Chapter 5

_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._