemies, they should not now shorten the honor of their nation by prolonging their own lives for a few hours or a few days.
The master gunner readily condescended.'3 aud divers others. But the Captain and the Master were of another opinion and besought Sir Richard to have care of them, alleging that the Spaniard would be as ready to entertain a composition as they were willing to offer the same, and that there being divers sufficient and valiant men yet living, and whose wounds were not mortal, they might do their country and prince acceptable service hereafter. And (that
I is nothing but 10 rgreed
where Sir Richard had alleged that the Spaniards should never glory to have taken one ship of her Majesty's, seeing that they had so long and so notably defended themselves) they answered that the ship had six foot of water iu hold, three shot under water which were so weakly stopped as, with the first working of the sea, she must needs sink, and was besides so flushed and bruised as she could never be removed out of the place.
And as the matter was thus in dispute, and Sir Richard refusing to hearken to any of those reasons, the Master of the Revenge (while the Captain won unto him the greater party) was convoyed aboard the General Don Alfonso Bassail. Who finding none over hasty to enter the Revenge again, doubting lest Sir Richard would have blown them up and himself, and perceiving by the report of the Master of the Revenge his dangerous disposition, yielded that all their lives should be saved, the company sent for England, and the better sort to pay such reasonable ransom as their estate would bear, and in tho mean season to be free from galley or imprisonment. To this he so much the rather condescended, as well, as I have said, for fear of further loss and mischief to themselves, as also for the desire he had to recover Sir Richard Grenville; whom for his notable valor he seemed greatly to honor and admire.
When this answer was returned, and that safety of life was promised, the common sort being now at the end of their peril, the most drew back from Sir Richard and the gunner, being no hard matter to dissuade men from death to life. The master gunner finding himself and Sir Richard thus prevented and mastered by the greater number, would have slain himself with a sword had he not been by force withheld and locked into his cabin. Then the General sent many boats aboard the 'Revenge, and divers of our men, fearing Sir Richard's disposition, stole away aboard the General and other ships. Sir Richard, thus overmatched, was sent unto by Alfonso Bassan to remove out of the Revenge, the ship being marvellous unsavory, filled with blood and bodies of dead and wounded men like a slaughter-house. Sir Richard answered that he might do with his body what ho list,'-" for he esteemed it not; and as he was carried out of the ship he swoonded.21 and reviving again desired the company to pray for him. The General used Sir Richard with all humanity, and left nothing unattempted that tended to his recovery, highly commending his valor and worthiness,
-0 pleaded 21 swooned
and greatly bewailed the danger wherein he was, being unto them a rare spectacle, and a resolution seldom approved," to see one ship turn toward so many enemies, to endure the charge and boarding of so many huge armados, and to resist and repel the assaults and entries of so many soldiers. All which, and more, is confirmed by a Spanish captain of the same Armada, and a present actor in the fight, who, being severed from the rest in a storm, was by the Lion of London, a small ship, taken, and is now prisoner in London.
The General Commander of the Armada was Don Alfonso Bassan, brother to the Marquis of Santa Cruce. The Admiral of the Biscayan squadron was Britan Dona; of the squadron of Seville, Marquis of Arumburch. The Hulks and Fly-boats2* were commanded by Luis Cutino. There were slain and drowned in this fight well near two thousand of the enemies, and two especial Commanders, Don Luis de Sant John, and Don George de Prunariu. de Malaga, as the Spanish Captain confesseth, besides divers others of special account, whereof as yet report is not made.
The admiral of the Hulks and the Ascension of Seville were both sunk by the side of the Revenge; one other recovered the road of Saint Michaels, and sunk also there; a fourth ran herself with the shore to save her men. Sir Richard died, as it is said, the second or third day aboard the General, and was by them greatly bewailed. What became of his body, whether it was buried in the- sea or on the land we know not: the comfort that remaineth to his friends is, that he hath ended his life honorably in respect of the reputation won to his nation and country, and of the same to his posterity, and that, being dead, he hath not outlived his own honor.§
22 experienced been impressed Into
23 Dutch boats that had the Spanish service.
| The uccuunt of his death by another contemporary, Jan Huyghen van Linschoten. runs thus: "He was borne Into the ship called the Saint Paul, wherein was the Admiral of the Klect, Don Alonso de Barsan. There his wounds were dressed by the Spanish surgeons, but Don Alonso himself would neither see him nor speak with him. All the rest of the captains and gentlemen went to visit him and to comfort him In his hard fortune, wondering at his courage and stout heart, for that he shewed nnt any sign of faintness nor changing of color. But feeling the hour of death to approach, he spake these words In Spanish, and said: 'Here die I. Rlrhant Orcnville. with n joyful and quiet mind, for that I have euded uiy life as a true soldier ought to do that hath fought for his country, queen, religion, and honor, whereby my soul most Joyful departeth out of this body, and shall always leave behind It an everlasting fame of a valiant and true soldier that hath done his duty as he was bound to do.'"
FRANCIS BACON (1561-1626)
Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight is in privateness and retiring; for ornament, is in discourse; and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition of business. For expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of particulars, one by one; but the general counsels, and the plots and marshalling of affairs, come best from those that are learned. To spend too much time in studies is sloth; to use them ton much for ornament, is affectation; to make judgment wholly by their rules, is the humour of a scholar. They perfect nature, and arc perfected by experience: for natural abilities are like natural plants, that need pruning by study; and studies themselves do give forth directions too much at large, except they be bounded in' by experience. Crafty men- con temn studies, simple men admire3 them, and wise men use them; for they teaeh not their own use; but that is a wisdom without4 them, tnd above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted.t others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others; but that would be only in the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books; else distilled books are like common distilled waters, flashy" things. Reading maketh a full man; conference" a ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he
3 wonder at ^ outside of "Insipid o conversation
2 craftsmen, men of prac
tical skill (much
•The first edition of Hacon's Kmiau* Men In number) was printed In 15*17: revised and enlarged editions appeared In 1011! and 1G1!.">. The first two essays given here were In the first edition, the next two In the second, the last two In the third: but all follow the text (if the third. The spelling Is modernized, the paragraphing not: as the essays consist often of detached thoughts, a change of thought j may be expected at any point.
t Of the six sentences beginning here Macaulay! said: "We do not believe Tnucydldes himself I has anywhere compressed so much thought In »o small a space."
confer little, he had need have a present wit: and if he read little, he had need have uiucli cunning, to seem to know that7 he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets witty;8 the mathematics subtile; natural philosophy deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend. Abcunt studia in mores'. Nay, there is no stoud1" or impediment in the wit but may be wrought out11 by fit studies; like as diseases of the body may have appropriate exercises. Bowling is good for the stone12 and reins; shooting1-'1 for the lungs and breast; gentle walking for the stomach; riding for the head; and the like. So if a man's wit be wandering, let him study the mathematics; for in demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so little, he must begin again. If his wit be not apt to distinguish or find differences, let him study the Schoolmen ;14 for they are egmiui scctores. If he be not apt to beat over matters, and to call up one thing to prove and illustrato another, let him study the lawyers' cases. So every defect of the mind may have a special receipt.
Some in their discourse1 desire rather commendation of wit, in being able to hold all arguments, than of judgment, in discerning what is true; as if it were a praise to know what might be said, and not what should be thought. Some have certain common places and themes wherein they are good, and want variety; which kind of poverty is for the most part tedious, and when it is once perceived, ridiculous. The honorablest part of talk is to give the occasion; and again to moderate and pass to somewhat else; for then a man leads the dance. It is good, in discourse and speech of conversation, to vary and intermingle speech of the present occasion with arguments, tales with reasons, asking of questions with telling of opinions, and jest with earnest: for it is a dull thing to tire, and, as we say now, to jade any thing too far. As for jest, there l>e certain things which ought to be privileged from it; namely, religion, matters of state, great persons, any man's present business of importance, and any case that deserveth pity. Yet there be some that think their wits have been asleep.
7 that which the kidneys, or
0 "Studies are transmu- is archery
ted into character." n medieval theologians.
10 stand, obstacle who were "splitters
1 I removed o f cumin - seeds.' 12 gravel ca disease of - hnlr-splltters
except they dart out somewhat that is piquant, and to the quick. That is a vein which would2 be bridled;
Parce, inter, stimulis, et fortius utere loris.*
And generally, men ought to find the difference between saltness and bitterness. Certainly, he that hath a satirical vein, as he maketh others afraid of his wit, so he had need be afraid of others' memory. He that questioneth much shall learn much, and content much; but especially if he apply1 his questions to the skill of the persons whom he asketh; for he shall give them occasion to please themselves in speaking, and himself shall continually gather knowledge. But let his questions not be troublesome; for that is fit for a poser.' And let him be sure to leave other men their turns to speak. Nay, if there be any that would reign and take up all tho time, let him find means to take them off, and to bring others on; as musicians use to do with those that dance too long galliards.c If you dissemble sometimes your knowledge of that you are thought to know, you shall be thought another time to know that you know not. i Speech of a man's self ought to be seldom, and well chosen. I knew one was wont to say in scorn, He must needs be a wise man, he speaks so much of himself: and there is but one case wherein a man may commend himself with good grace; and that is in commending virtue in another; especially if it be such a virtue whereunto himself pretendeth. Speech of touch towards others should be sparingly used; for discourse ought to be as a field, without coming home to any man. I knew two noblemen, of the west part of England, whereof the one was given to scoff, but kept ever royal cheer in his house; the other would ask of those that had been at the other's table, Tell truly, was there never a flout or dry"< blow given? To which the guest would answer, Such and such a thing passed. The lord would say, J thought he would mar a good dinner. Discretion of speech is more than eloquence; and to speak agreeably to him with whom we deal, is more than to speak in good words or in good order. A good continued speech, without a good speech of interlocution, shows slowness: and a good reply or second speech, without a good settled speech, showeth shallowness and weakness. As we see in beasts, that those that are weakest in the course are
2 should * adapt
3 "Spare the whip, boy. 5 examiner
and hold more Arm- 6 A lively French dance ly the reins." Ovid, (or two.
Met. 11, 127. i hard
yet nimblest in the turn; as it is betwixt the greyhound and the hare. To use too many circumstances ere one come to the matter, is wearisome; to use none at all, is blunt.
It had been hard for him1 that spake it to have put more truth and untruth together in few words, than in that speech, Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god. For it is most true that a natural and secret hatred and aversation towards2 society in any man, hath somewhat of the savage beast; but it is most untrue that it should have any character at all of the divine nature; except it proceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude, but out of a love and desire to sequester a man's self for higher conversation: such as is found to have been falsely and feignedly in some of the heathen; as Epimenides the Candian, Numa the Roman, Empedoclea the Sicilian, and Apollonius of Tyana;* and truly and really in divers of the ancient hermits and holy fathers of the chareh. But little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extend eth. CFor a crowd is not company; and faces are but a gallery of pictures; and talk shut a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love. ) The Latin adage meeteth^ with it a little: Magna civitas, magna solitudo ;* because in a great town friends are scattered; so that there is not that fellowship, for the most part, which is in less neighborhoods. But we may go further, and affirm most truly that it is a mere5 and miserable solitude to want true friends; without which the world is but a wilderness; and even in this sense also of solitude, whosoever in the frame of his nature and affections is unfit for friendship, he taketh it of the beast, and not from humanity.
A principal fruit of friendship is the ease and discharge of the fulness and swellings of the heart, which passions of all kinds do cause and induce. We know diseases of stoppings and suffocations are the most dangerous in the body; and it is not much otherwise in the mind; you may take sarza8 to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flowers7 of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain; but no receipt openeth the heart, but a true friend; to
1 Aristotle, Politics, 1. 2. * pure, complete
2 aversion for Q sarsapartlla
sagrees 7 flower (1. c., flour, ed.
4 "A great town Is a 1639) great solitude."
• Epimenides, the Cretan poet, was said to have slept in a cave for fifty-seven years; Numa was Instructed by the Muse Egerla in a sacred grove: Empedocles surrounded himself with mystery; Apollonius was an ascetic.