Beam. In few words, madam, the general notion we had of them, was, that they were very frugal of their Spanish coin, and very liberal of their Neapolitan.
Jul. I see, gentlemen, you are in the way of rallying; therefore let me be no hinderance to your sport; do as much for one another as you have done for our nation. Pray, Mynheer Fiscal, what think you of the English?
Fisc. Oh, I have an honour for the country.
Beam. I beseech you, leave your ceremony; we can hear of our faults without choler; therefore speak of us with a true Amsterdam spirit, and do not spare us.
Fisc. Since you command me, sir, 'tis said of you, I know not how truly, that for your fishery at home, you're like dogs in the manger, you will neither manage it yourselves, nor permit your neighbours; so that for your sovereignty of the narrow seas, if the inhabitants of them, the herrings, were capable of being judges, they would certainly award it to the English, because they were then sure to live undisturbed, and quiet under you.
Beam. Very good; proceed, sir.
Fisc. 'Tis true, you gave us aid in our time of need, but you paid yourselves with our cautionary towns: And, that you have since delivered them up, we can never give sufficient commendation, either to your honesty, or to your wit; for both which qualities you have purchased such an immortal fame, that all nations are instructed how to deal with you another time.
Beam. A most grateful acknowledgment; sweet sir, go on.
Fisc. For your trade abroad, if you should obtain it, you are so horribly expensive, that you would undo yourselves and all Christendom; for you would sink under your very profit, and the gains of the universal world would beggar you: You devour a voyage to the Indies, by the multitude of mouths with which you man your vessels: Providence has contrived it well, that the Indies are managed by us, an industrious and frugal people, who distribute its merchandise to the rest of Europe, and suffer it not to be consumed in England, that the other members might be starved, while you of Great Britain, as you call it, like a rickety head, would only swell and grow bigger by it.
Jul. I have heard enough of England; have you nothing to return upon the Netherlands?
Beam. Faith, very little to any purpose; he has been beforehand with us, as his countrymen are in their trade, and taken up so many vices for the use of England, that he has left almost none for the Low Countries.
Jul. Come, a word, however.
Beam. In the first place, you shewed your ambition when you began to be a state: For not being gentlemen, you have stolen the arms of the best families of Europe; and wanting a name, you made bold with the first of the divine attributes, and called yourselves the High and Mighty: though, let me tell you, that, besides the blasphemy, the title is ridiculous; for High is no more proper for the Netherlands, than Mighty is for seven little rascally provinces, no bigger in all than a shire in England. For my main theme, your ingratitude, you have in part acknowledged it, by your laughing at our easy delivery of your cautionary towns: The best is, we are used by you as well as your own princes of the house of Orange: We and they have set you up, and you undermine their power, and circumvent our trade.
Fisc. And good reason, if our interest requires it.
Beam. That leads me to your religion, which is only made up of interest: At home, you tolerate all worships in them who can pay for it; and abroad, you were lately so civil to the emperor of Pegu, as to do open sacrifice to his idols.
Fisc. Yes, and by the same token, you English were such precise fools as to refuse it.
Beam. For frugality in trading, we confess we cannot compare with you; for our merchants live like noblemen; your gentlemen, if you have any, live like boors. You traffic for all the rarities of the world, and dare use none of them yourselves; so that, in effect, you are the mill-horses of mankind, that labour only for the wretched provender you eat: A pot of butter and a pickled herring is all your riches; and, in short, you have a good title to cheat all Europe, because, in the first place, you cozen your own backs and bellies.
Fisc. We may enjoy more whenever we please.
Beam. Your liberty is a grosser cheat than any of the rest; for you are ten times more taxed than any people in Christendom: You never keep any league with foreign princes; you flatter our kings, and ruin their subjects; you never denied us satisfaction at home for injuries, nor ever gave it us abroad.
Fisc. You must make yourselves more feared, when you expect it.
Beam. And I prophecy that time will come, when some generous monarch of our island will undertake our quarrel, reassume the fishery of our seas, and make them as considerable to the English, as the Indies are to you.
Fisc. Before that comes to pass, you may repent your over-lavish tongue.
Beam. I was no more in earnest than you were.
Jul. Pray let this go no further; my husband has invited both to supper.
Beam. If you please, I'll fall to before he comes;
or, at least, while he is conferring in private with
the Fiscal.
[Aside to her.
Jul. Their private businesses let them agree;
The Dutch for him, the Englishman for me.[Exeunt.
ACT III. SCENE I.
Enter Perez.
Per. True, the reward proposed is great enough, I want it too; besides, this Englishman has never paid me since, as his lieutenant, I served him once against the Turk at sea; yet he confessed I did my duty well, when twice I cleared our decks; he has long promised me, but what are promises to starving men? this is his house, he may walk out this morning.
Enter a Page, and another Servant, walking by, not seeing him.
These belong to him; I'll hide till they are past.
Serv. He sleeps soundly for a man who is to be married when he wakes.
Page. He does well to take his time; for he does not know, when he's married, whether ever he shall have a sound sleep again.
Serv. He bid we should not wake him; but some of us, in good manners, should have staid, and not have left him quite alone.
Page. In good manners, I should indeed; but I'll venture a master's anger at any time for a mistress, and that's my case at present.
Serv. I'll tempt as great a danger as that comes to, for good old English fellowship; I am invited to a morning's draught.
Page. Good-morrow, brother, good-morrow; by
that time you have filled your belly, and I have
emptied mine, it will be time to meet at home again.
[Exeunt severally.
Per. So, this makes well for my design; he's left
alone, unguarded, and asleep: Satan, thou art a
bounteous friend, and liberal of occasions to do
mischief; my pardon I have ready, if I am taken,
my money half beforehand: up, Perez, rouse thy
Spanish courage up; if he should wake, I think I
dare attempt him; then my revenge is nobler, and
revenge, to injured men, is full as sweet as profit.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
The Scene drawn, discovers Towerson asleep on a Couch in his Night-gown. A Table by him; Pen, Ink, and Paper on it.
Re-enter Perez with a Dagger.
Per. Asleep, as I imagined, and as fast as all the
plummets of eternal night were hung upon his
temples. Oh that some courteous dæmon, in the
other world, would let him know, 'twas Perez sent
him thither! A paper by him too! He little thinks
it is his testament; the last he e'er shall make: I'll
read it first. [Takes it up.] Oh, by the inscription,
'tis a memorial of what he means to do this day:
What's here? My name in the first line! I'll read it.
[Reads.] Memorandum, That my first action this
morning shall be, to find out my true and valiant lieutenant,
captain Perez; and, as a testimony of my gratitude
for his honourable services, to bestow on him five
hundred English pounds, making my just excuse, I had
it not before within my power to reward him. [Lays
down the paper.] And was it then for this I sought
his life? Oh base, degenerate Spaniard! Hadst thou
done it, thou hadst been worse than damned: Heaven
took more care of me, than I of him, to expose
this paper to my timely view. Sleep on, thou honourable
Englishman; I'll sooner now pierce my
own breast than thine: See, he smiles too in his
slumber, as if his guardian angel, in a dream, told
him, he was secure: I'll give him warning though,
to prevent danger from another hand.
[Writes on Towerson's paper, then sticks his
dagger in it.
Stick there, that when he wakens, he may know,
To his own virtue he his life does owe.[Exit Perez.
Towerson awakens.
Tow. I have o'erslept my hour this morning, if to enjoy a pleasing dream can be to sleep too long. Methought my dear Isabinda and myself were lying in an arbour, wreathed about with myrtle and with cypress; my rival Harman, reconciled again to his friendship, strewed us with flowers, and put on each a crimson-coloured garment, in which we straightway mounted to the skies; and with us, many of my English friends, all clad in the same robes. If dreams have any meaning, sure this portends some good.—What's that I see! A dagger stuck into the paper of my memorials, and writ below—Thy virtue saved thy life! It seems some one has been within my chamber whilst I slept: Something of consequence hangs upon this accident. What, ho! who waits without? None answer me? Are ye all dead? What, ho!
Enter Beamont.
Beam. How is it, friend? I thought, entering your house, I heard you call.
Tow. I did, but as it seems without effect; none of my servants are within reach of my voice.
Beam. You seem amazed at somewhat?
Tow. A little discomposed: read that, and see if I have no occasion; that dagger was stuck there, by him who writ it.
Beam. I must confess you have too just a cause: I am myself surprised at an event so strange.
Tow. I know not who can be my enemy within this island, except my rival Harman; and for him, I truly did relate what passed betwixt us yesterday.
Beam. You bore yourself in that as it became you, as one who was a witness to himself of his own courage; and while, by necessary care of others, you were forced to decline fighting, shewed how much you did despise the man who sought the quarrel: 'Twas base in him, so backed as he is here, to offer it, much more to press you to it.
Tow. I may find a foot of ground in Europe to tell the insulting youth, he better had provoked some other man; but sure I cannot think 'twas he who left that dagger there.
Beam. No, for it seems too great a nobleness of spirit, for one like him to practise: 'Twas certainly an enemy, who came to take your sleeping life; but thus to leave unfinished the design, proclaims the act no Dutchman's.
Tow That time will best discover; I'll think no further of it.
Beam. I confess you have more pleasing thoughts to employ your mind at present; I left your bride just ready for the temple, and came to call you to her.
Tow. I'll straight attend you thither.
Enter Harman Sen. Fiscal, and Van Herring.
Fisc. Remember, sir, what I advised you; you
must seemingly make up the business.
[To Har. Sen.
Har. Sen. I warrant you.—What, my brave bonny
bridegroom, not yet dressed? You are a lazy lover;
I must chide you.
[To Towerson.
Tow. I was just preparing.
Har. Sen. I must prevent part of the ceremony: You thought to go to her; she is by this time at the castle, where she is invited with our common friends; for you shall give me leave, if you so please, to entertain you both.
Tow. I have some reasons, why I must refuse the honour you intend me.
Har. Sen. You must have none: What! my old friend steal a wedding from me? In troth, you wrong our friendship.
Beam. [To him aside.] Sir, go not to the castle; you cannot, in honour, accept an invitation from the father, after an affront from the son.
Tow. Once more I beg your pardon, sir.
Har. Sen. Come, come, I know your reason of refusal, but it must not prevail: My son has been to blame; I'll not maintain him in the least neglect, which he should show to any Englishman, much less to you, the best and most esteemed of all my friends.
Tow. I should be willing, sir, to think it was a young man's rashness, or perhaps the rage of a successless rival; yet he might have spared some words.
Har. Sen. Friend, he shall ask your pardon, or I'll no longer own him; what, ungrateful to a man, whose valour has preserved him? He shall do it, he shall indeed; I'll make you friends upon your own conditions; he's at the door, pray let him be admitted; this is a day of general jubilee.
Tow. You command here, you know, sir.
Fisc. I'll call him in; I am sure he will be proud,
at any rate, to redeem your kind opinion of him.
[Exit.
Fiscal re-enters, with Harman Junior.
Har. Jun. Sir, my father, I hope, has in part satisfied you, that what I spoke was only an effect of sudden passion, of which I am now ashamed; and desire it may be no longer lodged in your remembrance, than it is now in my intention to do you any injury.
Tow. Your father may command me to more difficult employments, than to receive the friendship of a man, of whom I did not willingly embrace an ill opinion.
Har. Jun. Nothing henceforward shall have power to take from me that happiness, in which you are so generously pleased to reinstate me.
Har. Sen. Why this is as it should be; trust me, I weep for joy.
Beam. Towerson is easy, and too credulous. I fear 'tis all dissembled on their parts. [Aside.
Har. Sen. Now set we forward to the castle; the bride is there before us.
Tow. Sir, I wait you.
[Exeunt Harman Sen. Towerson, Beamont,
and Van Herring.
Enter Captain Perez.
Fisc. Now, captain, when perform you what you promised, concerning Towerson's death?
Per. Never.—There, Judas, take your hire of blood again.[Throws him a purse.
Har. Jun. Your reason for this sudden change?
Per. I cannot own the name of man, and do it.
Har. Jun. Your head shall answer the neglect of what you were commanded.
Per. If it must, I cannot shun my destiny.
Fisc. Harman, you are too rash; pray hear his reasons first.
Per. I have them to myself, I'll give you none.
Fisc. None? that's hard; well, you can be secret, captain, for your own sake, I hope?
Per. That I have sworn already, my oath binds me.
Fisc. That's enough: we have now chang'd our
minds, and do not wish his death,—at least as you
shall know.
[Aside.
Per. I am glad on't, for he's a brave and worthy gentleman; I would not for the wealth of both the Indies have had his blood upon my soul to answer.
Fisc. [Aside to Harman.] I shall find a time to take back our secret from him, at the price of his life, when he least dreams of it; meantime 'tis fit we speak him fair. [To Perez.] Captain, a reward attends you, greater than you could hope; we only meant to try your honesty. I am more than satisfied of your reasons.
Per. I still shall labour to deserve your kindness in any honourable way.[Exit Perez.
Har. Jun. I told you that this Spaniard had not courage enough for such an enterprise.
Fisc. He rather had too much of honesty.
Har. Jun. Oh, you have ruined me; you promised me this day the death of Towerson, and now, instead of that, I see him happy! I'll go and fight him yet; I swear he never shall enjoy her.
Fisc. He shall not, that I swear with you; but you are too rash, the business can never be done your way.
Har. Jun. I'll trust no other arm but my own with it.
Fisc. Yes, mine you shall, I'll help you. This evening, as he goes from the castle, we'll find some way to meet him in the dark, and then make sure of him for getting maidenheads to-night; to-morrow I'll bestow a pill upon my Spanish Don, lest he discover what he knows.
Har. Jun. Give me your hand, you'll help me.
Fisc. By all my hopes I will: in the mean time, with a feigned mirth 'tis fit we gild our faces; the truth is, that we may smile in earnest, when we look upon the Englishman, and think how we will use him.
Har. Jun. Agreed; come to the castle.[Exeunt.
SCENE III.—The Castle.
Enter Harman Senior, Towerson, and Isabinda, Beamont, Collins, Van Herring. They seat themselves.
EPITHALAMIUM.
The day is come, I see it rise,
Betwixt the bride and bridegroom's eyes;
That golden day they wished so long,
Love picked it out amidst the throng;
He destined to himself this sun,
And took the reins, and drove him on;
In his own beams he drest him bright,
Yet bid him bring a better night.
The day you wished arrived at last,
You wish as much that it were past;
One minute more, and night will hide
The bridegroom and the blushing bride.
The virgin now to bed does go—
Take care, oh youth, she rise not so—
She pants and trembles at her doom,
And fears and wishes thou wouldst come.
Har. Sen. I like this song, 'twas sprightly; it would restore me twenty years of youth, had I but such a bride.
A Dance.
After the Dance, enter Harman Junior, and Fiscal.
Beam. Come, let me have the Sea-Fight; I like that better than a thousand of your wanton epithalamiums.
Har. Jun. He means that fight, in which he freed me from the pirates.
Tow. Pr'ythee, friend, oblige me, and call not for that song; 'twill breed ill blood. [To Beamont.
Beam. Pr'ythee be not scrupulous, ye fought it bravely. Young Harman is ungrateful, if he does not acknowledge it. I say, sing me the Sea-Fight.
THE SEA-FIGHT.
Who ever saw a noble sight,
That never viewed a brave sea-fight!
Hang up your bloody colours in the air,
Up with your fights, and your nettings prepare;
Your merry mates cheer, with a lusty bold spright,
Now each man his brindice, and then to the fight.
St George, St George, we cry,
The shouting Turks reply:
Oh now it begins, and the gun-room grows hot,
Ply it with culverin and with small shot;
Hark, does it not thunder? no, 'tis the guns roar,
The neighbouring billows are turned into gore;
Now each man must resolve, to die,
For here the coward cannot fly.
Drums and trumpets toll the knell,
And culverins the passing bell.
Now, now they grapple, and now board amain;
Blow up the hatches, they're off all again:
Give them a broadside, the dice run at all,
Down comes the mast and yard, and tacklings fall;
She grows giddy now, like blind Fortune's wheel,
She sinks there, she sinks, she turns up her keel.
Who ever beheld so noble a sight,
As this so brave, so bloody sea-fight!
Har. Jun. See the insolence of these English; they cannot do a brave action in an age, but presently they must put it into metre, to upbraid us with their benefits.
Fisc. Let them laugh, that win at last.
Enter Captain Middleton, and a Woman with him, all pale and weakly, and in tattered garments.
Tow. Captain Middleton, you are arrived in a good
hour, to be partaker of my happiness, which is as
great this day, as love and expectation can make it.
[Rising up to salute Middleton.
Mid. And may it long continue so!
Tow. But how happens it, that, setting out with us from England, you came not sooner hither.
Mid. It seems the winds favoured you with a quicker passage; you know I lost you in a storm on the other side of the Cape, with which disabled, I was forced to put into St Helen's isle; there 'twas my fortune to preserve the life of this our countrywoman; the rest let her relate.
Isab. Alas, she seems half-starved, unfit to make relations.
Van Her. How the devil came she off? I know her but too well, and fear she knows me too.
Tow. Pray, countrywoman, speak.
Eng Wom. Then thus in brief; in my dear husband's company, I parted from our sweet native isle: we to Lantore were bound, with letters from the States of Holland, gained for reparation of great damages sustained by us; when, by the insulting Dutch, our countrymen, against all show of right, were dispossessed, and naked sent away from that rich island, and from Poleroon.
Har. Sen. Woman, you speak with too much spleen; I must not hear my countrymen affronted.
Eng. Wom.. I wish they did not merit much worse of me, than I can say of them.—Well, we sailed forward with a merry gale, till near St Helen's isle we were overtaken, or rather waylaid, by a Holland vessel; the captain of which ship, whom here I see, the man who quitted us of all we had in those rich parts before, now fearing to restore his ill-got goods, first hailed, and then invited us on board, keeping himself concealed; his base lieutenant plied all our English mariners with wine, and when in dead of night they lay secure in silent sleep, most barbarously commanded they should be thrown overboard.
Fisc. Sir, do not hear it out.
Har. Sen. This is all false and scandalous.
Tow. Pray, sir, attend the story.
Eng. Wom. The vessel rifled, and the rich hold rummaged, they sink it down to rights; but first I should have told you, (grief, alas, has spoiled my memory) that my dear husband, wakened at the noise, before they reached the cabin where we lay, took me all trembling with the sudden fright, and leapt into the boat; we cut the cordage, and so put out to sea, driving at mercy of the waves and wind; so scaped we in the dark. To sum up all, we got to shore, and in the mountains hid us, until the barbarous Hollanders were gone.
Tow. Where is your husband, countrywoman?
Eng. Wom. Dead with grief; with these two hands I scratched him out a grave, on which I placed a cross, and every day wept o'er the ground where all my joys lay buried. The manner of my life, who can express! the fountain-water was my only drink; the crabbed juice and rhind of half-ripe lemons almost my only food, except some roots; my house, the widowed cave of some wild beast. In this sad state, I stood upon the shore, when this brave captain with his ship approached, whence holding up and waving both my hands, I stood, and by my actions begged their mercy; yet, when they nearer came, I would have fled, had I been able, lest they should have proved those murderous Dutch, I more than hunger feared.
Har. Sen. What say you to this accusation, Van Herring?
Van Her. 'Tis as you said, sir, false and scandalous.
Har. Sen. I told you so; all false and scandalous.
Isab. On my soul it is not; her heart speaks in her tongue, and were she silent, her habit and her face speak for her.
Beam. Sir, you have heard the proofs.
Fisc. Mere allegations, and no proofs. Seem not to believe it, sir.
Har. Sen. Well, well, we'll hear it another time.
Mid. You seem not to believe her testimony, but my whole crew can witness it.
Van Her. Ay, they are all Englishmen.
Tow. That's a nation too generous to do bad actions, and too sincere to justify them done; I wish their neighbours were of the same temper.
Har. Sen. Nay, now you kindle, captain; this must not be, we are your friends and servants.
Mid. 'Tis well you are by land, at sea you would be masters: there I myself have met with some affronts, which, though I wanted power then to return, I hailed the captain of the Holland ship, and told him he should dearly answer it, if e'er I met him in the narrow seas. His answer was, (mark but the insolence) If I should hang thee, Middleton, up at thy main yard, and sink thy ship, here's that about my neck (pointing to his gold chain) would answer it when I came into Holland.
Har. Jan. Yes, this is like the other.
Tow. I find we must complain at home; there's no redress to be had here.
Isab. Come, countrywoman,—I must call you so, since he who owns my heart is English born,—be not dejected at your wretched fortune; my house is yours, my clothes shall habit you, even these I wear, rather than see you thus.
Har. Sen. Come, come, no more complaints; let
us go in; I have ten rummers ready to the bride;
as many times shall our guns discharge, to speak
the general gladness of this day. I'll lead you,
lady.
[Takes the Bride by the hand.
Tow. A heavy omen to my nuptials!
My countrymen oppressed by sea and land,
And I not able to redress the wrong,
So weak are we, our enemies so strong.[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.—A Wood.
Enter Harman Junior, and Fiscal, with swords, and disguised in vizards.
Har. Jun. We are disguised enough; the evening now grows dusk.—I would the deed were done!
Enter Perez with a Soldier, and overhears them.
Fisc. 'Twill now be suddenly, if we have courage in this wild woody walk, hot with the feast and plenteous bowls, the bridal company are walking to enjoy the cooling breeze; I spoke to Towerson, as I said I would, and on some private business of great moment, desired that he would leave the company, and meet me single here.
Har. Jan. Where if he comes, he never shall return But Towerson stays too long for my revenge; I am in haste to kill him.
Fisc. He promised me to have been here ere now; if you think fitting, I'll go back and bring him.
Har. Jun. Do so, I'll wait you in this place. [Exit Fisc.
Per. Was ever villany like this of these unknown assassins? Towerson, in vain I saved thy sleeping life if now I let thee lose it, when thou wakest; thou lately hast been bountiful to me, and this way I'll acknowledge it. Yet to disclose their crimes were dangerous. What must I do? This generous Englishman will strait be here, and consultation then perhaps will be too late: I am resolved.—Lieutenant, you have heard, as well as I, the bloody purpose of these men?
Sold. I have, and tremble at the mention of it.
Per. Dare you adventure on an action, as brave as theirs is base?
Sold. Command my life.
Per. No more. Help me despatch that murderer, ere his accomplice comes: the men I know not; but their design is treacherous and bloody.
Sold. And he, they mean to kill, is brave himself, and of a nation I much love.
Per. Come on then. [Both draw. To Har.]
Villain, thou diest, thy conscience tells thee why;
I need not urge the crime.
[They assault him.
Har. Jun. Murder! I shall be basely murdered; help!
Tow. Hold, villains! what unmanly odds is this?
Courage, whoe'er thou art; I'll succour thee.
[Towerson fights with Perez, and Harman
with the Lieutenant, and drive them off the
stage.
Har. Jun. Though, brave unknown, night takes
thee from my knowledge, and I want time to thank
thee now, take this, and wear it for my sake;
[Gives him a ring.] Hereafter I'll acknowledge it
more largely.
[Exit.
Tow. That voice I've heard; but cannot call to
mind, except it be young Harman's. Yet, who
should put his life in danger thus? This ring I
would not take as salary, but as a gage of his free
heart who left it; and, when I know him, I'll restore
the pledge. Sure 'twas not far from hence I
made the appointment: I know not what this
Dutchman's business is, yet, I believe, 'twas somewhat
from my rival. It shall go hard, but I will
find him out, and then rejoin the company.
[Exit.
Re-enter Harman Junior, and Fiscal.
Fisc. The accident was wondrous strange: Did you neither know your assassinates, nor your deliverer?
Har. Jun. 'Twas all a hurry; yet, upon better recollecting of myself, the man, who freed me, must be Towerson.
Fisc. Hark, I hear the company walking this way; will you withdraw?
Har. Jun. Withdraw, and Isabinda coming!
Fisc. The wood is full of murderers; every tree, methinks, hides one behind it.
Har. Jun. You have two qualities, my friend, that sort but ill together; as mischievous as hell could wish you, but fearful in the execution.
Fisc. There is a thing within me, called a conscience which is not quite o'ercome; now and then it rebels a little, especially when I am alone, or in the dark.
Har. Jun. The moon begins to rise, and glitters through the trees.
Isab. [Within.] Pray let us walk this way; that farther lawn, between the groves, is the most green and pleasant of any in this isle.
Har. Jun. I hear my siren's voice, I cannot stir from hence.—Dear friend, if thou wilt e'er oblige me, divert the company a little, and give me opportunity a while to talk alone with her.
Fisc. You'll get nothing of her, except it be by force.
Har. Jun. You know not with what eloquence love may inspire my tongue: The guiltiest wretch, when ready for his sentence, has something still to say.
Fisc. Well, they come; I'll put you in a way, and wish you good success; but do you hear? remember you are a man, and she a woman; a little force, it may be, would do well.
Enter Isabinda, Beamont, Middleton, Collins, Harman Senior; and Julia.
Isab. Who saw the bridegroom last?
Har. Sen. He refused to pledge the last rummer; so I am out of charity with him.
Beam. Come, shall we backward to the castle? I'll take care of you, lady.
Jul Oh, you have drunk so much, you are past all care.
Col. But where can be this jolly bridegroom? Answer me that; I will have the bride satisfied.
Fisc. He walked alone this way; we met him lately.
Isab. I beseech you, sir, conduct us.
Har. Jun. I'll bring you to him, madam.
Fisc. [To Har. Jun.] Remember, now's your time; if you o'erslip this minute, fortune perhaps will never send another.
Har. Jun. I am resolved.
Fisc. Come, gentlemen, I'll tell you such a pleasant accident, you'll think the evening short.
Jul. I love a story, and a walk by moonshine.
Fisc. Lend me your hand then, madam. [Takes her by the one hand.
Beam. But one, I beseech you then; I must not quit her so.[Takes her by the other hand. Exeunt.
Re-enter Harman Junior, and Isabinda.
Isab. Come, sir, which is the way? I long to see my love.
Har. Jun. You may have your wish, and without stirring hence.
Isab. My love so near? Sure you delight to mock me!
Har. Jun. 'Tis you delight to torture me; behold the man who loves you more than his own eyes; more than the joys of earth, or hopes of heaven.
Isab. When you renewed your friendship with my Towerson, I thought these vain desires were dead within you.
Har. Jun. Smothered they were, not dead; your eyes can kindle no such petty fires, as only blaze a while, and strait go out.
Isab. You know, when I had far less ties upon me, I would not hear you; therefore wonder not if I withdraw, and find the company.
Har. Jun. That would be too much cruelty, to make me wretched, and then leave me so.
Isab. Am I in fault if you are miserable? so you may call the rich man's wealth, the cause and object of the robber's guilt. Pray do not persecute me farther: You know I have a husband now, and would be loth to afflict his knowledge with your second folly.
Har. Jun. What wondrous care you take to make him happy! yet I approve your method. Ignorance! oh, 'tis a jewel to a husband; that is, 'tis peace in him, 'tis virtue in his wife, 'tis honour in the world; he has all this, while he is ignorant.
Isab. You pervert my meaning: I would not keep my actions from his knowledge; your bold attempts I would: But yet henceforth conceal your impious flames; I shall not ever be thus indulgent to your shame, to keep it from his notice.
Har. Jun. You are a woman; have enough of love for him and me; I know the plenteous harvest all is his: He has so much of joy, that he must labour under it. In charity, you may allow some gleanings to a friend.
Isab. Now you grow rude: I'll hear no more.
Har. Jun. You must.
Imb. Leave me.
Har. Jun. I cannot.
Isab. I find I must be troubled with this idle talk some minutes more, but 'tis your last.
Har. Jun. And therefore I'll improve it: Pray, resolve to make me happy by your free consent. I do not love these half enjoyments, to enervate my delights with using force, and neither give myself nor you that full content, which two can never have, but where both join with equal eagerness to bless each other.
Isab. Bless me, ye kind inhabitants of heaven, from hearing words like these!
Har. Jun. You must do more than hear them. You know you were now going to your bridal-bed. Call your own thoughts but to a strict account, they'll tell you, all this day your fancy ran on nothing else; 'tis but the same scene still you were to act; only the person changed,—it may be for the better.
Isab. You dare not, sure, attempt this villany.
Har. Jun. Call not the act of love by that gross name; you'll give it a much better when 'tis done, and woo me to a second.
Isab. Dost thou not fear a heaven?
Har. Jun. No, I hope one in you. Do it, and do
it heartily; time is precious; it will prepare you better
for your husband. Come—
[Lays hold on her.
Isab. O mercy, mercy! Oh, pity your own soul, and pity mine; think how you'll wish undone this horrid act, when your hot lust is slaked; think what will follow when my husband knows it, if shame will let me live to tell it him; and tremble at a Power above, who sees, and surely will revenge it.
Har. Jun. I have thought!
Isab. Then I am sure you're penitent.
Har. Jun. No, I only gave you scope, to let you see, all you have urged I knew: You find 'tis to no purpose either to talk or strive.
Isab. [Running.] Some succour! help, oh help! [She breaks from him.
Har. Jun. [Running after her.] That too is vain, you cannot 'scape me.[Exit.
Har. Jun. [Within.] Now you are mine; yield, or by force I'll take it.
Isab. [Within.] Oh, kill me first!
Har. Jun. [Within.] I'll bear you where your cries shall not be heard.
Isab. [As further off.] Succour, sweet heaven! oh succour me!
SCENE II.
Enter Harman Senior, Fiscal, Van Herring, Beamont, Collins, and Julia.
Beam. You have led us here a fairy's round in the moonshine, to seek a bridegroom in a wood, till we have lost the bride.
Col. I wonder what's become of her?
Har. Sen. Got together, got together, I warrant you, before this time; you Englishmen are so hot, you cannot stay for ceremonies. A good honest Dutchman would have been plying the glass all this while, and drunk to the hopes of Hans in Kelder till 'twas bed-time.
Beam. Yes, and then have rolled into the sheets, and turned o' the t'other side to snore, without so much as a parting blow; till about midnight he would have wakened in a maze, and found first he was married by putting forth a foot, and feeling a woman by him; and, it may be, then, instead of kissing, desired yough Fro to hold his head.
Col. And by that night's work have given her a proof, what she might expect for ever after.
Beam. In my conscience, you Hollanders never get your children, but in the spirit of brandy; you are exalted then a little above your natural phlegm, and only that, which can make you fight, and destroy men, makes you get them.
Fisc. You may live to know, that we can kill men when we are sober.
Beam. Then they must be drunk, and not able to defend themselves.
Jul. Pray leave this talk, and let us try if we can surprise the lovers under some convenient tree: Shall we separate, and look them?
Beam. Let you and I go together then, and if we cannot find them, we shall do as good, for we shall find one another.
Fisc. Pray take that path, or that; I will pursue this.[Exeunt all but the Fiscal.
Fisc. So, now I have diverted them from Harman, I'll look for him myself, and see how he speeds in his adventure.
Enter Harman Junior.
Har. Jun. Who goes there?
Fisc. A friend: I was just in quest of you, so are all the company: Where have you left the bride?
Har. Jun. Tied to a tree and gagged, and—
Fisc. And what? Why do you stare and tremble? Answer me like a man.
Har. Jun. Oh, I have nothing left of manhood in me! I am turned beast or devil. Have I not horns, and tail, and leathern wings? Methinks I should have by my actions. Oh, I have done a deed so ill, I cannot name it.
Fisc. Not name it, and yet do it? That's a fool's modesty: Come, I'll name it for you: You have enjoyed your mistress.
Har. Jun. How easily so great a villany comes from thy mouth! I have done worse, I have ravished her.
Fisc. That's no harm, so you have killed her afterwards.
Har. Jun. Killed her! why thou art a worse fiend than I.
Fisc. Those fits of conscience in another might be excusable; but in you, a Dutchman, who are of a race that are born rebels, and live every where on rapine,—would you degenerate, and have remorse? Pray, what makes any thing a sin but law? and, what law is there here against it? Is not your father chief? Will he condemn you for a petty rape? the woman an Amboyner, and, what's less, now married to an Englishman! Come, if there be a hell, 'tis but for those that sin in Europe, not for us in Asia; heathens have no hell. Tell me, how was't? Pr'ythee, the history.
Har. Jun. I forced her. What resistance she could make she did, but 'twas in vain; I bound her, as I told you, to a tree.
Fisc. And she exclaimed, I warrant—
Har. Jun. Yes; and called heaven and earth to witness.
Fisc. Not after it was done?
Har. Jun. More than before—desired me to have killed her. Even when I had not left her power to speak, she curst me with her eyes.
Fisc. Nay, then, you did not please her; if you had, she ne'er had cursed you heartily. But we lose time: Since you have done this action, 'tis necessary you proceed; we must have no tales told.
Har. Jun. What do you mean?
Fisc. To dispatch her immediately; could you be so senseless to ravish her, and let her live? What if her husband should have found her? What if any other English? Come, there's no dallying; it must be done: My other plot is ripe, which shall destroy them all to-morrow.
Har. Jun. I love her still to madness, and never can consent to have her killed. We'll thence remove her, if you please, and keep her safe till your intended plot shall take effect; and when her husband's gone, I'll win her love by every circumstance of kindness.
Fisc. You may do so; but t'other is the safer way: But I'll not stand with you for one life. I could have wished that Towerson had been killed before I had proceeded to my plot; but since it cannot be, we must go on; conduct me where you left her.
Har. Jun. Oh, that I could forget both act and place![Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Scene drawn, discovers Isabinda bound.
Enter Towerson.
Tow. Sure I mistook the place; I'll wait no longer:
Something within me does forebode me ill;
I stumbled when I entered first this wood;
My nostrils bled three drops; then stopped the blood,
And not one more would follow.—
What's that, which seems to bear a mortal shape,[Sees Isa.
Yet neither stirs nor speaks? or, is it some
Illusion of the night? some spectre, such
As in these Asian parts more frequently appear?
Whate'er it be, I'll venture to approach it.[Goes near.
My Isabinda bound and gagged! Ye powers,
I tremble while I free her, and scarce dare
Restore her liberty of speech, for fear
Of knowing more.[Unbinds her, and ungags her.
Isab. No longer bridegroom thou, nor I a bride;
Those names are vanished; love is now no more;
Look on me as thou would'st on some foul leper;
And do not touch me; I am all polluted,
All shame, all o'er dishonour; fly my sight,
And, for my sake, fly this detested isle,
Where horrid ills so black and fatal dwell,
As Indians could not guess, till Europe taught.
Tow. Speak plainer, I am recollected now:
I know I am a man, the sport of fate;
Yet, oh my better half, had heaven so pleased,
I had been more content, to suffer in myself than thee!
Isab. What shall I say! That monster of a man,
Harman,—now I have named him, think the rest,—
Alone, and singled like a timorous hind
From the full herd, by flattery drew me first,
Then forced me to an act, so base and brutal!
Heaven knows my innocence: But, why do I
Call that to witness!
Heaven saw, stood silent: Not one flash of lightning
Shot from the conscious firmament, to shew its justice:
Oh had it struck us both, it had saved me!
Tow. Heaven suffered more in that, than you, or I,
Wherefore have I been faithful to my trust,
True to my love, and tender to the opprest?
Am I condemned to be the second man,
Who e'er complained he virtue served in vain?
But dry your tears, these sufferings all are mine.
Your breast is white, and cold as falling snow;
You, still as fragrant as your eastern groves;
And your whole frame as innocent, and holy,
As if your being were all soul and spirit,
Without the gross allay of flesh and blood.
Come to my arms again!
Isab. O never, never!
I am not worthy now; my soul indeed
Is free from sin; but the foul speckled stains
Are from my body ne'er to be washed out,
But in my death. Kill me, my love, or I
Must kill myself; else you may think I was
A black adultress in my mind, and some
Of me consented.
Tow. Your wish to die, shews you deserve to live.
I have proclaimed you guiltless to myself.
Self-homicide, which was, in heathens, honour,
In us, is only sin.
Isab. I thought the Eternal Mind
Had made us masters of these mortal frames;
You told me, he had given us wills to chuse,
And reason to direct us in our choice;
If so, why should he tie us up from dying,
When death's the greater good?
Tow. Can death, which is our greatest enemy, be good?
Death is the dissolution of our nature;
And nature therefore does abhor it most,
Whose greatest law is—to preserve our beings.
Isab. I grant, it is its great and general law:
But as kings, who are, or should be, above laws,
Dispense with them when levelled at themselves;
Even so may man, without offence to heaven,
Dispense with what concerns himself alone.
Nor is death in itself an ill;
Then holy martyrs sinned, who ran uncalled
To snatch their martyrdom; and blessed virgins,
Whom you celebrate for voluntary death,
To free themselves from that which I have suffered.
Tow. They did it, to prevent what might ensue;
Your shame's already past.
Isab. It may return,
If I am yet so mean to live a little longer.
Tow. You know not; heaven may give you succour yet;
You see it sends me to you.
Isab. 'Tis too late,
You should have come before.
Tow. You may live to see yourself revenged.
Come, you shall stay for that, then I'll die with you,
You have convinced my reason, nor am I
Ashamed to learn from you.
To heaven's tribunal my appeal I make;
If as a governor he sets me here,
To guard this weak-built citadel of life,
When 'tis no longer to be held, I may
With honour quit the fort. But first I'll both
Revenge myself and you.
Isab. Alas! you cannot take revenge; your countrymen
Are few, and those unarmed.
Tow. Though not on all the nation, as I would,
Yet I at least can take it on the man.
Isab. Leave me to heaven's revenge, for thither I
Will go, and plead, myself, my own just cause.
There's not an injured saint of all my sex,
But kindly will conduct me to my judge,
And help me tell my story.
Tow. I'll send the offender first, though to that place
He never can arrive: Ten thousand devils,
Damned for less crimes than he,
And Tarquin in their head, way-lay his soul,
To pull him down in triumph, and to shew him
In pomp among his countrymen; for sure
Hell has its Netherlands, and its lowest country
Must be their lot.
Enter Harman Junior, and Fiscal.
Har. Jun. 'Twas hereabout I left her tied. The rage of love renews again within me.
Fisc. She'll like the effects on't better now. By this time it has sunk into her imagination, and given her a more pleasing idea of the man, who offered her so sweet a violence.
Isab. Save me, sweet heaven! the monster comes again!
Har. Jun. Oh, here she is.—My own fair bride,—for so you are, not Towerson's,—let me unbind you; I expect that you should bind yourself about me now, and tie me in your arms.
Tow. [Drawing.]
No, villain, no! hot satyr of the woods,
Expect another entertainment now.
Behold revenge for injured chastity.
This sword heaven draws against thee,
And here has placed me like a fiery cherub,
To guard this paradise from any second violation.
Fisc. We must dispatch him, sir, we have the odds; And when he's killed, leave me t'invent the excuse.
Har. Jun. Hold a little: As you shunned fighting formerly with me, so would I now with you. The mischiefs I have done are past recal. Yield then your useless right in her I love, since the possession is no longer yours; so is your honour safe, and so is hers, the husband only altered.
Tow. You trifle; there's no room for treaty here:
The shame's too open, and the wrong too great.
Now all the saints in heaven look down to see
The justice I shall do, for 'tis their cause;
And all the fiends below prepare thy tortures.
Isab. If Towerson would, think'st thou my soul so poor,
To own thy sin, and make the base act mine,
By chusing him who did it? Know, bad man,
I'll die with him, but never live with thee.
Tow. Prepare; I shall suspect you stay for further help,
And think not this enough.
Fisc. We are ready for you.
Har. Jun. Stand back! I'll fight with him alone.
Fisc. Thank you for that; so, if he kills you, I shall have him single upon me.[All three fight.
Isab. Heaven assist my love!
Har. Jun. There, Englishman, 'twas meant well to thy heart.[Towerson wounded.
Fisc. Oh you can bleed, I see, for all your cause.
Tow. Wounds but awaken English courage.
Har. Jun. Yet yield me Isabinda, and be safe.
Tow. I'll fight myself all scarlet over first;
Were there no love, or no revenge,
I could not now desist, in point of honour.
Har. Jun. Resolve me first one question:
Did you not draw your sword this night before,
To rescue one opprest with odds?
Tow. Yes, in this very wood: I bear a ring,
The badge of gratitude from him I saved.
Har. Jun. This ring was mine; I should be loth to kill
The frank redeemer of my life.
Tow. I quit that obligation. But we lose time.
Come, ravisher!
[They fight again, Tow. closes with Harm, and
gets him down; as he is going to kill him, the
Fisc. gets over him.
Fisc. Hold, and let him rise; for if you kill him,
At the same instant you die too.
Tow. Dog, do thy worst, for I would so be killed;
I'll carry his soul captive with me into the other world.
[Stabs Harman.
Har. Jun. O mercy, mercy, heaven![Dies.
Fisc. Take this, then; in return.
[As he is going to stab him, Isab. takes hold of his
hand.
Isab. Hold, hold; the weak may give some help.
Tow. [Rising.] Now, sir, I am for you.
Fisc. [Retiring.]
Hold, sir, there is no more resistance made.
I beg you, by the honour of your nation,
Do not pursue my life; I tender you my sword.
[Holds his sword by the point to him.
Tow. Base beyond example of any country, but thy own!
Isab. Kill him, sweet love, or we shall both repent it.
Fisc. [Kneeling to her.] Divinest beauty! Abstract of all that's excellent in woman, can you be friend to murder?
Isab. 'Tis none to kill a villain, and a Dutchman.
Fisc. [Kneeling to Towerson.] Noble Englishman, give me my life, unworthy of your taking! By all that is good and holy here I swear, before the governor to plead your cause; and to declare his son's detested crime, so to secure your lives.
Tow. Rise, take thy life, though I can scarce believe thee;
If for a coward it be possible, become an honest man.
Enter Harman Senior, Van Herring, Beamont, Collins, Julia, the Governors Guard.
Fisc. [To Har.]
Oh, sir, you come in time to rescue me;
The greatest villain, who this day draws breath,
Stands here before your eyes: behold your son,
That worthy, sweet, unfortunate young man,
Lies there, the last cold breath yet hovering
Betwixt his trembling lips.
Tow. Oh, monster of ingratitude!
Har. Oh, my unfortunate old age, whose prop
And only staff is gone, dead ere I die!
These should have been his tears, and I have been
That body to be mourned.
Beam. I am so much amazed, I scarce believe my senses.
Fisc. And will you let him live, who did this act?
Shall murder, and of your own son,
And such a son, go free; He lives too long,
By this one minute which he stays behind him.
Isab. Oh, sir, remember, in that place you hold,
You are a common father to us all;
We beg but justice of you; hearken first
To my lamented story.
Fisc. First hear me, sir.
Tow. Thee, slave! thou livest but by the breath I gave thee.
Didst thou but now plead on thy knees for life,
And offer'dst to make known my innocence
In Harman's injuries?
Fisc. I offered to have cleared thy innocence,
Who basely murdered him!—But words are needless;
Sir, you see evidence before your eyes,
And I the witness, on my oath to heaven,
How clear your son, how criminal this man.
Col. Towerson could do nothing but what was noble.
Beam. We know his native worth.
Fisc. His worth! Behold it on the murderer's hand;
A robber first, he took degrees in mischief,
And grew to what he is: Know you that diamond,
And whose it was? See if he dares deny it.
Tow. Sir, it was your son's, that freely I acknowledge;
But how I came by it—
Har. No, it is too much, I'll hear no more.
Fisc. The devil of jealousy, and that of avarice, both, I believe, possest him; or your son was innocently talking with his wife, and he perhaps had found them; this I guess, but saw it not, because I came too late. I only viewed the sweet youth just expiring, and Towerson stooping down to take the ring; she kneeling by to help him: when he saw me, he would, you may be sure, have sent me after, because I was a witness of the fact. This on my soul is true.
Tow. False as that soul, each word, each syllable;
The ring he put upon my hand this night,
When in this wood unknown, and near this place,
Without my timely help he had been slain.