Part 5

_Tib._ Hast thou liv'd at Sea The most part of thy life, where to be sober While we have Wine aboard, is capital Treason; And dost thou preach sobriety?

_Mast._ Prethee forbear, We may offend in it; we know not for whom It was provided.

_Tib._ I am sure for me: therefore _footra_, When I am full, let 'em hang me, I care not.

_Enter_ Albert, Aminta, Raymond, Lamure, Morrillat, Franvile, _severally_.

_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.

_Enter_ Crocale.

_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._

_Enter_ Sebastian _and_ Nicusa.

_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._

_Enter severally_, Raymond, Albert, Aminta.

_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.

[_An Altar prepar'd._

_Enter_ Rossillia, Clarinda, Juletta, Hippolita, &c.

_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!

_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 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._

Wit at several weapons.

A COMEDY.

The Persons represented in the Play.

Sir Perfidious Oldcraft, _an old Knight, a great admirer of Wit_. Witty-pate Oldcraft, _his Fathers own Son_. Sir Gregory Fopp, _a witless Lord of Land_. Cunningham, _a discreet Gen. Sir_ Gregories _comrade and supplanter_. Sir Ruinous Gentry, _a decayed Knight_, } _Two sharking_ Priscian, _a poor Scholar_, } _companions_. Pompey Doodle, _a clown_, Sir Gregories _man, a piece of puff-paste, like his Master_. Mr. Credulous, _Nephew to Sir_ Perfidio[u]s, _a shallow-brain'd Scholar_.

WOMEN.

Neece _to Sir_ Perfidious, _a rich and witty Heir_. Lady Ruinous, _Wife to_ Sir Ruinous. Guardianess, _to_ Sir Perfidious _his Neece, an old doting Crone_. Mirabell, _the Guardianesses Neece_.

The Scene, London.

_Actus Primus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter Sir_ Perfidious Oldcraft _an old Knight, and_ Witty-pate _his Son_.

_Witty._ Sir, I'm no boy, I'm deep in one and twenty, The second years approaching.

_Old K._ A fine time For a youth to live by his wits then I should think, If e'er he mean to make account of any.

_Witty._ Wits, Sir?

_Old K._ I Wits Sir, if it be so strange to thee, I'm sorry I spent that time to get a Fool, I might have imploy'd my pains a great deal better; Thou knowst all that I have, I ha' got by my wits, And yet to see how urgent thou art too; It grieves me thou art so degenerate To trouble me for means, I never offer'd it My Parents from a School-boy, past nineteen once, See what these times are grown to, before twenty I rush'd into the world, which is indeed Much like the Art of swiming, he that will attain to't Must fall plump, and duck himself at first, And that will make him hardy and advent'rous, And not stand putting in one foot, and shiver, And then draw t'other after, like a quake-buttock; Well he may make a padler i'th' world, From hand to mouth, but never a brave Swimmer, Born up by th' chin, as I bore up my self, With my strong industry that never fail'd me; For he that lies born up with Patrimonies, Looks like a long great Ass that swims with bladders, Come but one prick of adverse fortune to him He sinks, because he never try'd to swim When Wit plaies with the billows that choak'd him.

_Witty._ Why is it not a fashion for a Father, Sir, Out of his yearly thousands to allow His only Son, a competent brace of hundreds; Or such a toy?

_Old K._ Yes, if he mean to spoil him, Or mar his wits he may, but never I, This is my humor, Sir, which you'll find constant; I love Wit so well, because I liv'd by't, That I'll give no man power out of my means to hurt it, And that's a kind of gratitude to my raiser, Which great ones oft forget; I admire much This Ages dulness, when I scarce writ man, The first degree that e'er I took in thriving, I lay intelligencer close for wenching, Could give this Lord or Knight a true Certificate Of all the Maiden-heads extant, how many lay 'Mongst Chambermaids, how many 'mongst Exchange [Wenches,] Though never many there I must confess They have a trick to utter Ware so fast; I knew which Lady had a mind to fall, Which Gentlewoman new divorc'd, which Tradesman breaking, The price of every sinner to a hair, And where to raise each price; which were the Tearmers, That would give Velvet Petticoats, Tissue Gowns, Which Pieces, Angels, Suppers, and Half Crowns; I knew how to match, and make my market. Could give intelligence where the Pox lay leidger, And then to see the Letchers shift a point, 'Twas sport and profit too; how they would shun Their ador'd Mistriss chambers, and run fearfully, Like Rats from burning houses, so brought I My Clyents[a] the game still safe together, And noble gamesters lov'd me, and I felt it. Give me a man that lives by his wits, say I, And's never left a Groat, there's the true Gallant. When I grew somewhat pursie, I grew then In mens opinions too, and confidences, They put things call'd Executorships upon me, The charge of Orphans, little sensless creatures, Whom in their Childhoods I bound forth to Felt-makers, To make 'em lose, and work away their Gentry, Disguise their tender natures with hard custom, So wrought 'em out in time, there I rise ungently, Nor do I fear to discourse this unto thee, I'm arm'd at all points against treachery, I hold my humor firm, if I can see thee thrive by Thy wits while I live, I shall have the more courage To trust thee with my Lands when I dye; if not, The next best wit I can hear of, carries 'em: For since in my time and knowledge, so many rich children Of the City, conclude in beggery, I'de rather Make a wise stranger my Executor, then a foolish Son my Heir, and to have my Lands call'd after my Wit, than after my name; and that's my nature.

_Witty._ 'Tis a strange harsh one, must I still shift then? I come brave Cheats, once to my trade agen. And I'll ply't harder now than e'er I did for't, You'll part with nothing then, Sir?

_Old K._ Not a jot, Sir.

_Witty._ If I should ask you blessing e'r I goe, Sir, I think you would not give't me.

_Old K._ Let me but hear thou liv'st by thy wits once Thou shalt have any thing, thou'rt none of mine else, Then why should I take care for thee?

_Witty._ 'Thank your bounty. [_Exit._

_Old K._ So wealth love me, and long life, I beseech it, As I do love the man that lives by his wits, He comes so near my nature; I'm grown old now, And even arriv'd at my last cheat I fear me, But 'twill make shift to bury me, by day-light too, And discharge all my Legacies, 'tis so wealthy, And never trouble any Interest money: I've yet a Neece to wed, over whose steps I have plac'd a trusty watchful Guardianess, For fear some poor Earl steal her, 't has been threat'ned, To redeem mortgag'd Land, but he shall miss on't; To prevent which, I have sought out a match for her, _Fop_ of _Fop-Hall_, he writes himself, I take it, The antient'st _Fop_ in _England_, with whom I've privately Compounded for the third part of her portion.

_Enter Sir_ Gregory Fop, _and_ Cuningham.

And she seems pleas'd, so two parts rest with me, He's come; Sir _Gregory_, welcome, what's he Sir?

_Sir Greg._ Young _Cuningam_, a _Norfolk_ Gentleman, One that has liv'd upon the _Fops_, my kindred, Ever since my remembrance; he's a wit indeed, And we all strive to have him, nay, 'tis certain Some of our name has gone to Law for him; Now 'tis my turn to keep him, and indeed He's plaguy chargeable, as all your wits are, But I will give him over when I list, I ha' us'd wits so before.

_Old K._ I hope when y'are married Sir, you'll shake him off.

_Sir Greg._ Why what do you take me to be, old Fatheri'Law that shall be, do you think I'll have any of the _Wits_ hang upon me, after I am married once? none of my kindred ever had before me; but where's this Neece? is't a fashion in _London_, to marry a woman and never see her?

_Old K._ Excuse the niceness, Sir, that care's your frien[d], Perhaps had she been seen, you had never seen her; There's many a _spent thing_ call'd, _and't like your honor_, That lies in wait for her, at first snap she's a Countess, Drawn with six Mares through _Fleetstreet_, and a Coachman, Sitting bare-headed to their _Flanders_ buttocks, This whets him on.

_Sir Greg._ Pray let's clap up the business, Sir, I long to see her, are you sure you have her, Is she not there already[?] Hark, oh hark.

_Old K._ How now, what's that Sir?

_Sir Greg._ Every Caroach goes by, Goes ev'n to th' heart of me.

_Old K._ I'll have that doubt eas'd, Sir, Instantly eas'd, Sir _Gregory_, and now I think on't A toy comes i' my mind, seeing your friend there, We'll have a little sport, give you but way to't, And put a trick upon her, I love Wit pretiously, You shall not be seen yet, we'll stale your friend first, If't please but him to stand for the Anti-mask.

_Sir Gr._ Puh, he shall stand for any thing, why his supper Lies i'my breeches here, I'll make him fast else.

_Old K._ Then come you forth more unexpectedly The Mask it self, a thousand a year joynture, The cloud, your frien[d] will be then drawn away, And only you the beauty of the Play.

_Sir Gr._ For Red and Black, I'll put down all your Fullers, Let but your Neece bring White, and we have three colours.

[_Exit Sir_ Greg.

_Old K._ I'm given to understand you are a _Wit_, Sir.

_Cuning._ I'm one that Fortune shews small favour to, Sir.

_Old K._ Why there you conclude it, whether you will or no, Sir; To tell you truth, I'm taken with a Wit.

_Cun._ Fowlers catch Woodcocks so, let not them know so much.

_Old K._ A pestilence mazard, a Duke _Humphrey_ spark Had rather lose his dinner than his jest, I say I love a Wit the best of all things.

_Cun._ Always except your self.

_Old K._ Has giv'n't me twice now.

_Enter Neece and Guardianess._

All with a breath, I thank him; but that I love a Wit I should be heartily angry; cuds, my Neece, You know the business with her.

_Cun._ With a Woman? 'Tis ev'n the very same it was I'm sure Five thousand years ago, no fool can miss it.

_Old K._ This is the Gentleman I promis'd Neece, To present to your affection.

_Cun._ ['W]are that Arrow.

_Old K._ Deliver me the truth now of your liking.

_Cun._ I'm spoil'd already, that such poor lean Game Should be found out as I am.

_Old K._ Go set to her Sir--ha, ha, ha.

_Cun._ How noble is this virtue in you, Lady, Your eye may seem to commit a thousand slaughters On your dull servants which truly tasted Conclude all in comforts.

_Old K._ Puh.

_Neece._ It rather shews what a true worth can make, Such as yours is.

_Old K._ And that's not worth a groat, How like you him Neece?

_Neece._ It shall appear how well, Sir, I humbly thank you for him.

_Old K._ Hah? ha, good gullery, he does it well i'faith, Light, as if he meant to purchase _Lip-land_ there: Hold, hold, bear off I say, slid your part hangs too long.

_Cun._ My joys are mockeries.

_Neece._ Y'have both exprest a worthy care and love, Sir, Had mine own eye been set at liberty, To make a publick choice (believe my truth, Sir) It could not ha' done better for my heart Than your good providence has.

_Old K._ You will say so then, Alas sweet Neece, all this is but the scabbard, Now I draw forth the weapon.

_Neece._ How?

_Old K._ Sir _Gregory_, Approach thou lad of thousands.

_Enter_ Sir Gregory.

_Sir Gr._ Who calls me?

_Neece._ What motion's this, the Model of _Ninivie_?

_Old K._ Accost her daintily now, let me advise thee.

_Sir Gr._ I was advis'd to bestow dainty cost on you.

_Neece._ You were ill advis'd, back, and take better counsel; You may have good for an Angel, the least cost You can bestow upon a woman, Sir Trebles ten Counsellors Fees in Lady-ware, Y'are over head and ears, e'r you be aware, Faith keep a batchelor still, and go to Bowls, Sir, Follow your Mistriss there, and prick and save, Sir; For other Mistresses will make you a slave, Sir.

_Sir Gr._ So, so, I have my lerrepoop already.

_Old K._ Why how now _Neece_, this is the man I tell you.

_Neece._ He, hang him, Sir, I know you do but mock, This is the man you would say.

_Old K._ The Devil rides I think.

_Cun._ I must use cunning here.