FAIR AND fowl weather: OR A SEA AND LAND Storm, between two Calms.  
WITH An Apology in defence of the painful life, and needful use of Sailors.  
By john Tailor.  
LONDON, Printed for W: B. and are to be sold by Edward Wright at Christ-Church gate. 1615.   

To the judicious understanding gentleman, and my much approved and esteemed good friend, Master ROBERT BRANTHWAITE, Gentleman Taylor of the King's majesties Tower of London. john Taylor Dedicates this his Poetical Weatherworke, with his best wishes, for your heart's contentment.  
Kind Sir, my love to you's engaged so deep,  
That were I Idle, I were much ingrateful:  
Or should my thanks, forgetful, ever sleep  
In me, 'twere base, unmannerly and hateful.  
Then though I cannot pay you half my score,  
Vouchsafe to take this trifle as a part,  
As time enables me you shall have more,  
And therefore now accept my willing heart.  
I know, you well do understand and know  
The weak defects of my defective Muse,  
Yet do I hope you will this favour show  
That love may her unwilling faults excuse.  
And so to your protection I commend  
This Pamphlet, as unto my dearest friend.  Yours in my best employments to be commended. JOHN TAYLOR.  

Briefly to you that will Read.  
NOT unto every one can Read, I write;  
But only unto those that can Read right.  
And therefore if thou canst not Read it well,  
I pray thee lay it down, and learn to spell.  
But if thou wilt be hewing, (like a drudge)  
Hew on, and spare not, but forbear to judge.  Thine if thou be'st mine, john Taylor.  

To his friend and neighbour Master JOHN TAYLOR.  
FIerce Neptune's wrath, and Eol's angry spleen  
Full many a time I have both felt and seen,  
In leaking ship, and which hath grieved me more,  
In a long night a dark Moon, and lee shore:  
But such a storm as thou describest here,  
Amazeth me with wonder and with fear  
And wert thou not both Waterman and Poet  
Thou never couldst half so plainly show it,  
I much rejoice thou safe on shore art come,  
And bid thee very kindly welcome home.  Thomas Smith.  

To his friend john Tailor.  
I Cannot tell, how other men may praise  
The pleasing Method, thy Minerva lays  
In whatsoe'er it works on, but to me  
It offers much desired variety,  
To pass dull hours withal: with that, affords  
Much useful matter, which with Phrase, and Words.  
And all the aptest ornament of writ  
Thy pen doth furnish: This last birth of wit  
Is witness, worth believing. Like the Glass  
Great Artsmen use, in showing things that pass  
In parts far from us. This presents a Flaw,  
Or Storm at Sea: for what I red, I saw.  
I so may speak. Me thought I had in sight,  
A Cloud, as black as the dark rob of Night:  
Saw that dissolve, and fall in such a shower,  
As (mixed with lightning, and that voice of power,  
Makes Towers and Castles totter) made an hour  
Full of confounding horror. Then again,  
Mine eyes sad object, was the troubled Main:  
Swelled up, and curled, with that impetuous breath,  
Makes land-men quake, and Seamen oft see death.  
On this, me thought, I saw a vessel tossed,  
Higher than ken, and in minute, lost  
Between the Mountaine-billowes: At whose rise  
I saw pale looks, and heard the heavy ayes.  
Of those sad men that man'd her: After all,  
I saw this Storm into a Calmness fall,  
As plain, and smooth as Crystal. In thy Book  
All this is seen, as on thy lines we look.  
If where such life is, there can want delight,  
Though oft I read, I'll never dare to write.  Tho: B.  

FAIR AND FOWL WETHER.  

YOU triple-treble, thrice three Nymphs Divine,  
Inspire this weak capacity of mine,  
Oh let me quaff of your Pegassian bowl,  
That I may write of Wether Fair and Fowl.  
That to the life, my lines may here inform,  
Description of a Calm, and then a Storm:  
Give me that power that my unlearned Verse,  
The Readers apprehension so may pierce,  
That though the Wether be exceeding fair,  
They may suppose a fowl and troublous Air.  
And when they come to read tempestuous lines  
Then though the wind sleep, and Hyperion shines,  
Yet let them think heavens axle-tree doth crack,  
And Atlas throws his burden from his back  
I wish my Verse should such Impression strike,  
That what men Read off, they should think the like.  
For apprehension must be quick and you're,  
Imagination must be here, and there,  
For if a Tempest be but smoothly read,  
It shows the Readers judgement dull and dead.  
Or else to seem to make the Welkin split,  
In thundering out a Calm shows want of wit.  
'Gainst Heaven bread Poesy 'tis the worst offence,  
To have it hacked, and read with senseless sense.  
THen first I will describe Fair weather, cheerful,  
To make Fowl weather after seem more fearful.  
Upon an Evening when Apollo's beams  
Declined unto the occidental streams,  
As of the day he took his kind adieu,  
The Clouds, vermilion, purple, red, and blue,  
Put on the radiant liveries of the Sun,  
(As quickly lost, as they were lightly won.)  
To th'under world in hast he took his flight.  
And left th'Horizon all in darkness dight:  
Yet as he stooped he glanced his glorious eye,  
And stained the Welkin with a Crimson dye,  
Which did betoken, (as old saws do say)  
An Evening red, foretells a cheerful day.  
Sweet Philomella, 'gainst a therne did sing,  
Exclaiming 'gainst the lustful Thracian King,  
Whilst Progne in the attorneys top doth keep  
And for her selfe-borne self slain son doth weep.  
Madge-how let whooting cuts the empty skies,  
The light she flees, and in the night she flies.  
Bright Cynthia rises from her watery bed,  
And shows her pale faced silver horned head:  
Belighted and attended from her porch  
With many an hundred thousand, thousand torch.  
She light doth run, and as she runs doth light,  
The universal Arch of pitchy night.  
Hushed silence, (mortal foe to women kind,  
In snoring sleep did living senses bind,  
That (but for Routing, and for drawing breath)  
It seemed that all-devouring grisly death)  
Without respect of person, Sex, or Laws,  
Had grasped the world in his insatiate paws.  
At last the Cock proclaimed the days approach,  
And Titan called for his Diurnal Coach.  
He kissed Aurora, and she blushing red,  
Ashamed, hid her shamefaced Maidenhead.  
Pale Leina is obscured, her race is run,  
Her light's extinguished by the flaming Sun.  
The buxom day, robed in a silken Calm,  
With Zephers downy breath, as sweet as balm  
Perfumed the vausty verge of the whole world,  
When golden Sel his glistering beams had hurled.  
And guilded tops of proud Clowd-kissing hills,  
And all the world with radiant brightness fills.  
Fair Flora had embroidered o'er the field,  
Whose various colours, various scents did yield.  
The gentle wind amongst the leaves did whisk,  
The Goats did skip, the pretty Lambs did frisk.  
The brooks did warble, birds did sweetly sing,  
With joy to entertain the gladsome Spring.  
Like herds of Kids the Porpoises 'gan leap,  
The Seals and scollopendra's, on a heap  
Do vault and caper in such active sort  
That Neptune took delight to see the sport.  
The Mountain Whale, in his wide yawning chaps,  
Made shoals of smaller fishes fragment scraps,  
To fill his endless, bowndlesse, greedy gut,  
(For multitudes of littles hardly glut  
Th'unbottomed gorge of gaping thirst for more,  
That pines in plenty, starves in midst of store)  
Stern Nereus slept, raped in a pleasant dump,  
Whilst Triton piped levaltoes with his Trump.  
Old Oceanus nimbly skipped and praunced,  
And turncoat Proteus with fair Thetis danced.  
The scaly Dolphins mounted on the waves,  
And sportive Sturgeons one another laves.  
The Seahorse did curvet, and kick, and fling,  
And without rider, mounts and runs the ring.  
Yea all the watery squandrons took delight,  
To see the Sea so still, the day so bright.  
Was never gentler Calm on Neptune's face,  
All Elements in friendly sort embrace,  
As if in love they were combined together,  
To give poor mortal creatures pleasant weather.  
But what is't that continues permanent,  
That bides below the spacious firmament  
Not any thing at all. Our sweet with sour  
Is mixed and pain our pleasures do devour.  
The pleasant fowntaines toads and aspics breeds,  
In fairest fields are most contagious weeds.  
A minutes joy, foreruns a month of troubles,  
And under calmest Sea a tempest bubbles.  
We (in a merry, humour) Ankers weighed;  
And in a trice our winged sails displayed.  
And with a fresh and friendly welcome gale,  
Into the Main amain we mainly sail.  
Our steadfast course, right North North East we keep,  
We found and found the Sea ten fathom deep.  
We had not sailed above a league or twain,  
But Aeolus began to mount the Main  
Of Neptune's Monarchy, and with a troup  
Of full mouthed winds, that made great oaks to stoop.  
With Ceders, Pines, and tall welrooted Elmes,  
And topsy-turvy lofty towers o'erwhelms.  
Resplendent Phoebus hid his glorious light,  
And day enveloped in a Robe of night  
Attired the world in a black mourning town,  
As all things had been turned upside down.  
Ioues lightning flames, and dire amazing flashing,  
At whom the Sea-God hills of water dashing.  
Against the Heavens did seem in a age t'aspire,  
T'extinguish Ioues Celestia 1 dreadful fire.  
The spongy Clouds 'gainst one another crushed,  
And bursting, violent floods of Rain out gashed.  
Orion glared like a tempestuous Comet.  
Whilst Skies, and Seas, did fire and water vomit.  
The rattling Thunder through the Air did rumble,  
As if heavens frame into the Sea would tumble:  
Whole gusts of Sea ascends and fronts the Rain,  
And storms of rain in fury falls again,  
As if the Cloud contending water strove,  
Great Neptune from his Palace to remove.  
Big blustering Eoll blue confounding breath,  
And thunders dreadful larums, threatened death.  
Down powers whole floods of Rain and driu'ling sleet,  
As if Heaven, Earth, and Sea had meant to meet  
In desperate opposition, to expire  
The World, and unto Chaos back retire.  
The rolling ruthless Billows rage and roar,  
And battered fiercely 'gainst the rocky shore:  
Who by the rugged Crags repulsed back.  
With repercussive anger threats our wrack.  
Thus whilst the Wind and Seas contending gods,  
In rough robustious fury were at odds,  
Our beaten Bark, tossed like a forceless feather  
Twixt winds and waves, now hither and now thither,  
The topmast sometimes tilting at the Moon,  
And being up so soon, doth fall as soon,  
With such precipitating low descent,  
As if to Hell's black Kingdom down she went.  
The uncontrolled Hipperboroean blasts  
Tears all to tatters, tackle, sails and masts.  
And boystrus gusts of Eurus breath did hizze,  
And 'mongst our shrouds and Cordage wildly whizz.  
Our Ship no Rudder, or no steerage feels,  
But like a Drunkard to and fro she reels,  
unmanaged, guidlesse, up and down she wallowed,  
And of the foaming waves looks to be swallowed.  
Midst darkness, lightning, thunder, fleet, and rain,  
Remorseless winds and mercie-wanting Maine,  
Amazement, horror, dread, from each man's face,  
Had chased away life's blood, and in the place  
Was black despair, with hair heaved up upright,  
With A shy visage, and with sad affright,  
As if grim death with his all-murdring Dart,  
Had aiming been at each man's bloodless heart.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 s the Boteswaine, lower, the topsail low●●  
Then up aloft runs scrambling three or fewer,  
But yet for all their hurly burly haste,  
Ere they got up, down tumbles Sail and Mast.  
Veare the main sheate there, than the Master cried.  
Let rise the foretacke on the larboard side.  
Take in the foresail, youare good fellows, you're,  
Aluffe at helm there, beware no more beware.  
steer South-South-East there, I say ware no more,  
We are in danger of the Leeward shore.  
Clear your main brace, let go the hollin there,  
port port the helm hard, Romer, come no near.  
Then with a whiff the wind amain doth puff,  
And then our Master cried aloof, aloof,  
Clap hard the helm a Lee, yea, yea, done, done,  
Down, down allow into the bold quick, run.  
The main bend snackes, the planks and timbers break,  
Pump bullies, Carpenters quick, at up the look.  
Well pumped my hearts of gold, who says ammends.  
The careful Master thus his throat he reads,  
Contending 'gainst the wind and weathers force,  
Till he with gaping and with toil grows hoarse.  
But since the Thund'rens' high imperious bride,  
Against AEneaes had her anger tried,  
(Excepting this) a Storm so full of rage,  
Was never seen or heard in any age.   

But when our loss of lives we most expected,  
Then powerful power of powers us all protected,  
The winds grew gentle that had blown so stiff,  
Stern Eurus hied him Eastward with a whiff.  
And Rugged Boreas, Northward trudged a pace,  
Hamidious Auster, to the South did trace.  
Sweet breathing Zephyrus cried Westward ho,  
Thus homeward all the furious winds did go.  
And as they scud they swept th'an even Main  
From gusts, and flaws, and leaves it smooth and plain.  
Like as the grass in field, some short, some long.  
Some green, some dead, with withered flowers among,  
Unequally in height some high some low.  
Until the Mower equal all doth mow,  
Where long and short cut down together lies,  
And as it lives so it together dies.  
Wherewith the scythe (all sharp and barbing keen)  
The labourer shaves all even, plain and clean.  
So are the billows, blue, and green, and white,  
By the winds home retreat all shaven quite.  
That Neptune's angry brow, looked mild and even,  
For Storms and flaws before the winds were driven:  
Or as a measure filled with Oats or Rye  
Vnstrooke and heaped doth lie confusedly,  
Till at one stroke the meter strikes it plain,  
And makes the measure equal with the grain.  
So at one blow, the blowing of each, wind,  
Stooke Storms before them, and left calms behind.  
That as bright Titan in his Course did pass,  
He made the Sea his amomours looking glass.  
And as himself had of himself a sight,  
His shadow seemed t'eclips his substance quite,  
That he amazed run, and ran amazed.  
And gazed and winked, and winked again and gazed,  
That as Narsissus died by his own error  
So Titan was entangled in this mirror.  
Until at last a curled woolsacke cloud  
His glorious substance from his shade did shroud  
Great Neptune to his Court descended deep,  
And laid his head in Thetis lap to sleep  
We presently let no advantage slip,  
But nimbly we reriged our unrigged ship,  
Our Courses, Bonnets, Drabblers, Malts, and all  
With speed we merrily to mending fall.  
And by heavens favour, and our willing pain,  
Into the wished haven we gain a chain.  
Where at an Anchor we in safety ride,  
Secured from storms and tempests, wind, and tide.    

An Apology for Seamen, or the Description of a Mariners pains and adventures.  
UP sluggard Muse from Leathe's lazy Lake,  
And in plain terms, a true Description make,  
Of toils, of dangers, and excessive pains,  
That Seamen suffer for the Land men's gains.  
The one doth live: Shore, in wealth and ease,  
The other surrowes through th'uncertain Seas.  
The one in pleasure lives, and lies at home,  
The other cuts the raging salt-Sea foam.  
The one adventures only but his goods,  
The other hazards all, both goods and bloods.  
'mongst Pirates, tempests, rocks, fogs, gulfs, and shelves,  
The Seamen ventures all, and that's themselves.  
The Land-man (dangerless) doth-eate and sleep,  
The Seaman slems and ploughs the Ocean deep.  
The one fares hard, and harder he doth lie,  
The other lies and fairs, soft, sweet, and dry.  
The one with dauntless unrebated courage,  
Through greatest perils valliently doth forage,  
And brings home jewels, Silver Gold, and Pearls,  
Tadorne both Court and City Dames, and Girls.  
They set whole Kingdoms both at wars or peace,  
They make wealth flow, and plenty to increase.  
The Countries far remote, they do unite,  
They make us sharers in the world's delight:  
And what they get with pain, they spend in pleasure.  
They are no Miser's, borders up of treasure.  
The oldest man alive, did never see  
A sailor and a Niggard's mind agree.  
No, if their pains at Sea were ten times more,  
'tis all forgotten when they come a shore.  
And this much I dare publish with my pen,  
They are the best of Serviceable men,  
The walls of Kingdoms, Castles of defence,  
Against Invasion of each foreign Prince.  
A torch lights not itself, yet wastes and burns,  
So they their lives spend, serving others turns.  
The Merchant sits at home, and casts up sums,  
And reckons gains and loss, what goes, what comes:  
To what his whole adventures may amount,  
He Ciphers, numbers, and he casts Account.  
And every angy boisterous gust he hears  
Disturbs his sleep, and fills his heart with fears.  
His goods at Sea awakes and startles him,  
For with them, his estate doth sink or swim.  
But yet for all this heart tormenting strife,  
He's in no danger of the loss of life  
By cut throat Sea-theeves, or a world of woes,  
Which many a sailors life and state or'throwes.  
The Mariner abides the desperate shocks  
Of wind and weather, Pirates, sands and rocks  
And what they get, they freely spend away,  
A whole months' wages, in a night, or day.  
Their labours on the Sea, they leave a shore  
And when all's spent then to't again for more:  
And pity 'tis there should be such neglect  
Of such, whose service merits such respect.  
Whole spawns of Land-sharks, and of guilded Gulls,  
Of painted Mammets, and ill-favoured trulls,  
Will hold their noses and cry sogh and sye,  
When serviceable Mariners pass by:  
And then (their stomachs somewhat more to ease)  
What stinking tarlubbers (quoth they) are these.  
Then Mistress Fumpe troubled with the stitch,  
She's poisoned with the smell of tar and pitch.  
Some Frankincense, or juniper, oh quick,  
Make haste I say, the Gentlewoman's sick.  
And monsieur Puff-paste with the satin slop,  
That sits in a Tobacco-sellers shop,  
And makes a stink worse than a brace of Bears:  
When with a whiff his witless worship swears,  
How Sailors are Rude fellows, and do smell,  
Of pitch and tar worse than the smoke of hell.  
But were the case now, as I erst have known,  
That use of men should have their service shown,  
One Mariner would then do much more good,  
Then twenty of these Satin Milksop brood  
Of all men than the Navigator can,  
For King and Country's cause, best play the man:  
And howsoe'er they smell of tar and pitch,  
Their painful toils do make great Kingdoms rich.  
I we by soraine War should be annoyed,  
Then chiefly Mariners must be employed,  
They on the Sea must bide the fiercest brunt,  
Grim death and danger they must first affront.  
One fight at Sea, with Ships courageous manned,  
Is more than three great battles on the Land.  
There men must stand to 't, there's no way to fly,  
There must they Conquerors live or Conquered die.  
And if they die not by some launching wound.  
They are in hazard to be sunk and drowned.  
The murdering bullets, and the brinish waves,  
Are many a valiant Seaman's death and graves.  
And 'tis a lamentable case to think,  
How these men's serviceable number shrink,  
Decreasing and consuming every day,  
Where one doth breed, at least sour do decay,  
Some the Sea swallows, but that which most grieves.  
Some turn Sea-monsters, Pirates, roving thieves:  
Employing their best skill in Navigation,  
'Gainst their own Prince, and kin, and native Nation,  
By which means many a Merchant is undone,  
And Pirates near the better for what's won.  
For if (like Moss his Mare) they be catched napping.  
They bid the world their last farewell at Wapping.  
Which fatal Haven, hath as many slain,  
As could disturb and shake the power of Spain:  
And want of means, but (chiefly want of grace)  
Hath made so many perish in that place.  
But to conclude my Rhyme, with heart and speech.  
I do my God (for jesus sake) beseech,  
That he for Sailors will vouchsafe to please,  
To grant them good employment on the Seas.  
So honest salt-Sea-watermen adiewe,  
I have been, am, and will be still for you.  Whilst I live, JOHN TAYLOR. 
FINIS.