Raym. Where are they then? where are these men,

Or woman? We are landed where your faiths Did assure us we could not miss their sights. For this news we took ye to our mercy, Reliev'd ye, when the furious sea and famine Strove which should first devour ye; cloath'd And cherish'd ye; us'd ye as those ye say ye [shew Fair gentlemen. Now keep your words, and This company your own free pities spoke of, These men ye left in misery; the woman! Men of those noble breedings ye pretend to Should scorn to lie, or get their food with falshood:

are,

Come, direct us.

Seb. Alas, sir, they are gone;

[not.

But by what means, or providence, we know
2 Sailor. Was not the captain
A fellow of a fiery, yet brave nature,
A middle stature, and of brown complexion?
Nicusa. He was, sir.
Raym. Twas Albert,
And my poor wretched sister!

1 Sailor. 'Twas he certain;

[sea.

I ha' been at sea with him, many times at Raym. Come, shew us these men; Shew us presently, and do not dally with us! Scb. We left 'em here, (what should we This place. [say, sir?) here in 2 Sailor. The earth can't swallow 'em; they have

No wings; they can't fly sure.

Raym. You told us too

Of heaps of treasure, and of sums conceal'd, That set their hearts a-fire; we see no such thing,

No such sign: what can ye say to purge ye?
What have ye done with these men?
Nicusa. We, sir?

Raym. You, sir;

For certain I believe ye saw such people. Seb. By all that's good, by all that's pure [and honest,

By all that's holy

Raym. I dare not credit ye;

Ye've so abus'd my hope, that now I hate ye.

1 Suilor. Let's put 'em in their ragged cloaths again,

Nicusa. That goodness dwells above, and knows us innocent,

[us!

Comfort our lives, and at his pleasure quit Seb. Come, cousin, come! Old Time will end our story;

But no time (if we end well) ends our glory. [Exeunt. Enter Rosellia, Clarinda, Crocale, Hippolita, and Juletta.

Ros. Use 'em with all the austerity that may be;

They are our slaves! Turn all those pities, 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 days hence that blessed hour comes, Most happy once to me, that knit this hand Το my dear husband's, [hour, ladiesAnd both our hearts in mutual bands. That Clar. What of that hour?

Ros. Why, on that hour, daughter,
And in the height of all our celebrations,
Our dear remembrances of that dear man,
And those that suffer'd with him, our fair
kinsmen,

Their lives shall fall a sacrifice to vengeance,
Their lives that ruin'd his; 'tis a full justice.
I will look glorious in their bloods; and the
Most noble spirit of Sebastian,
[pirates,
That perish'd by the pride of these French
Shall smile in Heav'n, and bless the hand
that kill'd 'em.

Look strictly all unto your prisoners;
For he that makes a scape beyond my vén-

[per you.

Clar. You're angry, mother, and you're

[e'en

Captain, for certain they are knaves;`let's
Deliver 'em to their old fruitful farm;
Here let 'em walk the island!

old too,

[cies.

[tians,

Seb. If ye do so, we shall curse your merNicusa. Rather put us to sea again. Raym. Not so; Yet this I'll do, because ye say ye're ChrisTho' I hardly credit it. Bring in the boat, And all aboard again, but these two wretches! Yet leave 'em four days' meat. If in that time

(For I will search all nooks of this strange island)

I can discover any track of these men, [ye; Alive or dead, I'll bear ye off, and honour If not, ye've found your graves: so, farewell! [Exeunt.

Forgetting what men are ; but we shall tem How fare your prisoners, ladies? in what forms

Do they appear in their afflictions? Jul. Mine fare but poorly; for so I'm "Tis none of my fault. [commanded;

Clar. Of what sort are they?
Jul. They say they're gentlemen, but they
slew mungrels.

Clar. How do they suffer?
Jul. Faith, like boys;

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

When I frown, they hang their most dejected heads, [of bread, Like fearful sheep-hounds: shew 'em a crust They'll saint me presently; and skip like apes For a sup of wine. I'll whip 'em like hacknies,

Saddle 'em, ride 'em, do what I will with 'em. Clar. Tush, these are poor things. Have they names like Christians?

Jul. Very fair names; Franville, Lamure,
and Morillat;
[very handsomely,

And brag of great kindreds too. They offer
But that I am a fool, and dare not venture.
They are sound too, o'my conscience,
Or very near upon it.

Clar. Fy; away, fool!

Jul. They tell me, if they might be brought before you,

[quence. They would reveal things of strange conseClar. Their base poor fears!

Jut. Ay, that makes me hate 'em too; For if they were but manly to their sufferance, Sure I should strain a point or two.

Clar. An hour hence I will take a view of 'em,

[too? And licar their business. Are your men thus Croc. Mine? no, gentle madam; mine

were not cast

In such base moulds: 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.
Clur. Have they not lives and fears?
Croc. Lives they have, madam ;
[nions
But those lives never link'd to such compa-
As fears or doubts.

Clar. Use 'em nobly;

And where you find fit subjects for your pities,

Let it become ye to be courteous!

My mother will not always be thus rigorous. Hip. Mine are sailors, madam; but they sleep soundly,

And seldom trouble me, unless it be When they dream sometimes of fights and tempests;

Then they roar and whistle for cans of wine, And down they fling me; and in that rage, (For they are violent fellows) they play such freaks!

If they have meat, they thank me; if none, They heartily desire to be hang'd quickly; And this is all they care.

Clar. Look to 'em diligently,

[serve,

And where your pities tell ye they may de

Give comfort!

[favour,

Clar. Nay, do not take it for a dreamt-of That comforts in the sleep, and awake Indeed I love him.

[vanishes: Aminta. Do you indeed? [safety! Clar. You doubt still, 'cause you fear his Indeed he is the sweetest man I ever saw; I think the best. You may hear without blushes, [courtesy. And give me thanks, if you please, for my Aminta. Madam, I ever must:- -Yet, witness Heaven, [madam, They are hard pull'd from me.-Believe me, So many imperfections I could find— (Forgive me, grace, for lying!)-and such

wants

too

('Tis to an honest use)-such poverties, Both in his main proportion, and his mind [lewdly)There are a hundred handsomer-(I lie Your noble usage, madam, hath so bound That I must tell you[me to you,

Clar. Come, tell your worst. Aminta. He is no husband for you: I think you mean in that fair way. Clar. You've hit it. Aminta. I'm sure [gerous, madam, You've hit my heart.-You will find him danAs fickle as the flying air, proud, jealous, Soon glutted in your sweets, and soon for getful.

I could say more; and tell you I've a brother, Another brother, that so far excels this, Both in the ornaments of man, and making-

Clar. If you

Were not his sister, I should doubt you mainly,
Doubt you for his love, you deal so cunningly.
Do not abuse me; I have trusted you
With more than life, with my first love; be
Of me!
[careful

Aminta. In what use, madam?
Clar. In this, lady:

Speak to him for me; you have power upon him;

Tell him I love him, tell him I dote on him; It will become your tongue.

Aminta. Become my grave! Oh, fortune, oh, curs'd fortune! Clar. Tell him his liberty,

Ii2

And

And all those with him, all our wealth and jewels

Good sister, for I'll call you so—
Aminta. I shall, lady-

E'en die, I hope.

Clar. Here's meat and wine, (pray take it) And there he lies: give him what liberty you please, [please, sister! But still conceal'd; what pleasure you shall He shall ne'er want again. Nay, see an you'll take it!

Why do you study thus?

Aminta. To avoid mischiefs;

If they should happen

Clar. Go, and be happy for me,
Aminta. Oh, blind fortune!

Yet happy thus far, I shall live to see him.
In what strange desolation lives he here now,
Sure this curtain will reveal.

Aminta. Pray eat first; you shew faint: Here's wine to refresh you too. Alb. I thank you, dear. Aminta. Drink again!

[weep?

Alb. Here's to our loves!-How! turn and Pray pledge it! This happiness we have yet left,

Our hearts are free-Not pledge it? why? Altho' beneath the axe, this health were holy25, Why do you weep thus?

Aminta. I come to wooe you, Alb. To wooe me, sweet? I'm woo'd and won already; [comes you! You know I'm yours. This pretty way beBut you'd deceive my sorrows; that is your intent. [weep, but smile, Aminta. I would I could! I should not D'ye like your meat and wine?

Alb. Like it?

Aminta. Do you like your liberty?

Alb. All these I well may like.

And with it-it must be out!--She dotes on And must enjoy you; else no joy must find you.

[this? Alb. And have you the patience to deliver Aminta. A sister may say much, and moAlb. A sister? [destly. Aminta. Yes, that name undid you, Undid us both had you nam'd wife, sh' had fear'd you, [shunn'd, yea

And fear'd the sin she follow'd; she had
Her virgin modesty had not touch'd at you:
But thinking you were free, hath kiudled a fire,
I fear will hardly be extinguish'd..
Alb. Indeed I play'd the fool.
Amintu. Oh, my best sir, take heed,
Take heed of lies! Truth, tho' it trouble
some minds,
[dangerous,

Some wicked minds, that are both dark and
Yet it preserves itself, comes off pure, in-

nocent,

And, like the sun, tho' never so eclips'd,
Must break in glory. Oh, sir, lie no more!
Alb. You've read me a fair lecture,
And put a spell upon my tongue for feigning.
But how will you counsel now?

Amin'a. You must study to forget me.
Alb. How!

Aminta. Be patient!

Be wise and patient, it concerns you highly. Can you lay by our loves? But why should I doubt it?

You are a man, and men may shift affections; 'Tis held no sin. To come to the point; You must lose me; many and mighty reasons[feeds you?

Alb. Hear me, Aminta! Have you a man that loves you too? that That sends you liberty? has this great governess A noble son too, young, and apt to catch you? Ani I, because I am in bonds, and miserable, My health decay'd, my youth and strength Lalf blasted,

My

Act 4.]

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 dan[me dearly, gerous,

Take heed yourself! You swore you lov'd No few nor little oaths you swore, Aminta; Those seal'd with no small faith, I then assur'd myself:

Oh, seek no new ways to cozen truth!

Aminta. I do not; by Love itself, I love thee,

And ever must, nor can all deaths dissolve it! Alb. Why do you urge me thus then? Aminta. For your safety;

To preserve your

life.

[gives it,

[it;

Alb. My life, I do confess, is hers; she And let her take it back! I yield it. My love's entirely thine, none shall touch at None, my Aminta, none.

Aminta. You've made me happy; And now I know you're mine, fortune, 1 scorn thee!

Go to your rest, and I'll sit by you: whilst I've time I'll be your mate, and comfort you; For only I am trusted. You shall want Nothing, not a liberty that I can steal you. Alb. May we not celebrate our loves, Aminta?

And where our wishes cannot meet

Aminta. You're wanton;

But with cold kisses I'll allay that fever, (Look for no morc) and that in private too! But, let's Believe me, I shall blush else. We are both lost else. [consider; Alb. Let's in, and prevent fate. [Exeunt. Enter Crocale, Juletta, Tibalt, and Master. Tib. You do well to air us, ladies; we shall be musty else.

What are your wise wills now?

Croc. You're very crank still.

Tib. As crank as a holy friar fed with hail-stones.

But do ye bring us out to bait, like bulls? Master. Or are you weary of the charge ye're at?

Turn us abroad again; let us jog, ladies;
We're gross, and coarse, unfit for your sweet
pleasures.
[grass.

Tib. Knock off our shoes, and turn's to
Croc. You are

Determined still to be stubborn then?
It well becomes you.

Tib. An humour, lady, that

Contents a prisoner: a sullen fit sometimes Serves for a second course.

Jul. Ye may as well be kind,

And gain our favours; gain meat and drink, and lodging

To rest your bones.

Tib. My bones have borne me thus long,

Croc., And why ratsbane, monsieur? Tib. We live like vermin here, and eat up your cheese, [would bite at; Your mouldy cheese, that none but rats Therefore 'tis just that ratsbane should re[broken;

ward us.

We are unprofitable, and our ploughs are There is no hope of harvest this ladies. year, • Jul. Ye shall have all content. Master. Ay, an we'l! serve your uses. I'd rather serve hogs, there is more delight in't;

Your greedy appetites are never satisfied;
Like hungry camels just, sleeping or waking
You chew the cud still.

Croc. By this hand we'll starve ye.
Master. 'Tis a noble courtesy: I had as

lief ye

Should famish me, as founder me; to be
Jaded to death, is only fit for a hackney.
Here be certain tarts of tar about me,
And parcels of potargo in my jerkin:
As long as these last-

Jul. Which will not last ever.

Tib. Then we'll eat one another, like good fellows.

A shoulder of his for a haunch of mine!
Jul. 'Tis excellent!

Tib. "Twill be, as we'll dress it, ladies.
Croc. Why sure ye are not men?
Master. Ye had best come search us;
A seaman is seldom without a salt eel.
Tib. I am bad enough,

And in my nature a notorious wencher; And yet ye make me blush at your im modesty. [things?

Tell me, good Master, didst e'er sce such Master. I could like 'em, tho' they were lewdly giv❜n,

If they could say no; but, fy on 'em!
They gape like oysters.

Tib. Well, ye may hang, or starve us,

But

But your commanding impudence shall never Fear us. Had ye by blushing signs, soft cunnings,

Crept into us, and shew'd us your necessities;
We'd met your purposes, supplied your wants.
We are no saints, ladies:

I love a good wench as I love my life,
And with any life I will maintain my love;
But such a sordid impudence I'll spit at.
Let's to our dens again! Come, noble Master!
You know our minds, ladies: this is the
faith

In which we'll die. [Exe. Tibalt and Master.
Croc. I do admire 'em.

Jul. They

Are noble fellows, and they shall not want For this.

Croc. But see, Clarinda comes. Farewell! I'll to my charge.

Enter Clarinda.

[Exit.

Clar. What would ye do, if ye were to die Fran. Alas, we were prepar'd. If you will hang us,

Let's have a good meal or two to die with, To put us in heart!

Mor. Or if you'll drown us,

26 Fear us.] i. e. Make us fear.

[Act 4.

way:

us.

And you shall beat us when we offend you, Beat us abundantly, and take our meat from Clar. These are weak abject things, that [shew ye poor ones. What's the great service ye so oft have threaten'd,

If ye might sec me, and win my favour?
Jul. That business of discov'ry?
Mor. Oh, I'll tell ye, lady.

Lam. And so will I.

Fran. And I. Pray let me speak first!
Mor. Good no confusion!

We are before a lady that knows manners:
And, by the next meat I shall eat 'tis certain,
This little gentlewoman, that was taken with

Us

Clar. Your captain's sister? she
Mor. Ay, ay;

She is the business that we'd
You're cozen'd in her.

you

open

to you.

Clar. How! what is't would open???
Fran. She is no sister.

Mor. Good sirs, how quick you are!

She is no sister, madam.

Fran. She is his

Mor. Peace, I say!
Clar. What is she?

Mor. Faith, sweet lady,

She's, as a man would say, his

Clar. What?

Lam. His mistress.

[his

[unless

[beauty.

[empty!

Mor. If ye find me lic, lady, hang me Clar. How am I fool'd! Away with 'em, Juletta,

[ine,