Chapter 8

SCENE _drawn, discovers_ ISABINDA _bound.

Enter_ TOWERSON.

_Tow._ Sure I mistook the place; I'll wait no longer: Something within me does forebode me ill; I stumbled when I entered first this wood; My nostrils bled three drops; then stopped the blood, And not one more would follow.-- What's that, which seems to bear a mortal shape, [_Sees_ ISA. Yet neither stirs nor speaks? or, is it some Illusion of the night? some spectre, such As in these Asian parts more frequently appear? Whate'er it be, I'll venture to approach it. [_Goes near._ My Isabinda bound and gagged! Ye powers, I tremble while I free her, and scarce dare Restore her liberty of speech, for fear Of knowing more. [_Unbinds her, and ungags her._

_Isab._ No longer bridegroom thou, nor I a bride; Those names are vanished; love is now no more; Look on me as thou would'st on some foul leper; And do not touch me; I am all polluted, All shame, all o'er dishonour; fly my sight, And, for my sake, fly this detested isle, Where horrid ills so black and fatal dwell, As Indians could not guess, till Europe taught.

_Tow._ Speak plainer, I am recollected now: I know I am a man, the sport of fate; Yet, oh my better half, had heaven so pleased, I had been more content, to suffer in myself than thee!

_Isab._ What shall I say! That monster of a man, Harman,--now I have named him, think the rest,-- Alone, and singled like a timorous hind From the full herd, by flattery drew me first, Then forced me to an act, so base and brutal! Heaven knows my innocence: But, why do I Call that to witness! Heaven saw, stood silent: Not one flash of lightning Shot from the conscious firmament, to shew its justice: Oh had it struck us both, it had saved me!

_Tow._ Heaven suffered more in that, than you, or I, Wherefore have I been faithful to my trust, True to my love, and tender to the opprest? Am I condemned to be the second man, Who e'er complained he virtue served in vain? But dry your tears, these sufferings all are mine. Your breast is white, and cold as falling snow; You, still as fragrant as your eastern groves; And your whole frame as innocent, and holy, As if your being were all soul and spirit, Without the gross allay of flesh and blood. Come to my arms again!

_Isab._ O never, never! I am not worthy now; my soul indeed Is free from sin; but the foul speckled stains Are from my body ne'er to be washed out, But in my death. Kill me, my love, or I Must kill myself; else you may think I was A black adultress in my mind, and some Of me consented.

_Tow._ Your wish to die, shews you deserve to live. I have proclaimed you guiltless to myself. Self-homicide, which was, in heathens, honour, In us, is only sin.

_Isab._ I thought the Eternal Mind Had made us masters of these mortal frames; You told me, he had given us wills to chuse, And reason to direct us in our choice; If so, why should he tie us up from dying, When death's the greater good?

_Tow._ Can death, which is our greatest enemy, be good? Death is the dissolution of our nature; And nature therefore does abhor it most, Whose greatest law is--to preserve our beings.

_Isab._ I grant, it is its great and general law: But as kings, who are, or should be, above laws, Dispense with them when levelled at themselves; Even so may man, without offence to heaven, Dispense with what concerns himself alone. Nor is death in itself an ill; Then holy martyrs sinned, who ran uncalled To snatch their martyrdom; and blessed virgins, Whom you celebrate for voluntary death, To free themselves from that which I have suffered.

_Tow._ They did it, to prevent what might ensue; Your shame's already past.

_Isab._ It may return, If I am yet so mean to live a little longer.

_Tow._ You know not; heaven may give you succour yet; You see it sends me to you.

_Isab._ 'Tis too late, You should have come before.

_Tow._ You may live to see yourself revenged. Come, you shall stay for that, then I'll die with you, You have convinced my reason, nor am I Ashamed to learn from you. To heaven's tribunal my appeal I make; If as a governor he sets me here, To guard this weak-built citadel of life, When 'tis no longer to be held, I may With honour quit the fort. But first I'll both Revenge myself and you.

_Isab._ Alas! you cannot take revenge; your countrymen Are few, and those unarmed.

_Tow._ Though not on all the nation, as I would, Yet I at least can take it on the man.

_Isab._ Leave me to heaven's revenge, for thither I Will go, and plead, myself, my own just cause. There's not an injured saint of all my sex, But kindly will conduct me to my judge, And help me tell my story.

_Tow._ I'll send the offender first, though to that place He never can arrive: Ten thousand devils, Damned for less crimes than he, And Tarquin in their head, way-lay his soul, To pull him down in triumph, and to shew him In pomp among his countrymen; for sure Hell has its Netherlands, and its lowest country Must be their lot.

_Enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ FISCAL.

_Har. Jun._ 'Twas hereabout I left her tied. The rage of love renews again within me.

_Fisc._ She'll like the effects on't better now. By this time it has sunk into her imagination, and given her a more pleasing idea of the man, who offered her so sweet a violence.

_Isab._ Save me, sweet heaven! the monster comes again!

_Har. Jun._ Oh, here she is.--My own fair bride,--for so you are, not Towerson's,--let me unbind you; I expect that you should bind yourself about me now, and tie me in your arms.

_Tow._ [_Drawing._] No, villain, no! hot satyr of the woods, Expect another entertainment now. Behold revenge for injured chastity. This sword heaven draws against thee, And here has placed me like a fiery cherub, To guard this paradise from any second violation.

_Fisc._ We must dispatch him, sir, we have the odds; And when he's killed, leave me t'invent the excuse.

_Har. Jun._ Hold a little: As you shunned fighting formerly with me, so would I now with you. The mischiefs I have done are past recal. Yield then your useless right in her I love, since the possession is no longer yours; so is your honour safe, and so is hers, the husband only altered.

_Tow._ You trifle; there's no room for treaty here: The shame's too open, and the wrong too great. Now all the saints in heaven look down to see The justice I shall do, for 'tis their cause; And all the fiends below prepare thy tortures.

_Isab._ If Towerson would, think'st thou my soul so poor, To own thy sin, and make the base act mine, By chusing him who did it? Know, bad man, I'll die with him, but never live with thee.

_Tow._ Prepare; I shall suspect you stay for further help, And think not this enough.

_Fisc._ We are ready for you.

_Har. Jun._ Stand back! I'll fight with him alone.

_Fisc._ Thank you for that; so, if he kills you, I shall have him single upon me. [_All three fight._

_Isab._ Heaven assist my love!

_Har. Jun._ There, Englishman, 'twas meant well to thy heart. [TOWERSON _wounded._

_Fisc._ Oh you can bleed, I see, for all your cause.

_Tow._ Wounds but awaken English courage.

_Har. Jun._ Yet yield me Isabinda, and be safe.

_Tow._ I'll fight myself all scarlet over first; Were there no love, or no revenge, I could not now desist, in point of honour.

_Har. Jun._ Resolve me first one question: Did you not draw your sword this night before, To rescue one opprest with odds?

_Tow._ Yes, in this very wood: I bear a ring, The badge of gratitude from him I saved.

_Har. Jun._ This ring was mine; I should be loth to kill The frank redeemer of my life.

_Tow._ I quit that obligation. But we lose time. Come, ravisher! [_They fight again,_ TOW. _closes with_ HARM, _and gets him down; as he is going to kill him, the_ FISC. _gets over him._

_Fisc._ Hold, and let him rise; for if you kill him, At the same instant you die too.

_Tow._ Dog, do thy worst, for I would so be killed; I'll carry his soul captive with me into the other world. [_Stabs_ HARMAN.

_Har. Jun._ O mercy, mercy, heaven! [_Dies._

_Fisc._ Take this, then; in return. [_As he is going to stab him,_ ISAB. _takes hold of his hand._

_Isab._ Hold, hold; the weak may give some help.

_Tow._ [_Rising._] Now, sir, I am for you.

_Fisc._ [_Retiring._] Hold, sir, there is no more resistance made. I beg you, by the honour of your nation, Do not pursue my life; I tender you my sword. [_Holds his sword by the point to him._

_Tow._ Base beyond example of any country, but thy own!

_Isab._ Kill him, sweet love, or we shall both repent it.

_Fisc._ [_Kneeling to her._] Divinest beauty! Abstract of all that's excellent in woman, can you be friend to murder?

_Isab._ 'Tis none to kill a villain, and a Dutchman.

_Fisc._ [_Kneeling to_ TOWERSON.] Noble Englishman, give me my life, unworthy of your taking! By all that is good and holy here I swear, before the governor to plead your cause; and to declare his son's detested crime, so to secure your lives.

_Tow._ Rise, take thy life, though I can scarce believe thee; If for a coward it be possible, become an honest man.

_Enter_ HARMAN _Senior,_ VAN HERRING, BEAMONT, COLLINS, JULIA, _the Governors Guard._

_Fisc._ [_To_ HAR.] Oh, sir, you come in time to rescue me; The greatest villain, who this day draws breath, Stands here before your eyes: behold your son, That worthy, sweet, unfortunate young man, Lies there, the last cold breath yet hovering Betwixt his trembling lips.

_Tow._ Oh, monster of ingratitude!

_Har._ Oh, my unfortunate old age, whose prop And only staff is gone, dead ere I die! These should have been his tears, and I have been That body to be mourned.

_Beam._ I am so much amazed, I scarce believe my senses.

_Fisc._ And will you let him live, who did this act? Shall murder, and of your own son, And such a son, go free; He lives too long, By this one minute which he stays behind him.

_Isab._ Oh, sir, remember, in that place you hold, You are a common father to us all; We beg but justice of you; hearken first To my lamented story.

_Fisc._ First hear me, sir.

_Tow._ Thee, slave! thou livest but by the breath I gave thee. Didst thou but now plead on thy knees for life, And offer'dst to make known my innocence In Harman's injuries?

_Fisc._ I offered to have cleared thy innocence, Who basely murdered him!--But words are needless; Sir, you see evidence before your eyes, And I the witness, on my oath to heaven, How clear your son, how criminal this man.

_Col._ Towerson could do nothing but what was noble.

_Beam._ We know his native worth.

_Fisc._ His worth! Behold it on the murderer's hand; A robber first, he took degrees in mischief, And grew to what he is: Know you that diamond, And whose it was? See if he dares deny it.

_Tow._ Sir, it was your son's, that freely I acknowledge; But how I came by it--

_Har._ No, it is too much, I'll hear no more.

_Fisc._ The devil of jealousy, and that of avarice, both, I believe, possest him; or your son was innocently talking with his wife, and he perhaps had found them; this I guess, but saw it not, because I came too late. I only viewed the sweet youth just expiring, and Towerson stooping down to take the ring; she kneeling by to help him: when he saw me, he would, you may be sure, have sent me after, because I was a witness of the fact. This on my soul is true.

_Tow._ False as that soul, each word, each syllable; The ring he put upon my hand this night, When in this wood unknown, and near this place, Without my timely help he had been slain.

_Fisc._ See this unlikely story! What enemies had he, who should assault him? Or is it probable that very man, Who actually did kill him afterwards, Should save his life so little time before?

_Isab._ Base man, thou knowest the reason of his death; He had committed on my person, sir, An impious rape; first tied me to that tree, And there my husband found me, whose revenge Was such, as heaven and earth will justify.

_Har._ I know not what heaven will, but earth shall not.

_Beam._ Her story carries such a face of truth, Ye cannot but believe it.

_Col._ The other, a malicious ill-patched lie.

_Fisc._ Yes, you are proper judges of his crime, Who, with the rest of your accomplices, Your countrymen, and Towerson the chief, Whom we too kindly used, would have surprised The fort, and made us slaves; that shall be proved, More soon than you imagine; I found it out This evening.

_Tow._ Sure the devil has lent thee all his stock of falsehood, and must be forced hereafter to tell truth.

_Beam._ Sir, it is impossible you should believe it.

_Har._ Seize them all.

_Col._ You cannot be so base.

_Har._ I'll be so just, 'till I can hear your plea Against this plot; which if not proved, and fully, You are quit; mean time, resistance is but vain.

_Tow._ Provided that we may have equal hearing, I am content to yield, though I declare, You have no power to judge us. [_Gives his sword._

_Beam._ Barbarous, ungrateful Dutch!

_Har._ See them conveyed apart to several prisons, Lest they combine to forge some specious lie In their excuse. Let Towerson and that woman too be parted.

_Isab._ Was ever such a sad divorce made on a bridal night! But we before were parted, ne'er to meet. Farewell, farewell, my last and only love!

_Tow._ Curse on my fond credulity, to think There could be faith or honour in the Dutch!-- Farewell my Isabinda, and farewell, My much wronged countrymen! remember yet, That no unmanly weakness in your sufferings Disgrace the native honour of our isle: For you I mourn, grief for myself were vain; I have lost all, and now would lose my pain. [_Exeunt._