Chapter V: Act III: Scene I

_Enter_ PEREZ.

_Per._ True, the reward proposed is great enough, I want it too; besides, this Englishman has never paid me since, as his lieutenant, I served him once against the Turk at sea; yet he confessed I did my duty well, when twice I cleared our decks; he has long promised me, but what are promises to starving men? this is his house, he may walk out this morning.

_Enter a Page, and another Servant, walking by, not seeing him._

These belong to him; I'll hide till they are past.

_Serv._ He sleeps soundly for a man who is to be married when he wakes.

_Page._ He does well to take his time; for he does not know, when he's married, whether ever he shall have a sound sleep again.

_Serv._ He bid we should not wake him; but some of us, in good manners, should have staid, and not have left him quite alone.

_Page._ In good manners, I should indeed; but I'll venture a master's anger at any time for a mistress, and that's my case at present.

_Serv._ I'll tempt as great a danger as that comes to, for good old English fellowship; I am invited to a morning's draught.

_Page._ Good-morrow, brother, good-morrow; by that time you have filled your belly, and I have emptied mine, it will be time to meet at home again. [_Exeunt severally._

_Per._ So, this makes well for my design; he's left alone, unguarded, and asleep: Satan, thou art a bounteous friend, and liberal of occasions to do mischief; my pardon I have ready, if I am taken, my money half beforehand: up, Perez, rouse thy Spanish courage up; if he should wake, I think I dare attempt him; then my revenge is nobler, and revenge, to injured men, is full as sweet as profit. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_The_ SCENE _drawn, discovers_ TOWERSON _asleep on a Couch in his
Night-gown. A Table by him; Pen, Ink, and Paper on it._

_Re-enter_ PEREZ _with a Dagger._

_Per._ Asleep, as I imagined, and as fast as all the plummets of eternal night were hung upon his temples. Oh that some courteous dæmon, in the other world, would let him know, 'twas Perez sent him thither! A paper by him too! He little thinks it is his testament; the last he e'er shall make: I'll read it first. [_Takes it up._] Oh, by the inscription, 'tis a memorial of what he means to do this day: What's here? My name in the first line! I'll read it. [_Reads._] _Memorandum, That my first action this morning shall be, to find out my true and valiant lieutenant, captain Perez; and, as a testimony of my gratitude for his honourable services, to bestow on him five hundred English pounds, making my just excuse, I had it not before within my power to reward him._ [_Lays down the paper._] And was it then for this I sought his life? Oh base, degenerate Spaniard! Hadst thou done it, thou hadst been worse than damned: Heaven took more care of me, than I of him, to expose this paper to my timely view. Sleep on, thou honourable Englishman; I'll sooner now pierce my own breast than thine: See, he smiles too in his slumber, as if his guardian angel, in a dream, told him, he was secure: I'll give him warning though, to prevent danger from another hand. [_Writes on_ TOWERSON'S _paper, then sticks his dagger in it._ Stick there, that when he wakens, he may know, To his own virtue he his life does owe. [_Exit_ PEREZ.

TOWERSON _awakens._

_Tow._ I have o'erslept my hour this morning, if to enjoy a pleasing dream can be to sleep too long. Methought my dear Isabinda and myself were lying in an arbour, wreathed about with myrtle and with cypress; my rival Harman, reconciled again to his friendship, strewed us with flowers, and put on each a crimson-coloured garment, in which we straightway mounted to the skies; and with us, many of my English friends, all clad in the same robes. If dreams have any meaning, sure this portends some good.--What's that I see! A dagger stuck into the paper of my memorials, and writ below--_Thy virtue saved thy life!_ It seems some one has been within my chamber whilst I slept: Something of consequence hangs upon this accident. What, ho! who waits without? None answer me? Are ye all dead? What, ho!

_Enter_ BEAMONT.

_Beam._ How is it, friend? I thought, entering your house, I heard you call.

_Tow._ I did, but as it seems without effect; none of my servants are within reach of my voice.

_Beam._ You seem amazed at somewhat?

_Tow._ A little discomposed: read that, and see if I have no occasion; that dagger was stuck there, by him who writ it.

_Beam._ I must confess you have too just a cause: I am myself surprised at an event so strange.

_Tow._ I know not who can be my enemy within this island, except my rival Harman; and for him, I truly did relate what passed betwixt us yesterday.

_Beam._ You bore yourself in that as it became you, as one who was a witness to himself of his own courage; and while, by necessary care of others, you were forced to decline fighting, shewed how much you did despise the man who sought the quarrel: 'Twas base in him, so backed as he is here, to offer it, much more to press you to it.

_Tow._ I may find a foot of ground in Europe to tell the insulting youth, he better had provoked some other man; but sure I cannot think 'twas he who left that dagger there.

_Beam._ No, for it seems too great a nobleness of spirit, for one like him to practise: 'Twas certainly an enemy, who came to take your sleeping life; but thus to leave unfinished the design, proclaims the act no Dutchman's.

_Tow_ That time will best discover; I'll think no further of it.

_Beam._ I confess you have more pleasing thoughts to employ your mind at present; I left your bride just ready for the temple, and came to call you to her.

_Tow._ I'll straight attend you thither.

_Enter_ HARMAN _Sen._ FISCAL, _and_ VAN HERRING.

_Fisc._ Remember, sir, what I advised you; you must seemingly make up the business. [_To_ HAR. _Sen._

_Har. Sen._ I warrant you.--What, my brave bonny bridegroom, not yet dressed? You are a lazy lover; I must chide you. [_To_ TOWERSON.

_Tow._ I was just preparing.

_Har. Sen._ I must prevent part of the ceremony: You thought to go to her; she is by this time at the castle, where she is invited with our common friends; for you shall give me leave, if you so please, to entertain you both.

_Tow._ I have some reasons, why I must refuse the honour you intend me.

_Har. Sen._ You must have none: What! my old friend steal a wedding from me? In troth, you wrong our friendship.

_Beam._ [_To him aside._] Sir, go not to the castle; you cannot, in honour, accept an invitation from the father, after an affront from the son.

_Tow._ Once more I beg your pardon, sir.

_Har. Sen._ Come, come, I know your reason of refusal, but it must not prevail: My son has been to blame; I'll not maintain him in the least neglect, which he should show to any Englishman, much less to you, the best and most esteemed of all my friends.

_Tow._ I should be willing, sir, to think it was a young man's rashness, or perhaps the rage of a successless rival; yet he might have spared some words.

_Har. Sen._ Friend, he shall ask your pardon, or I'll no longer own him; what, ungrateful to a man, whose valour has preserved him? He shall do it, he shall indeed; I'll make you friends upon your own conditions; he's at the door, pray let him be admitted; this is a day of general jubilee.

_Tow._ You command here, you know, sir.

_Fisc._ I'll call him in; I am sure he will be proud, at any rate, to redeem your kind opinion of him. [_Exit._

FISCAL _re-enters,_ with HARMAN _Junior._

_Har. Jun._ Sir, my father, I hope, has in part satisfied you, that what I spoke was only an effect of sudden passion, of which I am now ashamed; and desire it may be no longer lodged in your remembrance, than it is now in my intention to do you any injury.

_Tow._ Your father may command me to more difficult employments, than to receive the friendship of a man, of whom I did not willingly embrace an ill opinion.

_Har. Jun._ Nothing henceforward shall have power to take from me that happiness, in which you are so generously pleased to reinstate me.

_Har. Sen._ Why this is as it should be; trust me, I weep for joy.

_Beam._ Towerson is easy, and too credulous. I fear 'tis all dissembled on their parts. [_Aside._

_Har. Sen._ Now set we forward to the castle; the bride is there before us.

_Tow._ Sir, I wait you. [_Exeunt_ HARMAN _Sen._ TOWERSON, BEAMONT,
_and_ VAN HERRING.

_Enter Captain_ PEREZ.

_Fisc._ Now, captain, when perform you what you promised, concerning Towerson's death?

_Per._ Never.--There, Judas, take your hire of blood again.
[_Throws him a purse._

_Har. Jun._ Your reason for this sudden change?

_Per._ I cannot own the name of man, and do it.

_Har. Jun._ Your head shall answer the neglect of what you were commanded.

_Per._ If it must, I cannot shun my destiny.

_Fisc._ Harman, you are too rash; pray hear his reasons first.

_Per._ I have them to myself, I'll give you none.

_Fisc._ None? that's hard; well, you can be secret, captain, for your own sake, I hope?

_Per._ That I have sworn already, my oath binds me.

_Fisc._ That's enough: we have now chang'd our minds, and do not wish his death,--at least as you shall know. [_Aside._

_Per._ I am glad on't, for he's a brave and worthy gentleman; I would not for the wealth of both the Indies have had his blood upon my soul to answer.

_Fisc._ [_Aside to_ HARMAN.] I shall find a time to take back our secret from him, at the price of his life, when he least dreams of it; meantime 'tis fit we speak him fair. [_To_ PEREZ.] Captain, a reward attends you, greater than you could hope; we only meant to try your honesty. I am more than satisfied of your reasons.

_Per._ I still shall labour to deserve your kindness in any honourable way. [_Exit_ PEREZ.

_Har. Jun._ I told you that this Spaniard had not courage enough for such an enterprise.

_Fisc._ He rather had too much of honesty.

_Har. Jun._ Oh, you have ruined me; you promised me this day the death of Towerson, and now, instead of that, I see him happy! I'll go and fight him yet; I swear he never shall enjoy her.

_Fisc._ He shall not, that I swear with you; but you are too rash, the business can never be done your way.

_Har. Jun._ I'll trust no other arm but my own with it.

_Fisc._ Yes, mine you shall, I'll help you. This evening, as he goes from the castle, we'll find some way to meet him in the dark, and then make sure of him for getting maidenheads to-night; to-morrow I'll bestow a pill upon my Spanish Don, lest he discover what he knows.

_Har. Jun._ Give me your hand, you'll help me.

_Fisc._ By all my hopes I will: in the mean time, with a feigned mirth 'tis fit we gild our faces; the truth is, that we may smile in earnest, when we look upon the Englishman, and think how we will use him.

_Har. Jun._ Agreed; come to the castle. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.--_The Castle._

_Enter_ HARMAN _Senior,_ TOWERSON, _and_ ISABINDA, BEAMONT, COLLINS,
VAN HERRING. _They seat themselves._

EPITHALAMIUM.

_The day is come, I see it rise,
Betwixt the bride and bridegroom's eyes;
That golden day they wished so long,
Love picked it out amidst the throng;
He destined to himself this sun,
And took the reins, and drove him on;
In his own beams he drest him bright,
Yet bid him bring a better night._

_The day you wished arrived at last,
You wish as much that it were past;
One minute more, and night will hide
The bridegroom and the blushing bride.
The virgin now to bed does go--
Take care, oh youth, she rise not so--
She pants and trembles at her doom,
And fears and wishes thou wouldst come._

_The bridegroom comes, he comes apace,
With love and fury in his face;
She shrinks away, he close pursues,
And prayers and threats at once does use.
She, softly sighing, begs delay,
And with her hand puts his away;
Now out aloud for help she cries,
And now despairing shuts her eyes._

_Har. Sen._ I like this song, 'twas sprightly; it would restore me twenty years of youth, had I but such a bride.

_A Dance._

_After the Dance, enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ FISCAL.

_Beam._ Come, let me have the Sea-Fight; I like that better than a thousand of your wanton epithalamiums.

_Har. Jun._ He means that fight, in which he freed me from the pirates.

_Tow._ Pr'ythee, friend, oblige me, and call not for that song; 'twill breed ill blood. [_To_ BEAMONT.

_Beam._ Pr'ythee be not scrupulous, ye fought it bravely. Young Harman is ungrateful, if he does not acknowledge it. I say, sing me the Sea-Fight.

THE SEA-FIGHT.

_Who ever saw a noble sight,
That never viewed a brave sea-fight!
Hang up your bloody colours in the air,
Up with your fights, and your nettings prepare;
Your merry mates cheer, with a lusty bold spright,
Now each man his brindice, and then to the fight.
St George, St George, we cry,
The shouting Turks reply:
Oh now it begins, and the gun-room grows hot,
Ply it with culverin and with small shot;
Hark, does it not thunder? no, 'tis the guns roar,
The neighbouring billows are turned into gore;
Now each man must resolve, to die,
For here the coward cannot fly.
Drums and trumpets toll the knell,
And culverins the passing bell.
Now, now they grapple, and now board amain;
Blow up the hatches, they're off all again:
Give them a broadside, the dice run at all,
Down comes the mast and yard, and tacklings fall;
She grows giddy now, like blind Fortune's wheel,
She sinks there, she sinks, she turns up her keel.
Who ever beheld so noble a sight,
As this so brave, so bloody sea-fight!_

_Har. Jun._ See the insolence of these English; they cannot do a brave action in an age, but presently they must put it into metre, to upbraid us with their benefits.

_Fisc._ Let them laugh, that win at last.

_Enter Captain_ MIDDLETON, _and a Woman with him, all pale and
weakly, and in tattered garments._

_Tow._ Captain Middleton, you are arrived in a good hour, to be partaker of my happiness, which is as great this day, as love and expectation can make it. [_Rising up to salute_ MIDDLETON.

_Mid._ And may it long continue so!

_Tow._ But how happens it, that, setting out with us from England, you came not sooner hither.

_Mid._ It seems the winds favoured you with a quicker passage; you know I lost you in a storm on the other side of the Cape, with which disabled, I was forced to put into St Helen's isle; there 'twas my fortune to preserve the life of this our countrywoman; the rest let her relate.

_Isab._ Alas, she seems half-starved, unfit to make relations.

_Van Her._ How the devil came she off? I know her but too well, and fear she knows me too.

_Tow._ Pray, countrywoman, speak.

_Eng Wom._ Then thus in brief; in my dear husband's company, I parted from our sweet native isle: we to Lantore were bound, with letters from the States of Holland, gained for reparation of great damages sustained by us; when, by the insulting Dutch, our countrymen, against all show of right, were dispossessed, and naked sent away from that rich island, and from Poleroon.

_Har. Sen._ Woman, you speak with too much spleen; I must not hear my countrymen affronted.

_Eng. Wom.._ I wish they did not merit much worse of me, than I can say of them.--Well, we sailed forward with a merry gale, till near St Helen's isle we were overtaken, or rather waylaid, by a Holland vessel; the captain of which ship, whom here I see, the man who quitted us of all we had in those rich parts before, now fearing to restore his ill-got goods, first hailed, and then invited us on board, keeping himself concealed; his base lieutenant plied all our English mariners with wine, and when in dead of night they lay secure in silent sleep, most barbarously commanded they should be thrown overboard.

_Fisc._ Sir, do not hear it out.

_Har. Sen._ This is all false and scandalous.

_Tow._ Pray, sir, attend the story.

_Eng. Wom._ The vessel rifled, and the rich hold rummaged, they sink it down to rights; but first I should have told you, (grief, alas, has spoiled my memory) that my dear husband, wakened at the noise, before they reached the cabin where we lay, took me all trembling with the sudden fright, and leapt into the boat; we cut the cordage, and so put out to sea, driving at mercy of the waves and wind; so scaped we in the dark. To sum up all, we got to shore, and in the mountains hid us, until the barbarous Hollanders were gone.

_Tow._ Where is your husband, countrywoman?

_Eng. Wom._ Dead with grief; with these two hands I scratched him out a grave, on which I placed a cross, and every day wept o'er the ground where all my joys lay buried. The manner of my life, who can express! the fountain-water was my only drink; the crabbed juice and rhind of half-ripe lemons almost my only food, except some roots; my house, the widowed cave of some wild beast. In this sad state, I stood upon the shore, when this brave captain with his ship approached, whence holding up and waving both my hands, I stood, and by my actions begged their mercy; yet, when they nearer came, I would have fled, had I been able, lest they should have proved those murderous Dutch, I more than hunger feared.

_Har. Sen._ What say you to this accusation, Van Herring?

_Van Her._ 'Tis as you said, sir, false and scandalous.

_Har. Sen._ I told you so; all false and scandalous.

_Isab._ On my soul it is not; her heart speaks in her tongue, and were she silent, her habit and her face speak for her.

_Beam._ Sir, you have heard the proofs.

_Fisc._ Mere allegations, and no proofs. Seem not to believe it, sir.

_Har. Sen._ Well, well, we'll hear it another time.

_Mid._ You seem not to believe her testimony, but my whole crew can witness it.

_Van Her._ Ay, they are all Englishmen.

_Tow._ That's a nation too generous to do bad actions, and too sincere to justify them done; I wish their neighbours were of the same temper.

_Har. Sen._ Nay, now you kindle, captain; this must not be, we are your friends and servants.

_Mid._ 'Tis well you are by land, at sea you would be masters: there I myself have met with some affronts, which, though I wanted power then to return, I hailed the captain of the Holland ship, and told him he should dearly answer it, if e'er I met him in the narrow seas. His answer was, (mark but the insolence) If I should hang thee, Middleton, up at thy main yard, and sink thy ship, here's that about my neck (pointing to his gold chain) would answer it when I came into Holland.

_Har. Jan._ Yes, this is like the other.

_Tow._ I find we must complain at home; there's no redress to be had here.

_Isab._ Come, countrywoman,--I must call you so, since he who owns my heart is English born,--be not dejected at your wretched fortune; my house is yours, my clothes shall habit you, even these I wear, rather than see you thus.

_Har. Sen._ Come, come, no more complaints; let us go in; I have ten rummers ready to the bride; as many times shall our guns discharge, to speak the general gladness of this day. I'll lead you, lady. [_Takes the Bride by the hand._

_Tow._ A heavy omen to my nuptials!
My countrymen oppressed by sea and land,
And I not able to redress the wrong,
So weak are we, our enemies so strong. [_Exeunt._