THE SEA VOYAGE  

Actus Primus  

Scaena Prima.  A Tempest, Thunder and Lightning. Enter Master and two Sailors. Master. 
LAy her aloof, the Sea grows dangerous,  
How it spits against the clouds, how it capers,  
And how the fiery Element frights it back!  
There be devils dancing in the air, I think  
I saw a Dolphin hang i'th' horns of the moon  
Shot from a wave: heigh day, heigh day,  
How she kicks and yerks?  
Down wi'the main Mast, lay her at hull,  
Farl up all her Linens, and let her ride it out.  1 Sailor. 
she'll never brook it Master.  
she's so deep laden, that she'll bulge;  Master. 
Hang her.  
Can she not buffet with a storm a little?  
How it tosses her! she reels like a Drunkard.  2 Sailor. 
We have discovered the Land Sir,  
Pray let's make in, she's so drunk, else,  
She may chance to cast up all her Lading.  1 Sailor. 
Sland in, sland in, we are all lost else, lost and perished.  Master 
Steer her a Star board there.  2 Sailor. 
Bear in with all the Sail we can, see Master  
See, What a clap of Thunder there is,  
What a face of heaven, how dreadfully it looks?  Master. 
Thou rascal, thou fearful rogue, thou hast been praying;  
I see't in thy face, thou hast been mumbling,  
When we are split you slave; is this a time,  
To discourage our friends with your cold orisons?  
Call up the Boatswain; how it storms; holla.  Boatswain. 
What shall we do Master?  
Cast over all her lading? she will not swim  
An hour else; Enter Albert Franvile Lamure Tibalt de pont. Morillat.  Mast. 
The storm is loud,  
We cannot hear one another,  
What's the coast?  Boatsw. 
We know not yet; shall we make in?  Albert. 
What comfort Sailors?  
I never saw, since I have known the Sea,  
(Which has been this twenty years) so rude a tempest.  
In what State are we?  Master. 
Dangerous enough Captain,  
We have sprung five leaks, and no little ones;  
Still rage; besides her ribs are open;  
Her rudder almost spent; prepare yourselves;  
And have good courages, death comes but once,  
And let him come in all his frights.  Albert. 
Is't not possible,  
To make in toth' Land? 'tis here before us.  Morill. 
Here hard by Sir.  Master. 
Death is nearer Gentlemen.  
Yet do not cry, let's die like men.  Talbat. 
shall's hoist the Boat out, Enter Amint.  
And go all at one cast? the more the merrier.  Master. 
You are too hasty monsieur,  
Do ye long to be i'th' Fishmarket before your time?  
Hold her up there.  Amint. 
O miserable Fortune,  
Nothing but horror sounding in mine ears,  
No minute to promise to my frighted soul.  Tibat. 
Peace woman,  
We ha' storms enough already; no more howling.  Amint. 
Gentle Master.  Mast. 
Clap this woman under hatches.  Alb. 
Prithee speak mildly to her.  Amint. 
Can no help?  Mast. 
None that I know.  Amint. 
No promise from your goodness?  Mast. 
Am I a God? for heaven's sake stoaw this woman.  Tilb. 
Go: take your gilt Prayer Book;  
And to your business; wink and die,  
There an old Haddock stays for ye.  Amint. 
Must I die here in all the frights, the terrors,  
The thousand several shapes, death triumphs in?  
No friend to council me?  Alb. 
Have Peace sweet Mistress.  Amint. 
No kindred's tears upon me? Oh! my country!  
No gentle hand to close mine eyes?  Alb. 
Be comforted, heaven has the same  
Power still, and the same mercy.  Amint. 
Oh! that wave will devour me!  Mast. 
Carry her down Captain;  
Or by these hands, I'll give no more direction,  
Let the Ship sink or swim; we ha' ne'er better luck,  
When we ha' such stowage as these trinkets with us,  
These sweet sin-breeders; how can heaven smile on us,  
When such a burden of iniquity  
Lies tumbling like a potion in our Ships belly? Exit.  Tib. 
A way with her, and if she have a Prayer,  
That's fit for such an hour, let her say't quickly,  
And seriously. Exit.  Alb. 
Come, I see it clear Lady, come in,  
And take some comfort. I'll stay with ye.  Amint. 
Where should I stay? to what end should I hope,  
Am I not circled round with misery?  
Confusions in their full heights dwell about me:  
O monsieur Albert, How am I bound to curse ye,  
If curses could redeem me? how to hate ye?  
You forced me from my quiet, from my friends;  
Even from their Arms, that were as dear to me,  
As day light is, or comfort to the wretched;  
You forced my friends from their peaceful rest,  
Some your relentless sword gave their last groans;  
Would I had there been numbered;  
And to fortunes never satisfied afflictions,  
Ye turned my Brother; and those few friends I'd left  
Like desperate creatures, to their own fears  
And the world's stubborn pities: Oh merciless.  Alb. 
Sweet Mistress.  Amint. 
And whether they are wandered to avoid ye,  
Or whether dead and no kind earth to cover 'em;  
Was this a lover's part? but heaven has found ye,  
And in his loud voice, his voice of thunder,  
And in the mutiny of his deep wonders,  
He tells ye now, ye weep too late:  Alb. 
Let these tears tell how I honour ye;  
Ye know dear Lady, since ye were mine,  
How truly I have loved ye, how sanctimoniously  
Observed your honour; not one lascivious word,  
Not one touch Lady; no, not a hope that might not render me  
The unpolluted servant of your Chastity;  
For you I put to Sea, to seek your Brother;  
Your Captain, yet your slave, that his redemption,  
If he be living, where the Sun has circuit,  
May expiate your rigor, and my rashness.  Amint. 
The Storm grows greater; what shall we do?  Alb. 
Let's in;  
And ask heaven's mercy; my strong mind yet presages,  
Through all these dangers, we shall see a day yet Exit.  
Shall Crown your pious hopes, and my fair wishes.  Enter Master, Saylors, Gentlemen, Boatswain and Surgeon. Mast. 
It must all over board.  Boatsw. 
It clears to seaward mast.  
Fling o'er the lading there, and let's lighten her;  
All the meat, and the Cakes, we are all gone else;  
That we may find her Leaks, and hold her up;  
Yet save some little Biscuit for the Lady,  
Till we come to the Land.  La-m. 
Must my goods over too?  
Why honest Master? here lies all my money;  
The money I ha' wracked by usury,  
To buy new Lands and Lordships in new Countries,  
'Cause I was banished from mine own  
I ha' been this twenty years a raising it.  Tilb. 
Out with it:  
The devils are got together by the ears, who shall have it;  
And here they quarrel in the clouds.  La-m. 
I am undone Sir:  Tib. 
And be undone, 'tis better than we perish.  La-m. 
O save one Chest of Plate.  Tib. 
A way with it, lustily Sailors;  
It was some pawn, that he has got unjustly;  
Down with it low enough, and let Crabs breed in't;  Mast. 
Over with the Trunks too. Enter Albert.  Alb. 
Take mine and spare not;  Mast. 
We must over with all.  Fran. 
Will ye throw away my Lordship  
That I sold, put it into clothes and necessaries,  
To go to Sea with?  Tib. 
Over with it; I love to see a Lordship sink;  
Sir you left no Wood upon't to bovy it up;  
You might ha' saved it else.  Fran. 
I am undone for ever;  Alb. 
Why we are all undone; would you be only happy?  La-m. 
Sir you may lose too.  Tib. 
Thou liest; I ha' nothing but my skin,  
And my Clothes; my sword here, and myself;  
Two Crowns in my Pocket; two pair of Cards;  
And three false Dice: I can swim like a Fish;  
Rascal, nothing to hinder me.  Boatsw. 
In with her of all hands.  Mast. 
Come gentlemen, come Captain, ye must help all;  
My life now for the Land,  
'Tis high, and rocky, and full of perils;  Alb. 
however let's attempt it.  Mast. 
Then cheer lustily my hearts. Exit.  Enter Sebastian and Nicusa. Sebast. 
Yes 'tis a Ship, I see it now, a tall Ship;  
She has wrought lustily for her deliverance;  
Heavens mercy, what a wretched day has here been?  Nicu. 
To still and quiet minds, that knew no misery,  
It may seem wretched, but with us 'tis ordinary;  
Heaven has no Storm in store, nor earth no terror,  
That can seem new to us.  Sebast. 
'Tis true Nicusa; if fortune were determined  
To be wanton, and would wipe out the stories  
Of men's miseries: yet we two living,  
We could cross her purpose; for 'tis impossible  
She should cure us, we are so excellent in our afflictions;  
It would be more than glory to her blindness,  
And style her power beyond her pride, to quit us.  Nicusa. 
Do they live still?  Sebast. 
Yes, and make to harbour:  Nicu. 
Most miserable men; I grieve their Fortunes.  Sebast. 
How happy had they been, had the Sea covered 'em?  
They leap from one calamity to another;  
Had they been drowned, they had ended all their sorrows.  
What shouts of joy they make?  Nicu. 
Alas poor wretches, had they but once experience  
Of this Island, they'd turn their tunes to wailings;  Sebast. 
Nay, to curses.  
That ever they set foot on such calamities;  
Here's nothing but rocks and barrenness,  
Hunger, and cold to eat; here's no Vineyards  
To cheer the heart of man, no Crystal Rivers  
After his labour to refresh his body,  
If he be feeble; nothing to restore him,  
But heavenly hopes; nature that made those remedies,  
Dares not come here, nor look on our distresses,  
For fear she turn wild like the place and barren.  Nicu. 
O Uncle, yet a little memory of what we were,  
'Twill be a little comfort in our calamities;  
When we were seated in our blessed homes,  
How happy in our kindreds, in our families,  
In all our Fortunes?  Sebast. 
Curse on those French Pirates, that displanted us;  
That flung us from that happiness we found there;  
Constrained us to Sea, to save our lives, honours and our riches,  
Withal we had, our kinsmen and our jewels,  
In hope to find some place free from such robbers,  
Where a mighty storm severed our Barks,  
That, where my wife, my daughter  
And my noble Ladies that went with her,  
Virgins and loving souls, to scape those Pirates.  Nicus. 
They are living yet; such goodness cannot perish.  Sebast 
But never to me Cousin;  
Never to me again; what bears their Flagstaffs?  Nicu. 
The Arms of France sure;  
Nay, do not start, we cannot be more miserable;  
Death is a cordial, now, come when it will.  Sebast. 
They get to shore apace, they'll fly as fast  
When once they find the place; what's that which swims there?  Ni. 
A strong young man Sir, with a handsome woman.  
Hanging about his Neck.  Sebast. 
That shows some honour;  
May thy brave charity whate'er thou art,  
Be spoken in a place, that may renown thee,  
And not die here.  Nicasa. 
The Boat it seems turned over,  
So forced to their shifts, yet all are landed,  
They're Pirates on my life.  Sebast. 
They will not rob us;  
For none will take our misery for riches:  
Come Cousin, let's descend and try their pities;  
If we get off, a little hope walks with us;  
If not, we shall but load this wretched Island  
With the same shadows still that must grow shorter. Ex.  Enter Albert, Aminta, Tibalt, Morillat La-mure, Master, Franvile, Surgeon, Saylors. Tibal. 
Wet come ashore my mates, we are safe arrived yet.  Mast. 
Thanks to heaven's goodness, no man lost;  
The Ship rides fair to, and her leaks in good plight.  Albert. 
The weathers turned more courteous;  
How does my dear?  
Alas, how weak she is and wet?  Amint. 
I am glad yet, I scaped with life;  
Which certain Noble Captain, next to heaven's goodness,  
I must thank you for, and which is more,  
Acknowledge your dear tenderness, your firm love  
To your unworthy Mistress, and recant to  
(Indeed I must) those harsh opinions,  
Those cruel unkind thoughts, I heaped upon ye;  
Farther than that, I must forget your Injuries.  
So far I am tIED, and fettered to your service,  
Believe me I will learn to love.  Albert. 
I thank ye Madam,  
And it shall be my practice to serve.  
What cheer companions?  Tibalt. 
No great cheer Sir, a piece of soused Biscuit  
And half a hard egg; for the Sea has taken order;  
Being young and strong, we shall not surfeit Captain.  
For mine own part, I'll Dance till I'm dry;  
Come Surgeon, out with your Glister-pipe,  
And strike a Galliard.  Alb. 
What a brave day again;  
And what fair weather, after so foul a storm?  Lamure. 
I an't pleased the Master, he might ha' seen  
This weather, and ha' saved our goods.  Alb. 
Never think on 'em, we have our lives and healths.  La-m. 
I must think on 'em, and think  
'Twas most maliciously done to undo me.  Fran. 
And me to, I lost all;  
I han't another shirt to put upon me, nor Clothes  
But these poor rags; I had fifteen fair suits,  
The worst was cut upon taffety.  Tib. 
I am glad you ha' lost, give me thy hand,  
Is thy skin whole? art thou not purled with scabs?  
No Ancient monuments of madam Venus?  
Thou hast a suit then will pose the cunningest tailor,  
That will never turn fashion, nor forsake thee,  
Till thy executors the worms uncase thee,  
They take off glorious suits Franvile: thou art happy,  
Thou art delivered of 'em; here are no Brokers;  
No Alchemists to turn 'em into Mettle;  
Nor Leathered captains with Ladies to adore 'em;  
Wilt thou see a dogfish rise in one of thy brave doublets,  
And tumble like a Tub to make thee merry,  
Or an old Haddock rise with thy hatched sword  
Thou paid'st a hundred Crowns for?  
A Mermaid in a mantle of your worships,  
Or a Dolphin in your double ruff?  Fran. 
Ye are merry, but if I take it thus,  
If I be foisted and jeered out of my goods.  Lamure. 
Nor I, I vow thee.  
Nor Master nor mate, I see your cunning,  Alb. 
O be not angry Gentlemen.  Moril. 
Yes Sir we have reason.  
And some friends I can make.  Mast. 
What I did Gentlemen, was for the general safety.  
If ye aim at me, I am not so tame.  Tib. 
Pray take my council Gallants.  
Fight not till the Surgeon be well,  
he's damnable Sea-sick, and may spoil all;  
Besides he has lost his Fiddlestick, and the best  
Box of boar's grease; why do you make such faces,  
And hand your swords?  Alb. 
Who would ye fight with? Gentlemen?  
Who has done ye wrong? for shame be better tempered.  
No sooner come to give thanks for our safeties,  
But we must raise new civil Broils amongst us  
Inflame those angry powers, to shower new vengeance on us?  
What can we expect for these unmanly murmurs,  
These strong temptations of their holy pities,  
But plagues in another kind, a fuller, so dreadful,  
That the singing storms are slumbers to it?  Tib. 
Be men and rule your minds;  
If you will needs fight Gentlemen,  
And think to raise new riches by your valours,  
Have at ye, I have little else to do now  
I have said my Prayers; you say you have lost,  
And make your loss your quarrel,  
And grumble at my Captain here, and the Master,  
Two worthy persons; indeed too worthy for such rascals,  
Thou Galloone gallant, and Mammon you  
That build on golden mountains, thou money Maggot;  
Come all draw your swords, ye say ye are miserable.  Alb. 
Nay, hold good Tibalt.  Tib. 
Captain, let me correct 'em;  
I'll make ye ten times worse, I will not leave 'em;  
For look ye, fighting is as nourishing to me as eating,  
I was born quarrelling.  Mast. 
Pray Sir.  Tib. 
I will not leave 'em skins to cover 'em;  
Do ye grumble, when ye are well ye rogues?  Mast. 
Noble Dupont.  Tib. 
Ye have Clothes now: and ye prate.  Amin. 
Pray Gentlemen, for my sake be at peace.  La-m. 
Let it become me to make all friends.  Fran. 
You have stopped our angers Lady.  Alb. 
This shows noble.  Tib. 
'Tis well: 'tis very well: there's half a Biscuit,  
Break't amongst ye all, and thank my bounty,  
This is clothes & Plate too; come no more quarrelling.  Amin. 
But ha! what things are these, Enter Sebastian and Nicusa.  
Are they humane creatures?  Tib. 
I have heard of Sea-Calves.  Alb. 
They are no shadows sure, they have Legs and Arms.  Tilb. 
They hang but lightly on though.  Amint. 
How they look, are they men's faces?  Tib. 
They have horsetails growing to 'em,  
Goodly long manes.  Amint. 
Alas what sunk eyes they have!  
How they are crept in, as if they had been frighted!  
Sure they are wretched men.  Tib. 
Where are their Wardrobes?  
Look ye Franvile, here are a couple of Courtiers.  Amint. 
They kneel, alas poor souls.  Alb. 
What are ye? speak; are ye alive,  
Or wandering shadows, that find no peace on earth,  
Till ye reveal some hidden secret?  Sebast. 
We are men as you are;  
Only our miseries make us seem Monsters.  
If ever pity dwelled in noble hearts;  Alb. 
We understand 'em too: pray mark 'em Gentlemen;  Sebast, 
Or that heaven is pleased with human charity;  
If ever ye have heard the name of friendship?  
Or suffered in yourselves, the least afflictions,  
Have gentle Fathers that have bred ye tenderly,  
And Mothers that have wept for your misfortunes,  
Have mercy on our miseries.  Alb. 
Stand up wretches;  
Speak boldly, and have release;  Nicus. 
If ye be Christians,  
And by that blessed name, bound to relieve us,  
Convey us from this Island.  Alb. 
Speak; what are ye?  Seb. 
As you are, Gentle born; to tell ye more,  
Were but to number up our own calamities,  
And turn your eyes wild with perpetual weepings;  
These many years, in this most wretched Island  
We two have lived: the scorn and game of fortune;  
Bless yourselves from it Noble Gentlemen;  
The greatest plagues, that humane nature suffers,  
Are seated here, wildness, and wants innumerable.  Alb. 
How came ye hither?  Nicus. 
In a ship, as you do, and as you might have been.  
Had not heaven preserved ye for some more noble use;  
Wracked desperately; our men, and all consumed,  
But we two; that still live, and spin out  
The thin and ragged threads of our misfortunes.  Alb. 
Is there no meat above?  Sebast. 
Nor meat nor quiet;  
No summer here, to promise any thing;  
Nor autumn, to make full the reapers hands;  
The earth obdurate to the tears of heaven,  
Let's nothing shoot but poisoned weeds.  
No Rivers, nor no pleasant Groves, no beasts;  
All that were made for man's use, fly this desert;  
No aery fowl dares makes his flight over it,  
It is so ominous.  
Serpents, and ugly things, the shames of nature,  
Roots of malignant tastes, foul standing waters;  
Sometimes we find a fulsome Sea-root,  
And that's a delicate: a Rat sometimes,  
And that we hunt like Princes in their pleasure;  
And when we take a Toad, we make a Banquet.  Amint. 
For heaven's sake let's aboard.  Alb. 
D''ee know no farther?  Nicusa. 
Yes, we have sometimes seen the shadow of a place inhabited;  
And heard the noise of hunters;  
And have attempted to find it, so far as a River,  
Deep, slow, and dangerous, fenced with high Rocks,  
We have gone; but not able to achieve that hazard,  
Return to our old miseries.  
If this sad story, may deserve your pities,  Alb. 
Ye shall aboard with us, we will relieve your miseries:  Sebast. 
Nor will we be unthankful for this benefit;  
No Gentlemen, we'll pay for our deliverance;  
Look ye that plough the Seas for wealth and pleasures,  
That outrun day and night with your ambitions,  
Look on those heaps, they seem hard ragged quarries;  
Remove 'em, and view 'em fully.  Mast. 
O heaven, they are Gold and Jewels.  Sebast. 
Be not too hasty, here lies another heap.  Morill. 
And here another  
All perfect gold.  Alb. 
Stand farther off, you must not be your own carvers;  La-m. 
We have shares, and deep ones;  Fran. 
Yes Sir, we'll maintain't: ho fellow Sailors.  La-m. 
Stand all to your freedoms;  
I'll have all this.  Fran. 
And I this.  Tib. 
You shall be hanged first.  La-m. 
My losses shall be made good.  Fran. 
So shall mine, or with my sword I'll do't;  
All that will share with us, assist us.  Tib. 
Captain let's set in.  Alb. 
This money will undo us, undo us all:  Sebast. 
This Gold was the overthrow of my happiness;  
I had command too, when I landed here,  
And lead young, high, and noble spirits under me,  
This cursed Gold enticing 'em, they set upon their Captain,  
On me that own this wealth, & this poor Gentleman,  
Gave us no few wounds, forced us from our own;  
And then their civil swords, who should be owners,  
And who Lords over all, turned against their own lives,  
First in their rage consumed the Ship,  
That poor part of the Ship that 'scaped the first wrack,  
Next their lives by heaps; O be you wise and careful:  La-m. 
we'll ha' more: Sirrah, come show it.  Fran. 
Or ten times worse afflictions than thou speak'st of.  Alb. 
Nay, and ye will be Dogs. beats 'em out.  Tib. 
Let me come Captain:  
This Golden age must have an Iron ending.  
Have at the bunch. he beats 'em off. Exit.  Amint. 
O Albert; O Gentlemen; O friends. Exit.  Sebast. 
Come noble Nephew, if we stay here, we die,  
Here rides their Ship, yet all are gone toth' spoil,  
Let's make a quick use.  Nicus. 
Away dear Uncle.  Sebast. 
This Gold was our overthrow. Exit.  Nicus. 
It may now be our happiness. Enter Tibalt and the rest.  Tib. 
You shall have gold: yes, I'll cram it int'ee;  
You shall be your own carvers; yes, I'll carve ye.  Morill. 
I am sore, I pray hear reason:  Tib. 
I'll hear none.  
Covetous base minds have no reason;  
I am hurt myself; but whilst I have a Leg left,  
I will so haunt your guilded souls; how d'ee Captain?  
Ye bleed apace, curse on the causers on't;  
Ye do not faint?  Alb. 
No, no; I am not so happy.  Tib. 
D''ee howl, nay, ye deserve it:  
Base greedy rogues; come, shall we make an end of 'em?  Alb. 
They are our countrymen, for heaven's sake spare 'em,  
Alas, they are hurt enough: & they relent now. Aminta above.  Amint. 
O Captain, Captain.  Alb. 
Whose voice is that?  Tib. 
The Ladies.  Amint. 
Look Captain, look; ye are undone: poor Captain,  
We are all undone: all, all: we are all miserable,  
Mad wilful men; ye are undone, your ship, your Ship.  Alb. 
What of her?  Amint. 
she's under Sail and floating;  
See where she flies: see to your shames, you wretches:  
Those poor starved things, that showed you Gold. La-m. and Franvile goes up to see the Ship.  1 Sailor. 
They have cut the Cables,  
And got her out; the tide too has befriended 'em.  Mast. 
Where are the Sailors that kept her?  Boatsw. 
Here, here in the mutiny, to take up money,  
And left no creature, left the Boat ashore too;  
This Gold, this damned enticing Gold.  2 Sailor. 
How the wind drives her,  
As if it vied to force her from our furies?  La-m. 
Come back good old men:  Fran. 
Good honest men, come back.  Tib. 
The winds against ye, speak louder;  La-m. 
Ye shall have all your Gold again: they see us.  Tib. 
Hold up your hands, and kneel,  
And howl ye blockheads; they'll have compassion on ye;  
Yes, yes, 'tis very likely: ye have deserved it,  
D''ee look like Dogs now?  
Are your mighty courages abated?  Alb. 
I bleed apace Tibalt:  Tib. 
Retire Sir; and make the best use of our miseries.  
They but begin now. Enter Aminta;  Amint. 
Are ye alive still?  Alb. 
Yes sweet.  Tib. 
Help him off Lady;  
And wrap him warm, in your Arms,  
Here's something that's comfortable; off with him handsomely,  
I'll come to ye straight: but vex these rascals a little. Exit Albert Aminta.  Fran. 
Oh! I am hungry, & hurt, and I am weary.  Tib. 
Here's a Pestle of a Portigue, Sir;  
'Tis excellent meat, with sour sauce;  
And here's two Chains, suppose 'em Sausages;  
Then there wants mustard.  
But the fearful Surgeon will supply ye presently:  La-m. 
O for that Surgeon, I shall die else.  Tib. 
Faith, there he lies in the same pickle too.  Surg. 
My salves, and all my Instruments are lost;  
And I am hurt, and starved;  
Good Sir, seek for some Herbs.  Tib. 
Here's Herb graceless; will that serve?  
Gentlemen, will ye go to Supper!  All. 
Where's the meat?  Tib. 
Where's the meat? what a veal voice is there?  Fran. 
Would we had it Sir, or any thing else;  Tib. 
I would now cut your throat you Dog,  
But that I woe not do you such a courtesy;  
To take you from the benefit of starving.  
O! what a comfort will your worship have, some three days hence?  
Yea things beneath pity shall be your harbinger;  
You must not look for down-beds here,  
Nor Hangings; though I could wish ye strong on's;  
Yet here be many lightsome cool Star-chambers,  
Open to every sweet air, I'll assure ye,  
Ready provided for ye, and so I'll leave ye;  
Your first course is served, expect the second. Exit.  Fran. 
A vengeance on these Jewels.  La-m. 
O! this cursed Gold. Exeunt.    

Actus Secundus.  Enter Albert, Aminta. Alb. 
Alas, dear soul ye faint.  Amint. 
You speak the language  
Which I should use to you; heaven knows, my weakness  
Is not for what I suffer in myself,  
But to imagine what you endure, and to what fate  
Your cruel Stars reserve ye.  Alb 
Do not add to my afflictions  
By your tender pities; sure we have changed Sexes;  
You bear calamity with a fortitude  
Would become a man; I like a weak girl suffer.  Amint 
O! but your wounds,  
How fearfully they gape? and every one  
To me is a Sepulchre; if I loved truly,  
Wise men affirm that true love can do wonders,  
This bathed in my warm tears, would soon be cured,  
And leave no orifice behind; pray give me leave  
To 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 sacrilege to beauty: there's no hair  
Of these pure locks, by which the greatest King  
Would not be gladly bound, and love his Fetters.  Amint. 
O Albert, I offer this sacrifice of service  
To the Altar of your staid temperance, and still adore it;  
When with a violent hand you made me yours,  
I cursed the doer: but now I consider,  
How long I was in your power? and with what honour  
You entertained me? it being seldom seen,  
That youth and heat of blood could ere prescribe  
Laws to itself; your goodness is the Lethe,  
In which I drown your injuries, and now live  
Truly to serve ye: how do you Sir?  
Receive you the least ease from my service?  
If you do, I am largely recompensed.  Alb. 
You good Angels,  
That are engaged, when man's ability fails,  
To reward goodness: look upon this Lady  
Though hunger gripes my croaking entrails,  
Yet when I kiss these rubies, methinks  
I'm at a banquet a refreshing banquet;  
Speak my blessed one art not hungry?  Amint. 
Indeed I could eat, to bear you company.  Alb. 
Blush unkind nature,  
If thou hast power: or being to hear  
thyself, and by such innocence accused;  
Must Print a thousand kinds of shames, upon  
Thy 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 soothe his ,  
And only eats to beget Appetite,  
Not to be satisfied? and suffer here  
A Virgin, which the Saints would make their guest,  
To pine for hunger? ha, if my sense Horns within.  
Deceive me not, these notes take being  
From 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 hunter's Music;  Alb. 
Still 'tis louder; and I remember the Portugals  
Informed us, they had often heard such sounds,  
But ne'er could touch the shore from whence it came;  
Follow me, my Aminta: my good genius,  
Show me the way still; still we are directed;  
When we gain the top of this near rising hill Exit. and Enter above.  
We shall know further.  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:  
O that we could arrive there;  Amint. 
No Albert, 'tis not to be hoped;  
This envious Torrent's cruelly interposed;  
We have no Vessel that may transport us;  
Nor hath nature given us wings to fly.  Alb. 
Better try all hazards,  
Then perish here remediless; I feel  
New vigour in me, and a spirit that dares  
More 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.  Amin. 
Well 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 myself, that invites me  
To this extreme; 'tis to supply thy wants; and believe me  
Though pleasure met me in most ravishing forms,  
And happiness courted me to entertain her,  
I would nor eat nor sleep till I returned  
And crowned thee with my fortunes.  Amin. 
O but your absence.  Alb. 
Suppose it but a dream; and as you may,  
Endeavour to take rest; and when that sleep  
Deceives your hunger with imagined food,  
Think you have sent me for discovery  
Of some most fortunate Continent, yet unknown,  
Which you are to be Queen of.  
And now ye Powers that ere heard Lovers prayers,  
Or cherished pure affection, look on him  
That is your Votary; and make it known  
Against all stops, you can defend your own. Exit.  Enter Hippolita, Crocale, Juletta. Hip. 
How did we lose Clarinda?  Cro. 
When we believed the Stag was spent, and would take soil,  
The sight of the black Lake which we supposed  
He chose for his last refuge, frighted him more  
Than we that did pursue him.  Jul. 
That's usual; for, death itself is not so terrible  
To any beast of chase.  Hip. 
Since we lived here, we ne'er could force one to it.  Cro. 
'tis so dreadful,  
Birds that with their pinions cleave the Air  
Dare not fly over it: when the Stag turned head,  
And we even tired with labour, Clarinda, as if  
She were made of Air and Fire,  
And had no part of earth in her, eagerly pursued him;  
Nor need we fear her safety, this place yields not  
Fawns nor satyrs, or more lustful men;  
Here we live secure,  
And have among ourselves a Commonwealth,  
Which in ourselves 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 herself, she's past  
Those youthful heats, and feels not the want  
Of that which young maids long for: and her daughter  
The fair Clarinda, though in few years  
Improved in height and large proportion,  
Came here so young,  
That scarce remembering 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 made  
For this single life; nor do I love hunting so,  
But that I had rather be the Chase myself.  Cro. 
By Venus (out upon me) I should have sworn  
By Diana, I am of thy mind too wench;  
And though I have ta'en an Oath, not alone  
To detest, but never to think of man,  
Every hour something tells 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 pleasure  
In this life, but when I sleep, I am a Pagan;  
Then from the Courtier to the Country 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 entranced?  Hip. 
We are instructed; forward I prithee.  Cro. 
methought a sweet young man  
In years, some twenty, with a downy chin,  
Promising a future beard, and yet no red one,  
Stole slyly to my cabin, all unbraced,  
Took me in his arms, and kissed 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 daunted, with a trembling hand  
Heaved up the clothes.  Hip. 
Yet still you slept.  Cro. 
I'faith I did; and when, methought, he was warm by my side,  
Thinking to catch him, I stretched out both mine arms;  
And when I felt him not, I shrieked out,  
And waked for anger.  Hip. 
'twas a pretty dream. Enter Albert.  Cro. 
ay, if it had been a true one.  Jul. 
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'the breed; stand close wenches,  
And let's hear if he can speak.  Alb. 
Do I yet live?  
Sure it is air I breathe; what place is this?  
Sure something more than humane keeps residence here,  
For I have passed the Stygian gulf,  
And touch upon the blessed shore? 'tis so;  
This is the Elysian 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 fall  
Thus 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 know  
I am a man, a wicked sinful man; and yet not sold  
So far to impudence, as to presume  
To press upon your privacies, or provoke  
Your Heavenly angers; 'tis not for myself  
I beg thus poorly, for I am already wounded,  
Wounded to death, and faint; my last breath  
Is for a Virgin comes as near yourselves  
In all perfection, as what's mortal may  
Resemble things divine. O pity her,  
And let your charity free her from that desert,  
If Heavenly charity can reach to hell,  
For sure that place comes near it: and where ere  
My ghost shall find abode,  
Eternally I shall pour blessings on ye.  Hip. 
By my life I can not hurt him.  Cro. 
Though I lose my head for it, nor I. Enter Clarinda.  
I must pity him and will.  Jul. 
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 turned  
From a fell Lioness robbed 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 which  
As from the devil your mother commands us fly.  Cla. 
Is it a man?  Cro 
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 heard  
My 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 impossible  
We 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 knew  
You from a man had being, and owe to it  
The name of parent, durst presume to kill  
The likeness of that thing by which you are?  
Whose Arrows made these wounds? speak, or by Dian  
Without distinction I'll let fly at ye all.  Jul. 
Not mine.  Hip. 
Nor mine.  Cro. 
'tis strange to see her moved thus.  
Restrain your fury Madam; had we killed him,  
We had but performed your mother's command.  Cla. 
But if she command unjust and cruel things,  
We are not to obey it.  Cro. 
We are innocent; some storm did cast  
Him shipwrecked on the shore, as you see, wounded:  
Nor durst we be Surgeons to such  
Your mother doth appoint for death.  Cla. 
Weak excuse; where's pity?  
Where's soft compassion? cruel, and ungrateful!  
Did providence offer to your charity  
But one poor Subject to express it on,  
And in't to show our wants too; and could you  
So carelessly neglect it?  Hip. 
For aught I know, he's living yet;  
And you may tempt your mother, by giving him succour.  Cla. 
Ha, come near I charge ye.  
So, bend his body softly; rub his temples;  
Nay, that shall be my Office: how the red  
Steals into his pale lips! run and fetch the simples  
With which my mother healed my arm  
When last I was wounded by the Boar.  Cro. 
Do: but remember her to come after ye,  
That she may behold her daughter's charity.  Cla. 
Now he breathes; Exit Hippolita.  
The air passing through the Arabian groves  
Yields not so sweet an odour: prithee taste it;  
Taste it good Crocale; yet I envy thee so great a blessing;  
'tis not sin to touch these Rubies, is it?  Iul. 
Not, I think.  Cla. 
Or thus to live Chameleon like?  
I could resign my essence to live ever thus.  
O welcome; raise him up Gently. Some soft hand  
Bound up these wounds; a woman's hair. What fury  
For which my ignorance does not know a name,  
Is crept into my bosom? But I forget Enter Hipolita.  
My pious work. Now if this juice hath power,  
Let it appear; his eyelids ope: Prodigious!  
Two Suns break from these Orbs.  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 duty  
In poor and wretched man to pay, comes short  
Of your immortal bounty: but to show  
I am not unthankful, thus in humility  
I kiss the happy ground you have made sacred  
By bearing of your weight.  Cla. 
No Goddess, friend: but made  
Of that same brittle mould as you are;  
One too acquainted with calamities,  
And from that apt to pity. Charity ever  
Finds in the act reward, and needs no Trumpet  
In 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 titulations, and inform her. Enter Rosella.  
But here's our Governess;  
Now I expect a storm.  Ros. 
Child of my flesh,  
And not of my fair unspotted mind,  
Unhand this monster.  Cla. 
Monster, mother?  Ros. 
Yes; and every word he speaks, a siren's note,  
To drown the careless hearer. Have I not taught thee  
The falsehood and the perjuries of men?  
On whom, but for a woman to show pity,  
Is to be cruel to herself; the sovereignty  
Proud and imperious men usurp upon us,  
We confer on ourselves, and love those fetters  
We fasten to our freedoms. Have we, Clarinda,  
Since thy father's wrack, sought liberty,  
To lose it uncompelled? did fortune guide,  
Or rather destiny, our Bark, to which  
We could appoint no Port, to this blessed place,  
Inhabited heretofore by warlike women,  
That kept men in subjection? did we then  
By their example, after we had lost  
All we could love in man, here plant ourselves,  
With execrable oaths never to look  
On man, but as a monster? and wilt thou  
Be the first precedent to infringe those vows  
We made to Heaven?  Cla. 
Hear me; and hear me with justice.  
And as ye are delighted in the name  
Of mother, hear a daughter that would be like you.  
Should all women use this obstinate abstinence,  
You would force upon us; in a few years  
The whole world would be peopled  
Only with beasts.  Hip. 
We must and will have men.  Cro. 
I or we'll shake off all obedience.  Ros. 
Are ye mad?  
Can no persuasion alter ye? suppose  
You had my suffrage to your suit;  
Can this shipwrecked wretch supply them all?  Alb. 
Hear me great Lady?  
I have fellows 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 mankind  
May 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 hunger  
Hath lessened their perfection: but restored  
To what they were, I doubt not they'll appear  
Worthy your favours.  Jul. 
This is a blessing  
We durst not hope for.  Cla. 
Dear Mother, be not obdurate.  Ros. 
Hear then my resolution: and labour not  
To add to what I'll grant, for 'twill be fruitless,  
You shall appear as good angels to these wretched men;  
In a small Boat we'll pass o'er to 'em;  
And bring 'em comfort: if you like their persons,  
And they approve of yours: for we'll force nothing;  
And since we want ceremonies,  
Each one shall choose a husband, and enjoy  
His company a month, but that expired  
You shall no more come near 'em; if you prove fruitful,  
The Males ye shall return to them, the Females  
We will reserve ourselves: this is the utmost,  
Ye shall 'ere obtain: as ye think fit;  
Ye may dismiss this stranger,  
And prepare tomorrow for the journey. Exit.  Cla. 
Come Sir, will ye walk?  
We will show ye our pleasant Bowers,  
And something ye shall find to cheer your heart.  Alb. 
Excellent Lady;  
Though 'twill appear a wonder one near starved  
Should refuse rest and meat, I must not take  
Your noble offer: I left in yonder desert  
A Virgin almost pinned.  Cla. 
she's not your wife?  Alb. 
No Lady, but my sister ('tis now dangerous  
To speak truth) to her I deeply vowed  
Not to taste food or rest, if fortune brought it me,  
Till I blessed her with my return: now if you please  
To afford me an easy passage to her,  
And some meat for her recovery,  
I shall live your slave: and thankfully  
She shall ever acknowledge her life at your service.  Cla. 
You plead so well, I can deny ye nothing;  
I myself will see you furnished;  
And with the next Sun visit and relieve thee.  Alb. 
Ye are all goodness— Exit.   

Actus Tertius.  Enter severally, Lamure, Franvile, Morillat. Lam. 
Oh! what a tempest have I in my stomach?  
How my empty guts cry out? my wounds ache,  
Would they would bleed again, that I might get  
Something to quench my thirst.  Fran. 
O Lamure, the happiness my dogs had  
When 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 nothing  
To satisfy 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 satchel. Enter Franvile.  Lam. 
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 hard  
To 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 to,  
But not a leaf nor blossom in all the Island.  Lam. 
How it looks?  Mor. 
It stinks too.  Lam. 
It may be poison.  Fran. 
Let it be any thing;  
So I can get it down: why man,  
poison's a princely dish.  Mor. 
Hast thou no Biscuit?  
No crumbs left in thy pocket: here's my doublet,  
Give me but three small crumbs.  Fran. 
Not for three Kingdoms,  
If I were master of 'em: Oh Lamure,  
But one poor joint of Mutton: we ha' scorned (man)  Lam. 
Thou speakest of paradise,  Fran. 
Or but the snuffs of those healths,  
We have lewdly at midnight flang away.  Mor. 
Ah! but to lick the Glasses. En. Surgeon  Fran. 
Here comes the Surgeon: what  
Hast thou discovered? 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.  
O 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 near an old suppository?  Sur. 
Oh would I had sir.  Lam. 
Or, but the paper where such a Cordial  
Potion or Pills hath been entombed.  Fran. 
Or, the blessed bladder where a cooling glister  Mor. 
Hast thou no searcloths left?  
Nor any old poulties?  Fran. 
We care not to what it hath been ministered.  Sur. 
Sure I have none of these dainties Gentlemen.  Fran. 
where's the great Wen  
Thou cutst from Hugh the sailors shoulder?  
That would serve now for a most Princely banquet.  Sur. 
ay, if we had it Gentlemen.  
I flung it overboard, slave that I was;  Lam. 
A most unprovident villain.  Sur. 
If I had any thing that were but supple now!  
I could make salads of your shoes Gentlemen,  
And rare ones: any thing unctuous.  Mor. 
I and then we might fry the soles i'th' Sun.  
The soles would make a second dish.  Lam. 
Or, souse 'em in the salt-water,  
An inner sole well soused. En. Aminta  Fran. 
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 nourished me,  
But they are all consumed for thee dear Albert;  
For thee they are spent, for thou art dead;  
Merciless fate hath swallowed 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. 
he'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 us  
Are 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 turned the captain's 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 everywhere,  
She has put us in now i'faith.  Lam. 
Why should we consume thus, and starve,  
Have nothing to relieve us;  
And she live there that bred all our miseries,  
unroasted or unsod?  Mor. 
I have read in stories.  Lam. 
Of such restoring meats,  
We have examples;  
Thousand examples and allowed for excellent;  
Women that have eat their Children,  
Men their slaves, nay their brothers: but these are nothing;  
Husbands devoured their wives (they are their chattels,)  
And of a Schoolmaster that in a time of famine,  
Powdered up all his Scholars.  Mor. 
she's young and tidy,  
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,  
Let's 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 famished.  
Wake her Surgeon, and cut her throat,  
And then divide her, every man his share.  Fran. 
she wakes herself.  Amin. 
Holy and good things keep me!  
What cruel dreams have I had! who are these?  
O they are my friends; for heaven's sake Gentlemen  
Give me some food to save my life: if ye have aught 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 labour 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 ourselves from these afflictions,  
We are starved too, famished, all our hopes deluded;  
Yet ere we die thus, we'll have one dainty meal.  Amin. 
Shall I be with ye Gentlemen?  Lam. 
Yes marry shall ye: in our bellies Lady.  
We love you well—  Amin. 
What said you sir?  Lam. 
marry we'll eat your Ladyship.  Fran. 
You that have buried us in this base Island,  
we'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? En. Tibalt Master, Saylors.  Amin. 
Eat one another? 'tis most impious.  Sur. 
Come come.  Amin. 
Oh, help, help, help.  Tib. 
The Lady's 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 ravished 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 damned 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?  
murder's a main good service with your worships;  
Since ye would be such devils,  
Why did you not begin with one another handsomely;  
And spare the woman to beget more food on?  Amin. 
Good Sir.  Tib. 
You shall grow mumey 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 damned cannibals.  Amin. 
O my best friend! Enter Albert.  Al. 
Alas poor heart! here,  
Here's some meat and sovereign drink to ease you,  
Sit down gentle Sweet.  Amin. 
I am blessed to see you.  Tib. 
Sir, 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 inhuman! I would not ha' the air corrupted with it.  Alb. 
O barbarous men! sit down Dupont,  
Good Master and honest Sailors.  Tib. 
But stand you off,  
And wait upon our charity; I'll wait on you else;  
And touch nothing but what's flung t'ee; 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 snarl 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 surfeit.  Amin. 
And what have you discovered?  Alb. 
Sweet, a paradise,  
A paradise inhabited with Angels,  
Such as you are: their pities made 'em angels,  
They gave me these viands, and supplied me  
With these precious drinks.  Amin. 
Shall not we see 'em?  Alb. 
Yes, they will see you  
Out 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 dotterels,  
Each like a new Saint Dennis.  Alb. 
Dear Mistress,  
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 colour sweet.  Amin. 
Eating too much meat.  Alb. 
Sauce with jealousy;  
Fie, fie dear saint, i'faith ye are too blame, En. Rossellia, Clarinda, Crocale, Hipollitta juletta.  
Are ye not here? here fixed in my heart?  All. 
Hark, hark;  Alb. 
They are come, stand ready, & look nobly,  
And with all humble reverence receive 'em,  
Our lives depend upon their gentle pities,  
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 persuade you  
To love yourselves, and place your happiness  
In cold and chaste 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 myself, I do appear deformed,  
When I consider her, and yet she is  
The stranger's sister; why then should I fear?  
She cannot prove my rival.  Ros. 
When you repent,  
That you refused my council, may it add  
To your afflictions, that you were forward;  
Yet leapt into the Gulf 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 succours,  
Hope cannot flatter you to dream of safety;  
The present plight you are in, can resolve you  
That to be merciful, is to draw near  
The Heavenly essence: whether you willbe  
Thankful, I do not question; nor demand  
What country bred you, what names, what manners;  
To us it is sufficient we relieve  
Such as have shapes of men: and I command you,  
As we are not ambitious to know  
Farther of you, that on pain of death  
You presume not to inquire what we are  
Or whence derived.  Alb. 
In all things we obey you,  
And thankfully we ever shall confess  
ourselves your creatures.  Ros. 
You speak as becomes you;  
First then and willingly deliver up  
Those weapons we could force from you.  Alb. 
We lay 'em down  
Most gladly art your feet.  Tih. 
I have had many a combat with a tall wench;  
But never was disarmed before.  Ros. 
And now hear comfort,  
Your wants shallbe supplied, and though it be  
A debt women may challenge to be sued to,  
Especially from such they may command;  
We give up to you that power, and therefore  
Freely each make his choice.  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 tailor  
For the fashion of a new suit;  
Nor are you in your warehouse, master Merchant,  
Stand back and give your betters leave: your betters;  
And grumble not; if ye do, as I love meat  
I will so swinge the salt itch out on you.  
Captain, Master and the rest of us,  
That are brothers and good fellows: we have been  
Too late by the ears: and yet smart for our follies;  
To end therefore all future emulation: if you please,  
To trust to my election, you shall say,  
I am not partial to myself; I doubt not  
Give content to all.  All, 
Agreed, agreed.  Tib. 
Then but observe how learned and discreetly,  
I will proceed, and as a skilful Doctor  
In all the quirks belonging to the game;  
Read over your complexions: for you Captain  
Beinst first in place and therefore first to be served,  
I give my judgement thus, for your aspect  
You're much inclined to melancholy: and that tells me  
The sullen Saturn had predominance  
At your nativity, a malignant planet,  
And if not qualified by a sweet conjunction  
Of a soft and ruddy wench born under Venus,  
It may prove fatal: therefore to your arms,  
I give this rose-cheeked Virgin.  Cla. 
To my wish;  
Till now I never was happy.  Amin. 
Nor I accursed.  Tib. 
Master, you are old;  
Yet love the game, that I perceive too,  
And if not well spurred up, you may prove rusty;  
Therefore to help ye here's a Bradamanta,  
Or I am cozened in my calculation.  Cro. 
A poor old man allotted 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,  
he'll not fail I warrant thee.  Ros. 
A merry fellow,  
And were not man a creature I detest,  
I could endure 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 love  
To Father children: like the grand signior,  
Thus I walk in my Seraglio,  
And view 'em as I pass: then draw I forth  
My handkercher, and having made my choice,  
I thus bestow it.  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 behold  
Between my Mother's mirth and anger.  Ti. 
Nay, no coyness: be mistress of your word,  
I must and will enjoy you.  Ros. 
Be advised 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 men  
That have experience, fear fevers:  
A temperate diet is the only physic,  
Your Julips nor Gujacum prunelloes,  
Champhire pills, nor Gourd-water,  
Come not near your old woman;  
Youthful stomachs are still craving,  
Though their be nothing left to stop their mouths with;  
And believe me I am no frequent giver of those bounties:  
Laugh on: laugh on: good Gentlemen do,  
I shall make holiday and sleep, when you  
Dig in the mines till your hearts ache.  Ros. 
A mad fellow;  
Well Sir, I'll give you hearing: and as I like  
Your wooing and discourse: but I must tell ye sir,  
That rich widows look for great sums in present,  
Or assurances of ample jointures.  Ti. 
That to me is easy,  
For instantly I'll do it, hear me comrades.  Alb. 
What sayst thou Tibalt?  Tib. 
Why, that to woe a wench with empty hands  
Is no good heraldy, therefore let's to the gold,  
And share it equally: 'twill speak for us  
More than a thousand compliments or cringes,  
Ditties stolen from Patrick, or discourse from Ovid,  
Besides 'twill beget us respect,  
And if ever fortune friend us with a Bark,  
largely supply us with all provision.  Alb. 
Well advised, defer it not.  Ti. 
Are ye all contented.  All. 
We are.  Ti. 
Let's away then,  
Straight we'll return,  
And you shall see our riches. Exit.  Ros. 
Since I know what wonder and amazement was,  
I near 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 ourselves 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. Enter Albert, Tibalt, and the rest with treasure.  Clar. 
That's more  
Than yet you stand engaged for.  Ros. 
So soon returned!  Alb. 
Hear: see the idol of the Lapidary.  Ti. 
These Pearls for which the slavish Negro  
Dives to the bottom of the Sea.  Lam. 
To get which the industrious Merchant  
Touches at either pole.  Fran. 
The never-failing purchase  
Of Lordships and of honours.  Mor. 
The world's Mistress,  
That can give every thing to the possessors.  Ma. 
For which the Sailors 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 blessed, that have brought  
To my revenge these robbers; take your arrows,  
And nail 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 Sea  
With good Sebastian: and these the Pirates  
That not alone deprived him of this treasure,  
But also took his life.  Cro. 
Part of my present  
I well 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 served,  
That must be offering jointures, 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 show mercy: death to these starved wretches  
Is a reward, not punishment: let 'em live  
To undergo the full weight of your displeasure.  
And that they may have sense to feel the torments  
They have deserved: allow 'em some small pittance,  
To linger out their tortures.  Ros. 
'tis well counselled.  All. 
And we'll follow it;  
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 paced,  
At length o'ertakes the guilty; and the wrath  
Of the incensed powers will fall most sure  
On wicked men, when they are most secure. Exeunt.   

Actus quartus.  

Scaena prima.  Enter Raymond, Sebastian, Nicusa, Saylors. 1. Sayl. 
Here's nothing, sir, but poverty and hunger;  
No promise of inhabitant; neither tract of Beast,  
Nor foot of man: we have searched  
All this Rocky desert, yet cannot discover any assurance  
Here is or hath been such men.  2. Sayl. 
Not a relic of any thing they wore;  
Nor mark left by 'em, either to find relief,  
Or to warn others from the like misfortune.  
Believe it, these fellows are both false,  
And to get a little succour in their misery,  
Have framed this cunning tale.  Ray. 
The ship, I know, is French, and owned by Pirates,  
If not by Albert my arch enemy.  
You told me too there was a woman with 'em.  
A young and handsome woman.  Sebast. 
There was so sir.  Raym. 
And such and such young gallants.  Nic. 
We told ye true sir,  
That they had no means to quit this Island.  Raym. 
And that amidst their mutiny to save your lives  
You got their ship.  Sebast. 
All is most certain sir.  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,  
Relieved ye, when the furious Sea and famine  
Strove which should first devour ye;  
Clothed, and cherished ye; used ye as those ye say ye are.  
Fair Gentlemen, now keep your words,  
And show us this company, your own free pities spoke of;  
These men ye left in misery; the woman.  
Men of those noble breedings you pretend to.  
Should scorn to lie, or get their food with falsehood;  
Come, direct us.  Sebast. 
Alas sir, they are gone,  
But by what means or providence, we know not.  2. Sayl. 
Was not the Captain  
A fellow of a fiery, yet brave nature,  
A middle stature, and of brown complexion?  Nic. 
He was sir.  Raym. 
'Twas Albert,  
And my poor wretched sister.  1. Sayl. 
'twas he certain,  
I ha' been at Sea with him; many times at Sea.  Raym. 
Come show us these men;  
Show us presently, and do not dally with us.  Sab. 
We left 'em here; what should we say, sir?  
Here in this place.  2. Sayl. 
The earth cannot swallow 'em;  
They have no wings, they cannot fly sure.  Raym. 
You told us too  
Of heaps of treasure, and of sums concealed,  
That set their hearts afire; we see no such thing,  
No such sign; what can ye say to purge ye?  
What have ye done with these men?  Nic. 
We, sir?  Raym. 
You sir;  
For certain I believe ye saw such people.  Sebast. 
By all that's good,  
By all that's pure and honest,  
By all that's holy.  Raym. 
I dare not credit ye,  
Ye have so abused my hope, that now I hate ye.  1. Sayl. 
Let's put 'em in their ragged clothes again Captain,  
For certain they are knaves, let's e'en deliver 'em  
To their old fruitful Farm; here let 'em walk the Island.  Sebast. 
If ye do so, we shall curse your mercies.  Nic. 
Rather put us to Sea again.  Raym. 
Not so.  
Yet this I'll do, because ye say ye are Christians,  
Though I hardly credit it: bring in the boat,  
And all aboard again, but these two wretches;  
Yet leave 'em four days' meat. If in that time,  
(For I will search all nooks of this strange Island)  
I can discover any tract of these men,  
Alive or dead, I'll bear ye off, and honour ye;  
If not, ye have found your graves; so farewell. Exit.  Nic. 
That goodness dwells above, & knows us innocent,  
Comfort our lives, and at his pleasure quit us.  Sebast. 
Come cousin, come; old time will end our story:  
But no time (if we end well) ends our glory. Exit.  Enter Rossella, Clarinda, Crocale, Hippolita, 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 suffered by their rapines.  
Some five days hence that blessed hour comes,  
Most happy to me, that knit this hand to my dear husbands,  
And both our hearts in mutual bands.  
That hour Ladies.  Cla. 
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 suffered with him, our fair kinsmen,  
Their lives shall fall a sacrifice to vengeance,  
Their lives that ruined his; 'tis a full justice.  
I will look glorious in their bloods;  
And the most Noble spirit of Sebastian,  
That perished by the pride of these French Pirates,  
Shall smile in Heaven, and bless the hand that killed 'em.  
Look strictly all unto your prisoners;  
For he that makes a scape beyond my vengeance,  
Or entertains a hope by your fair usage;  
Take heed, I say, she that deceives my trust,  
Again take heed: her life, and that's but light neither;  
Her life in all the tortures my spirit can put on.  All. 
We shall be careful.  Ros. 
Do so. Exit Rossella.  Cla. 
you are angry mother, and ye are old too,  
Forgetting what men are: but we shall temper ye.  
How fare your prisoners, Ladies? in what forms  
Do they appear in their afflictions?  Jul. 
Mine fare but poorly;  
For so I am commanded: 'tis none of their fault.  Cla. 
Of what sort are they?  Jul. 
They say they are Gentlemen.  
But they show mongrels.  Cla. 
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 I frown, they hang their most dejected heads,  
Like fearful sheephounds; show 'em a crust of bread  
They'll Saint me presently, and skip like Apes  
For a sup of Wine. I'll whip 'em like hackneys,  
Saddle 'em, ride 'em, do what I will with 'em.  Cla. 
Tush, these are poor things.  
Have they names like Christians?  Jul. 
Very fair names: Franvile, Lamure, and Morillat;  
And brag of great kindreds too. They offer very handsomely,  
But that I am a fool, and dare not venture.  
They are sound too i'my conscience,  
Or very near upon 't.  Cla. 
Fie, away fool.  Jul. 
They tell me  
If they might be brought before you,  
They would reveal things of strange consequence.  Cla. 
Their base poor fears.  Jul. 
ay, that makes me hate 'em too;  
For if they were but manly to their sufferance,  
Sure I should strain a point or two.  Cla. 
An hour hence I'll take a view of 'em,  
And hear their business. Are your men thus too?  Cro. 
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 Dupont,  
Tibalt Dupont; the other the shipmaster.  Cla. 
Have they not lives, and fears?  Cro. 
Lives they have Madam;  
But those lives never linked to such companions  
As fears or doubts.  Cla. 
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 reaks.  
If they have meat, they thank me;  
If none, they heartily desire to be hanged quickly.  
And this is all they care.  Cla. 
Look to 'em diligently, and where your pities tells ye  
They may deserve, give comfort.  All. 
We will. Exit.  Cla. 
Come hither, be not frighted; Enter Aminta,  
Think not ye steal this liberty, for we give it,  
Your tender innocence assures me, Virgin,  
Ye had no share in those wrongs these men did us;  
I find ye are not hardened in such mischiefs.  
Your brother was misled sure,  
Foully misled.  Amin. 
How much I fear these pities!  Cla. 
Certain he was, so much I pity him;  
And for your sake, whose eyes plead for him;  
Nay, for his own sake.  Amin. 
Ha!  Cla. 
For I see about him  
Women have subtle eyes, and look narrowly;  
Or I am much abused: many fair promises;  
Nay beyond those, too many shadowed virtues.  Amin. 
I think he is good.  Cla. 
I assure myself he will be;  
And out of that assurance take this comfort,  
For I perceive your fear hath much dejected ye.  
I love your brother.  Amin. 
Madam.  Cla. 
Nay, do not take it for a dreamt of favour,  
That comforts in the sleep, and awake vanishes;  
Indeed I love him.  Amin. 
Do ye indeed?  Cla. 
You doubt still, because ye fear his safety;  
Indeed he is the sweetest man I ere saw;  
I think the best. Ye may hear without blushes,  
And give me thanks, if ye please, for my courtesy.  Amin. 
Madam, I ever must;  
Yet witness Heaven, they are hard pulled from me.  
Believe me, Madam, so many imperfections I could find,  
(Forgive me Grace for lying) and such wants,  
('tis to an honest use) such poverties,  
Both in his main proportion, and his mind too;  
There are a hundred handsomer; (I lie lewdly)  
Your noble usage, Madam, hath so bound me to ye,  
That I must tell ye.  Cla. 
Come tell your worst.  Amin. 
He is no husband for ye.  
I think ye mean in that fair way.  Cla. 
Ye have hit it.  Amin. 
I am sure ye have hit my heart.  
You will find him dangerous, Madam;  
As fickle as the flying air, proud, jealous,  
Soon glutted in your sweets, and soon forgetful;  
I could say more, and tell ye I have a brother,  
Another brother, that so far excels this,  
Both in the ornaments of man, and making.  Cla. 
If you were not his sister, I should doubt ye mainly;  
Doubt ye for his love, ye deal so cunningly.  
Do not abuse me, I have trusted ye with more than life,  
With my first love; be careful of me.  Amin. 
In what use, Madam?  Cla. 
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.  Amin. 
Become my grave.  
O fortune, O cursed fortune.  Cla. 
Tell him his liberty,  
And all those with him; all our wealth and Jewels.  
Good sister, for I'll call ye so.  Amin. 
I shall Lady,  
Even die, I hope.  Cla. 
Here's Meat and Wine, pray take it,  
And there he lies; give him what liberty you please;  
But still concealed. What pleasure you shall please, sister.  
He shall ne'er want again. Nay, see an you'll take it;  
Why do you study thus?  Amin. 
To avoid mischiefs, if they should happen.  Cla. 
Go and be happy for me.  Amin. 
O 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. Enter Albert.  Alb. 
Who's that? ha!  
Some gentle hand, I hope, to bring me comfort.  
Or if it be my death, 'tis sweetly shadowed.  Amin. 
Have ye forgot me sir?  Alb. 
My Aminta?  Amin. 
She sir,  
That walks here up and down an empty shadow,  
One that for some few hours  
But wanders here, carrying her own sad Coffin,  
Seeking some Desert place to lodge her griefs in.  Alb. 
Sweet sorrow welcome, welcome noble grief;  
How got you this fair liberty to see me?  
For sorrows in your shape are strangers to me.  Amin. 
I come to counsel ye.  Alb. 
Ye are still more welcome;  
For good friends in afflictions give good counsels.  
Pray then proceed.  Amin. 
Pray eat first, ye show faint;  
Here's Wine to refresh ye too.  Alb. 
I thank ye dear.  Amin. 
Drink again.  Alb. 
Here's to our loves.  
How, turn and weep!  
Pray pledge it: this happiness we have yet left,  
Our hearts are free. Not pledge it? why,  
And though beneath the axe this health were holy,  
Why do ye weep thus?  Amin. 
I come to woe ye.  Alb. 
To woe me Sweet? I am wooed and won already,  
You know I am yours. This pretty way becomes ye.  
But you would deceive my sorrows; that's your intent.  Amin. 
I would I could, I should not weep, but smile.  
Do ye like your Meat and Wine?  Alb. 
Like it?  Amin. 
Do you like your liberty?  Alb. 
All these I well may like.  Amin. 
Then pray like her that sent'em.  
Do ye like wealth, and most unequalled beauty?  Alb. 
Peace, indeed you'll make me angry.  Amin. 
Would I were dead that ask it,  
Than ye might freely like, and I forgive ye.  Alb. 
What like, and who? add not more misery  
To a man that's fruitful in afflictions.  
Who is't you would have me like?  
Who sent these comforts?  Amin. 
I must tell.  Alb. 
Be bold.  Amin. 
But be you temperate.  
If you be bold I die. The young fair Virgin;  
(Sorrow hath made me old.) O harken,  
And wisely hark, the Governess daughter:  
That Star that strikes this Island full of wonder,  
That blooming sweetness.  Alb. 
What of her?  Amin. 
She sent it: and with it,  
It must be out, she dotes on ye,  
And must enjoy ye: else no joy must find ye.  Alb. 
And have you the patience to deliver this?  Amin. 
A sister may say much, and modestly.  Alb. 
A Sister?  Amin. 
Yes, that name undid ye;  
Undid us both: had ye named wife, she had feared ye;  
And feared the sin she followed; She had shunned, yea  
Her Virgin modesty had not touched at ye.  
But thinking you were free, hath kindled a fire,  
I fear will hardly be extinguished.  Alb. 
Indeed I played the fool.  Amin. 
O my best sir, take heed,  
Take heed of lies. Truth though it trouble some minds,  
Some wicked minds, that are both dark and dangerous:  
Yet it preserves itself, comes off pure, innocent,  
And like the Sun, though never so eclipsed,  
Must break in glory. O sir, lie no more.  Alb. 
Ye have read me a fair Lecture,  
And put a spell upon my tongue for feigning.  
But how will you counsel now?  Amin. 
Ye must study to forget me.  Alb. 
How?  Amin. 
Be patient.  
Be wise and patient, it concerns ye highly.  
Can ye lay by our loves? But why should I doubt it?  
Ye are a man, and men may shift affections,  
'tis held no sin. To come to the point,  
Ye must lose me; many and mighty reasons.  Alb. 
Hear me Aminta,  
Have you a man that loves you to, that feeds ye,  
That sends ye liberty? has this great Governess  
A noble son too, young, and apt to catch ye?  
Am I because I am in bonds, and miserable,  
My health decayed, my youth, and strength half blasted,  
My fortune like my wayning self, for this despised?  
Am I for this forsaken? a new love chosen,  
And my affections, like my fortune's wanderers?  
Take heed of lying, you that chid me for it;  
And showed how deep a sin it was, and dangerous.  
Take heed, yourself, you swore you loved me dearly;  
No few, nor little oaths you swore Aminta,  
Those sealed with no small faith, I then assured myself.  
O seek no new ways to cozen truth.  Amin. 
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?  Amin. 
For your safety,  
To preserve your life.  Alb. 
My life I do confess is hers,  
She gives it,  
And let her take it back, I yield it.  
My love's entirely thine, none shall touch at it;  
None, my Aminta, none.  Amin. 
Ye have made me happy,  
And now I know ye are mine. Fortune, I scorn thee.  
Go to your rest, and I'll sit by ye;  
Whilst I have time I'll be your mate, and comfort ye,  
For only I am trusted: you shall want nothing,  
Not a liberty that I can steal ye.  Alb. 
May we not celebrate our loves Aminta?  
And where our wishes cannot meet  Amin. 
You are wanton,  
But with cold kisses I'll allay that favour;  
Look for no more, and that in private too.  
Believe me I shall blush else.  
But let's consider, we are both lost else.  Alb. 
Let's in, and prevent fate. Exeunt.  Enter Crocale, Juletta, Tibalt, Master. Tib. 
You do well to air us Ladies, we shall be musty else.  
What are your wise wills now?  Cro. 
You are very crank still.  Tib. 
As crank as a holy friar, fed with hailstones.  
But do ye bring us out to bait, like Bulls?  Mast. 
Or are you weary of the charge ye are at?  
Turn us abroad again, let's jog Ladies;  
We are gross, and course, unfit for your sweet pleasures.  Tib. 
Knock off our shoes, and turns to grass.  Cro. 
You are determined  
Still to be stubborn then: it well becomes ye.  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 bore me thus long,  
And had their share of pains, and recreations;  
If they fail now, they are no fair companions.  Cro. 
Are ye thus harsh to all our sex?  Mast. 
We cannot be merry without a Fiddler.  
Pray strike up your Tabors, Ladies.  Cro. 
The fools despise us.  Jul. 
We know ye are very hungry now.  Tib. 
Yes, 'tis very wholesome Ladies;  
For we that have gross bodies, must be careful.  
Have ye no piercing air to stir our stomachs?  
We are beholding to ye for our Ordinary.  Jul. 
Why slaves, 'tis in our power to hang ye.  Mast. 
Very likely.  
'tis in our powers then to be hanged, and scorn ye.  
hang's as sweet to us, as dreaming to you.  Cro. 
Come, be more courteous.  Jul. 
Do, and than ye shall be pleased, and have all necessaries.  Tib. 
Give me some Ratsbane then.  Cro. 
And why Ratsbane, monsieur?  Tib. 
We live like vermin here, & eat up your Cheese,  
Your mouldy Cheese, that none but Rats would bite at;  
Therefore 'tis just that Ratsbane should reward us.  
We are unprofitable, and our Ploughs are broken;  
There is no hope of Harvest this year, Ladies.  Jul. 
Ye shall have all content.  Mast. 
ay, and we'll serve your uses.  
I had rather serve hogs, there's more delight in't;  
Your greedy appetites are never satisfied;  
Just like hungry Camels, sleeping or waking  
You chew the cud still.  Cro. 
By this hand we'll starve ye.  Mast. 
'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.  Cro. 
Why sure ye are not men.  Mast. 
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 immodesty.  
Tell me good Master, didst ever see such things?  Mast. 
I could like 'em though they were lewdly given,  
If they could say no; but fie on 'em,  
They gape like Oysters.  Tib. 
Well, ye may hang, or starve us;  
But your commanding impudence shall never fear us.  
Had ye by blushing signs, soft cunnings, crept into us,  
And showed us your necessities: we had met your purposes,  
Supplied your wants. We are no Saints Ladies;  
I love a good wench, as I love my life,  
And with my 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. Exit Tib. and Mast.  Cro. 
I do admire 'em.  Jul. 
They are noble fellows,  
And they shall not want, for this.  Cro. 
But see, Clarinda comes. Enter Clarinda.  
Farewell, I'll to my charge.  Cla. 
Bring out those prisoners now,  
And let me see 'em, and hear their business.  Jul. 
I will, Madam. Exit.  Cla. 
I hope she hath prevailed upon her brother.  
She has a sweet tongue, and can describe the happiness  
My love is ready to fling on him.  
And sure he must be glad, and certain wonder  
And bless the hour that brought him to this Island.  
I long to hear the full joy that he labours with.  Enter Juletta Morillat, Franvile, Lamure. Mor. 
Bless thy Divine beauty.  Fran. 
Mirror of sweetness.  Lam. 
Ever springing brightness.  Cla. 
Nay, stand up Gentlemen, and leave your flatteries.  Mor. 
she calls us Gentlemen, sure we shall have some meat now.  Cla. 
I am a mortal creature,  
Worship Heaven, and give these attributes  
To their Divinities. Methinks ye look but thin.  Mor. 
O we are starved, immortal beauty.  Lam. 
We are all poor starved knaves.  Fran. 
Neither liberty nor meat Lady.  Mor. 
We were handsome men, and Gentlemen, & sweet men,  
And were once gracious in the eyes of beauties,  
But now we look like rogues;  
Like poor starved rogues.  Cla. 
What would ye do if ye were to die now?  Fran. 
Alas we were prepared. If you will hang us,  
Let's have a good meal or two to die with,  
To put's in heart.  Mor. 
Or if you'll drown us,  
Let's be drunk first, that we may die merrily,  
And bless the founders.  Cla. 
Ye shall not die so hastily.  
What dare ye do to deserve my favour?  Lam. 
Put us to any service.  Fran. 
Any bondage,  
Let's but live.  Mor. 
we'll get a world of children,  
For we know, ye are heinously provided that way;  
And ye shall beat us when we offend ye;  
Beat us abundantly, and take our meat from us.  Cla. 
These are weak abject things, that show ye poor ones.  
What's the great service ye so oft have threatened,  
If ye might see me, and win my favour?  Jul. 
That business of discovery.  Mor. 
O, 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  Cla. 
Your captain's sister, she you mean.  Mor. 
ay, ay, she's the business that we would open to ye.  
You are cozened in her.  Lam. 
How, what is't you 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.  Cla. 
What is she?  Mor. 
Faith, sweet Lady,  
She is, as a man would say, his.  Cla. 
What?  Lam. 
His Mistress.  Mor. 
Or, as some new translators read, his.  Cla. 
O me!  Mor. 
And why he should delude you thus,  
Unless he meant some villainy? these ten weeks  
He has had her at Sea for his own proper appetite.  Lam. 
His Cabin-mate, I'll assure ye.  Cla. 
No sister, say ye?  Mor. 
No more than I am brother to your beauty.  
I know not why he should juggle thus.  Cla. 
Do not lie to me.  Mor. 
If ye find me lie, Lady, hang me empty.  Cla. 
How am I fooled!  
Away with 'em, Juletta, and feed 'em  
But hark ye, with such food as they have given me.  
New misery!  Fran. 
Nor meat, nor thanks for all this. Exit.  Cla. 
Make 'em more wretched.  
O I could burst! curse and kill now,  
Kill any thing I meet. Juletta, follow me,  
And call the rest along.  Iul. 
We follow Madam. Exeunt.  Enter Albert and Aminta. Amin. 
I must be gone now, else she may suspect me;  
How shall I answer her?  Alb. 
Tell her directly.  Amin. 
That were too sudden, too improvident;  
Fires of this nature must be put out cunningly,  
They'll waste all come near 'em else.  
Farewell once more.  Alb. 
Farewell.  
And keep my love entire.  
Nay kiss me once again, methinks we should not part.  Amin. 
O be wise, sir.  Alb. 
Nay, one kiss more.  Amin. 
Indeed you're wanton; Enter Clarinda, Juletta, Crolale, Hippolita.  
We may be taken too.  Cla. 
Out thou base woman.  
By Heaven I'll shoot 'em both.  Cro. 
Nay stay, brave Lady, hold;  
A sudden death cuts of a Nobler vengeance.  Cla. 
Am I made Bawd to your lascivious meetings?  
Are ye grown so wise in sin?  
Shut up that villain: and sirrah,  
Now expect my utmost anger.  
Let him there starve.  Alb. 
ay, mock at your mischiefs. Exit.  Cla. 
Tie that false witch unto that Tree,  
There let the savage beasts  
Gnaw of her sweetness, and Snakes  
Embrace her beauties; tie her, and watch  
That none relieve her.  Hip. 
We could wish ye better fortune Lady,  
But dare not help ye.  Amin. 
Be your own friends, I thank ye.  
Now only my last audit, and my greatest, Enter Raymond.  
O Heaven, be kind unto me,  
And if it be thy will, preserve.  Raym. 
Who is this?  
Sure 'tis a woman; I have trod this place,  
And found much footing: now I know 'tis peopled.  
Ha, let me see! 'tis her face.  
O Heaven! turn this way maid.  Amin. 
O Raymond, O brother.  Raym. 
Her tongue to: 'tis my sister; what rude hand!  
Nay kiss me first, O joy!  Amin. 
Fly, fly dear brother,  
You are lost else.  Jul. 
A man, a man, a new man.  Raym. 
What are these? Enter Juletta, Crocale, Clarinda.  Cro. 
An Enemy, an Enemy.  Cla. 
Dispatch him,  
Take him off, shoot him straight.  Raym. 
I dare not use my sword, Ladies,  
Against such comely foes.  Amin. 
O brother brother!  Cla. 
Away with 'em, and in dark prisons bind 'em.  
One word replied, ye die both.  
Now brave mother follow thy Noble Anger,  
And I'll help thee. Exeunt.    

Actus quintus,  

Scaena prima.  Enter Rossella, Clarinda, Crocale, Juletta, Hippolita. Ros. 
I am deaf to all your entreaties: she that moves me  
For pity or compassion to these Pirates,  
Digs up her fathers, or her brother's Tomb,  
And spurns about their ashes.  
Couldst thou remember what a father thou hast once,  
'twould steel thy heart against foolish pity.  
By his memory, and the remembrance of his dear embraces,  
I am taught, that in a Noble cause revenge is Noble;  
And they shall fall the sacrifices to appease  
His wandering Ghost, and my incensed fury.  Cla. 
The new come prisoner to?  Ros. 
Him to. Yet that we may learn  
Whether they are the same, or near allied  
To those that forced me to this cruel course,  
Better their poor allowance, and permit'em  
To meet together and confer,  
Within the distance of your ear; perhaps  
They may discover something that may kill  
Despair in me, and be a means to save 'em  
From certain ruin.  Cro. 
That shall be my charge.  Ros. 
Yet to prevent  
All hope of rescue: for this new come Captain  
Hath both a ship and men not far off from us,  
Though ignorant to find the only Port,  
That can yield entrance to our happy Island,  
Guard the place strongly, and ere the next Sun  
Ends his diurnal progress, I will be  
Happy in my revenge, or set 'em free. Exeunt.  Enter Crocale, Juletta, Hippolita. A Table furnished. Cro. 
So serve it plentifully,  
And lose not time to inquire the cause;  
There is a main design that hangs upon this bounty.  
See the Table furnished with Wine too,  
That discovers secrets which tortures cannot open:  
Open the doors too of the several prisons,  
And give all free entrance into this room.  
Undiscovered I can here mark all. Enter Tib. Mast.  
Here's Captain careless, and the tough Shipmaster,  
The slaves are nosed like Vultures  
How wild they look.  Tib. 
Ha, the mystery of this,  
Some good Hobgoblin rise and reveal.  Mast. 
I am amazed at it: nor can I sound the intent.  Tib. 
Is not this Bread,  
Substantial bread, not painted?  Mast. 
But take heed,  
You may be poisoned.  Tib. 
I am sure I am famished;  
And as the wise man says,  
Gripes the guts as much as any Mineral.  
This may be Treacle sent to preserve me  
After a long fast: or be it viper's spital,  
I'll run the hazard.  Mast. 
We are passed all fear, I'll take part with ye.  Tib. 
Do: and now i'faith, how d'ye feel yourself?  
I find great ease in't. What's here?  
Wine, and it be thy will;  
Strong lusty Wine. Well, fools may talk  
Of Mitridiate, Cordials, and elixirs.  
But from my youth this was my only Physic.  
Here's a colour, what lady's cheek,  
Though cerused over, comes near it?  
It sparkles too: hangs out Diamonds.  
O my sweet heart, how I will hug thee,  
Again, and again! They are poor drunkards,  
And not worth thy favours,  
That number thy moist kisses in these Crystals.  Mast. 
But Mounsiver,  
Here are Suckets, and sweet dishes.  Tib. 
Tush, boys meat,  
I am past it; here's strong food fit for men:  
Nectar, old lad. Mistress of merry hearts,  
Once more I am bold with you.  Mast. 
Take heed (man)  
Too much will breed distemper.  Tib. 
Hast thou lived 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?  Mast. 
prithee forbear,  
We may offend in it; we know not for whom  
It was provided.  Tib. 
I am sure for me: therefore foutra,  
When I am full, let 'em hang me, I care not.  Mast. 
This has been his temper ever. Enter Albert, Aminta, Raymond, Lamure, Morrillat, Franvile, severally.  
See, provoking dishes, candid Eringoes,  
And Potatoes.  Tib. 
I'll not touch 'em, I will drink;  
But not a bit on a march, I'll be an Eunuch rather.  Mast. 
Who are these?  Tib. 
Marry, who you will;  
I keep my text here.  Alb. 
Raymond!  Raym. 
Albert!  Tib. 
Away, I'll be drunk alone;  
Keep off rogues, or I'll belch ye into air;  
Not a drop here.  Amin. 
Dear brother, put not in your eyes such anger;  
Those looks poisoned with fury shot at him,  
Reflect on me. O brother look milder, or  
The Crystal of his temperance  
Will turn 'em on yourself.  Alb. 
Sir have sought ye long  
To find your pardon: you have ploughed the Ocean  
To wreak your vengeance on me, for the rape  
Of this fair virgin. Now our fortune guides us  
To meet on such hard terms, that we need rather  
A mutual pity of our present state,  
Then to expostulate of breaches past,  
Which cannot be made up. And though it be  
Far from your power to force me to confess,  
That I have done ye wrong, or such submission  
Failing to make my peace, to vent your anger;  
You being yourself slaved, as I to others:  
Yet for your sister's sake, her blessed sake,  
In part of recompense of what she has suffered  
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 from,  
End all contention.  Tib. 
Drink upon't, 'tis a good motion;  
Ratify it in Wine, and 'tis authentical.  Raym. 
When I consider  
The ground of our long difference, and look on  
Our not to be avoided miseries,  
It doth beget in me I know not how  
A soft religious tenderness; which tells me,  
Though we have many faults to answer for  
Upon our own account, our father's crimes  
Are in us punished. O Albert, the course  
They took to leave us rich was not honest,  
Nor can that friendship last, which virtue joins not.  
When first they forced the industrious Portugals,  
From their Plantations in the happy Islands.  Cro. 
This is that I watch for.  Raym. 
And did omit no tyranny, which men  
enured to spoil and mischief could inflict,  
On the grieved sufferers; when by lawless rapine  
They reaped the harvest, which their labours sowed;  
And not content to force 'em from their dwelling,  
But laid for 'em at Sea, to ravish from 'em  
The last remainder of their wealth; then, then,  
After a long pursuit, each doubting other,  
As guilty of the Portugals escape,  
They did begin to quarrel, like ill men;  
(Forgive me piety, that I call 'em so)  
No longer love, or correspondence holds,  
Than it is cemented with prey or profit:  
Then did they turn those Swords they oft had bloodied  
With innocent gore, upon their wretched selves,  
And paid the forfeit of their cruelty  
Shown to Sebastian, and his Colony,  
By being fatal Enemies to each other.  
Thence grew Amyntas rape, and my desire  
To be revenged. And now observe the issue:  
As they for spoil ever forgot compassion  
To women, (who should be exempted  
From the extremities of a lawful war)  
We now, young able men, are fallen into  
The hands of women; that, against the soft  
Tenderness familiar to their sex, Enter Crocale.  
Will show no mercy.  Cro. 
None, unless you show us  
Our long lost husbands.  
We are those Portugals you talked of.  Raym. 
Stay,  
I met upon the Sea in a tall ship  
Two Portugals, famished almost to death.  Tib. 
Our ship by this Wine.  
And those the rogues that stole her,  
Left us to famish in the barren Islands.  Ray. 
Some such tale they told me,  
And something of a woman, which I find,  
To be my sister.  Cro. 
Where are these men?  Ray. 
I left 'em,  
Supposing they had deluded me with forged tales,  
In the Island where they said  
They had lived many years the wretched owners  
Of a huge mass of treasure.  Alb. 
The same men: and that the fatal muck  
We quarreled for.  Cro. 
They were Portugal's you say.  Ray. 
So they professed.  Cro. 
They may prove such men as may save your lives,  
And so much I am taken with fair hope,  
That I will hazard life to be resolved on't:  
How came you hither?  Ray. 
My ship lies by the river's mouth,  
That can convey ye to these wretched men,  
Which you desire to see.  Cro. 
Back to your prisons,  
And pray for the success: if they be those  
Which I desire to find, you are safe;  
If not, prepare to die tomorrow:  
For the world cannot redeem ye.  Alb. 
however, we are armed  
For either fortune, Exit.  Ti. 
What must become of me now  
That I am not dismissed?  Cro. 
O sir, I purpose  
To have your company.  Ti. 
Take heed wicked woman,  
I am apt to mischief now.  Cro. 
You cannot be so unkind,  
To her that gives you liberty.  Ti. 
No, I shall be too kind, that's the devil on't;  
I have had store of good wine: and when I am drunk,  
Joan is a Lady to me, and I shall  
Lay about me like a Lord: I feel strange motions:  
Avoid me temptation.  Cro. 
Come sir, I'll help ye in. Exeunt.  Enter Sebastian, and Nicusa. Nicu. 
What may that be  
That moves upon the Lake?  Seba. 
Still it draws nearer,  
And now I plainly can discern it.  
'tis the French ship.  Nicu. 
In it a woman,  
Who seems to invite us to her,  Seba. 
Still she calls with signs of Love to hasten to her;  
So lovely hope doth still appear:  
I feel nor age nor weakness.  Nicu. 
Though it bring death,  
To us 'tis comfort: and deserves a meeting.  
Or else fortune tired with what we have suffered,  
And in it overcome, as it may be,  
Now sets a period to our misery. Exeunt.  Enter severally, Raymond, Albert, Aminta. horrid Music. Ray. 
What dreadful sounds are these?  Amin 
Infernal Music,  
Fit for a bloody Feast.  Alb. 
It seems prepared  
To kill our courages, ere they divorce  
Our souls and bodies.  Ray. 
But they that fearless fall,  
Deprive them of their triumph.  An altar prepared. Enter Rossillia, Clarinda, julletta, Hippollitta, etc. Aminta 
See the furies,  
In their full Trim of cruelty.  Ros. 
'tis the last  
Duty that I can pay to my dead Lord,  
Set out the Altar, I myself willbe  
The Priest, and boldly do those horrid Rites  
You shake to think on: lead these Captains nearer,  
For they shall have the honour to fall first  
To my Sebastian's ashes: and now wretches,  
As I am taught already that you are,  
And lately by your free confession,  
French pirates, and the sons of those I hate,  
Even equal with the devil; here with horror,  
What 'tis invites me to this cruel course,  
And what you are to suffer; no Amazons we,  
But women of Portugal, that must have from you  
Sebastian and Nicusa; we are they  
That groaned beneath your father's wrongs:  
We are those wretched women,  
Their injuries pursued, and overtook;  
And from the sad remembrance of our losses  
We are taught to be cruel; when we were forced  
From that sweet air we breathed in, by their rapine,  
And sought a place of being; as the Seas  
And winds conspired with their ill purposes,  
To load us with afflictions, in a storm  
That fell upon us; the two ships that brought us,  
To seek new fortunes in an unknown world  
Were severed: the one bore all the able men,  
Our treasure and our Jewels: in the other,  
We women were embarked: and fell upon,  
After long tossing in the troubled main,  
This pleasant Island: But in few months,  
The men that did conduct us hither died,  
We long before had given our husbands lost:  
Remembering what we had suffered by the French,  
We took a solemn Oath never to admit  
The cursed society of men: necessity  
Taught us those arts not usual to our sex:  
And the fertile Earth yielding abundance to us,  
We did resolve thus shaped like Amazons  
To end our lives; but when you arrived here,  
And brought as presents to us our own Jewels;  
Those which were borne in the other ship,  
How can ye hope to scape our vengeance?  Amin. 
It boots not then to swear our innocence?  Alb. 
Or that we never forced it from the owners?  Ray 
Or that there are a remnant of that wrack,  
And not far off?  Ros. 
All you affirm, I know,  
Is but to win time; therefore prepare your throats,  
The world shall not redeem ye: and that your cries  
May find no entrance to our ears,  
To move pity in any: bid loud Music sound  
Their fatal Kneels; if ye have prayers use 'em quickly,  
To any power will own yea; but ha! Enter Crocale, Sebastian, Nicusa, Tibalt.  
Who are these? what spectacles of misfortune?  
Why are their looks  
So full of Joy and wonder?  Cro. 
Oh! lay by  
These instruments of death, and welcome  
To your arms what you durst never hope to embrace:  
This is Sebastian, this Nicusa Madam:  
Preserved by miracle: look up dear sir,  
And know your own Rossellia: be not lost  
In wonder and amazement; or if nature  
Can by instinct instruct you what it is,  
To be blessed with the name of Father,  
Freely enjoy it in this fair Virgin.  Seba. 
Though my miseries,  
And many years of wants, I have endured,  
May well deprave me of the memory  
Of all joys past; yet looking on this building,  
This ruind building of a heavenly form  
In my Rossella; I must remember, I am Sebastian.  Ros. 
O my joys!  Seba. 
And here,  
I see a perfect model of thyself,  
As thou wert when thy choice first made thee mine:  
These cheeks and fronts though wrinkled now with time  
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 virtue's  
Wind into her form, and make her a perfect dower:  
No part of thy sweet goodness wanting to her.  
I will not now Rossellia 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 am glad to see you Gentlemen; but most,  
That it is in my power to save your Lives;  
You saved ours when we were near starved at Sea,  
And I despair not, for if she be mine?  
Rossellia can deny Sebastian nothing.  Ros. 
She does give up herself,  
Her power and joys, and all, to you,  
To be discharged of 'em as too burdensome;  
Wellcome in any shape.  Sabast. 
Sir in your looks,  
I read your suit of my Clarinda: she is yours:  
And Lady if it be in me to confirm  
Your hopes in this brave Gentleman,  
Presume I am your servant.  Alb. 
We thank you sir.  Amin. 
O Happy hour!  Alb. 
O my dear Aminta;  
Now all our fears are ended.  Tib. 
Here I fix: she's mettle,  
Steel to the back: and will cut my leaden dagger,  
If not used with discretion.  Cro. 
You are still no changeling.  Sabast. 
Nay,  
All look cheerfully, for none shallbe  
denied their lawful wishes; when a while  
We have here refreshed ourselves; we'll return  
To our several homes; and well that voyage ends,  
That makes of deady enemies' faithful friends.  Exeunt   
FINIS.