THE SEA-VOYAGE. (continued 2)

Mast. This has been his temper ever. 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! Ray. Albert! Tib. Away, I'll be drunk alone; Keep off Rogues, or I'll belch ye into air; Not a drop here. Amint. Dear brother, put not in your eyes such anger; Those looks poison'd with fury, shot at him, Reflect on me. Oh brother, look milder, or The Crystal of his temperance Will turn 'em on your self. Alb. Sir, I have sought ye long To find your pardon: you have plough'd 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 pitty of our present state, Than to expostulate of breaches past, Which cannot be made up. And though it be Far from you[r] 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 your self slav'd, as I to others: Yet for you[r] Sisters sake, her blessed sake, In part of recompence of what she has suffer'd For my rash folly; the contagion Of my black actions, catching hold upon Her purer innocence, I crave your mercy; And wish however several motives kept us From being friends, while we had hope to live, Let death which we expect, and cannot fly from, End all contention. Tib. Drink upon't, 'tis a good motion; Ratifie it in Wine, and 'tis authentical. Ray. 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 Fathers crimes Are in us punish'd. Oh Albert, the course They took to leave us rich, was not honest, Nor can that friendship last, which virtue joyns not. When first they forc'd the industrious Portugals, From their Plantations in the Happy Islands. Cro. This is that I watch for. Ray. And did omit no tyranny, which men, Inured to spoil, and mischief could inflict, On the grie[v]'d sufferers; when by lawless rapine They reap'd the harvest, which their Labou[rs] sow'd; 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 cimented with prey or profit: Then did they turn these swords they oft had bloodi'd With innocent gore, upon their wretched selves, And paid the forfeit of their cruelty Shewn to Sebastian, and his Colonie, By being fatal enemies to each other. Thence grew Amintas rape, and my desire To be reveng'd. 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 fall'n into The hands of Women; that, against the soft Tenderness familiar to their Sex, Will shew no mercy.

Cro. None, unless you shew us Our long lost Husbands. We are those Portugals you talk'd of. Ray. Stay, I met upon the Sea in a tall Ship Two Portugals, famish'd 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 forg'd tales, In the Island, where they said They had liv'd many years the wretched owners Of a huge mass of treasure. Alb. The same men: and that the fatal muck We quarrell'd for. Cro. They were Portugals you say. Ray. So they profess'd. 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 resolv'd on't: How came you hither? Ray. My ship lies by the Rivers 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 to morrow: For the world cannot redeem ye. Alb. However, we are arm'd For either fortune. [Exit. Tib. What must become of me now That I am not dismiss'd? Cro. Oh 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.

Nicu. What may that be That moves upon the Lake? Sebast. 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. Sebast. 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 tyr'd with what we have suffer'd, And in it overcome, as it may be, Now sets a period to our misery. [Exeunt. [Horid Musick.

Ray. What dreadful sounds are these? Amint. Infernal Musick, Fit for a bloody Feast. Alb. It seems prepar'd To kill our courages e'r they divorce Our souls and bodies. Ray. But they that fearless fall, Deprive them of their triumph.

Amin. See the furies, In their full trym of cruelty. Ros. 'Tis the last Duty that I can pay to my dead Lord, Set out the Altar, I my self will be The Priest, and boldly do those horrid Rites You shake to think on, lead these Captains nearer, For they shall have the honor 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 Pirats, and the sons of those I hate, Even equal with the devil; hear 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 groan'd beneath your fathers wrongs: We are those wretched women, Their injuries pursu'd, and overtook; And from the sad remembrance of our losses We are taught to be cruel; when we were forc'd From that sweet air we breathed in, by their rapine, And sought a place of being; as the Seas And Winds conspir'd 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 embarqu'd: 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: Remembring what we had suff'red by the French We took a solemn Oath, never to admit The curs'd 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 shap'd like Amazons To end our lives; but when you arriv'd here, And brought as presents to us, our own Jewels; Those which were boorn in the other Ship, How can ye hope to scape our vengeance? Amint. It boots not then to swear our innocence? Alb. Or that we never forc'd 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 Musick sound Their fatal knells; if ye have prayers use 'em quickly, To any power will own ye; but ha!

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 imbrace: This is Sebastian, this Nicusa, Madam: Preserv'd by miracle: look up dear Sir, And know your own Rossella: 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. Seb. Though my miseries, And many years of wants I have endur'd, May well deprive me of the memory Of all joys past; yet looking on this building, This ruin'd building of a heavenly form In my Rosilla; I must remember, I am Sebastian. Ros. Oh my joyes! Seb. And here, I see a perfect model of thy self, 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 virtues Wind into her form, and make her a perfect dower: No part of thy sweet goodness wanting to her. I will not now Rosilla, ask thy fortunes, Nor trouble thee with hearing mine; Those shall hereafter serve to make glad hours In their relation: All past wrongs forgot; I'm glad to see you Gentlemen; but most, That [it] is in my power to save your lives; You say'd ours, when we were near starv'd at Sea, And I despair not, for if she be mine, Rosilla can deny Sebastian nothing. Ros. She does give up her self, Her power and joys, and all, to you, To be discharged of 'em as too burthensom; Welcome in any shape. Seb. Sir, in your looks, I read your sute 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. Oh 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 us'd with discretion. Cro. You are still no changling. Sebast. Nay, All look chearfully, for none shall be Deny'd their lawful wishes; when a while We have here refresh'd our selves; we'll return To our several homes; and well that voyage ends, That makes of deadly enemies, faithful friends. [Exeunt.