trance [all. Into this room! Undiscover'd I can here mark Enter Tibalt and Master. Here's captain Careless, and the tough ship- The mystery of this some good hobgoblin Master. I am amaz'd at it; Nor can I sound th' intent. You may be poison'd. Tib. I am sure I'm famish'd; [guts And famine, as the wise man says, gripes the an't be What lady's cheek, tho' cerus'd o'er, comes near it? It sparkles too, hangs out diamonds: Oh, My sweetheart, how I will hug thee! again, and again! [favours, They are poor drunkards, and not worth thy That number thy moist kisses in these crystals. Master. But, monsieur, Here are suckets, and sweet dishes. Tib. Tush! boy's-meat! I'm past it: here is strong food, fit for men, Nectar, old lad! Mistress of merry hearts, Once more I am bold with you. Master. Take heed, man! Too much will breed distemper. Tib. Hast thou liv'd at sea The most part of thy life, where to be sober, While we have wine aboard, is capital treason, And dost thou preach sobriety? Master. Prithee, forbear; We may offend in it; we know not for whom It was provided. [hang me; Tib. I am sure for me; Therefore, footra! when I am full, let 'em I care not! Enter Albert, Aminta, Raymond, Lamure, Morillat, and Franville, severally. Tib. Away! I'll be drunk alone; Keep off, rogues, or I'll belch ye into air; Not a drop here! [such anger! Aminta. Dear brother, put not in your eyes Those looks, poison'd with fury, shot at him, Reflect on me. Oh, brother, look milder, or The crystal of his temperance will turn Them on yourself. us Alb. Sir, I have sought you long [ocean To find your pardon; you have plough'd the To wreak your vengeance on me, for the rape Of this fair virgin. Now our fortune guides [rather To meet on such hard terms, that we need A mutual pity of our present state, Than to expostulate of breaches past, Which cannot be made up. And tho' it be Far from your power to force me to confess That I have done you wrong, or, such submission [ger, Failing to make my peace, to vent your an You being yourself slav'd, as I, to others; Yet for your sister's sake, her blessed sake, In part of recompense of what shi' has suffer'd For my rash folly, the contagion Of my black actions catching hold upon Her purer innocence, I crave your mercy; And wish, however several motives kept us From being friends while we had hope to live, Let death, which we expect, and cannot fly End all contention! Tib. Drink upon it; it Is a good motion! ratify't in wine, Raym. When I consider [from, [on The ground of our long difference, and look Our not-to-be-avoided miseries, It doth beget in me, I know not how, A soft religious tenderness; which tells me, Tho' we have many faults to answer for Upon our own account, our father's crimes Are in us punish'd. Oh, Aibert, the course They took to leave us rich was not honest; Nor can that friendship last which virtue joins not. [gals When first they forc'd th' industrious PortuFrom their plantations in the Happy Islands→→ Croc. This is that I watch for. [men, Raym. And did omit no tyranny which Inur'd to spoil and mischief could inflict On the griev'd sufferers; when by lawless rapine [sow'd; They reap'd the harvest which their labours And not content to force 'em from their dwelling, But Act 5.] But laid for 'em at sea, to ravish from 'em After a long pursuit, each doubting other, With innocent gore, upon their wretched rape, and my desire To be reveng'd. And now observe the issue! Two Portugals, famish'd almost to death. And those the rogues that stole her, Raym. Some such tale they told ine; Croc. Where are these inen? Left 'em, supposing they'd deluded me [owners They had liv'd many years, the wretched Alb. The same men, Raym. My ship lies by the river's mouth; Croc. Back to your prisons, Alb. Howe'er, we are arin'd For either fortune. [Exit. Tib. What must become of me now, That I am not dismiss'd? VOL. III. Croc. Oh, sir, I purpose To have your company. Tib. Take heed, wicked woman! Croc. You can't be so Unkind to her that gives you liberty. I shall be too kiud, that's the devil on't! Joan is a lady to me, and I shall lay Croc. Come, sir; I'll help you in. [Exeunt. Nicusa. In it a woman, Who seems t'invite us to her. With signs of love to hasten to her: Nicusa. Tho' it bring death, To us 'tis comfort, and deserves a meeting: And in it overcome, as it may be, Enter severally Raymond, Albert, and Amintą. Fit for a bloody feast. Alb. It seems prepar'd To kill our courages, ere they divorce Raym. But they that fearless fall, An Altar prepar'd. Enter Rosellia, Clar In their full trim of cruelty! Ros. "Tis the last Duty that I can pay to my dead lord. The priest, and boldly do those horrid rites Sebastian and Nicusa: we are they That groan'd beneath your fathers' wrongs! Those wretched women [We are [us, Their injuries pursu'd and overtook, [owners? Alb. Or that we never forc'd it from the Raym. Or that there are a remnant of that And not far off? [wreck, Ros. All you affirm, I know, is [throats; But to win time; therefore prepare your The world shall not redeem ye! And, that your cries May find no entrance to our ears, to move Why are their looks so full of joy and won- These instruments of death, and welcome to Your arms what you durst never hope t' embrace! This is Sebastian; this Nicusa, madam; 28 Sir, in your looks, I see a perfect model of thyself, As thou wert when thy choice first made thee mine: [with time, These cheeks and fronts, tho' wrinkled now Which art cannot restore, had equal pureness Of natural white and red, and as much ravishing: Which, by fair order and succession, I see Descend on her; and may thy virtues wind Into her form, and make her a perfect dower, Νο part of thy sweet goodness wanting to her! I will not now, Rosellia, ask thy fortunes, Nor trouble thee with hearing mine; Those shall hereafter serve to make glad hours In their relation. All past wrongs forgot, I'm glad to see you, gentlemen; but most, That it is in my power to save your lives; You sav'd ours, when we were near starv'd at sea, And I despair not-for, if she be mine, Ros. She does give up herself, Her power and joys, and ali, to you, to be Discharged of 'em as too burdensome; Welcome in any shape! Seb. Sir, in your looks28, I read Your suit of my Clarinda; she is yours. And, lady, if't be in me to confirm Your hopes in this brave gentleman, presume I am your servant. Alb. We thank you, sir. Aminta. Oh, happy hour! Alb. Oh, my dear Aminta, Now all our fears are ended. Tib. Here I fix; She's mettle, stcel to the back, and will cut My leaden dagger, if not us'd with discretion. Croc. You're still no changeling. Seb. Nay, all look chearfully; for none shall be Denied their lawful wishes. When a while We've here refresh'd ourselves, we will return To our sev'ral homes: and well that Voyage ends, That makes of deadly enemies, faithful friends! [Exeunt omnes. I read your suit of my Clarinda;-] Perhaps the reader would wish to know whom the old gentleman means here. I can think of no one but Nicusu his nephew. Yet this is but a guess, and if the reader imagines any one of the company (Albert and Tibalt excepted) deserves Clarindu better than her cousin, let him reject mine, and enjoy his own opinion. Sympson. When Aminta depreciates Albert, in her conversation with Clarinda, she recommends Raymend to her: it is most likely, therefore, he is the person intended by the poet to possess her. THE THE COXCOMB. A COMEDY. The Commendatory Verses by Gardiner and Hills, speak of this Comedy as the production of Fletcher alone; but the Prologue mentions it as the joint performance of both Authors, It was first printed in the folio of 1647; and appears to have been revived at the Theatre Royal about the end of the last century, when a Prologue was spoken by Joe Haines. We do not know of any performance of it since that time. England, France.] As the scene never changes from England through the whole play, and, as I remember, the word France does not occur above once in this picce, I have made no scruple to expel and explode what never possibly could have stood in the author's manu❤ script. 2 Sympson. condemn'd it for the length; That fault's reform'd.] In the Stationers' Preface to the edition of 1647, we have those words: When these Comedies and Trugedies were presented on the stage, the actors omit Kk 2 ted For 'twere in me a kind of breach of faith, Viola. Sweet, speak softly; For tho' the venture of your love to me Ric. How shall he know it? [advancement, At the request and much intreaty of [me; But he hath spies upon me: yet, I know not, Ric. Why, do you think I can be false? You have an honest face; but, if you should— Ric. Let all the stored vengeance of Hea ven's justice Viola. No more! I do believe you. The dance ended, Which this free woman's guests have vow'd to have fme Ere they depart, I will make home, and store trusted 'ted some scenes and passages (with the author's consent) as occasion led 'em! and when private friends desired a copy, they then (and justly too) transcribed what they acted. But, now you have both all that was acted, and all that was not; even the perfect full originals, without the least mutilation: so that were the authors living (and sure they can never die) they themselves would challenge neither more nor less than what is here published.'-But what a glaring contradiction to this whole passage are the words of the prologue, cited at the head of this note? Was it not condemn'd for its length by the ignorant multitude? And upon reviving of it, is it not as plain as words can make it, that it was mutilated then? What other sense can we put upon this passage? That fault's reform'd-Who the curtailer or curtailers were, is not possible now to be known: I could have wished that he, or they, who undertook the charge of reforming the length of this piece, had had sufficient wit and strength to have gone through that business neatly. But it seems as if his or their judgment was as little in the shortning, as the rabble's was in condemning it for its length. Had we but the original manuscript, I don't doubt but we should see a strange difference betwixt that and the play, as it now stands. The first note on this performance is a specimen, to let the reader see what strange work has been made by the reviver, or revivers of this piece: and how little he or they thought on (supposing they knew it) that rule of Horace, Versate diu, quid ferre recusent, Quid valeant Humeri Sympson. The Stationers' Preface is no glaring contradiction to the prologue,' but rather confirms the assertion, that the Actors (with the author's consent) omitted scenes and passages, as 'occasion led them, and afterwards transcribed what they acted: but the booksellers gave all that was acted, and all that was not? Who the curtailers were, therefore, is easily known; certainly THE ACTORS, with the AUTHOR'S CONSENT, Το |