Chapter I: Part 1

FRANCIS BEAUMONT

Born 1584
Died 1616

JOHN FLETCHER

Born 1579
Died 1625

_BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER_

THE SEA-VOYAGE
WIT AT SEVERAL WEAPONS
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN
CUPID'S REVENGE
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN

THE TEXT EDITED BY

A. R. WALLER, M.A.

Cambridge:
at the University Press

1910

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
London: FETTER LANE, E.C.
C. F. CLAY, MANAGER

Edinburgh: 100, PRINCES STREET
Berlin: A. ASHER AND CO.
Leipzig: F.A. BROCKHAUS
New York: G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Bombay and Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD.

_All rights reserved_

CONTENTS

PAGE

The Sea-Voyage 1

Wit at Several Weapons 66

The Fair Maid of the Inn 143

Cupid's Revenge 220

The Two Noble Kinsmen 290

THE SEA-VOYAGE.

A Comedy.

The Persons represented in the Play.

Albert, _a_ French _Pirat, in love with_ Aminta.
Tibalt du Pont, _a merry Gentleman, friend to_ Albert.
Master of the Ship, _an honest merry man_.
Lamure, _an usuring Merchant_.
Franville, _a vain-glorious gallant_.
Morillat, _a shallow-brain'd Gentleman_.
Bo[a]tswain, _an honest man_.
Sebastian, _a noble Gentleman of Portugal, Husband to_ Rosellia.
Nicusa, _Nephew to_ Sebastian, _both cast upon a desart Island_.
Raimond, _brother to_ Aminta.
Surgeon.
Sailors.

WOMEN.

Aminta, _Mistriss to_ Albert, _a noble French Virgin_.
Rosellia, _Governess of the_ Amazonian Portugals.
Clarinda, _Daughter to_ Rosellia, _in love with_ Albert.
Hippolita, } _three Ladies, Members_
Crocale, } _of the Female Common-wealth_.
Juletta. }

The Scene, First at Sea, then in the desart Islands.

The Principal Actors were

_Joseph Taylor_,
_William Eglestone_,
_Nich. Toolie_,
_Joh Lowin_,
_John Underwood._

_Actus Primus. Scæna 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 o'th' moon
Shot from a wave, hey day, hey day,
How she kicks and yerks!
Down with the Main Mast, lay her at hull,
Farle up all her Linnens, 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 Sail._ We have discover'd the Land, Sir,
Pray let's make in, she's so drunk else,
She may chance to cast up all her Lading.

_1 Sail._ Sland in, sland in, we are all lost else, lost and perish'd.

_Mast._ Steer her a Star-board there.

_2 Sail._ 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!

_Mast._ 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 orizons?
Call up the Boatswain; how it storms; holla.

_Boats._ 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?

_Boats._ We know not ye[t]; 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?

_Mast._ Dangerous enough Captain,
We have sprung five leaks, and no little ones;
Still rage; besides, her ribs are open;
Her rudder almost spent; prepare your selves;
And have good courages, death comes but once,
And let him come in all his frights.

_Albert._ Is't not possible,
To make in to th' Land? 'tis here before us.

_Morill._ Here hard by Sir.

_Mast._ Death is nearer, Gentlemen.
Yet do not cry, let's dye like men.

_Tib._ Shall's hoise the Boat out,
And goe all at one cast? the more the merrier.

_Enter_ Amint.

_Mast._ You are too hasty Mounsieur,
Do ye long to be i'th' Fish-market before your time?
Hold her up there.

_Amint._ Oh miserable fortune,
Nothing but horror sounding in mine ears,
No minute to promise to my frighted soul.

_Tib._ Peace woman,
We ha storms enough already; no more howling.

_Amint._ Gentle Master.

_Mast._ Clap this woman under hatches.

_Alb._ Prethe 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 heavens sake stow this [woman].

_Tib._ Go: take your gilt [Prayer-Book];
And to your business; wink and die,
There's an old Haddock staies for ye.

_Amint._ Must I die here in all the frights[, the] terrors,
The thousand several shapes death triumphs in?
No friend to counsel me?

_Alb._ Have peace sweet Mistriss.

_Amint._ No kindreds tears upon me? oh! my countrey?
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 burthen of iniquity
Lies tumbling like a potion in our ship's belly? [_Exit._

_Tib._ Away 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 not I circled round with misery?
Confusions in their full heights dwell about me:
Oh Mounsieur _Albert_, How am I bound to curse ye,
If curses could redeem me! how to hate ye!
You forc'd 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 forc'd my friends from their peaceful rest,
Some your relentless sword gave their last groans;
Would I had there been numbred;
And to fortunes never satisfied afflictions,
Ye turn'd my Brother; and those few friends I'd left,
Like desperate creatures, to their own fears
And the world's stubborn pitties: Oh merciless!

_Alb._ Sweet Mistriss.

_Amint._ And wh[e]ther they are wandred to avoid ye,
Or wh[e]ther dead, and no kind earth to cover 'em;
Was this a Lovers part? but heaven has found ye,
And in his loudest 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 honor ye;
Ye know dear Lady, since ye are mine,
How truly I have lov'd ye, how sanctimoniously
Observ'd your honor; 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 heavens mercy; my strong mind yet presages,
Through all these dangers, we shall see a day yet
Shall crown your pious hopes, and my fair wishes. [_Exit._

_Enter Master, Sailors, Gentlemen, and Boatswain._

_Mast._ It must all over-board.

_Boats._ It clears to Sea-ward 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 Bisket for the Lady,
Till we come to the Land.

_Lam._ Must my Goods over too?
Why honest Master? here lies all my money;
The Money I ha wrackt by usury,
To buy new Lands and Lordships in new Countreys,
'Cause I was banish'd from mine own
I ha been this twenty years a raising it.

_Tib._ Out with it:
The devils are got together by the ears, who shall have it;
And here they quarrel in the clouds.

_Lam._ I am undone Sir:

_Tib._ And be undone, 'tis better than we [perish].

_Lam._ Oh save one Chest of Plate.

_Tib._ Away 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 cloaths and necessaries,
To goe to sea with?

_Tib._ Over with it; I love to see a Lordship sink;
Sir, you left no wood upon't, to buoy it up;
You might ha' sav'd it else.

_Fran._ I am undone for ever.

_Alb._ Why we are all undone; would you be only happy?

_Lam._ Sir, you may loose too.

_Tib._ Thou liest; I ha' nothing but my skin,
And my cloaths; my sword here, and my self;
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 determin'd
To be wanton, and would wipe out the stories
Of mens 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 stile her power beyond her pride, to quit us.

_Nicu._ Do they live still?

_Sebast._ Yes, and make to harbor:

_Nicu._ Most miserable men; I grieve their fortunes.

_Sebast._ How happy had they been, had the Sea cover'd em!
They leap from one calamity to another;
Had they been drown'd, 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 Christal 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._ Oh 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_ Pirats, that displanted us;
That flung us from that happiness we found there;
Constrain'd us to Sea, to save our lives, honors, and our riches,
With all we had, our kinsmen, and our jewels,
In hope to find some place free from such robbers,
Where a mighty storm sever'd our Barks,
That, where my Wife, my Daughter
And my noble Ladies that went with her,
Virgins and loving souls, to scape those Pirats.

_Nicus._ They are yet living; such goodness cannot perish.

_Sebast._ But never to me Cosin;
Never to me again; what bears their Flag-staves?

_Nicu._ The Arms of _France_ sure;
Nay, doe not start, we cannot be more miserable;
Death is a cordial, now, come when it will.

_Sebast._ They get to shore apace, they'll flie as fast
When once they find the place; what's that which swims there?

_Ni._ A strong young man, Sir, with a handsom woman.
Hanging about his neck.

_Sebast._ That shews some honor;
May thy brave charity, what e'er thou art,
Be spoken in a place that may renown thee,
And not dye here.

_Nicus._ The Boat it seems turn'd 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 out misery for riches:
Come Cosin, 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, Lamure,
_Master_, Franvile, _Surgeon_, _Sailors_.

_Tib._ Wet come ashore my mates, we are safe arrived yet.

_Mast._ Thanks to heavens goodness, no man lost;
The Ship rides fair too, and her leaks in good plight.

_Alb._ The weathers turn'd more courteous;
How does my Dear?
Alas, how weak she is, and wet!

_Amint._ I am glad yet, I scap'd with life;
Which certain, noble Captain, next to heavens goodness,
I must thank you for, and which is more,
Acknowledge your dear tenderness, your firm love
To your unworthy Mistriss, and recant too
(Indeed I must) those harsh opinions,
Those cruel unkind thoughts, I heapt upon ye;
Farther than that, I must forget your injuries.
So far I am ti'd, and fet'red to your service,
Believe me, I will learn to love.

_Alb._ I thank ye Madam,
And it shall be my practise to serve.
What cheer companions?

_Tib._ No great cheer Sir, a piece of souc'd Bisket
And halfe a hard egg; for the Sea has taken order;
Being young and strong, we shall not surfet Captain.
For mine own part, I'll dance till I'm dry;
Come Surgeon, out with your Clister-pipe,
And strike a Galliard.

_Alb._ What a brave day again!
And what fair weather, after so foul a storm!

_La mure._ I, an't pleas'd the Master he might ha seen
This weather, and ha' say'd our goods.

_Alb._ Never think on 'em, we have our lives and healths.

_Lam._ I must think on 'em, and think
'Twas most maliciously done to undoe me.

_Fran._ And me too, I lost all;
I ha'n't another shirt to put upon me, nor cloaths
But these poor rags; I had fifteen fair suits,
The worst was cut upon Taffaty.

_Tib._ I am glad you ha' lost, give me thy hand,
Is thy skin whole? art thou not purl'd with scabs?
No antient monuments of Madam _Venus_?
Thou hast a suit then will pose the cunning'st Tailor,
That will never turn fashion, nor forsake thee,
Till thy executors the Worms, uncase thee,
They take off glorious sutes _Franvile_: thou art happy,
Thou art deliver'd of 'em; here are no Brokers;
No Alchymists to turn 'em into Mettal;
Nor leather'd Captains, with Ladies to adore 'em;
Wilt thou see a Dog-fish rise in one of thy brave doublets,
And tumble like a tub to make thee merry,
Or an old Haddock rise with thy hatch'd sword
Thou paid'st a hundred Crowns for?
A Mermaid in a Mantle of your Worships,
Or a Dolphin in your double Ruffe?

_Fran._ Ye are merry, but if I take it thus,
If I be foisted and jeer'd out of my goods.

_Lam._ Nor I, I vow thee.
Nor Master, nor Mate, I see your cunning.

_Alb._ Oh 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 counsel 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 Bores-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 temper'd.
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 pitties,
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 _Galloon_ 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 _Du-pont_.

_Tib._ Ye have cloaths now: and ye prate.

_Amin._ Pray Gentlemen, for my sake be at peace.
Let it become me to make all friends.

_Fran._ You have stopt our angers Lady.

_Alb._ This shews noble.

_Tib._ 'Tis well: 'tis very well: there's half a Bisket,
Break't amongst ye all, and thank my bounty.
This is Cloaths and Plate too; come no more quarrelling.

_Amin._ But ha! what things are these,
Are they humane creatures?

_Enter_ Sebastian _and_ Nicusa.

_Tib._ I have heard of Sea-Calves.

_Alb._ They are no shadows sure, they have Legs and Arms.

_Tib._ They hang but lightly on though.

_Amint._ How they look, are they mens faces?

_Tib._ They have horse-tails 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 wandring 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 pitty dwelt in noble hearts.

_Alb._ We understand 'em too: pray mark ['em] Gentlemen.

_Sebast._ Or that heaven is pleas'd with humane charity;
If ever ye have heard the name of friendship,
Or suffered in your selves, 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 liv'd: the scorn and game of fortune;
Bless your selves 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 preserv'd ye for some more noble use;
Wrackt desperately; our men, and all consum'd,
But we two; that still live, and spin out
The thin and ragged threds 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,
Lets nothing shoot but poison'd weeds.
No Rivers, nor no pleasant Groves, no Beasts;
All that were made for man's use, flie this desart;
No airy Fowl dares make his flight over it,
It is so ominous.
Serpents, and ugly things, the shames of nature,
Roots of malignant tasts, 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 heavens sake let's aboard.

_Alb._ D'ye know no farther?

_Nicu._ Yes, we have sometimes seen the shadow of a place inhabited;
And heard the noise of hunters;
And have attempted [t]o find it, [s]o far as a River,
Deep, slow, and dangerous, fenced with high Rocks,
We have gone; but not able to atchieve 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 out-run day and night with your ambitions,
Look on those heaps, they seem hard ragged quarries;
Remove 'em, and view 'em fully.

_Mast._ Oh heaven, they are Gold and Jewels.

_Sebast._ Be not too hasty, here lies another heap.

_Moril._ And here another,
All perfect Gold.

_Alb._ Stand farther off, you must not be your own carvers.

_Lam._ We have shares, and deep ones.

_Fran._ Yes Sir, we'll maintain't: ho fellow Sailors.

_Lam._ Stand all to your freedoms;
I'll have all this.

_Fran._ And I this.

_Tib._ You shall be hang'd first.

_Lam._ 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'd this wealth, and this poor Gentleman,
Gave us no few wounds, forc'd us from our own;
And then their civil swords, who should be owners,
And who Lords over all, turn'd against their own lives,
First in their rage, consum'd the Ship,
That poor part of the Ship that scap'd the first wrack,
Next their lives by heaps; Oh be you wise and careful:

_Lam._ We'll ha' more: sirrah, come shew 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._ Oh _Albert_; Oh Gentlemen, Oh Friends. [_Exit._

_Sebast._ Come noble Nephew, if we stay here, we dye,
Here rides their Ship, yet all are gone to th' 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'ye;
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 my self; but whilst I have a leg left,
I will so haunt your gilded souls; how d'ye Captain?
Ye bleed apace, curse on the causers on't;
Ye do not faint?

_Alb._ No, no; I am not so happy.

_Tib._ D'ye howl, nay, ye deserve it:
Base greedy rogues; come, shall we make an end of 'em?

_Alb._ They are our Countrey-men, for heavens sake spare 'em.
Alas, they are hurt enough, and they relent now. [Aminta _above_.

_Aminta._ Oh 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:
These poor starv'd things that shew'd you Gold.

[Lam. _and_ Franvile _goes up to see the Ship_.

_1 Sail._ They have cut the Cables,
And got her out; the Tide too has befriended 'em.

_Mast._ Where are the Sailors that kept her?

_Boats._ Here, here [in] the mutiny, to take up money,
And left no creature, left the Boat ashore too;
This Gold, this damn'd enticing Gold.

_2 Sail._ How the wind drives her,
As if it vied to force her from our furies!

_Lam._ Come back good old men:

_Fran._ Good honest men, come back.

_Tib._ The wind's against ye, speak louder.

_Lam._ Ye shall have all your Gold again: they see us.

_Tib._ Hold up your hands, and kneel,
And howl ye block-heads; they'll have compassion on ye;
Yes, yes, 'tis very likely, ye have deserv'd it,
D'ye 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, and 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:

_Lam._ Oh 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 starv'd;
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 wo'not doe you such a courtesie;
To take you from the benefit of starving,
Oh! what a comfort will your worship have some three days hence!
Ye things beneath pitty, Famine shall be your harbinger;
You must not look for Down-beds here,
Nor Hangings; though I could wish ye strong ones;
Yet there 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 serv'd, expect the second. [_Exit._

_Fran._ A vengeance on these Jewels.

_Lam._ Oh! this cursed Gold. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._

_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 my self,
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 pitties; sure we have chang'd Sexes;
You bear calamity with a fortitude
Would become a man; I like a weak girl, suffer.

_Amint._ Oh, but your wounds,
How fearfully they gape! and every one
To me is a Sepulchre: if I lov'd truly,
(Wise men affirm, that true love can [doe] wonders,)
These bath'd in my warm tears, would soon be cur'd,
And leave no orifice behind; pray give me 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 sacriledge 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._ Oh _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 curs'd the doer: but now I consider,
How long I was in your power: and with what honor;
You entertain'd me, it being seldom seen,
That youth, and heat of bloud, could e'r prescribe
Laws to it self; 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 recompenc'd.

_Alb._ You good Angels,
That are ingag'd, when mans 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 bless'd one, art not hungry?

_Amint._ Indeed I could eat, to bear you company.

_Alb._ Blush unkind nature,
If thou hast power: or being to hear
Thy self, and by such innocence accus'd;
Must print a thousand kinds of shame, 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 sooth his palat,
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 sence [_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 hunters Musick.

_Alb._ Still 'tis louder; and I remember the _Portugals_
Inform'd us, they had often heard such sounds,
But ne'r could touch the shore from whence it came;
Follow me, my _Aminta_: my good genius,
Shew me the way still; still we are directed;
When we gain the top of this near rising hill,
We shall know further. [_Exit. And Enter above._

_Alb._ Courteous _Zephyrus_,
On his dewy wings, carries perfumes to cheer us;
The air clears too;
And now, we may discern another Island,
And questionless, the seat of fortunate men:
Oh that we could arrive there.

_Amint._ No _Albert_, 'tis not to be hop'd;
This envious Torrent's cruelly interpos'd;
We have no vessel that may transport us;
Nor hath nature given us wings to flie.

_Alb._ Better try all hazards,
Than perish here remediless; I feel
New vigor 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.

_Amint._ Will ye then leave me?

_Alb._ Till now I ne'er was wretched.
My best _Aminta_, I swear by goodness
'Tis nor hope, nor fear, of my self that invites me
To this extream; '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 return'd
And crown'd thee with my fortunes.

_Amin._ Oh but your absence.

_Alb._ Suppose it but a dream, and as you may,
Endeavour to take rest; and when that sleep
Deceives your hunger with imagin'd 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 e'er heard Lovers Prayers,
Or cherisht 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 believ'd the Stag was spent, and would take soil,
The sight of the black lake which we suppos'd
He chose for his last refuge, frighted him more
Than we that did pursue him.

_Jul._ That's usual; for, death it self is not so terrible
To any beast of chase.

_Hip._ Since we liv'd here, we ne'er could force one to it.

_Cro._ 'Tis so dreadful,
Birds that with their pinions cleave the air
Dare not flie over it: when the Stag turn'd head,
And we, even tir'd with labor, _Clarinda_, as if
She were made of Air and Fire,
And had no part of earth in her, eagerly pursu'd him;
Nor need we fear her safety, this place yields not
Fawns nor Satyrs, or more lustful men;
Here we live secure,
And have among our selves a Common-wealth,
Which in our selves begun, with us must end.

_Jul._ I, there's the misery.

_Cro._ But being alone,
Allow me freedom but to speak my thoughts;
The strictness of our Governess, that forbids us,
On pain of death, the sight and use of men,
Is more than tyranny: for her self, she's 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
Improv'd in height and large proportion,
Came here so young,
That scarce remembring that she had a father,
She never dreams of man; and should she see one,
In my opinion, a would appear a strange beast to her.

_Jul._ 'Tis not so with us.

_Hip._ For my part, I confess it, I was not made
For this single life; nor do I love hunting so,
But that I had rather be the chace my self.

_Cro._ By _Venus_ (out upon me) I should have 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 tels me I am forsworn;
For I confess, imagination helps me sometimes,
And that's all is left for us to feed on,
We might starve else, for if I have any pleasure
In this life, but when I sleep, I am a Pagan;
Then from the Courtier to the Countrey-clown,
I have strange visions.

_Jul._ Visions _Crocale_?

_Cro._ Yes, and fine visions too;
And visions I hope in dreams are harmless,
And not forbid by our Canons; the last night
(Troth 'tis a foolish one, but I must tell it)
As I lay in my Cabin, betwixt sleeping and waking.

_Hip._ Upon your back?

_Cro._ How should a young Maid lie, fool,
When she would be intranc'd?

_Hip._ We are instructed; forward I prethee.

_Cro._ Methought a sweet young man
In years some twenty, with a downy chin,
Promising a future beard, and yet no red one,
Stole slylie to my Cabin all unbrac'd,
Took me in his arms, and kiss'd me twenty times,
Yet still I slept.

_Jul._ Fie; thy lips run over _Crocale_.
But to the rest.

_Cro._ Lord, What a man is this thought I,
To do this to a Maid!
Yet then for my life I could not wake.
The youth, a little danted, with a trembling hand
Heav'd up the clothes.

_Hip._ Yet still you slept?

_Cro._ Y'faith I did; and when, methoughts, he was warm
by my side,
Thinking to catch him, I stretcht out both mine armes;
And when I felt him not, I shreekt out,
And wak'd for anger.

_Hip._ 'Twas a pretty dream.

_Cro._ I, if it had been a true one.

_Enter_ Albert.

_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'th' breed; stand close wenches,
And let's hear if he can speak.

_Alb._ Do I yet live?
Sure it is ayr I breathe; What place is this?
Sure something more than humane keeps residence here,
For I have past the _Stygian_ gulph,
And touch upon the blessed shore? 'tis so;
This is the _Elizian_ shade; these happy spirits,
That here enjoy all pleasures.

_Hip._ He makes towards us.

_Jul._ Stand, or I'll shoot.

_Cro._ Hold, he makes no resistance.

_Alb._ Be not offended Goddesses, that I 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 my self
I beg thus poorly, for I am already wounded,
Wounded to death, and faint; my last breath
Is for a Virgin, comes as near your selves
In all perfection, as what's mortal may
Resemble things divine. O pitty her,
And let your charity free her from that desart,
If Heavenly charity can reach to Hell,
For sure that place comes near it: and where ere
My ghost shall find abode,
Eternally I shall powre blessings on ye.

_Hip._ By my life I cannot hurt him.

_Cro._ Though I lose my head for it, nor I.
I must pitty him, and will.

_Enter_ Clarinda.

_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 turn'd
From a fell Lioness rob'd of her whelps,
And, Shall I fear dead carrion?

_Jul._ O but.

_Cla._ But, What is't?

_Hip._ It is infectious.

_Cla._ Has it not a name?

_Cro._ Yes, but such a name from which
As from the Devil your Mother commands us flie.

_Cla._ Is't a man?

_Clo._ It is.

_Cla._ What a brave shape it has in death;
How excellent would it appear had it life!
Why should it be infectious? I have 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 Arrowes 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 mov'd thus.
Restrain your fury Madam; had we kill'd him,
We had but perform'd your Mothers command.

_Cla._ But if she command unjust and cruel things,
We are not to obey it.

_Cro._ We are innocent; some storm did cast
Him shipwrackt 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 shew our wants too; and could you
So carelessly neglect it?

_Hip._ For ought I know, he's living yet;
And may tempt your Mother, by giving him succor.

_Cla._ Ha, come near I charge ye.
So, bend his body softly; rub his temples;
Nay, that shall be my office: how the red
Steales into his pale lips! run and fetch the simples
With which my Mother heal'd my arme
When last I was wounded by the Bore.

_Cro._ Doe: but remember her to come after ye,
That she may behold her daughters charity.

_Cla._ Now he breathes; [_Exit_ Hippolita.
The ayr passing through the _Arabian_ groves
Yields not so sweet an odour: prethee taste it;
Taste it good _Crocale_; yet I envy thee so great a blessing;
'Tis not sin to touch these Rubies, is it?

_Jul._ Not, I think.

_Cla._ Or thus to live _Camelion_ like?
I could resign my essence to live ever thus.
O welcome; raise him up Gently. Some soft hand
Bound up these wounds; a womans hair. What fury
For which my ignorance does not know a name,
Is crept into my bosome? But I forget.

_Enter_ Hippolita.

My pious work. Now if this juyce hath power,
Let it appear; his eyelids ope: Prodigious!
Two Suns break from these Orbes.

_Alb._ Ha, Where am I? What new vision's this?
To what Goddess do I owe this second life?
Sure thou art more than mortal:
And any Sacrifice of thanks or duty
In poor and wretched man to pay, comes short
Of your immortal bounty: but to shew
I am not unthankful, th[u]s 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 titillations, and inform her.

_Enter_ Rosella.

But here's our Governess;
Now I expect a storme.

_Ros._ Child of my flesh,
And not of my fair unspotted mind,
Un-hand this Monster.

_Cla._ Monster, Mother?

_Ros._ Yes; and every word he speaks, a _Syrens_ note,
To drown the careless hearer. Have I not taught thee
The falshood and the perjuries of Men?
On whom, but for a woman to shew pity,
Is to be cruel to her self; the Soveraignty
Proud and imperious men usurp upon us,
We conferr on our selves, and love those fetters
We fasten to our freedomes. Have we, _Clarinda_,
Since thy fathers wrack, sought liberty,
To lose it un-compel'd? Did fortune guide,
Or rather destiny, our Barke, to which
We could appoint no Port, to this blest place,
Inhabited heretofore by warlike women,
That kept men in subjection? Did we then,
By their example, after we had lost
All we could love in man, here plant our selves,
With execrable oaths never to look
On man, but as a Monster? and, Wilt thou
Be the first president 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
Onely with Beasts.

_Hip._ We must, and will have Men.

_Cro._ I, or wee'll shake off all obedience.

_Ros._ Are ye mad?
Can no perswasion alter ye? suppose
You had my suffrage to your sute;
Can this Shipwrackt wretch supply them all?

_Alb._ Hear me great Lady!
I have fellowes in my misery, not far hence,
Divided only by this hellish River,
There live a company of wretched Men,
Such as your charity may make your slaves;
Imagine all the miseries 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 lessen'd their perfection: but restor'd
To what they were, I doubt not they'll appear
Worthy your favors.

_Jul._ This is a blessing
We durst not hope for.

_Cla._ Dear Mother, be not obdurate.

_Ros._ Hear then my resolution: and labor 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 wee'll pass o'er to 'em;
And bring 'em comfort: if you like their persons,
And they approve of yours: for wee'll force nothing;
And since we want ceremonies,
Each one shall choose a husband, and injoy
His company a Month, but that expir'd,
You shall no more come near 'em; if you prove fruitful,
The Males ye shall return to them, the Females
We will reserve our selves: this is the utmost,
Ye shall e'er obtain: as ye think fit;
Ye may dismiss this stranger,
And prepare to morrow for the journey. [_Exit._

_Cla._ Come, Sir, Will ye walk?
We will shew ye our pleasant Bowers,
And something ye shall find to cheer your heart.

_Alb._ Excellent Lady;
Though 'twill appear a wonder one near starv'd
Should refuse rest and meat, I must not take
Your noble offer: I left in yonder desart
A Virgin almost pin'd.

_Cla._ Shee's not your Wife?

_Alb._ No Lady, but my Sister ('tis now dangerous
To speak truth) To her I deeply vow'd
Not to tast food, or rest, if fortune brought it me,
Till I bless'd her with my return: now if you please
To afford me an easie 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 my self will see you furnisht;
And with the next Sun visit and relieve thee.

_Alb._ Ye are all goodness-- [_Exit._

_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._

_Enter severally_, Lamure, Franvile, Morillat.

_Lam._ Oh! What a tempest have I in my stomach!
How my empty guts cry out! my wounds ake,
Would they would bleed again, that I might 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 satisfie thee; I have sought,
As far as my weak legs would carry me,
Yet can find nothing: neither meat nor water;
Nor any thing that's nourishing,
My bellies grown together like an empty sachel.

_Enter_ 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 too,
But not a leafe nor blossome in all the Island.

_Lam._ How it looks!

_Mor._ It stinks too.

_Lam._ It may be poyson.

_Fran._ Let it be any thing;
So I can get it down: Why Man,
Poyson's a Princely dish.

_Mor._ Hast thou no Bisket?
No crumbs left in thy pocket: here's my dublet,
Give me but three small crumbes.

_Fran._ Not for three Kingdoms,
If I were master of 'em: Oh _Lamure_,
But one poor joynt of Mutton: we ha scorn'd (Man).

_Lam._ Thou speak'st of Paradis.

[_Fran._] Or but the snuffes of those healths,
We have lewdly at midnight flang away.

_Mor._ Ah! but to lick the Glasses.

_Enter_ Surgeon.

_Fran._ Here comes the Surgeon: What
Hast thou discover'd? smile, smile, and comfort us.

_Sur._ I am expiring;
Smile they that can: I can find nothing Gentlemen,
Here's nothing can be meat, without a miracle.
Oh that I had my boxes, and my lints now,
My stupes, my tents, and those sweet helps of nature,
What dainty dishes could I make of 'em.

_Mor._ Hast ne'er an old suppository?

_Sur._ Oh would I had Sir.

_Lam._ Or, but the paper where such a Cordial
Potion, or Pills hath been entomb'd.

_Fran._ Or the best bladder where a cooling-glister.

_Mor._ Hast thou no searcloths left?
Nor any old pultesses?

_Fran._ We care not to what it hath been ministred.

_Sur._ Sure I have none of these dainties Gentlemen.

_Fran._ Where's the great Wen
Thou cut'st from _Hugh_ the saylers shoulder?
That would serve now for a most Princely banquet.

_Sur._ I, if we had it Gentlemen.
I flung it over-board, slave that I was.

_Lam._ A most unprovident villain.

_Sur._ If I had any thing that were but supple now!
I could make Sallads of your shoos Gentlemen,
And rare ones: any thing unctious.

_Mor._ I, and then we might fry the soals i'th' Sun.
The soals would make a second dish.

_Lam._ Or, souce 'em in the salt-water,
An inner soal well souc'd.

_En. 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 nourisht me,
But they are all consum'd for thee dear _Albert_;
For thee they are spent, for thou art dead;
Merciless fate has swallow'd thee.
Oh----I grow heavy: sleep is a salve for misery;
Heaven look on me, and either take my life,
Or make me once more happy.

_Lam._ Shee's fast asleep already,
Why should she have this blessing, and we wake still,
Wake to our wants?

_Mor._ This thing hath been our overthrow,
And all these biting mischiefs that fall on 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 turn'd the Captains mind,
And must have him go in search, I know not of who,
Nor to what end: of such a fool her brother,
And such a coxcomb her kinsman, and we must put in every where,
She has put us in now yfaith.

_Lam._ Why should we consume thus, and starve,
Have nothing to relieve us;
And she live there that bred all our miseries,
Unrosted, or unsod?

_Mor._ I have read in stories.

_Lam._ Of such restoring meates,
We have examples;
Thousand examples, and allow'd for excellent;
Women that have eate their Children,
Men their slaves, nay their brothers: but these are nothing;
Husbands devoured their Wives: (th[ey] are their Chattels,)
And of a Schoolmaster, that in a time of famine,
Powdered up all his Scholars.

_Mor._ Shee's young and tydie,
In my conscience she'll eat delicately;
Just like young Pork a little lean,
Your opinion _Surgeon_.

_Sur._ I think she may be made good meat,
But look we shall want Salt.

_Fran._ Tush, she needs no powdering.

_Sur._ I grant ye;
But to suck out the humorous parts: by all means,
Lets kill her in a chafe, she'll eat the sweeter.

_Lam._ Let's kill her any way: and kill her quickly,
That we might be at our meat.

_Sur._ How if the Captain?

_Mor._ Talk not of him, he's dead, and the rest famish'd.
Wake her _Surgeon_, and cut her throat,
And then divide her, every Man his share.

_Fran._ She wakes her self.

_Amin._ Holy and good things keep me!
What cruel dreams have I had! Who are these?
O they are my friends; for heavens sake Gentlemen
Give me some food to save my life: if ye have ought to spare;
A little to relieve me: I may bless ye;
For weak and wretched, ready to perish,
Even now I die.

_Mor._ You'll save a labor then,
You bred these miseries, and you shall pay for't;
We have no meat, nor where to have we know not,
Nor how to pull our selves from these afflictions,
We are starv'd too, famisht, all our hopes deluded;
Yet ere we die thus, wee'll have one dainty meal.

_Amin._ Shall I be with ye Gentlemen?

_Lam._ Yes mary shall ye: in our bellies Lady.
We love you well--

_Amin._ What said you Sir?

_Lam._ Mary wee'll eat your Ladiship.

_Fran._ You that have buried us in this base Island,
Wee'll bury ye in a more noble Monument.

_Sur._ Will ye say your prayers, that I may perform Lady?
We are wondrous sharp set; come Gentlemen,
Who are for the hinder parts?

_Mor._ I.

_Fran._ I.

_Lam._ And I.

_Sur._ Be patient;
They will not fall to every Man's share.

_Amin._ O hear me;
Hear me ye barbarous men.

_Mor._ Be short and pithy,
Our stomachs cannot stay a long discourse.

_Sur._ And be not fearful,
For I'll kill ye daintily.

_Amin._ Are ye not _Christians_?

_Lam._ Why, do not _Christians_ eat Women?

_Enter_ Tibalt, Master, Saylors.

_Amin._ Eat one another? 'tis most impious.

_Sur._ Come, come.

_Amin._ Oh, help, help, help.

_Tib._ The Ladies voice! stand off slaves,
What do you intend villains?
I have strength enough left me, if you abuse this soul,
To--

_Ma._ They would have ravisht her upon my life,
Speak, how was it Lady?

_Amin._ Forgive 'em, 'twas their hungers.

_Tib._ Ha, their hungers!

_Ma._ They would have eaten her.

_Tib._ O dam'd villains; speak, Is it true?

_Sur._ I confess an appetite.

_Tib._ An appetite, I'll fit ye for an appetite.
Are ye so sharp set, that her flesh must serve you?
Murther's a main good service with your Worships;
Since ye would be such Devils,
Why did you not begin with one another handsomly,
And spare the Woman to beget more food on?