Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9

Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima

Enter Albert, AmintaAlb.Alas dear soul ye faint.Amint. You speak the languageWhich I should use to you, heaven knows, my weaknessIs not for what I suffer in my self,But to imagine what you endure, and to what fateYour cruel Stars reserve ye.Alb. Do not add to my afflictionsBy your tender pitties; sure we have chang'd Sexes;You bear calamity with a fortitudeWould become a man; I like a weak girl, suffer.Amint. Oh, but your wounds,How fearfully they gape! and every oneTo 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 leaveTo 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 hairOf these pure locks, by which the greatest KingWould not be gladly bound, and love his Fetters.Amint. Oh Albert, I offer this sacrifice of serviceTo 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 prescribeLaws to it self; your goodness is the Lethe,In which I drown your injuries, and now liveTruly 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 LadyThough hunger gripes my croaking entrails,Yet when I kiss these Rubies, methinksI'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 hearThy self, and by such innocence accus'd;Must print a thousand kinds of shame, uponThy 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 hereA Virgin which the Saints would make their guest,To pine for hunger? ha, if my sence [Horns within.Deceive me not, these Notes take BeingFrom 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 PortugalsInform'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 feelNew vigor in me, and a spirit that daresMore 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 meTo this extream; 'tis to supply thy wants; and believe meThough pleasure met me in most ravishing forms,And happiness courted me to entertain her,I would nor eat nor sleep, till I return'dAnd 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 sleepDeceives your hunger with imagin'd food,Think you have sent me for discoveryOf 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 himThat is your Votary; and make it knownAgainst all stops, you can defend your own.[Exit. Enter Hippolita, Crocale, JulettaHip. 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'dHe chose for his last refuge, frighted him moreThan we that did pursue him.Jul. That's usual; for, death it self is not so terribleTo 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 airDare not flie over it: when the Stag turn'd head,And we, even tir'd with labor, Clarinda, as ifShe 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 notFawns 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 pastThose youthful heats, and feels not the wantOf that which young maids long for: and her daughterThe fair Clarinda, though in few yearsImprov'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 madeFor 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 swornBy Diana, I am of thy mind too wench;And though I have ta'en an oath, not aloneTo 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 pleasureIn 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 manIn 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 handHeav'd up the clothes.Hip. Yet still you slept?Cro. Y'faith I did; and when, methoughts, he was warmby 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 AlbertJul. 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 fallThus 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 knowI am a man, a wicked sinful man; and yet not soldSo far to impudence, as to presumeTo press upon your privacies, or provokeYour Heavenly angers; 'tis not for my selfI beg thus poorly, for I am already wounded,Wounded to death, and faint; my last breathIs for a Virgin, comes as near your selvesIn all perfection, as what's mortal mayResemble 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 ereMy 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 ClarindaJul. 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'dFrom 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 whichAs 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 heardMy 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 impossibleWe 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 knewYou from a man had Being, and owe to itThe name of parent, durst presume to killThe likeness of that thing by which you are?Whose Arrowes made these wounds? speak, or by DianWithout 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 castHim shipwrackt on the shore, as you see wounded:Nor durst we be Surgeons to suchYour Mother doth appoint for death.Cla. Weak excuse; Where's pity?Where's soft compassion? cruel, and ungratefulDid providence offer to your charityBut one poor Subject to express it on,And in't to shew our wants too; and could youSo 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 redSteales into his pale lips! run and fetch the simplesWith which my Mother heal'd my armeWhen 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 grovesYields 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 handBound up these wounds; a womans hair. What furyFor which my ignorance does not know a name,Is crept into my bosome? But I forget. Enter HippolitaMy 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 dutyIn poor and wretched man to pay, comes shortOf your immortal bounty: but to shewI am not unthankful, th[u]s in humilityI kiss the happy ground you have made sacred,By bearing of your weight.Cla. No Goddess, friend: but madeOf that same brittle mould as you are;One too acquainted with calamities,And from that apt to pity. Charity everFinds in the act reward, and needs no TrumpetIn 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 RosellaBut 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 theeThe falshood and the perjuries of Men?On whom, but for a woman to shew pity,Is to be cruel to her self; the SoveraigntyProud and imperious men usurp upon us,We conferr on our selves, and love those fettersWe 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 whichWe 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 lostAll we could love in man, here plant our selves,With execrable oaths never to lookOn man, but as a Monster? and, Wilt thouBe the first president to infringe those vowsWe made to Heaven?Cla. Hear me; and hear me with justice.And as ye are delighted in the nameOf Mother, hear a daughter that would be like you.Should all Women use this obstinate abstinence,You would force upon us; in a few yearsThe whole World would be peopledOnely 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? supposeYou 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 mankindMay 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 hungerHath lessen'd their perfection: but restor'dTo what they were, I doubt not they'll appearWorthy your favors.Jul. This is a blessingWe durst not hope for.Cla. Dear Mother, be not obdurate.Ros. Hear then my resolution: and labor notTo 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 injoyHis 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 FemalesWe 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'dShould refuse rest and meat, I must not takeYour noble offer: I left in yonder desartA Virgin almost pin'd.Cla. Shee's not your Wife?Alb. No Lady, but my Sister ('tis now dangerousTo speak truth) To her I deeply vow'dNot to tast food, or rest, if fortune brought it me,Till I bless'd her with my return: now if you pleaseTo afford me an easie passage to her,And some meat for her recovery,I shall live your slave: and thankfullyShe 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, MorillatLam.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 getSomething to quench my thirst.Fran. O Lamure, the happiness my dogs hadWhen 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 nothingTo 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 FranvileLam. 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 hardTo 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 SurgeonFran. Here comes the Surgeon: WhatHast 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 CordialPotion, 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 WenThou 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. AmintaFran. 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 usAre 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 GentlemenGive 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, SaylorsAmin. Eat one another? 'tis most impious.Sur. Come, come.Amin. Oh, help, help, help.Tib. The Ladies voice! stand off slaves,What do you intend villains?I have strength enough left me, if you abuse this soul,To —Ma. They would have ravisht her upon my life,Speak, how was it Lady?Amin. Forgive 'em, 'twas their hungers.Tib. Ha, their hungers!Ma. They would have eaten her.Tib. O dam'd villains; speak, Is it true?Sur. I confess an appetite.Tib. An appetite, I'll fit ye for an appetite.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?Amin. Good Sir.Tib. You shall grow mummy rascals;I'll make you fall to your brawns, and your buttocks,And worry one another like keen bandogs.Amin. Good Sir be merciful.Tib. You shall know what 'tis to be damn'd, Canibals.Amin. O my best friend! Enter AlbertAl. 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 meWith these pretious drinks.Amin. Shall not we see 'em?Alb. Yes, they will see youOut 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, JulettaAlb. 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 youTo love your selves, and place your happinessIn 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 isThe strangers sister; Why then should I fear?She cannot prove my rival.Ros. When you repent,That you refus'd my counsel, may it addTo 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 youThat to be merciful, is to draw nearThe Heavenly essence: whether you will beThankful, I do not question; nor demandWhat country bred you, what names, what maners;To us it is sufficient we relieveSuch as have shapes of men: and I command you,As we are not ambitious to knowFarther of you, that on pain of deathYou presume not to enquire what we are,Or whence deriv'd.Alb. In all things we obey you,And thankfully we ever shall confessOur selves your creatures.Ros. You speak as becomes you;First then, and willingly, deliver upThose weapons we could force from you.Alb. We lay 'em downMost 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 beA debt women may challenge to be sued to,Especially from such they may command;We give up to you that power, and thereforeFreely 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 TaylorFor 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 meatI will so swinge the salt itch out on you.Captain, Master, and the rest of us,That are brothers, and good fellows: we have beenToo 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 notGive content to all.All. Agreed, agreed.Tib. Then but observe, how learned and discreetly,I will proceed, and as a skilful DoctorIn all the quirks belonging to the game;Read over your complexions: for you CaptainBeing 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 predominanceAt your nativity, a malignant Planet,And if not qualified by a sweet conjunctionOf 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 loveTo Father children: like the Grand Signior,Thus I walk in my Seraglio,And view 'em as I pass: then draw I forthMy 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 beholdBetween 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 menThat 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 youDig in the mines till your hearts ake.Ros. A mad fellow;[Well,] Sir, I'll give you hearing: and as I likeYour 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 handsIs no good Heraldry, therefore let's to the gold,And share it equally: 'twill speak for usMore 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 treasureRos. So soon return'd!Alb. Here: see the Idol of the Lapidary.Ti. These Pearls, for which the slavish NegroDives to the bottom of the Sea.Lam. To get which the industrious MerchantTouches at either pole.Fran. The never-fayling purchaseOf 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 broughtTo 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 SeaWith good Sebastian: and these the PyratsThat not alone depriv'd him of this treasure,But also took his life.Cro. Part of my presentI 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 wretchesIs a reward, not punishment: let 'em liveTo undergoe the full weight of your displeasure.And that they may have sence to feel the tormentsThey 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 wrathOf the incensed powers, will fall most sureOn wicked men, when they are most secure.[Exeunt.