What do you intend villains?
I have strength enough left me, if you abuse this soul,
To—
Speak, how was it Lady?
Are ye so sharp set, that her flesh must serve you?
Murther's a main good service with your Worships;
Since ye would be such Devils,
Why did you not begin with one another handsomly,
And spare the Woman to beget more food on?
I'll make you fall to your brawns, and your buttocks,
And worry one another like keen bandogs.
Enter Albert.
Here's some meat and sovereign drink to ease you,
Sit down gentle Sweet.
If you do dogs!
'Tis so inhumane! I would not ha the air corrupted with it.
Good Master, and honest Saylors.
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.
And give Heaven thanks.
Eat quietly you Rascals, eat quietly.
Ye shall not surfet.
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.
Out of their charities, having heard our story,
They will come, and comfort us, come presently;
We shall no more know wants nor miseries.
They will cherish and relieve our men.
And pull up your noses? you smell comfort,
See they stretch out their Legs like Dottrels,
Each like a new Saint Dennis.
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.
Fie, fie, dear saint, yfaith ye are too blame,
Are ye not here? here fixt in my heart?
Enter Rosella, Clarinda, Crocale, Hipollitta, Juletta.
And with all humble reverence receive 'em,
Our lives depend upon their gentle pitties,
And death waits on their anger.
After so long a Lent, and tedious voyage,
To me they are Angels.
Had I but took the diet of green Cheese,
And Onions for a month, I could do wonders.
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.
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.
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.
You prove not false.
And so acquainted with your own perfections,
That weak doubts cannot reach you; therefore fear not.
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.
First then, and willingly, deliver up
Those weapons we could force from you.
Most gladly at your feet.
But never was disarm'd before.
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.
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.
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.
Till now I never was happy.
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.
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.
And were not man a creature I detest,
I could indure his company.
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.
To it you hungry Rascals.
It makes me smile i'th' height of all my fears.
Between my Mothers mirth and anger.
How canst thou hope content from one that's fifty.
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.
[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.
For instantly I'll do it, hear me comrades.
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.
Strait wee'll return, [Exit.
And you shall see our riches.
There is no danger here to such as you;
Banish fear: for with us I dare promise,
You shall meet all courteous entertainment.
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.
Alas good Ladies, there is nothing left me,
But thanks, to pay ye with.
Than yet you stand ingag'd for.
Enter Albert, Tibalt, and the rest with treasure.
Dives to the bottom of the Sea.
Touches at either pole.
Of Lordships, and of honors.
That can give every thing to the possessors.
And spit defiance in the Sea.
Be now for ever blest, that have brought
To my revenge these Robbers; take your arrowes,
And nayl these Monsters to the earth.
In what have we offended?
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.
I will remember was mine own.
And not perform my command?
What cruel fate pursues us.
That must be off'ring Joyntures, Jewels,
And precious stones, more than I brought with me.
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.
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.
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.
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.
If not by Albert my arch enemy.
You told me too there was a woman with 'em.
A young and handsome Woman.
That they had no means to quit this Island.
You got their Ship.
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.
But by what means, or providence, we know not.
A fellow of a fiery, yet brave nature,
A middle stature, and of brown complexion?
And my poor wretched sister.
I ha been at Sea with him; many times at Sea.
Shew us presently, and do not dally with us.
Here, in this place.
They have no wings, they cannot fly sure.
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?
For certain I believe ye saw such people.
By all that's pure and honest,
By all that's holy.
Ye have so abus'd my hope, that now I hate ye.
For certain they are knaves, lets e'en deliver 'em
To their old fruitful Farm; here let 'em walk the Island.
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.
Comfort our lives, and at his pleasure quit us.
But no time (if we end well) ends our glory. [Exit.
Enter Rosella, Clarinda, Crocale, Hippolita, Juletta.
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.
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.
Forgetting what men are: but we shall temper ye.
How fare your prisoners, Ladies? in what formes
Do they appear in their afflictions?
For so I am commanded: 'tis none of their fault.
But they shew Mungrels.
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.
Have they names like Christians?
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.
If they might be brought before you,
They would reveale things of strange consequence.
For if they were but manly to their sufferance,
Sure I should strain a point or two.
And hear their business. Are your Men thus too?
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.
But those lives never linkt to such companions
As fears or doubts.
And where you find fit subjects for your pitties
Let it become ye to be courteous;
My Mother will not alwayes be thus rigorous.
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.
They may deserve, give comfort.
Enter Aminta.
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.
And for your sake, whose eyes plead for him;
Nay, for his own sake.
Women have subtill eyes, and look narrowly;
Or I am much abus'd: many fair promises;
Nay beyond those, [too] many shadowed virtues.
And out of that assurance take this comfort,
For I perceive your fear hath much dejected ye.
I love your brother.
That comforts in the sleep, and awake vanishes;
Indeed I love him.
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.
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.
I think ye mean in that fair way.
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.
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.
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.
O fortune, O cursed fortune!
And all those with him; all our wealth and Jewels.
Good sister, for I'll call ye so.
Even die, I hope.
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?
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.
Some gentle hand, I hope, to bring me comfort.
Or if it be my death, 'tis sweetly shadowed.
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.
How got you this fair liberty to see me?
For sorrows in your shape are strangers to me.
For good friends in afflictions give good Councels.
Pray then proceed.
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?
You know I am yours. This pretty way becomes ye.
But you would deceive my sorrows; that's your intent.
Do ye like your Meat and Wine?
Do ye like wealth, and most unequal'd beauty?
Then ye might freely like, and I forgive ye.
To a man that's fruitful in afflictions.
Who is't you would have me like?
Who sent these comforts?
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.
It must be out, she dotes on ye,
And must enjoy ye: else no joy must find 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.
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.
And put a spell upon my tongue for fayning.
But how will you counsel now?
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.
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.
By love it self I love thee,
And ever must, nor can all deaths dissolve it.
To preserve your life.
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.
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.
And where our wishes cannot meet.
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.
Enter Crocale, Juletta, Tibalt, Master.