THE SEA-VOYAGE.

Previous
Francis Beaumont

A Comedy.

The Persons represented in the Play.

  • Albert, a French Pirat, in love with Aminta.
  • Tibalt du Pont, a merry Gentleman, friend to Albert.
  • Master of the Ship, an honest merry man.
  • Lamure, an usuring Merchant.
  • Franville, a vain-glorious gallant.
  • Morillat, a shallow-brain'd Gentleman.
  • Bo[a]tswain, an honest man.
  • Sebastian, a noble Gentleman of Portugal, Husband to Rosellia.
  • Nicusa, Nephew to Sebastian, both cast upon a desart Island.
  • Raimond, brother to Aminta.
  • Surgeon.
  • Sailors.

WOMEN.

  • Aminta, Mistriss to Albert, a noble French Virgin.
  • Rosellia, Governess of the Amazonian Portugals.
  • Clarinda, Daughter to Rosellia, in love with Albert.
  • Hippolita, } three Ladies, Members
  • Crocale, } of the Female
  • Juletta. } Common-wealth.

The Scene, First at Sea, then in the desart Islands.

The Principal Actors were

  • Joseph Taylor,
  • William Eglestone,
  • Nich. Toolie,
  • Joh Lowin,
  • John Underwood.

Actus Primus. ScÆna Prima.

A Tempest, Thunder and Lightning.

Enter Master and two Sailors.

Master.
 Lay her aloof, the Sea grows dangerous,
 How it spits against the clouds, how it capers,
 And how the fiery Element frights it back
 There be Devils dancing in the air I think
 I saw a Dolphin hang i'th horns o'th' moon
 Shot from a wave, hey day, hey day,
 How she kicks and yerks!
 Down with the Main Mast, lay her at hull,
 Farle up all her Linnens, and let her ride it out.
1 Sailor. She'll never brook it Master.
 She's so deep laden that she'll bulge.
Master. Hang her.
 Can she not buffet with a storm a little?
 How it tosses her, she reels like a Drunkard.
2 Sail. We have discover'd the Land, Sir,
 Pray let's make in, she's so drunk else,
 She may chance to cast up all her Lading.
1 Sail. Sland in, sland in, we are all lost else, lost and perish'd.
Mast. Steer her a Star-board there.
2 Sail. Bear in with all the sail we can, see Master
 See, what a clap of Thunder there is,
 What a face of heaven, how dreadfully it looks!
Mast. Thou rascal, thou fearful rogue, thou hast been praying;
 I see't in thy face, thou hast been mumbling,
 When we are split you slave; is this a time,
 To discourage our friends with your cold orizons?
 Call up the Boatswain; how it storms; holla.
Boats. What shall we do Master?
 Cast over all her lading? she will not swim
 An hour else;

Enter Albert, Franvile, Lamure, Tibalt de pont. Morillat.

Mast. The storm is loud,
 We cannot hear one another,
 What's the coast?
Boats. We know not ye[t]; shall we make in?
Albert. What comfort Sailors?
 I never saw, since I have known the Sea,
 (which has been this twenty years) so rude a tempest:
 In what State are we?
Mast. Dangerous enough Captain,
 We have sprung five leaks, and no little ones;
 Still rage; besides, her ribs are open;
 Her rudder almost spent; prepare your selves;
 And have good courages, death comes but once,
 And let him come in all his frights.
Albert. Is't not possible,
 To make in to th' Land? 'tis here before us.
Morill. Here hard by Sir.
Mast. Death is nearer, Gentlemen.
 Yet do not cry, let's dye like men.
Tib. Shall's hoise the Boat out,
 And goe all at one cast? the more the merrier.

Enter Amint.

Mast. You are too hasty Mounsieur,
 Do ye long to be i'th' Fish-market before your time?
 Hold her up there.
Amint. Oh miserable fortune,
 Nothing but horror sounding in mine ears,
 No minute to promise to my frighted soul.
Tib. Peace woman,
 We ha storms enough already; no more howling.
Amint. Gentle Master.
Mast. Clap this woman under hatches.
Alb. Prethe speak mildly to her.
Amint. Can no help?
Mast. None that I know.
Amint. No promise from your goodness.
Mast. Am I a God? for heavens sake stow this [woman].
Tib. Go: take your gilt [Prayer-Book];
 And to your business; wink and die,
 There's an old Haddock staies for ye.
Amint. Must I die here in all the frights[, the] terrors,
 The thousand several shapes death triumphs in?
 No friend to counsel me?
Alb. Have peace sweet Mistriss.
Amint. No kindreds tears upon me? oh! my countrey?
 No gentle hand to close mine eyes?
Alb. Be comforted, heaven has the same
 Power still, and the same mercy.
Amint. Oh, that wave will devour me.
Mast. Carry her down Captain;
 Or by these hands I'll give no more direction,
 Let the Ship sink or swim, we ha ne'er better luck,
 When we ha such stowage as these trinkets with us;
 These sweet sin-breeders: how can heaven smile on us,
 When such a burthen of iniquity
 Lies tumbling like a potion in our ship's belly? [Exit.
Tib. Away with her, and if she have a Prayer,
 That's fit for such an hour, let her say't quickly,
 And seriously. [Exit.
Alb. Come, I see it clear Lady, come in,
 And take some comfort. I'll stay with ye.
Amint. Where should I stay? to what end should I hope,
 Am not I circled round with misery?
 Confusions in their full heights dwell about me:
 Oh Mounsieur Albert, How am I bound to curse ye,
 If curses could redeem me! how to hate ye!
 You forc'd me from my quiet, from my friends;
 Even from their Arms, that were as dear to me,
 As day-light is, or comfort to the wretched;
 You forc'd my friends from their peaceful rest,
 Some your relentless sword gave their last groans;
 Would I had there been numbred;
 And to fortunes never satisfied afflictions,
 Ye turn'd my Brother; and those few friends I'd left,
 Like desperate creatures, to their own fears
 And the world's stubborn pitties: Oh merciless!
Alb. Sweet Mistriss.
Amint. And wh[e]ther they are wandred to avoid ye,
 Or wh[e]ther dead, and no kind earth to cover 'em;
 Was this a Lovers part? but heaven has found ye,
 And in his loudest voice, his voice of thunder,
 And in the mutiny of his deep wonders,
 He tells ye now, ye weep too late:
Alb. Let these tears tell how I honor ye;
 Ye know dear Lady, since ye are mine,
 How truly I have lov'd ye, how sanctimoniously
 Observ'd your honor; not one lascivious word,
 Not one touch Lady; no, not a hope that might not render me
 The unpolluted servant of your chastity;
 For you I put to sea, to seek your Brother;
 Your Captain, yet your slave, that his redemption,
 If he be living, where the Sun has circuit,
 May expiate your rigor, and my rashness.
Amint. The storm grows greater, what shall we do?
Alb. Let's in:
 And ask heavens mercy; my strong mind yet presages,
 Through all these dangers, we shall see a day yet
 Shall crown your pious hopes, and my fair wishes. [Exit.

Enter Master, Sailors, Gentlemen, and Boatswain.

Mast. It must all over-board.
Boats. It clears to Sea-ward Mast.
 Fling o'er the Lading there, and let's lighten her;
 All the meat, and the Cakes, we are all gone else;
 That we may find her Leaks, and hold her up;
 Yet save some little Bisket for the Lady,
 Till we come to the Land.
Lam. Must my Goods over too?
 Why honest Master? here lies all my money;
 The Money I ha wrackt by usury,
 To buy new Lands and Lordships in new Countreys,
 'Cause I was banish'd from mine own
 I ha been this twenty years a raising it.
Tib. Out with it:
 The devils are got together by the ears, who shall have it;
 And here they quarrel in the clouds.
Lam. I am undone Sir:
Tib. And be undone, 'tis better than we [perish].
Lam. Oh save one Chest of Plate.
Tib. Away with it lustily, Sailors;
 It was some pawn that he has got unjustly;
 Down with it low enough, and let Crabs breed in't.
Mast. Over with the Trunks too.

Enter Albert.

Alb. Take mine and spare not.
Mast. We must over with all.
Fran. Will ye throw away my Lordship
 That I sold, put it into cloaths and necessaries,
 To goe to sea with?
Tib. Over with it; I love to see a Lordship sink;
 Sir, you left no wood upon't, to buoy it up;
 You might ha' sav'd it else.
Fran. I am undone for ever.
Alb. Why we are all undone; would you be only happy?
Lam. Sir, you may loose too.
Tib. Thou liest; I ha' nothing but my skin,
 And my cloaths; my sword here, and my self;
 Two Crowns in my pocket; two pair of Cards;
 And three false Dice: I can swim like a fish
 Rascal, nothing to hinder me.
Boatsw. In with her of all hands.
Mast. Come Gentlemen, come Captain, ye must help all;
 My life now for the Land,
 'Tis high, and rocky, and full of perils.
Alb. However let's attempt it.
Mast. Then cheer lustily my hearts. [Exit.

Enter Sebastian and Nicusa.

Sebast. Yes, 'tis a Ship, I see it now, a tall Ship;
 She has wrought lustily for her deliverance;
 Heavens mercy, what a wretched day has here been!
Nicu. To still and quiet minds that knew no misery,
 It may seem wretched, but with us 'tis ordinary;
 Heaven has no storm in store, nor earth no terror,
 That can seem new to us.
Sebast. 'Tis true Nicusa, if fortune were determin'd
 To be wanton, and would wipe out the stories
 Of mens miseries: yet we two living,
 We could cross her purpose; for 'tis impossible
 She should cure us, we are so excellent in our afflictions;
 It would be more than glory to her blindness,
 And stile her power beyond her pride, to quit us.
Nicu. Do they live still?
Sebast. Yes, and make to harbor:
Nicu. Most miserable men; I grieve their fortunes.
Sebast. How happy had they been, had the Sea cover'd em!
 They leap from one calamity to another;
 Had they been drown'd, they had ended all their sorrows.
 What shouts of joy they make!
Nicu. Alas poor wretches, had they but once experience
 Of this Island, they'd turn their tunes to wailings.
Sebast. Nay, to curses.
 That ever they set foot on such calamities;
 Here's nothing but Rocks and barrenness,
 Hunger, and cold to eat; here's no Vineyards
 To cheer the heart of man, no Christal Rivers,
 After his labour, to refresh his body,
 If he be feeble; nothing to restore him,
 But heavenly hopes, nature that made those remedies,
 Dares not come here, nor look on our distresses,
 For fear she turn wild, like the place, and barren.
Nicu. Oh Uncle, yet a little memory of what we were,
 'Twill be a little comfort in our calamities;
 When we were seated in our blessed homes,
 How happy in our kindreds, in our families,
 In all our fortunes!
Sebast. Curse on those French Pirats, that displanted us;
 That flung us from that happiness we found there;
 Constrain'd us to Sea, to save our lives, honors, and our riches,
 With all we had, our kinsmen, and our jewels,
 In hope to find some place free from such robbers,
 Where a mighty storm sever'd our Barks,
 That, where my Wife, my Daughter
 And my noble Ladies that went with her,
 Virgins and loving souls, to scape those Pirats.
Nicus. They are yet living; such goodness cannot perish.
Sebast. But never to me Cosin;
 Never to me again; what bears their Flag-staves?
Nicu. The Arms of France sure;
 Nay, doe not start, we cannot be more miserable;
 Death is a cordial, now, come when it will.
Sebast. They get to shore apace, they'll flie as fast
 When once they find the place; what's that which swims there?
Ni. A strong young man, Sir, with a handsom woman.
 Hanging about his neck.
Sebast. That shews some honor;
 May thy brave charity, what e'er thou art,
 Be spoken in a place that may renown thee,
 And not dye here.
Nicus. The Boat it seems turn'd over,
 So forced to their shifts; yet all are landed:
 They're Pirates on my life.
Sebast. They will not rob us;
 For none will take out misery for riches:
 Come Cosin, let's descend, and try their pities;
 If we get off, a little hope walks with us;
 If not, we shall but load this wretched Island
 With the same shadows still, that must grow shorter. [Ex.

Enter Albert, Aminta, Tibalt, Morillat, Lamure, Master, Franvile, Surgeon, Sailors.

Tib. Wet come ashore my mates, we are safe arrived yet.
Mast. Thanks to heavens goodness, no man lost;
 The Ship rides fair too, and her leaks in good plight.
Alb. The weathers turn'd more courteous;
 How does my Dear?
 Alas, how weak she is, and wet!
Amint. I am glad yet, I scap'd with life;
 Which certain, noble Captain, next to heavens goodness,
 I must thank you for, and which is more,
 Acknowledge your dear tenderness, your firm love
 To your unworthy Mistriss, and recant too
 (Indeed I must) those harsh opinions,
 Those cruel unkind thoughts, I heapt upon ye;
 Farther than that, I must forget your injuries.
 So far I am ti'd, and fet'red to your service,
 Believe me, I will learn to love.
Alb. I thank ye Madam,
 And it shall be my practise to serve.
 What cheer companions?
Tib. No great cheer Sir, a piece of souc'd Bisket
 And halfe a hard egg; for the Sea has taken order;
 Being young and strong, we shall not surfet Captain.
 For mine own part, I'll dance till I'm dry;
 Come Surgeon, out with your Clister-pipe,
 And strike a Galliard.
Alb. What a brave day again!
 And what fair weather, after so foul a storm!
La mure. I, an't pleas'd the Master he might ha seen
 This weather, and ha' say'd our goods.
Alb. Never think on 'em, we have our lives and healths.
Lam. I must think on 'em, and think
 'Twas most maliciously done to undoe me.
Fran. And me too, I lost all;
 I ha'n't another shirt to put upon me, nor cloaths
 But these poor rags; I had fifteen fair suits,
 The worst was cut upon Taffaty.
Tib. I am glad you ha' lost, give me thy hand,
 Is thy skin whole? art thou not purl'd with scabs?
 No antient monuments of Madam Venus?
 Thou hast a suit then will pose the cunning'st Tailor,
 That will never turn fashion, nor forsake thee,
 Till thy executors the Worms, uncase thee,
 They take off glorious sutes Franvile: thou art happy,
 Thou art deliver'd of 'em; here are no Brokers;
 No Alchymists to turn 'em into Mettal;
 Nor leather'd Captains, with Ladies to adore 'em;
 Wilt thou see a Dog-fish rise in one of thy brave doublets,
 And tumble like a tub to make thee merry,
 Or an old Haddock rise with thy hatch'd sword
 Thou paid'st a hundred Crowns for?
 A Mermaid in a Mantle of your Worships,
 Or a Dolphin in your double Ruffe?
Fran. Ye are merry, but if I take it thus,
 If I be foisted and jeer'd out of my goods.
Lam. Nor I, I vow thee.
 Nor Master, nor Mate, I see your cunning.
Alb. Oh be not angry Gentlemen.
Moril. Yes Sir, we have reason.
 And some friends I can make.
Mast. What I did Gentlemen, was for the general safety.
 If ye aim at me, I am not so tame.
Tib. Pray take my counsel Gallants.
 Fight not till the Surgeon be well,
 He's damnable sea-sick, and may spoil all;
 Besides he has lost his Fiddlestick, and the best
 Box of Bores-grease; why do you make such faces,
 And hand your swords?
Alb. Who would ye fight with Gentlemen?
 Who has done ye wrong? for shame be better temper'd.
 No sooner come to give thanks for our safeties,
 But we must raise new civil broils amongst us
 Inflame those angry powers, to shower new vengeance on us?
 What can we expect for these unmanly murmurs,
 These strong temptations of their holy pitties,
 But plagues in another kind, a fuller, so dreadful,
 That the singing storms are slumbers to it?
Tib. Be men, and rule your minds;
 If you will needs fight, Gentlemen,
 And think to raise new riches by your valours,
 Have at ye, I have little else to do now
 I have said my prayers; you say you have lost,
 And make your loss your quarrel.
 And grumble at my Captain here, and the Master
 Two worthy persons, indeed too worthy for such rascals,
 Thou Galloon gallant, and Mammon you
 That build on golden Mountains, thou Money-Maggot;
 Come all, draw your swords, ye say ye are miserable.
Alb. Nay, hold good Tibalt.
Tib. Captain, let me correct 'em;
 I'll make ye ten times worse, I will not leave 'em;
 For look ye, fighting is as nourishing to me as eating,
 I was born quarrelling.
Mast. Pray Sir.
Tib. I will not leave 'em skins to cover 'em;
 Do ye grumble, when ye are well, ye rogues?
Mast. Noble Du-pont.
Tib. Ye have cloaths now: and ye prate.
Amin. Pray Gentlemen, for my sake be at peace.
 Let it become me to make all friends.
Fran. You have stopt our angers Lady.
Alb. This shews noble.
Tib. 'Tis well: 'tis very well: there's half a Bisket,
 Break't amongst ye all, and thank my bounty.
 This is Cloaths and Plate too; come no more quarrelling.
Amin. But ha! what things are these,
 Are they humane creatures?

Enter Sebastian and Nicusa.

Tib. I have heard of Sea-Calves.
Alb. They are no shadows sure, they have Legs and Arms.
Tib. They hang but lightly on though.
Amint. How they look, are they mens faces?
Tib. They have horse-tails growing to 'em.
 Goodly long manes.
Amint. Alas what sunk eyes they have!
 How they are crept in, as if they had been frighted!
 Sure they are wretched men.
Tib. Where are their Wardrobes?
 Look ye Franvile, here are a couple of Courtiers.
Amint. They kneel, alas poor souls.
Alb. What are ye? speak; are ye alive,
 Or wandring shadows, that find no peace on earth,
 Till ye reveal some hidden secret?
Sebast. We are men as you are;
 Only our miseries make us seem monsters,
 If ever pitty dwelt in noble hearts.
Alb. We understand 'em too: pray mark ['em] Gentlemen.
Sebast. Or that heaven is pleas'd with humane charity;
 If ever ye have heard the name of friendship,
 Or suffered in your selves, the least afflictions,
 Have gentle Fathers that have bred ye tenderly,
 And Mothers that have wept for your misfortunes,
 Have mercy on our miseries.
Alb. Stand up wretches;
 Speak boldly, and have release.
Nicus. If ye be Christians,
 And by that blessed name, bound to relieve us,
 Convey us from this Island.
Alb. Speak; what are ye?
Seb. As you are, Gentle born; to tell ye more,
 Were but to number up our own calamities,
 And turn your eyes wild with perpetual weepings;
 These many years in this most wretched Island
 We two have liv'd: the scorn and game of fortune;
 Bless your selves from it Noble Gentlemen;
 The greatest plagues that humane nature suffers,
 Are seated here, wildness, and wants innumerable.
Alb. How came ye hither?
Nicus. In a ship as you do, and [as] you might have been.
 Had not Heaven preserv'd ye for some more noble use;
 Wrackt desperately; our men, and all consum'd,
 But we two; that still live, and spin out
 The thin and ragged threds of our misfortunes.
Alb. Is there no meat above?
Sebast. Nor meat nor quiet;
 No summer here, to promise any thing;
 Nor Autumn, to make full the reapers hands;
 The earth obdurate to the tears of heaven,
 Lets nothing shoot but poison'd weeds.
 No Rivers, nor no pleasant Groves, no Beasts;
 All that were made for man's use, flie this desart;
 No airy Fowl dares make his flight over it,
 It is so ominous.
 Serpents, and ugly things, the shames of nature,
 Roots of malignant tasts, foul standing waters;
 Sometimes we find a fulsome Sea-root,
 And that's a delicate: a Rat sometimes,
 And that we hunt like Princes in their pleasure;
 And when we take a Toad, we make a Banquet.
Amint. For heavens sake let's aboard.
Alb. D'ye know no farther?
Nicu. Yes, we have sometimes seen the shadow of a place inhabited;
 And heard the noise of hunters;
 And have attempted [t]o find it, [s]o far as a River,
 Deep, slow, and dangerous, fenced with high Rocks,
 We have gone; but not able to atchieve that hazard,
 Return to our old miseries.
 If this sad story may deserve your pities.
Alb. Ye shall aboard with us, we will relieve your miseries:
Sebast. Nor will we be unthankful for this benefit,
 No Gentlemen, we'll pay for our deliverance;
 Look ye that plough the Seas for wealth and pleasures,
 That out-run day and night with your ambitions,
 Look on those heaps, they seem hard ragged quarries;
 Remove 'em, and view 'em fully.
Mast. Oh heaven, they are Gold and Jewels.
Sebast. Be not too hasty, here lies another heap.
Moril. And here another,
 All perfect Gold.
Alb. Stand farther off, you must not be your own carvers.
Lam. We have shares, and deep ones.
Fran. Yes Sir, we'll maintain't: ho fellow Sailors.
Lam. Stand all to your freedoms;
 I'll have all this.
Fran. And I this.
Tib. You shall be hang'd first.
Lam. My losses shall be made good.
Fran. So shall mine, or with my sword I'll do't;
 All that will share with us, assist us.
Tib. Captain, let's set in.
Alb. This money will undo us, undo us all:
Sebast. This Gold was the overthrow of my happiness;
 I had command too, when I landed here,
 And lead young, high, and noble spirits under me,
 This cursed Gold enticing 'em, they set upon their Captain,
 On me that own'd this wealth, and this poor Gentleman,
 Gave us no few wounds, forc'd us from our own;
 And then their civil swords, who should be owners,
 And who Lords over all, turn'd against their own lives,
 First in their rage, consum'd the Ship,
 That poor part of the Ship that scap'd the first wrack,
 Next their lives by heaps; Oh be you wise and careful:
Lam. We'll ha' more: sirrah, come shew it.
Fran. Or ten times worse afflictions than thou speak'st of.
Alb. Nay, and ye will be dogs. [Beats 'em out.
Tib. Let me come, Captain:
 This Golden age must have an Iron ending.
 Have at the bunch. [He beats 'em off. Exit.
Amint. Oh Albert; Oh Gentlemen, Oh Friends. [Exit.
Sebast. Come noble Nephew, if we stay here, we dye,
 Here rides their Ship, yet all are gone to th' spoil,
 Let's make a quick use.
Nicus. Away dear Uncle.
Sebast. This Gold was our overthrow. [Exit.
Nicus. It may now be our happiness.

Enter Tibalt and the rest.

Tib. You shall have Gold: yes, I'll cram it int'ye;
 You shall be your own carvers; yes, I'll carve ye.
Morill. I am sore, I pray hear reason:
Tib. I'll hear none.
 Covetous base minds have no reason;
 I am hurt my self; but whilst I have a leg left,
 I will so haunt your gilded souls; how d'ye Captain?
 Ye bleed apace, curse on the causers on't;
 Ye do not faint?
Alb. No, no; I am not so happy.
Tib. D'ye howl, nay, ye deserve it:
 Base greedy rogues; come, shall we make an end of 'em?
Alb. They are our Countrey-men, for heavens sake spare 'em.
 Alas, they are hurt enough, and they relent now. [Aminta above.
Aminta. Oh Captain, Captain.
Alb. Whose voice is that?
Tib. The Ladies.
Amint. Look Captain, look; ye are undone: poor Captain,
 We are all undone, all, all: we are all miserable,
 Mad wilful men; ye are undone, your Ship, your Ship.
Alb. What of her?
Amint. She's under sail, and floating;
 See where she flies: see to your shames, you wretches:
 These poor starv'd things that shew'd you Gold.

[Lam. and Franvile goes up to see the Ship.

1 Sail. They have cut the Cables,
 And got her out; the Tide too has befriended 'em.
Mast. Where are the Sailors that kept her?
Boats. Here, here [in] the mutiny, to take up money,
 And left no creature, left the Boat ashore too;
 This Gold, this damn'd enticing Gold.
2 Sail. How the wind drives her,
 As if it vied to force her from our furies!
Lam. Come back good old men:
Fran. Good honest men, come back.
Tib. The wind's against ye, speak louder.
Lam. Ye shall have all your Gold again: they see us.
Tib. Hold up your hands, and kneel,
 And howl ye block-heads; they'll have compassion on ye;
 Yes, yes, 'tis very likely, ye have deserv'd it,
 D'ye look like dogs now?
 Are your mighty courages abated?
Alb. I bleed apace Tibalt:
Tib. Retire Sir: and make the best use of our miseries.
 They but begin now.

Enter Aminta.

[Exit Albert, Aminta.

Fran. Oh, I am hungry, and hurt, and I am weary.
Tib. Here's a Pestle of a Portigue, Sir;
 'Tis excellent meat, with sour sauce;
 And here's two Chains, suppose 'em Sausages;
 Then there wants Mustard;
 But the fearful Surgeon will supply ye presently:
Lam. Oh for that Surgeon, I shall die else.
Tib. Faith there he lies in the same pickle too.
Surg. My Salves, and all my Instruments are lost;
 And I am hurt and starv'd;
 Good Sir, seek for some herbs.
Tib. Here's Herb-graceless, will that serve?
 Gentlemen will ye go to supper?
All. Where's the meat?
Tib. Where's the meat? what a Veal voice is there?
Fran. Would we had it Sir, or any thing else.
Tib. I would now cut your throat you dog,
 But that I wo'not doe you such a courtesie;
 To take you from the benefit of starving,
 Oh! what a comfort will your worship have some three days hence!
 Ye things beneath pitty, Famine shall be your harbinger;
 You must not look for Down-beds here,
 Nor Hangings; though I could wish ye strong ones;
 Yet there be many lightsome cool Star-chambers,
 Open to every sweet air, I'll assure ye,
 Ready provided for ye, and so I'll leave ye;
 Your first course is serv'd, expect the second. [Exit.
Fran. A vengeance on these Jewels.
Lam. Oh! this cursed Gold. [Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. ScÆna Prima.

Enter Albert, Aminta.

Alb.
 Alas dear soul ye faint.
Amint. You speak the language
 Which I should use to you, heaven knows, my weakness
 Is not for what I suffer in my self,
 But to imagine what you endure, and to what fate
 Your cruel Stars reserve ye.
Alb. Do not add to my afflictions
 By your tender pitties; sure we have chang'd Sexes;
 You bear calamity with a fortitude
 Would become a man; I like a weak girl, suffer.
Amint. Oh, but your wounds,
 How fearfully they gape! and every one
 To me is a Sepulchre: if I lov'd truly,
 (Wise men affirm, that true love can [doe] wonders,)
 These bath'd in my warm tears, would soon be cur'd,
 And leave no orifice behind; pray give me leave
 To play the Surgeon, and bind 'em up;
 The raw air rankles 'em.
Alb. Sweet, we want means.
Amint. Love can supply all wants.
Alb. What have ye done Sweet?
 Oh sacriledge to beauty: there's no hair
 Of these pure locks, by which the greatest King
 Would not be gladly bound, and love his Fetters.
Amint. Oh Albert, I offer this sacrifice of service
 To the Altar of your staid temperance, and still adore it,
 When with a violent hand you made me yours,
 I curs'd the doer: but now I consider,
 How long I was in your power: and with what honor;
 You entertain'd me, it being seldom seen,
 That youth, and heat of bloud, could e'r prescribe
 Laws to it self; your goodness is the Lethe,
 In which I drown your injuries, and now live
 Truly to serve ye: how do you Sir?
 Receive you the least ease from my service?
 If you do, I am largely recompenc'd.
Alb. You good Angels,
 That are ingag'd, when mans ability fails,
 To reward goodness: look upon this Lady
 Though hunger gripes my croaking entrails,
 Yet when I kiss these Rubies, methinks
 I'm at a Banquet, a refreshing Banquet;
 Speak my bless'd one, art not hungry?
Amint. Indeed I could eat, to bear you company.
Alb. Blush unkind nature,
 If thou hast power: or being to hear
 Thy self, and by such innocence accus'd;
 Must print a thousand kinds of shame, upon
 Thy various face: canst thou supply a drunkard,
 And with a prodigal hand reach choice of Wines,
 Till he cast up thy blessings? or a glutton,
 That robs the Elements, to sooth his palat,
 And only eats to beget appetite,
 Not to be satisfied? and suffer here
 A Virgin which the Saints would make their guest,
 To pine for hunger? ha, if my sence [Horns within.
 Deceive me not, these Notes take Being
 From the breath of men; confirm me my Aminta;
 Again, this way the gentle wind conveys it to us,
 Hear you nothing?
Amint. Yes, it seems free hunters Musick.
Alb. Still 'tis louder; and I remember the Portugals
 Inform'd us, they had often heard such sounds,
 But ne'r could touch the shore from whence it came;
 Follow me, my Aminta: my good genius,
 Shew me the way still; still we are directed;
 When we gain the top of this near rising hill,
 We shall know further. [Exit. And Enter above.
Alb. Courteous Zephyrus,
 On his dewy wings, carries perfumes to cheer us;
 The air clears too;
 And now, we may discern another Island,
 And questionless, the seat of fortunate men:
 Oh that we could arrive there.
Amint. No Albert, 'tis not to be hop'd;
 This envious Torrent's cruelly interpos'd;
 We have no vessel that may transport us;
 Nor hath nature given us wings to flie.
Alb. Better try all hazards,
 Than perish here remediless; I feel
 New vigor in me, and a spirit that dares
 More than a man, to serve my fair Aminta;
 These Arms shall be my oars, with which I'll swim;
 And my zeal to save thy innocent self,
 Like wings, shall bear me up above the brackish waves.
Amint. Will ye then leave me?
Alb. Till now I ne'er was wretched.
 My best Aminta, I swear by goodness
 'Tis nor hope, nor fear, of my self that invites me
 To this extream; 'tis to supply thy wants; and believe me
 Though pleasure met me in most ravishing forms,
 And happiness courted me to entertain her,
 I would nor eat nor sleep, till I return'd
 And crown'd thee with my fortunes.
Amin. Oh but your absence.
Alb. Suppose it but a dream, and as you may,
 Endeavour to take rest; and when that sleep
 Deceives your hunger with imagin'd food,
 Think you have sent me for discovery
 Of some most fortunate Continent, yet unknown,
 Which you are to be Queen of.
 And now ye Powers, that e'er heard Lovers Prayers,
 Or cherisht pure affection; look on him
 That is your Votary; and make it known
 Against all stops, you can defend your own. [Exit.

Enter Hippolita, Crocale, Juletta.

Hip. How did we lose Clarinda?
Cro. When we believ'd the Stag was spent, and would take soil,
 The sight of the black lake which we suppos'd
 He chose for his last refuge, frighted him more
 Than we that did pursue him.
Jul. That's usual; for, death it self is not so terrible
 To any beast of chase.
Hip. Since we liv'd here, we ne'er could force one to it.
Cro. 'Tis so dreadful,
 Birds that with their pinions cleave the air
 Dare not flie over it: when the Stag turn'd head,
 And we, even tir'd with labor, Clarinda, as if
 She were made of Air and Fire,
 And had no part of earth in her, eagerly pursu'd him;
 Nor need we fear her safety, this place yields not
 Fawns nor Satyrs, or more lustful men;
 Here we live secure,
 And have among our selves a Common-wealth,
 Which in our selves begun, with us must end.
Jul. I, there's the misery.
Cro. But being alone,
 Allow me freedom but to speak my thoughts;
 The strictness of our Governess, that forbids us,
 On pain of death, the sight and use of men,
 Is more than tyranny: for her self, she's past
 Those youthful heats, and feels not the want
 Of that which young maids long for: and her daughter
 The fair Clarinda, though in few years
 Improv'd in height and large proportion,
 Came here so young,
 That scarce remembring that she had a father,
 She never dreams of man; and should she see one,
 In my opinion, a would appear a strange beast to her.
Jul. 'Tis not so with us.
Hip. For my part, I confess it, I was not made
 For this single life; nor do I love hunting so,
 But that I had rather be the chace my self.
Cro. By Venus (out upon me) I should have sworn
 By Diana, I am of thy mind too wench;
 And though I have ta'en an oath, not alone
 To detest, but never to think of man,
 Every hour something tels me I am forsworn;
 For I confess, imagination helps me sometimes,
 And that's all is left for us to feed on,
 We might starve else, for if I have any pleasure
 In this life, but when I sleep, I am a Pagan;
 Then from the Courtier to the Countrey-clown,
 I have strange visions.
Jul. Visions Crocale?
Cro. Yes, and fine visions too;
 And visions I hope in dreams are harmless,
 And not forbid by our Canons; the last night
 (Troth 'tis a foolish one, but I must tell it)
 As I lay in my Cabin, betwixt sleeping and waking.
Hip. Upon your back?
Cro. How should a young Maid lie, fool,
 When she would be intranc'd?
Hip. We are instructed; forward I prethee.
Cro. Methought a sweet young man
 In years some twenty, with a downy chin,
 Promising a future beard, and yet no red one,
 Stole slylie to my Cabin all unbrac'd,
 Took me in his arms, and kiss'd me twenty times,
 Yet still I slept.
Jul. Fie; thy lips run over Crocale.
 But to the rest.
Cro. Lord, What a man is this thought I,
 To do this to a Maid!
 Yet then for my life I could not wake.
 The youth, a little danted, with a trembling hand
 Heav'd up the clothes.
Hip. Yet still you slept?
Cro. Y'faith I did; and when, methoughts, he was warm
 by my side,
 Thinking to catch him, I stretcht out both mine armes;
 And when I felt him not, I shreekt out,
 And wak'd for anger.
Hip. 'Twas a pretty dream.
Cro. I, if it had been a true one.

Enter Albert.

Jul. But stay, What's here cast o'th' shore?
Hip. 'Tis a man;
 Shall I shoot him?
Cro. No, no, 'tis a handsome beast;
 Would we had more o'th' breed; stand close wenches,
 And let's hear if he can speak.
Alb. Do I yet live?
 Sure it is ayr I breathe; What place is this?
 Sure something more than humane keeps residence here,
 For I have past the Stygian gulph,
 And touch upon the blessed shore? 'tis so;
 This is the Elizian shade; these happy spirits,
 That here enjoy all pleasures.
Hip. He makes towards us.
Jul. Stand, or I'll shoot.
Cro. Hold, he makes no resistance.
Alb. Be not offended Goddesses, that I fall
 Thus prostrate at your feet: or if not such,
 But Nymphs of Dian's train, that range these groves,
 Which you forbid to men; vouchsafe to know
 I am a man, a wicked sinful man; and yet not sold
 So far to impudence, as to presume
 To press upon your privacies, or provoke
 Your Heavenly angers; 'tis not for my self
 I beg thus poorly, for I am already wounded,
 Wounded to death, and faint; my last breath
 Is for a Virgin, comes as near your selves
 In all perfection, as what's mortal may
 Resemble things divine. O pitty her,
 And let your charity free her from that desart,
 If Heavenly charity can reach to Hell,
 For sure that place comes near it: and where ere
 My ghost shall find abode,
 Eternally I shall powre blessings on ye.
Hip. By my life I cannot hurt him.
Cro. Though I lose my head for it, nor I.
 I must pitty him, and will.

Enter Clarinda.

Jul. But stay, Clarinda?
Cla. What new game have ye found here, ha!
 What beast is this lies wallowing in his gore?
Cro. Keep off.
Cla. Wherefore, I pray? I ne'er turn'd
 From a fell Lioness rob'd of her whelps,
 And, Shall I fear dead carrion?
Jul. O but.
Cla. But, What is't?
Hip. It is infectious.
Cla. Has it not a name?
Cro. Yes, but such a name from which
 As from the Devil your Mother commands us flie.
Cla. Is't a man?
Clo. It is.
Cla. What a brave shape it has in death;
 How excellent would it appear had it life!
 Why should it be infectious? I have heard
 My Mother say, I had a Father,
 And was not he a Man?
Cro. Questionless Madam.
Cla. Your fathers too were Men?
Jul. Without doubt Lady.
Cla. And without such it is impossible
 We could have been.
Hip. A sin against nature to deny it.
Cla. Nor can you or I have any hope to be a Mother,
 Without the help of Men.
Cro. Impossible.
Cla. Which of you then most barbarous, that knew
 You from a man had Being, and owe to it
 The name of parent, durst presume to kill
 The likeness of that thing by which you are?
 Whose Arrowes made these wounds? speak, or by Dian
 Without distinction I'll let fly at ye all.
Jul. Not mine.
Hip. Nor mine.
Cro. 'Tis strange to see her mov'd thus.
 Restrain your fury Madam; had we kill'd him,
 We had but perform'd your Mothers command.
Cla. But if she command unjust and cruel things,
 We are not to obey it.
Cro. We are innocent; some storm did cast
 Him shipwrackt on the shore, as you see wounded:
 Nor durst we be Surgeons to such
 Your Mother doth appoint for death.
Cla. Weak excuse; Where's pity?
 Where's soft compassion? cruel, and ungrateful
 Did providence offer to your charity
 But one poor Subject to express it on,
 And in't to shew our wants too; and could you
 So carelessly neglect it?
Hip. For ought I know, he's living yet;
 And may tempt your Mother, by giving him succor.
Cla. Ha, come near I charge ye.
 So, bend his body softly; rub his temples;
 Nay, that shall be my office: how the red
 Steales into his pale lips! run and fetch the simples
 With which my Mother heal'd my arme
 When last I was wounded by the Bore.
Cro. Doe: but remember her to come after ye,
 That she may behold her daughters charity.
Cla. Now he breathes; [Exit Hippolita.
 The ayr passing through the Arabian groves
 Yields not so sweet an odour: prethee taste it;
 Taste it good Crocale; yet I envy thee so great a blessing;
 'Tis not sin to touch these Rubies, is it?
Jul. Not, I think.
Cla. Or thus to live Camelion like?
 I could resign my essence to live ever thus.
 O welcome; raise him up Gently. Some soft hand
 Bound up these wounds; a womans hair. What fury
 For which my ignorance does not know a name,
 Is crept into my bosome? But I forget.

Enter Hippolita.

My pious work. Now if this juyce hath power,
 Let it appear; his eyelids ope: Prodigious!
 Two Suns break from these Orbes.
Alb. Ha, Where am I? What new vision's this?
 To what Goddess do I owe this second life?
 Sure thou art more than mortal:
 And any Sacrifice of thanks or duty
 In poor and wretched man to pay, comes short
 Of your immortal bounty: but to shew
 I am not unthankful, th[u]s in humility
 I kiss the happy ground you have made sacred,
 By bearing of your weight.
Cla. No Goddess, friend: but made
 Of that same brittle mould as you are;
 One too acquainted with calamities,
 And from that apt to pity. Charity ever
 Finds in the act reward, and needs no Trumpet
 In the receiver. O forbear this duty;
 I have a hand to meet with yours,
 And lips to bid yours welcome.
Cro. I see, that by instinct,
 Though a young Maid hath never seen a Man,
 Touches have titillations, and inform her.

Enter Rosella.

But here's our Governess;
 Now I expect a storme.
Ros. Child of my flesh,
 And not of my fair unspotted mind,
 Un-hand this Monster.
Cla. Monster, Mother?
Ros. Yes; and every word he speaks, a Syrens note,
 To drown the careless hearer. Have I not taught thee
 The falshood and the perjuries of Men?
 On whom, but for a woman to shew pity,
 Is to be cruel to her self; the Soveraignty
 Proud and imperious men usurp upon us,
 We conferr on our selves, and love those fetters
 We fasten to our freedomes. Have we, Clarinda,
 Since thy fathers wrack, sought liberty,
 To lose it un-compel'd? Did fortune guide,
 Or rather destiny, our Barke, to which
 We could appoint no Port, to this blest place,
 Inhabited heretofore by warlike women,
 That kept men in subjection? Did we then,
 By their example, after we had lost
 All we could love in man, here plant our selves,
 With execrable oaths never to look
 On man, but as a Monster? and, Wilt thou
 Be the first president to infringe those vows
 We made to Heaven?
Cla. Hear me; and hear me with justice.
 And as ye are delighted in the name
 Of Mother, hear a daughter that would be like you.
 Should all Women use this obstinate abstinence,
 You would force upon us; in a few years
 The whole World would be peopled
 Onely with Beasts.
Hip. We must, and will have Men.
Cro. I, or wee'll shake off all obedience.
Ros. Are ye mad?
 Can no perswasion alter ye? suppose
 You had my suffrage to your sute;
 Can this Shipwrackt wretch supply them all?
Alb. Hear me great Lady!
 I have fellowes in my misery, not far hence,
 Divided only by this hellish River,
 There live a company of wretched Men,
 Such as your charity may make your slaves;
 Imagine all the miseries mankind
 May suffer under: and they groan beneath 'em.
Cla. But are they like to you?
Jul. Speak they your Language?
Cro. Are they able, lusty men?
Alb. They were good, Ladies;
 And in their May of youth of gentle blood,
 And such as may deserve ye; now cold and hunger
 Hath lessen'd their perfection: but restor'd
 To what they were, I doubt not they'll appear
 Worthy your favors.
Jul. This is a blessing
 We durst not hope for.
Cla. Dear Mother, be not obdurate.
Ros. Hear then my resolution: and labor not
 To add to what I'll grant, for 'twill be fruitless,
 You shall appear as good Angels to these wretched Men;
 In a small Boat wee'll pass o'er to 'em;
 And bring 'em comfort: if you like their persons,
 And they approve of yours: for wee'll force nothing;
 And since we want ceremonies,
 Each one shall choose a husband, and injoy
 His company a Month, but that expir'd,
 You shall no more come near 'em; if you prove fruitful,
 The Males ye shall return to them, the Females
 We will reserve our selves: this is the utmost,
 Ye shall e'er obtain: as ye think fit;
 Ye may dismiss this stranger,
 And prepare to morrow for the journey. [Exit.
Cla. Come, Sir, Will ye walk?
 We will shew ye our pleasant Bowers,
 And something ye shall find to cheer your heart.
Alb. Excellent Lady;
 Though 'twill appear a wonder one near starv'd
 Should refuse rest and meat, I must not take
 Your noble offer: I left in yonder desart
 A Virgin almost pin'd.
Cla. Shee's not your Wife?
Alb. No Lady, but my Sister ('tis now dangerous
 To speak truth) To her I deeply vow'd
 Not to tast food, or rest, if fortune brought it me,
 Till I bless'd her with my return: now if you please
 To afford me an easie passage to her,
 And some meat for her recovery,
 I shall live your slave: and thankfully
 She shall ever acknowledge her life at your service.
Cla. You plead so well, I can deny ye nothing;
 I my self will see you furnisht;
 And with the next Sun visit and relieve thee.
Alb. Ye are all goodness— [Exit.

Actus Tertius. ScÆna Prima.

Enter severally, Lamure, Franvile, Morillat.

Lam.
 Oh! What a tempest have I in my stomach!
 How my empty guts cry out! my wounds ake,
 Would they would bleed again, that I might get
 Something to quench my thirst.
Fran. O Lamure, the happiness my dogs had
 When I kept house at home! they had a storehouse,
 A storehouse of most blessed bones and crusts,
 Happy crusts: Oh! how sharp hunger pinches me! [Exit Franvile.
Mor. O my importunate belly, I have nothing
 To satisfie thee; I have sought,
 As far as my weak legs would carry me,
 Yet can find nothing: neither meat nor water;
 Nor any thing that's nourishing,
 My bellies grown together like an empty sachel.

Enter Franvile.

Lam. How now, What news?
Mor. Hast any meat yet?
Fran. Not a bit that I can see;
 Here be goodly quarries, but they be cruel hard
 To gnaw: I ha got some mud, we'll eat it with spoons,
 Very good thick mud: but it stinks damnably;
 There's old rotten trunks of Trees too,
 But not a leafe nor blossome in all the Island.
Lam. How it looks!
Mor. It stinks too.
Lam. It may be poyson.
Fran. Let it be any thing;
 So I can get it down: Why Man,
 Poyson's a Princely dish.
Mor. Hast thou no Bisket?
 No crumbs left in thy pocket: here's my dublet,
 Give me but three small crumbes.
Fran. Not for three Kingdoms,
 If I were master of 'em: Oh Lamure,
 But one poor joynt of Mutton: we ha scorn'd (Man).
Lam. Thou speak'st of Paradis.
[Fran.] Or but the snuffes of those healths,
 We have lewdly at midnight flang away.
Mor. Ah! but to lick the Glasses.

Enter Surgeon.

Fran. Here comes the Surgeon: What
 Hast thou discover'd? smile, smile, and comfort us.
Sur. I am expiring;
 Smile they that can: I can find nothing Gentlemen,
 Here's nothing can be meat, without a miracle.
 Oh that I had my boxes, and my lints now,
 My stupes, my tents, and those sweet helps of nature,
 What dainty dishes could I make of 'em.
Mor. Hast ne'er an old suppository?
Sur. Oh would I had Sir.
Lam. Or, but the paper where such a Cordial
 Potion, or Pills hath been entomb'd.
Fran. Or the best bladder where a cooling-glister.
Mor. Hast thou no searcloths left?
 Nor any old pultesses?
Fran. We care not to what it hath been ministred.
Sur. Sure I have none of these dainties Gentlemen.
Fran. Where's the great Wen
 Thou cut'st from Hugh the saylers shoulder?
 That would serve now for a most Princely banquet.
Sur. I, if we had it Gentlemen.
 I flung it over-board, slave that I was.
Lam. A most unprovident villain.
Sur. If I had any thing that were but supple now!
 I could make Sallads of your shoos Gentlemen,
 And rare ones: any thing unctious.
Mor. I, and then we might fry the soals i'th' Sun.
 The soals would make a second dish.
Lam. Or, souce 'em in the salt-water,
 An inner soal well souc'd.

En. Aminta.

Fran. Here comes the Woman;
 It may be she has meat, and may relieve us,
 Let's withdraw, and mark, and then be ready,
 She'll hide her store else, and so cozen us.
Amin. How weary, and how hungry am I,
 How feeble, and how faint is all my body!
 Mine eyes like spent Lamps glowing out, grow heavy,
 My sight forsaking me, and all my spirits,
 As if they heard my passing bell go for me,
 Pull in their powers, and give me up to destiny,
 Oh! for a little water: a little, little meat,
 A little to relieve me ere I perish:
 I had whole floods of tears awhile that nourisht me,
 But they are all consum'd for thee dear Albert;
 For thee they are spent, for thou art dead;
 Merciless fate has swallow'd thee.
 Oh——I grow heavy: sleep is a salve for misery;
 Heaven look on me, and either take my life,
 Or make me once more happy.
Lam. Shee's fast asleep already,
 Why should she have this blessing, and we wake still,
 Wake to our wants?
Mor. This thing hath been our overthrow,
 And all these biting mischiefs that fall on us
 Are come through her means.
Fran. True, we were bound ye all know,
 For happy places, and most fertile Islands,
 Where we had constant promises of all things,
 She turn'd the Captains mind,
 And must have him go in search, I know not of who,
 Nor to what end: of such a fool her brother,
 And such a coxcomb her kinsman, and we must put in every where,
 She has put us in now yfaith.
Lam. Why should we consume thus, and starve,
 Have nothing to relieve us;
 And she live there that bred all our miseries,
 Unrosted, or unsod?
Mor. I have read in stories.
Lam. Of such restoring meates,
 We have examples;
 Thousand examples, and allow'd for excellent;
 Women that have eate their Children,
 Men their slaves, nay their brothers: but these are nothing;
 Husbands devoured their Wives: (th[ey] are their Chattels,)
 And of a Schoolmaster, that in a time of famine,
 Powdered up all his Scholars.
Mor. Shee's young and tydie,
 In my conscience she'll eat delicately;
 Just like young Pork a little lean,
 Your opinion Surgeon.
Sur. I think she may be made good meat,
 But look we shall want Salt.
Fran. Tush, she needs no powdering.
Sur. I grant ye;
 But to suck out the humorous parts: by all means,
 Lets kill her in a chafe, she'll eat the sweeter.
Lam. Let's kill her any way: and kill her quickly,
 That we might be at our meat.
Sur. How if the Captain?
Mor. Talk not of him, he's dead, and the rest famish'd.
 Wake her Surgeon, and cut her throat,
 And then divide her, every Man his share.
Fran. She wakes her self.
Amin. Holy and good things keep me!
 What cruel dreams have I had! Who are these?
 O they are my friends; for heavens sake Gentlemen
 Give me some food to save my life: if ye have ought to spare;
 A little to relieve me: I may bless ye;
 For weak and wretched, ready to perish,
 Even now I die.
Mor. You'll save a labor then,
 You bred these miseries, and you shall pay for't;
 We have no meat, nor where to have we know not,
 Nor how to pull our selves from these afflictions,
 We are starv'd too, famisht, all our hopes deluded;
 Yet ere we die thus, wee'll have one dainty meal.
Amin. Shall I be with ye Gentlemen?
Lam. Yes mary shall ye: in our bellies Lady.
 We love you well—
Amin. What said you Sir?
Lam. Mary wee'll eat your Ladiship.
Fran. You that have buried us in this base Island,
 Wee'll bury ye in a more noble Monument.
Sur. Will ye say your prayers, that I may perform Lady?
 We are wondrous sharp set; come Gentlemen,
 Who are for the hinder parts?
Mor. I.
Fran. I.
Lam. And I.
Sur. Be patient;
 They will not fall to every Man's share.
Amin. O hear me;
 Hear me ye barbarous men.
Mor. Be short and pithy,
 Our stomachs cannot stay a long discourse.
Sur. And be not fearful,
 For I'll kill ye daintily.
Amin. Are ye not Christians?
Lam. Why, do not Christians eat Women?

Enter Tibalt, Master, Saylors.

Enter Albert.

Al. Alas poor heart! here,
 Here's some meat and sovereign drink to ease you,
 Sit down gentle Sweet.
Amin. I am blest to see you.
Tib. Stir not within forty foot of this food,
 If you do dogs!
All. Oh, Captain, Captain, Captain.
Alb. Ye shall have meat all of you.
Tib. Captain, hear me first: hark,
 'Tis so inhumane! I would not ha the air corrupted with it.
Alb. O barbarous men! sit down Du-pont,
 Good Master, and honest Saylors.
Tib. But stand you off,
 And waite upon our charity; I'll wait on you else;
 And touch nothing but what's flung ye; as if you were dogs;
 If you do, I'll cut your fingers; friends,
 I'll spoil your carving.
Amin. There wretches, there.
Tib. Eat your meat handsomely now,
 And give Heaven thanks.
Alb. There's more bread.
Tib. See, they snarle like dogs;
 Eat quietly you Rascals, eat quietly.
Alb. There is drink too.
Tib. Come, come, I'll fill you each your cups,
 Ye shall not surfet.
Amin. And what have you discover'd?
Alb. Sweet, a paradise,
 A paradise inhabited with Angels,
 Such as you are: their pitties make 'm Angels,
 They gave me these viands, and supply'd me
 With these pretious drinks.
Amin. Shall not we see 'em?
Alb. Yes, they will see you
 Out of their charities, having heard our story,
 They will come, and comfort us, come presently;
 We shall no more know wants nor miseries.
Amin. Are they all women?
Alb. All, and all in love with us.
Amin. How!
Alb. Do not mistake: in love with our misfortunes,
 They will cherish and relieve our men.
Tib. Do you shrug now,
 And pull up your noses? you smell comfort,
 See they stretch out their Legs like Dottrels,
 Each like a new Saint Dennis.
Alb. Dear Mistris,
 When you would name me, and the women hear,
 Call me your brother, you I'll call my sister,
 And pray observe this all—
 Why do you change color sweet.
Amin. Eating too much meat.
Alb. Sawc't with jealousie;
 Fie, fie, dear saint, yfaith ye are too blame,
 Are ye not here? here fixt in my heart?
All. Hark, hark;

Enter Rosella, Clarinda, Crocale, Hipollitta, Juletta.

Alb. They are come, stand ready, and look nobly,
 And with all humble reverence receive 'em,
 Our lives depend upon their gentle pitties,
 And death waits on their anger.
Mor. Sure they are Fairies.
Tib. Be they Devils: Devils of flesh and blood;
 After so long a Lent, and tedious voyage,
 To me they are Angels.
Fran. O for some Eringoes!
Lam. Potatoes, or Cantharides.
Tib. Peace you Rogues, that buy abilities of your 'pothecaries,
 Had I but took the diet of green Cheese,
 And Onions for a month, I could do wonders.
Ros. Are these the Jewels you run mad for?
 What can you see in one of these,
 To whom you would vouchsafe a gentle touch?
 Can nothing perswade you
 To love your selves, and place your happiness
 In cold and chast embraces of each other.
Ju. This is from the purpose.
Hip. We had your grant to have them as they were.
Cla. 'Tis a beauteous Creature,
 And to my self, I do appear deform'd,
 When I consider her, and yet she is
 The strangers sister; Why then should I fear?
 She cannot prove my rival.
Ros. When you repent,
 That you refus'd my counsel, may it add
 To your afflictions, that you were forward;
 Yet leap'd into the Gulfe of your misfortunes,
 But have your wishes.
Mast. Now she makes to us.
Amin. I am instructed, but take heed Albert,
 You prove not false.
Alb. Ye are your own assurance,
 And so acquainted with your own perfections,
 That weak doubts cannot reach you; therefore fear not.
Ros. That you are poor and miserable men,
 My eyes inform me: that without our succors,
 Hope cannot flatter you to dream of safety;
 The present plight you are in, can resolve you
 That to be merciful, is to draw near
 The Heavenly essence: whether you will be
 Thankful, I do not question; nor demand
 What country bred you, what names, what maners;
 To us it is sufficient we relieve
 Such as have shapes of men: and I command you,
 As we are not ambitious to know
 Farther of you, that on pain of death
 You presume not to enquire what we are,
 Or whence deriv'd.
Alb. In all things we obey you,
 And thankfully we ever shall confess
 Our selves your creatures.
Ros. You speak as becomes you;
 First then, and willingly, deliver up
 Those weapons we could force from you.
Alb. We lay 'em down
 Most gladly at your feet.
Tib. I have had many a combat with a tall wench;
 But never was disarm'd before.
Ros. And now hear comfort,
 Your wants shall be supply'd, and though it be
 A debt women may challenge to be sued to,
 Especially from such they may command;
 We give up to you that power, and therefore
 Freely each make his choice.
Fran. Then here I fix.
Mor. Nay, she is mine: I eyed her first.
Lam. This mine.
Tib. Stay good rascals;
 You are too forward, sir Gallant,
 You are not giving order to a Taylor
 For the fashion of a new suit;
 Nor are you in your warehouse, master Merchant,
 Stand back, and give your betters leave: your betters;
 And grumble not: if ye do, as I love meat
 I will so swinge the salt itch out on you.
 Captain, Master, and the rest of us,
 That are brothers, and good fellows: we have been
 Too late by the ears: and yet smart for our follies;
 To end therefore all future emulation: if you please,
 To trust to my election, you shall say,
 I am not partial to my self; I doubt not
 Give content to all.
All. Agreed, agreed.
Tib. Then but observe, how learned and discreetly,
 I will proceed, and as a skilful Doctor
 In all the quirks belonging to the game;
 Read over your complexions: for you Captain
 Being first in place, and therefore first to be serv'd,
 I give my judgment thus, for your aspect,
 Y'are much inclin'd to melancholy: and that tells me,
 The sullen Saturne had predominance
 At your nativity, a malignant Planet,
 And if not qualified by a sweet conjunction
 Of a soft and ruddy wench, born under Venus,
 It may prove fatal: therefore to your armes,
 I give this rose-cheekt Virgin.
Cla. To my wish;
 Till now I never was happy.
Amin. Nor I accurs'd.
Tib. Master, you are old;
 Yet love the game, that I perceive too,
 And if not well spurr'd up, you may prove rusty;
 Therefore to help ye here's a Bradamanta,
 Or I am cosen'd in my calculation.
Cro. A poor old man alloted to my share.
Ti. Thou wouldst have two;
 Nay, I think twenty: but fear not wench,
 Though he be old he's tough: look on's making,
 Hee'll not fail I warrant thee.
Ros. A merry fellow,
 And were not man a creature I detest,
 I could indure his company.
Ti. Here's a fair heard of Does before me,
 And now for a barren one:
 For, though I like the sport: I do not love
 To Father children: like the Grand Signior,
 Thus I walk in my Seraglio,
 And view 'em as I pass: then draw I forth
 My handkercher, and having made my choice,
 I thus bestow it.
Ros. On me.
Ti. On you: now my choice is made;
 To it you hungry Rascals.
Alb. Excellent.
Amin. As I love goodness,
 It makes me smile i'th' height of all my fears.
Cla. What a strong contention you may behold
 Between my Mothers mirth and anger.
Tib. Nay, no coyness: be Mistriss of your word,
 I must, and will enjoy you.
Ros. Be advis'd fool: alas I am old;
 How canst thou hope content from one that's fifty.
Ti. Never talk on't;
 I have known good ones at threescore and upwards;
 Besides the weathers hot: and men
 That have experience, fear Fevers:
 A temperate diet is the onely Physick,
 Your Julips, nor Guajacum prunello's,
 Camphire pills, nor Goord-water,
 Come not near your old Woman;
 Youthful stomachs are still craving,
 Though there be nothing left to stop their mouths with;
 And believe me I am no frequent giver of those bounties:
 Laugh on: laugh on: good Gentlemen do,
 I shall make holiday and sleep, when you
 Dig in the mines till your hearts ake.
Ros. A mad fellow;
 [Well,] Sir, I'll give you hearing: and as I like
 Your wooing, and discourse: but I must tell ye Sir,
 That rich Widows look for great sums in present,
 Or assurances of ample Joynters.
Ti. That to me is easie,
 For instantly I'll do it, hear me comrades.
Alb. What say'st thou Tibalt?
Tib. Why, that to woo a Wench with empty hands
 Is no good Heraldry, therefore let's to the gold,
 And share it equally: 'twill speak for us
 More than a thousand complements or cringes,
 Ditties stolen from Petrarch, or Discourse from Ovid,
 Besides, 'twill beget us respect,
 And if ever fortune friend us with a Barque,
 Largely supply us with all provision.
Alb. Well advis'd, defer it not.
Ti. Are ye all contented.
All. We are!
Ti. Lets away then,
 Strait wee'll return, [Exit.
 And you shall see our riches.
Ros. Since I knew what wonder and amazement was,
 I nee'r was so transported.
Cla. Why weep ye gentle Maid?
 There is no danger here to such as you;
 Banish fear: for with us I dare promise,
 You shall meet all courteous entertainment.
Cro. We esteem our selves most happy in you.
Hip. And bless fortune that brought you hither.
Cla. Hark in your ear;
 I love you as a friend already,
 Ere long you shall call me by a nearer name,
 I wish your brother well: I know you apprehend me.
Amin. I, to my grief I do;
 Alas good Ladies, there is nothing left me,
 But thanks, to pay ye with.
Clar. That's more,
 Than yet you stand ingag'd for.

Enter Albert, Tibalt, and the rest with treasure.

Ros. So soon return'd!
Alb. Here: see the Idol of the Lapidary.
Ti. These Pearls, for which the slavish Negro
 Dives to the bottom of the Sea.
Lam. To get which the industrious Merchant
 Touches at either pole.
Fran. The never-fayling purchase
 Of Lordships, and of honors.
Mor. The Worlds Mistriss,
 That can give every thing to the possessors.
Ma. For which the Saylors scorn tempestuous Winds.
 And spit defiance in the Sea.
Ti. Speak Lady: Look we not lovely now?
Ros. Yes, yes, O my Stars,
 Be now for ever blest, that have brought
 To my revenge these Robbers; take your arrowes,
 And nayl these Monsters to the earth.
Alb. What mean ye Lady?
 In what have we offended?
Ros. O my daughter!
 And you companions with me in all fortunes,
 Look on these Caskets, and these Jewels,
 These were our own, when first we put to Sea
 With good Sebastian: and these the Pyrats
 That not alone depriv'd him of this treasure,
 But also took his life.
Cro. Part of my present
 I will remember was mine own.
Hip. And these were mine.
Ju. Sure, I have worn this Jewel.
Ros. Wherefore do ye stay then,
 And not perform my command?
Al. O Heaven!
 What cruel fate pursues us.
Ti. I am well enough serv'd,
 That must be off'ring Joyntures, Jewels,
 And precious stones, more than I brought with me.
Ros. Why shoot ye not?
Cla. Hear me dear Mother;
 And when the greatest cruelty, is Justice,
 Do not shew mercy: death to these starv'd wretches
 Is a reward, not punishment: let 'em live
 To undergoe the full weight of your displeasure.
 And that they may have sence to feel the torments
 They have deserv'd: allow 'em some small pittance,
 To linger out their tortures.
Ros. 'Tis well counsell'd.
All. And wee'll follow it.
Alb. Hear us speak.
Ros. Peace dogs.
 Bind 'em fast: when fury hath given way to reason,
 I will determine of their sufferings,
 Which shall be horrid. Vengeance, though slow pac'd,
 At length o'rtakes the guilty; and the wrath
 Of the incensed powers, will fall most sure
 On wicked men, when they are most secure. [Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. ScÆna Prima.

Enter Raymond, Sebastian, Nicusa, Saylors.

1 Sayl.
 Here's nothing, Sir, but poverty and hunger;
 No promise of inhabitance; neither track
 of Beast,
 Nor foot of Man: we have searcht
 All this Rocky desart, yet cannot discover any assurance
 Here is, or hath been such men.
2 Sayl. Not a relique of any thing they wore;
 Nor mark left by 'em, either to find relief,
 Or to warn others from the like misfortune.
 Believe it, these fellows are both false,
 And, to get a little succor in their misery,
 Have fram'd this cunning Tale.
Ray. The Ship, I know, is French, and own'd by Pirats,
 If not by Albert my arch enemy.
 You told me too there was a woman with 'em.
 A young and handsome Woman.
Sebast. There was so Sir.
Raym. And such, and such young gallants.
Nic. We told you true, Sir,
 That they had no means to quit this Island.
Raym. And that amidst their mutiny to save your lives,
 You got their Ship.
Sebast. All is most certain, Sir.
Raym. Where are they then? Where are these Men
 Or Woman? we are landed where your faiths
 Did assure us, we could not miss their sights.
 For this news we took ye to our mercy,
 Reliev'd ye, when the furious Sea, and Famine
 Strove, which should first devour ye;
 Cloath'd, and cherisht ye; us'd ye as those ye say ye are.
 Fair Gentlemen, now keep your words,
 And shew us this company, your own free pitties spoke of;
 These men ye left in misery; the Woman.
 Men of those noble breedings you pretend to
 Should scorn to lie, or get their food with falshood;
 Come, direct us.
Sebast. Alass, Sir, they are gone,
 But by what means, or providence, we know not.
2 Sayl. Was not the Captain
 A fellow of a fiery, yet brave nature,
 A middle stature, and of brown complexion?
Nic. He was, Sir.
Raym. 'Twas Albert,
 And my poor wretched sister.
1 Sayl. 'Twas he certain,
 I ha been at Sea with him; many times at Sea.
Raym. Come, shew us these Men;
 Shew us presently, and do not dally with us.
Seb. We left 'em here; What should we say, Sir?
 Here, in this place.
2 Sayl. The earth cannot swallow 'em;
 They have no wings, they cannot fly sure.
Raym. You told us too
 Of heaps of treasure, and of sums conceal'd,
 That set their heart[s] a fire; we see no such thing,
 No such sign; What can ye say to purge ye?
 What have ye done with these men?
Nic. We, Sir?
Raym. You Sir;
 For certain I believe ye saw such people.
Sebast. By all that's good,
 By all that's pure and honest,
 By all that's holy.
Raym. I dare not credit ye,
 Ye have so abus'd my hope, that now I hate ye.
1 Sayl. Let's put 'em in their ragged clothes again Captain,
 For certain they are knaves, lets e'en deliver 'em
 To their old fruitful Farm; here let 'em walk the Island.
Sebast. If ye do so, we shall curse your mercies.
Nic. Rather put us to Sea again.
Raym. Not so.
 Yet this I'll do, because ye say ye are Christians,
 Though I hardly credit it: bring in the boat,
 And all aboard again, but these two wretches;
 Yet leave 'em four dayes meat. If in that time,
 (For I will search all nookes of this strange Island)
 I can discover any tract of these men,
 Alive or dead, I'll bear ye off, and honor ye;
 If not, ye have found your Graves; so farewell. [Exit.
Nic. That goodness dwells above, and knows us innocent,
 Comfort our lives, and at his pleasure quit us.
Sebast. Come Cousin, come; old time will end our story:
 But no time (if we end well) ends our glory. [Exit.

Enter Rosella, Clarinda, Crocale, Hippolita, Juletta.

Ros. Use 'em with all the austerity that may be,
 They are our slaves; turn all those pitties,
 Those tender reluctations that should become your sex,
 To stern anger; and when ye look upon 'em,
 Look with those eyes that wept those bitter sorrows,
 Those cruelties ye suffer'd by their Rapines.
 Some five dayes hence that blessed hour comes
 Most happy to me, that knit this hand to my dear husbands,
 And both our hearts in mutual bands.
 That hour Ladies.
Cla. What of that hour?
Ros. Why, on that hour daughter,
 And in the height of all our celebrations,
 Our dear remembrances of that dear Man,
 And those that suffer'd with him, our fair kinsmen,
 Their lives shall fall a sacrifice to vengeance,
 Their lives that ruin'd his; 'tis a full justice.
 I will look glorious in their bloods;
 And the most Noble spirit of Sebastian,
 That perisht by the pride of these French Pirates,
 Shall smile in Heaven, and bless the hand that kill'd 'em.
 Look strictly all unto your prisoners;
 For he that makes a scape beyond my vengeance,
 Or entertains a hope by your fair usage;
 Take heed, I say, she that deceives my trust,
 Again take heed: her life, and that's but light neither;
 Her life in all the tortures my spirit can put on.
All. We shall be careful.
Ros. Do so. [Ex. Rossella.
Cla. You are angry Mother, and ye are old too,
 Forgetting what men are: but we shall temper ye.
 How fare your prisoners, Ladies? in what formes
 Do they appear in their afflictions?
Jul. Mine fare but poorly;
 For so I am commanded: 'tis none of their fault.
Cla. Of what sort are they?
Jul. They say they are Gentlemen.
 But they shew Mungrels.
Cla. How do they suffer?
Jul. Faith like boyes;
 They are fearful in all fortunes; when I smile
 They kneel, and beg to have that face continued;
 And like poor slaves, adore the ground I go on.
 When I frown, they hang their most dejected heads,
 Like fearful sheephounds; shew 'em a crust of bread
 They'll Saint me presently, and skip like Apes
 For a sup of Wine. I'll whip 'em like hackneys,
 Saddle 'em, ride 'em, do what I will with 'em.
Cla. Tush, these are poor things.
 Have they names like Christians?
Jul. Very fair names: Franvile, Lamure, and Morillat;
 And brag of great kindreds too. They offer very handsomely,
 But that I am a fool, and dare not venture.
 They are sound too o'my conscience,
 Or very near upon't.
Cla. Fy, away fool.
Jul. They tell me,
 If they might be brought before you,
 They would reveale things of strange consequence.
Cla. Their base poor fears.
Jul. I, that makes me hate 'em too;
 For if they were but manly to their sufferance,
 Sure I should strain a point or two.
Cla. An hour hence I'll take a view of e'm,
 And hear their business. Are your Men thus too?
Cro. Mine? No, gentle Madam, mine were not cast
 In such base molds; afflictions, tortures,
 Are names and natures of delight, to my men;
 All sorts of cruelties they meet like pleasures.
 I have but two; the one they call Du-pont,
 Tibalt Du-pont; the other the Ship-master.
Cla. Have they not lives, and fears?
Cro. Lives they have Madam;
 But those lives never linkt to such companions
 As fears or doubts.
Cla. Use 'em Nobly;
 And where you find fit subjects for your pitties
 Let it become ye to be courteous;
 My Mother will not alwayes be thus rigorous.
Hip. Mine are Saylors Madam,
 But they sleep soundly, and seldom trouble me, unless it be when
 They dream sometimes of fights and tempests;
 Then they rore and whistle for Cans of Wine,
 And down they fling me; and in that rage,
 (For they are violent fellows) they play such reaks.
 If they have meat, they thank me;
 If none, they heartily desire to be hang'd quickly.
 And this is all they care.
Cla. Look to 'em diligently; and where your pitties tells ye
 They may deserve, give comfort.
All. We will. [Exit.
Cla. Come hither, be not frighted;

Enter Aminta.

Think not ye steal this liberty, for we give it,
 Your tender innocence assures me, Virgin,
 Ye had no share in those wrongs these men did us;
 I find ye are not hardned in such mischiefs.
 Your brother was mis-led sure,
 Foully mis-led.
Amin. How much I fear these pities!
Cla. Certain he was, so much I pity him;
 And for your sake, whose eyes plead for him;
 Nay, for his own sake.
Amin. Ha!
Cla. For I see about him
 Women have subtill eyes, and look narrowly;
 Or I am much abus'd: many fair promises;
 Nay beyond those, [too] many shadowed virtues.
Amin. I think he is good.
Cla. I assure my self he will be;
 And out of that assurance take this comfort,
 For I perceive your fear hath much dejected ye.
 I love your brother.
Amin. Madam.
Cla. Nay, do not take it for a dreamt of favor,
 That comforts in the sleep, and awake vanishes;
 Indeed I love him.
Amin. Do ye indeed?
Cla. You doubt still, because ye fear his safety;
 Indeed he is the sweetest man I ere saw;
 I think the best. Ye may hear without blushes,
 And give me thanks, if ye please, for my curtesie.
Amin. Madam, I ever must;
 Yet witness Heaven, they are hard pull'd from me.
 Believe me, Madam, so many imperfections I could find,
 (Forgive me Grace for lying) and such wants,
 ('Tis to an honest use) such poverties,
 Both in his main proportion, and his mind too;
 There are a hundred handsomer; (I lie leudly)
 Your noble usage, Madam, hath so bound me to ye,
 That I must tell ye.
Cla. Come, tell your worst.
Amin. He is no husband for ye.
 I think ye mean in that fair way.
Cla. Ye have hit it.
Amin. I am sure ye have hit my heart.
 You will find him dangerous, Madam;
 As fickle as the flying ayr, proud, jealous,
 Soon glutted in your sweets, and soon forgetful;
 I could say more, and tell ye I have a brother,
 Another brother, that so far excells this,
 Both in the ornaments of Man, and making.
Cla. If you were not his sister, I should doubt ye mainly;
 Doubt ye for his love, ye deal so cunningly.
 Do not abuse me, I have trusted ye with more than life,
 With my first love; be careful of me.
Amin. In what use, Madam?
Cla. In this Lady,
 Speak to him for me, you have power upon him;
 Tell him I love him, tell him I dote on him:
 It will become your tongue.
Amin. Become my grave.
 O fortune, O cursed fortune!
Cla. Tell him his liberty,
 And all those with him; all our wealth and Jewels.
 Good sister, for I'll call ye so.
Amin. I shall Lady,
 Even die, I hope.
Cla. Here's Meat and Wine, pray take it,
 And there he lies; give him what liberty you please;
 But still conceal'd. What pleasure you shall please, Sister.
 He shall ne'er want again. Nay, see an you'l take it;
 Why do you study thus?
Amin. To avoid mischiefs, if they should happen.
Cla. Goe, and be happy for me.
Amin. O blind fortune;
 Yet happy thus far, I shall live to see him,
 In what strange desolation lives he here now?
 Sure this Curtain will reveale.

Enter Albert.

Alb. Who's that? ha!
 Some gentle hand, I hope, to bring me comfort.
 Or if it be my death, 'tis sweetly shadowed.
Amin. Have ye forgot me, Sir?
Alb. My Aminta?
Amin. She Sir,
 That walks here up and down an empty shadow,
 One, that for some few hours
 But wanders here, carrying her own sad Coffin,
 Seeking some Desart place to lodge her griefs in.
Alb. Sweet sorrow welcome, welcome noble grief;
 How got you this fair liberty to see me?
 For sorrows in your shape are strangers to me.
Amin. I come to counsel ye.
Alb. Ye are still more welcome;
 For good friends in afflictions give good Councels.
 Pray then proceed.
Amin. Pray eat first, ye shew faint;
 Here's Wine to refresh ye too.
Alb. I thank ye dear.
Amin. Drink again.
Alb. Here's to our loves.
 How, turn and weep!
 Pray pledge it: this happiness we have yet left,
 Our hearts are free. Not pledge it? Why?
 And though beneath the Axe this health were holy,
 Why do ye weep thus?
Amin. I come to woo ye.
Alb. To woo me Sweet? I am woo'd and won already,
 You know I am yours. This pretty way becomes ye.
 But you would deceive my sorrows; that's your intent.
Amin. I would I could, I should not weep, but smile.
 Do ye like your Meat and Wine?
Alb. Like it?
Amin. Do you like your liberty?
Alb. All these I well may like.
Amin. Then pray like her that sent 'em.
 Do ye like wealth, and most unequal'd beauty?
Alb. Peace, indeed you'l make me angry.
Amin. Would I were dead that ask it,
 Then ye might freely like, and I forgive ye.
Alb. What like, and who? add not more misery
 To a man that's fruitful in afflictions.
 Who is't you would have me like?
 Who sent these comforts?
Amin. I must tell.
Alb. Be bold.
Amin. But be you temperate.
 If you be bold I die. The young fair Virgin;
 (Sorrow hath made me old.) O hearken,
 And wisely hark, the Governess daughter:
 That Star that strikes this Island full of wonder,
 That blooming sweetness.
Alb. What of her?
Amin. She sent it: and with it,
 It must be out, she dotes on ye,
 And must enjoy ye: else no joy must find ye.
Alb. And have you the patience to deliver this?
Amin. A sister may say much, and modestly.
Alb. A sister?
Amin. Yes, that name undid ye;
 Undid us both: had ye nam'd Wife, she had fear'd ye;
 And fear'd the sin she follow'd; She had shun'd, yea
 Her Virgin modesty had not touch'd at ye.
 But thinking you were free, hath kindled a fire,
 I fear will hardly be extinguisht.
Alb. Indeed I played the fool.
Amin. O my best Sir, take heed,
 Take heed of lies. Truth, though it trouble some minds,
 Some wicked minds, that are both dark and dangerous:
 Yet it preserves it self, comes off pure, innocent,
 And like the Sun, though never so eclips'd,
 Must break in glory. O Sir, lie no more.
Alb. Ye have read me a fair Lecture,
 And put a spell upon my tongue for fayning.
 But how will you counsel now?
Amin. Ye must study to forget me.
Alb. How?
Amin. Be patient.
 Be wise and patient, it conce[r]ns ye highly.
 Can ye lay by our loves? But why should I doubt it?
 Ye are a man, and man may shift affections,
 'Tis held no sin. To come to the point,
 Ye must lose me; many and mighty reasons.
Alb. Hear me Aminta,
 Have you a man that loves you too, that feeds ye,
 That sends ye liberty? Has this great Governess
 A noble son too, young, and apt to catch ye?
 Am I, because I am in bonds, and miserable,
 My health decay'd, my youth and strength half blasted,
 My fortune like my waining self, for this despis'd?
 Am I for this forsaken? a new love chosen,
 And my affections, like my fortunes, wanderers?
 Take heed of lying, you that chid me for it;
 And shew'd how deep a sin it was, and dangerous.
 Take heed, your self, you swore you lov'd me dearly;
 No few, nor little oathes you swore Aminta,
 Those seal'd with no small faith, I then assur'd my self.
 O seek no new wayes to cozen truth.
Amin. I do not.
 By love it self I love thee,
 And ever must, nor can all deaths dissolve it.
Alb. Why do you urge me thus then?
Amin. For your safety,
 To preserve your life.
Alb. My life, I do confess, is hers,
 She gives it,
 And let her take it back, I yield it.
 My loves intirely thine, none shall touch at it;
 None, my Aminta, none.
Amin. Ye have made me happy,
 And now I know ye are mine. Fortune, I scorn thee.
 Goe to your rest, and I'll sit by ye;
 Whilst I have time I'll be your mate, and comfort ye,
 For only I am trusted: you shall want nothing,
 Not a liberty that I can steal ye.
Alb. May we not celebrate our loves Aminta?
 And where our wishes cannot meet.
Amin. You are wanton,
 But with cold kisses I'll allay that fever;
 Look for no more, and that in private too.
 Believe me, I shall blush else.
 But, let's consider, we are both lost else.
Alb. Let's in, and prevent fate. [Exeunt.

Enter Crocale, Juletta, Tibalt, Master.

Enter Clarinda.

Cla. Bring out those prisoners now,
 And let me see 'em, and hear their business.
Jul. I will, Madam. [Exit.
Cla. I hope she hath prevail'd upon her brother.
 She has a sweet tongue, and can describe the happiness
 My love is ready to fling on him.
 And sure he must be glad, [and certain] wonder,
 And bless the hour that brought him to this Island.
 I long to hear the full joy that he labours with.

Enter Juletta, Morillat, Franvile, Lamure.

Mor. Bless thy Divine Beauty.
Fran. Mirror of sweetness.
Lam. Ever-springing brightness.
Cla. Nay, Stand up Gentlemen, and leave your flatteries.
Mor. She calls us Gentlemen, sure we shall have some meat now.
Cla. I am a mortal creature,
 Worship Heaven, and give these attributes
 To their Divinities. Methinks ye look but thin.
Mor. Oh we are starv'd, immortal beauty.
Lam. We are all poor starv'd knaves.
Fran. Neither liberty nor meat, Lady.
Mor. We were handsome men, and Gentlemen, and sweet men,
 And were once gracious in the eyes of beauties,
 But now we look like Rogues;
 Like poor starv'd rogues.
Cla. What would ye do if ye were to die now?
Fran. Alas, we were prepar'd. If you will hang us,
 Let's have a good meal or two to die with,
 To put's in heart.
Mor. Or if you'll drown us,
 Let's be drunk first, that we may die merrily,
 And bless the founders.
Cla. Ye shall not die so hastily.
 What dare ye do to deserve my favour?
Lam. Put us to any service.
Fran. Any bondage,
 Let's but live.
Mar. We'll get a world of children,
 For we know ye are hainously unprovided that way;
 And ye shall beat us when we offend ye;
 Beat us abundantly, and take our meat from us.
Cla. These are weak abject things, that shew ye poor ones.
 What's the great service ye so oft have threatned,
 If ye might see me, and win my favour?
Jul. That business of discovery.
Mor. Oh, I'll tell ye Lady.
Lam. And so will I.
Fran. And I,
 Pray let me speak first.
Mor. Good, no confusion.
 We are before a Lady that knows manners;
 And by the next meat I shall eat, 'tis certain,
 This little Gentlewoman that was taken with us.
Cla. Your Captains Sister, she you mean.
Mor. I, I, she's the business that we would open to ye.
 You are cousened in her.
Lam. { How, what is't you would open?
 Fran. { She is no Sister.
Mor. Good Sirs how quick you are.
 She is no Sister, Madam.
Fran. She is his.
Mor. Peace I say.
Cla. What is she?
Mor. Faith, sweet Lady,
 She is, as a man would say, his.
Cla. What?
Lam. His Mistriss.
Mor. Or, as some new Translators read, his.
Cla. Oh me!
Mor. And why he should delude you thus,
 Unless he meant some villany? these ten weeks
 He has had her at Sea, for his own proper appetite.
Lam. His Cabin-mate I'll assure ye.
Cla. No Sister, say ye?
Mor. No more than I am brother to your beauty.
 I know not why he should juggle thus.
Cla. Do not lie to me.
Mor. If ye find me lie, Lady, hang me empty.
Cla. How am I fool'd!
 Away with 'em Juletta, and feed 'em
 But hark ye, with such food as they have given me.
 New misery!
Fran. Nor meat nor thanks for all this. [Exit.
Cla. Make 'em more wretched.
 Oh I could burst! curse and kill now,
 Kill any thing I meet, Juletta, follow me,
 And call the rest along.
Jul. We follow, Madam. [Exeunt.

Enter Albert and Aminta.

Amint. I must be gone now, else she may suspect me;
 How shall I answer her?
Alb. Tell her directly.
Amint. That were too suddain, too improvident;
 Fires of this nature must be put out cunningly,
 They'll waste all come near 'em else.
 Farewel once more.
Alb. Farewel,
 And keep my love entire.
 Nay, kiss me once again, me thinks we should not part.
Amint. Oh be wise, Sir.
Alb. Nay, one kiss more.
Amin. Indeed you're wanton;
 We may be taken too.

Enter Clarinda, Juletta, Crocale, Hippolita.

Cla. Out thou base woman.
 [By Heaven] I'll shoot 'em both.
Cro. Nay stay, brave Lady, hold;
 A suddain death cuts off a Nobler vengeance.
Cla. Am I made Bawd to your lascivious meetings?
 Are ye grown so wise in sin?
 Shut up that villa[ine]: and sirrah,
 Now expect my utmost anger.
 Let him there starve.
Alb. I mock at your mischiefs. [Exit.
Cla. Tie that false witch unto that Tree,
 There let that savage beasts
 Gnaw off her sweetness, and Snakes
 Embrace her beauties; tie her, and watch
 That none relieve her.
Hip. We could wish ye better fortune, Lady,
 But dare not help ye.
Amin. Be your own friends, I thank ye.
 Now only my last audit, and my greatest,
 Oh Heaven, be kind unto me,
 And if it be thy Will, preserve.

Enter Raymond.

Ray. Who is this?
 Sure 'tis a woman, I have trode this place,
 And found much footing; now I know 'tis peopl'd.
 Ha, let me see! 'tis her face.
 Oh Heaven! turn this way Maid.
Amin. Oh Raymond, oh Brother.
Raym. Her tongue too: 'tis my Sister; what rude hand!
 Nay kiss me first, Oh joy!
Amin. Fly, fly dear brother,
 You are lost else.
Jul. A man, a man, a new man.
Raym. What are these?

Enter Juletta, Crocale, Clarinda.

Cro. An enemy, an enemy.
Cla. Dispatch him,
 Take him off, shoot him straight.
Raym. I dare not use my sword, Ladies,
 Against such comely foes.
Amin. Oh brother, brother!
Cla. Away with 'em, and in dark prisons bind 'em.
 One word reply'd, ye die both.
 Now brave mother, follow thy noble anger,
 And I'll help thee. [Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. ScÆna Prima.

Enter Rossella, Clarinda, Crocale, Juletta, Hippolita.

Ros.
 I am deaf to all your intreaties: she that moves me
 For pity or compassion to these Pirats,
 Digs up her Fathers, or her Brothers Tomb,
 And spurns about their ashes.
 Couldst thou remember what a Father thou hadst once,
 'Twould steel thy heart against all foolish pity.
 By his memory, and the remembrance of his dear embraces,
 I am taught, that in a Noble cause revenge is Noble;
 And they shall fall the sacrifices to appease
 His wandring Ghost, and my incensed fury.
Cla. The new come prisoner too!
Ros. He too[. Y]et that we may learn
 Whether they are the same, or near ally'd
 To those that forc'd me to this cruel course,
 Better their poor allowance, and permit 'em
 To meet together and confer,
 Within the distance of your ear; perhaps
 They may discover something that may kill
 Despair in me, and be a means to save 'em
 From certain ruine.
C[r]o. That shall be my charge.
Ros. Yet to prevent
 All hope of rescue: for this new-come Captain
 Hath both a Ship and Men not far [off] from us,
 Though ignorant to find the only Port,
 That can yield entrance to our happy Island,
 Guard the place strongly, and e'r the next Sun
 Ends his diurnal progress, I will be
 Happy in my revenge, or set 'em free. [Exeunt.

Enter Crocale, Juletta, Hippolita. [A Table furnish'd.

Cro. So serve it plentifully,
 And lose not time to enquire the cause;
 There is a main design that hangs upon this bounty.
 See the Table furnisht with Wine too,
 That discovers secrets which tortures cannot open:
 Open the doors too of the several prisons,
 And give all free entrance into this room.
 Undiscover'd I can here mark all.

Enter Tib. Mast.

Here's Captain careless, and the tough Ship-master,
 The slaves are nos'd like Vultures
 How wild they look.
Tib. Ha, the mistery of this,
 Some good Hobgoblin rise and reveal.
Mast. I'm amazed at it: nor can I sound the intent.
Tib. Is not this bread,
 Substantial bread, not painted?
Mast. But take heed,
 You may be poisoned.
Tib. I am sure I am famish'd;
 And famine, as the wise man says,
 Gripes the guts as much as any Mineral.
 This may be Treacle sent to preserve me
 After a long Fast: or be it Vipers spittle,
 I'll run the hazard.
Mast. We are past all fear, I'll take part with ye.
Tib. Do: and now i'faith, how d'ye feel your self?
 I find great ease in't. What's here;
 Wine, and it be thy Will;
 Strong lusty Wine. Well, fools may talk
 Of Mythridate, Cordials, and Elixirs.
 But from my youth this was my only Physick.
 Here's a colour, what Ladies cheek,
 Though cerus'd over, comes near it?
 It sparkles too: hangs out Diamonds.
 Oh my sweet-heart, how I will hug thee,
 Again, and again! They are poor drunkards,
 And not worth thy favors,
 That number thy moist kisses in these Crystals.
Mast. But Mounsieur,
 Here are Suckets, and sweet dishes.
Tib. Tush, boys meat,
 I am past it; here's strong food fit for men:
 Nectar, old lad. Mistriss of merry hearts,
 Once more I am bold with you.
Mast. Take heed (man)
 Too much will breed distemper.
Tib. Hast thou liv'd at Sea
 The most part of thy life, where to be sober
 While we have Wine aboard, is capital Treason;
 And dost thou preach sobriety?
Mast. Prethee forbear,
 We may offend in it; we know not for whom
 It was provided.
Tib. I am sure for me: therefore footra,
 When I am full, let 'em hang me, I care not.

Enter Albert, Aminta, Raymond, Lamure, Morrillat, Franvile, severally.

Mast. This has been his temper ever.
 See, provoking dishes; candid Eringoes,
 And Potatoes.
Tib. I'll not touch 'em, I will drink;
 But not a bit on a march, I'll be an Eunuch rather.
Mast. Who are these?
Tib. Marry, who you will;
 I keep my Text here.
Alb. Raymond!
Ray. Albert!
Tib. Away, I'll be drunk alone;
 Keep off Rogues, or I'll belch ye into air;
 Not a drop here.
Amint. Dear brother, put not in your eyes such anger;
 Those looks poison'd with fury, shot at him,
 Reflect on me. Oh brother, look milder, or
 The Crystal of his temperance
 Will turn 'em on your self.
Alb. Sir, I have sought ye long
 To find your pardon: you have plough'd the Ocean
 To wreak your vengeance on me, for the rape
 Of this fair Virgin. Now our fortune guides us
 To meet on such hard terms, that we need rather
 A mutual pitty of our present state,
 Than to expostulate of breaches past,
 Which cannot be made up. And though it be
 Far from you[r] power, to force me to confess,
 That I have done ye wrong, or such submission
 Failing to make my peace, to vent your anger;
 You being your self slav'd, as I to others:
 Yet for you[r] Sisters sake, her blessed sake,
 In part of recompence of what she has suffer'd
 For my rash folly; the contagion
 Of my black actions, catching hold upon
 Her purer innocence, I crave your mercy;
 And wish however several motives kept us
 From being friends, while we had hope to live,
 Let death which we expect, and cannot fly from,
 End all contention.
Tib. Drink upon't, 'tis a good motion;
 Ratifie it in Wine, and 'tis authentical.
Ray. When I consider
 The ground of our long difference, and look on
 Our not to be avoided miseries,
 It doth beget in me I know not how
 A soft Religious tenderness; which tells me,
 Though we have many faults to answer for
 Upon our own account, our Fathers crimes
 Are in us punish'd. Oh Albert, the course
 They took to leave us rich, was not honest,
 Nor can that friendship last, which virtue joyns not.
 When first they forc'd the industrious Portugals,
 From their Plantations in the Happy Islands.
Cro. This is that I watch for.
Ray. And did omit no tyranny, which men,
 Inured to spoil, and mischief could inflict,
 On the grie[v]'d sufferers; when by lawless rapine
 They reap'd the harvest, which their Labou[rs] sow'd;
 And not content to force 'em from their dwelling,
 But laid for 'em at Sea to ravish from 'em
 The last remainder of their wealth: then, then,
 After a long pursuit, each doubting other,
 As guilty of the Portugals escape,
 They did begin to quarrel, like [ill] men;
 (Forgive me piety, that I call 'em so)
 No longer love, or correspondence holds,
 Than it is cimented with prey or profit:
 Then did they turn these swords they oft had bloodi'd
 With innocent gore, upon their wretched selves,
 And paid the forfeit of their cruelty
 Shewn to Sebastian, and his Colonie,
 By being fatal enemies to each other.
 Thence grew Amintas rape, and my desire
 To be reveng'd. And now observe the issue:
 As they for spoil ever forgot compassion
 To women, (who should be exempted
 From the extremities of a lawful War)
 We now, young able men, are fall'n into
 The hands of Women; that, against the soft
 Tenderness familiar to their Sex,
 Will shew no mercy.

Enter Crocale.

Cro. None, unless you shew us
 Our long lost Husbands.
 We are those Portugals you talk'd of.
Ray. Stay,
 I met upon the Sea in a tall Ship
 Two Portugals, famish'd almost to death.
Tib. Our Ship by this Wine.
 And those the rogues that stole her,
 Left us to famish in the barren Islands.
Ray. Some such tale they told me,
 And something of a Woman, which I find,
 To be my Sister.
Cro. Where are these men?
Ray. I left 'em,
 Supposing they had deluded me with forg'd tales,
 In the Island, where they said
 They had liv'd many years the wretched owners
 Of a huge mass of treasure.
Alb. The same men: and that the fatal muck
 We quarrell'd for.
Cro. They were Portugals you say.
Ray. So they profess'd.
Cro. They may prove such men as may save your lives,
 And so much I am taken with fair hope,
 That I will hazard life to be resolv'd on't:
 How came you hither?
Ray. My ship lies by the Rivers mouth,
 That can convey ye to these wretched men,
 Which you desire to see.
Cro. Back to your prisons,
 And pray for the success: if they be those
 Which I desire to find, you are safe;
 If not, prepare to die to morrow:
 For the world cannot redeem ye.
Alb. However, we are arm'd
 For either fortune. [Exit.
Tib. What must become of me now
 That I am not dismiss'd?
Cro. Oh Sir, I purpose
 To have your company.
Ti. Take heed wicked woman,
 I am apt to mischief now.
Cro. You cannot be so unkind,
 To her that gives you liberty.
Ti. No, I shall be too kind, that's the devil on't;
 I have had store of good wine: and when I am drunk,
 Joan is a Lady to me, and I shall
 Lay about me like a Lord: I feel strange motions:
 Avoid me temptation.
Cro. Come Sir, I'll help ye in. [Exeunt.

Enter Sebastian and Nicusa.

Nicu. What may that be
 That moves upon the Lake?
Sebast. Still it draws nearer,
 And now I plainly can discern it.
 'Tis the French Ship.
Nicu. In it a woman,
 Who seems to invite us to her.
Sebast. Still she calls with signs of Love to hasten to her;
 So lovely hope doth still appear:
 I feel nor age, nor weakness.
Nicu. Though it bring death,
 To us 'tis comfort: and deserves a meeting.
 Or else fortune tyr'd with what we have suffer'd,
 And in it overcome, as it may be,
 Now sets a period to our misery. [Exeunt. [Horid Musick.

Enter severally, Raymond, Albert, Aminta.

Ray. What dreadful sounds are these?
Amint. Infernal Musick,
 Fit for a bloody Feast.
Alb. It seems prepar'd
 To kill our courages e'r they divorce
 Our souls and bodies.
Ray. But they that fearless fall,
 Deprive them of their triumph.

[An Altar prepar'd.

Enter Rossillia, Clarinda, Juletta, Hippolita, &c.

Amin. See the furies,
 In their full trym of cruelty.
Ros. 'Tis the last
 Duty that I can pay to my dead Lord,
 Set out the Altar, I my self will be
 The Priest, and boldly do those horrid Rites
 You shake to think on, lead these Captains nearer,
 For they shall have the honor to fall first
 To my Sebastian's ashes: and now wretches,
 As I am taught already, that you are,
 And lately by your free confession,
 French Pirats, and the sons of those I hate,
 Even equal with the devil; hear with horror,
 What 'tis invites me to this cruel course,
 And what you are to suffer, no Amazons we,
 But women of Portugal that must have from you
 Sebastian and Nicusa; we are they
 That groan'd beneath your fathers wrongs:
 We are those wretched women,
 Their injuries pursu'd, and overtook;
 And from the sad remembrance of our losses
 We are taught to be cruel; when we were forc'd
 From that sweet air we breathed in, by their rapine,
 And sought a place of being; as the Seas
 And Winds conspir'd with their ill purposes,
 To load us with afflictions in a storm
 That fell upon us; the two ships that brought us,
 To seek new fortunes in an unknown world
 Were severed: the one bore all the able men,
 Our Treasure and our Jewels: in the other,
 We Women were embarqu'd: and fell upon,
 After long tossing in the troubled main,
 This pleasant Island: but in few months,
 The men that did conduct us hither, died,
 We long before had given our Husbands lost:
 Remembring what we had suff'red by the French
 We took a solemn Oath, never to admit
 The curs'd society of men: necessity
 Taught us those Arts, not usual to our Sex,
 And the fertile Earth yielding abundance to us,
 We did resolve, thus shap'd like Amazons
 To end our lives; but when you arriv'd here,
 And brought as presents to us, our own Jewels;
 Those which were boorn in the other Ship,
 How can ye hope to scape our vengeance?
Amint. It boots not then to swear our innocence?
Alb. Or that we never forc'd it from the owners?
Ray. Or that there are a remnant of that wrack,
 And not far off?
Ros. All you affirm, I know,
 Is but to win time; therefore prepare your throats,
 The world shall not redeem ye: and that your cries
 May find no entrance to our ears,
 To move pity in any: bid loud Musick sound
 Their fatal knells; if ye have prayers use 'em quickly,
 To any power will own ye; but ha!

Enter Crocale, Sebastian, Nicusa, Tibalt.

Who are these? what spectacles of misfortune?
 Why are their looks
 So full of Joy and Wonder?
Cro. Oh! lay by
 These instruments of death, and welcome
 To your arms, what you durst never hope to imbrace:
 This is Sebastian, this Nicusa, Madam:
 Preserv'd by miracle: look up dear Sir,
 And know your own Rossella: be not lost
 In wonder and amazement; or if nature
 Can by instinct, instruct you what it is,
 To be blessed with the name of Father,
 Freely enjoy it in this fair Virgin.
Seb. Though my miseries,
 And many years of wants I have endur'd,
 May well deprive me of the memory
 Of all joys past; yet looking on this building,
 This ruin'd building of a heavenly form
 In my Rosilla; I must remember, I am Sebastian.
Ros. Oh my joyes!
Seb. And here,
 I see a perfect model of thy self,
 As thou wert when thy choice first made thee mine:
 These cheeks and fronts, though wrinkled now with time
 Which Art cannot restore: had equal pureness,
 Of natural white and red, and as much ravishing:
 Which by fair order and succession,
 I see descend on her: and may thy virtues
 Wind into her form, and make her a perfect dower:
 No part of thy sweet goodness wanting to her.
 I will not now Rosilla, ask thy fortunes,
 Nor trouble thee with hearing mine;
 Those shall hereafter serve to make glad hours
 In their relation: All past wrongs forgot;
 I'm glad to see you Gentlemen; but most,
 That [it] is in my power to save your lives;
 You say'd ours, when we were near starv'd at Sea,
 And I despair not, for if she be mine,
 Rosilla can deny Sebastian nothing.
Ros. She does give up her self,
 Her power and joys, and all, to you,
 To be discharged of 'em as too burthensom;
 Welcome in any shape.
Seb. Sir, in your looks,
 I read your sute of my Clarinda: she is yours:
 And Lady, if it be in me to confirm
 Your hopes in this brave Gentleman,
 Presume I am your servant.
Alb. We thank you Sir.
Amin. Oh happy hour!
Alb. O my dear Aminta;
 Now all our fears are ended.
Tib. Here I fix: she's mettle,
 Steel to the back: and will cut my leaden dagger,
 If not us'd with discretion.
Cro. You are still no changling.
Sebast. Nay,
 All look chearfully, for none shall be
 Deny'd their lawful wishes; when a while
 We have here refresh'd our selves; we'll return
 To our several homes; and well that voyage ends,
 That makes of deadly enemies, faithful friends. [Exeunt.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Clyx.com


Top of Page
Top of Page