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A Happy, day to our Noble Governor.
Morrow Fiscal.
Did the last Ships which came from Holland to these parts, bring us no news of Moment?
Yes, the best that ever came into Amboyna, since we set footing here, I mean as to our interest.
I wonder much my Letters then, gave me so short accounts; they only said, The Orange Party was grown strong again, since Barnevelt had suffer'd.
Mine inform me farther, the price of Pepper, and of other Spices was rais'd of late in Europe.
I wish that news may hold; but much suspect it, while the English maintain their Factories among us in Am∣boyna, or in the neighboring Plantations of Seran.
Still I have news that tickles me within, ha, ha, ha. I faith it does, and will do you and all our Countreymen.
Prithee do not torture us, but tell it.
Whence comes this news?
From England.
Is their East-India Fleet bound outward for these parts, or cast away, or met at Sea by Pyrats?
Better, much better yet, ha, ha, ha.
Now am I famish'd for my part of the laughter.
Then my brave Governor, if you're a true Dutch∣man, I'le make your fat sides heave with the conceit on't, till you're blown like a pair of large Smiths Bellows, here look upon this Paper.
Harman reading. You may remember we did endamage the English East-India Company, the value of Five hundred thousand pounds, all in one year; a Treaty is now Sign'd, in which the business is tane up for fourscore thousand. This is news indeed; wou'd I were upon the Castle Wall, that I might throw my Cap into the Sea, and my Gold Chain after it, this is golden news, boys.
This is news wou'd kindle a thousand Bonfires, and make us piss 'em out again in Rhenish Wine.
Send presently to all our Factories, acquaint them with these blessed tidings: if we can scape to cheap, 'twill be no matter what villanies henceforth we put in practice.
Hum, why this now gives encouragement to a cer∣tain Plot, which I have long been brewing, against these Skellum English. I almost have it here in Pericranio, and 'tis a sound one faith, no less, then to cut all their Throats, and
seize all their Effects within this Island. I warrant you we may compound again.
Seizing their Factories, I like well enough, it has some Savour in't, but for this whorson cutting of Throats, it goes a little against the grain, because tis so Notoriously known in Christendom, that they have preserv'd ours from being cut by the Spaniards.
Hang 'em base English sterts, let 'em e'en take their part of their own old Proverb, save a Thief from the Gal∣lows; they wou'd needs protect us Rebels, and see what comes to themselves.
You're ith' right on't Noble Harman, their assistance, which was a Mercy, and a Providence to us, shall be a Judg∣ment upon them.
A little favor wou'd do well; though, not that I wou'd stop the Current of your Wit, or any other Plot to do them mischief, but they were first discoverers of this Isle, first Traded hither, and show'd us the way.
I grant you that, nay more, that by composition made after many long and tedious quarrels, they were to have a third part of the Traffick, we to build Forts, and they to contribute to the charge.
Which we have so increas'd each year upon 'em, we being in power, and therefore Judges of the Cost, that we exact what e're we please, still more then half the charge, and on pretence of their Non-payment, or the least delay, do often stop their Ships, detain their Goods, and drag 'em into Prisons, while our Commodities go on before, and still forestall their Markets.
These I confess are pretty tricks, but will not do our business, we must our selves be ruin'd at long run, if they have any Trade here; I know our charge at length will eat us out; I wou'd not let these English from this Isle, have Cloves enough to stick an Orange with, not one to throw into their bottle-Ale.
But to bring this about now, there's the cun∣ning.
Let me alone a while, I have it as I told you here;
mean time we must put on a feeming kindness, call 'em our Benefactors, and dear Brethren, pipe 'em within the danger of our Net, and then we'l draw it o're 'em: when they're in, no mercy, that's my maxime.
Nay, Brother, I am not too obstinate for saving English-men; 'twas but a qualme of conscience which profit will dispel: I have as true a Dutch Antipathy to England, as the proudest He in Amsterdam, that's a bold word now.
We are secure of our Superiors there; well, they may give the King of Great Brittain a Verbal satisfaction, and with submissive fawning promises, make show to punish us, but interest is their God as well as ours: to that Almighty, they will sacrifice a thousand English Lives, and break a hun∣dred thousand Oaths, e're they will punish those that make 'em rich, and pull their Rivals down.
Heard you those Guns?
Most plainly.
The sound comes from the Port, some Ship arriv'd salutes the Castle, and I hope, brings more good news from Holland.
Now they answer 'em from the Fortress.
Beamont and Collins, English Merchants both, per∣haps they'l certify us.
Captain Harman Van Spelt, good-day to you.
Dear, kind Mr. Beamont, a thousand and a thousand good days to you, and all our friends the English.
Came you from the Port, Gentlemen?
We did; and saw arrive, our honest, and our gallant Countreyman, brave Captain Gabriel Towerson.
Sent to these parts from our Employers of the East-India Company in England, as General of the Voyage.
Is the brave Towerson return'd?
The same, Sir.
He shall be nobly welcome. He has already spent
twelve years upon, or near these rich Molucca Isles, and home return'd with honor and great wealth.
The Devil give him joy of both, or I will for him.
He's my particular Friend, I liv'd with him, both at Ternate, Tydore, and at Seran.
Did he not leave a Mistress in these parts, a Native of this Iland of Amboyna?
He did, I think they call her Ysabinda, who receiv'd Baptism for his sake, before he hence departed.
'Tis much against the will of all her friends, she loves your Countryman, but they are not disposers of her person; she's beauteous, rich, and young, and Towerson well deserves her.
I think, without flattery to my friend, he does. Were I to chuse of all mankind, a Man, on whom I would relie for Faith and Counsel, or more, whose personal aid I wou'd invite, in any worthy cause to second me, it shou'd be only Gabriel Towerson; daring he is, and there to fortunate: yet soft and apt to pitty the distress'd, and liberal to relieve 'em: I have seen him not alone to pardon Foes, but by his bounty win 'em to his love: if he has any fault, 'tis only that, to which great minds can only subject be, he thinks all honest, 'cause himself is so, and therefore none suspects.
I like him well for that; this fault of his great mind, as Beamont calls it, may give him cause to wish he was more wary, when it shall be too late.
I was in some small hope, this Ship had been of our own Countrey, and brought back my son. For much about this season I expect him, good morrow Gentlemen, I go to fill a Brendice to my Noble Captains health, pray tell him so; the youth of our Amboyna, I'll send before to welcome him.
We'll stay, and meet him here.
I do not like these fleering Dutchmen, they over act their kindness.
I know not what to think of 'em, that old fat Go∣vernor Harman van Spelt, I have known long; they say he was a Cooper in his Countrey, and took the measure of his Hoops for Tuns, by his own Belly: I love him not, he makes a jest of men in misery; the first fat merry fool I ever knew that was ill natur'd.
He's absolutely govern'd by this Fiscal, who was as I have heard, an ignorant Advocate in Rotterdam, such as in England we call a Petty-fogging Rogue; one that knows no∣thing, but the worst part of the Law, its tricks and snares: I fear he hates us English mortally. Pray Heaven we feel not the effects on't.
Neither he, nor Harman, will dare to shew their malice to us, now Towerson is come. For though 'tis true, we have no Castle here, he has an aw upon 'em in his worth, which they both fear and reverence.
I wish it so may prove, my mind is a bad Prophet to me, and what it does forebode of ill, it seldom fails to pay me. Here a comes.
And in his company, young Harman, Son to our Dutch Governor, I wonder how they met.
Sir, you shall be obey'd.
I heartily rejoyce that our employers have chose you for this place, a better choice they never cou'd have made, or for themselves, or me.
This I am sure of, that our English Factories, in all these parts have wisht you long the man, and none cou'd be so welcome to their hearts.
And let me speak for my Countreymen the Dutch, I have heard my Father say, he's your sworn Bro∣ther:
And this late accident at Sea, when you reliev'd me from the Pirats, and brought my Ship in safety off, I hope will well secure you of our gratitude.
You over-rate a little courtesie: In your delive∣rance I did no more, then what I had my self from you ex∣pected: The common ties of our Religion, and those yet more particular of Peace, and strict Commerce, betwixt us and your Nation, exacted all I did, or could have done.
I'll leave you with your friends, my duty binds me to hasten to receive a Fathers blessing.
Y'are so much a friend, that I must tax you for being a slack lover. You have not yet enquir'd of Ysabinda.
No, I durst not, Friend, I durst not, I love too well and fear to know my doom; there's hope, in doubt, but yet I fixt my eyes on yours, I look'd with earnestness, and ask'd with them: If ought of ill had hapned, sure I had met it there; and since, methinks, I did not, I have now reco∣ver'd courage, and resolve to urge it from you.
Your Ysabinda then—
You have said all in that, my Ysabinda, if she still be so.
Enjoys as much of health, as fear for you, and sor∣row for your absence wou'd permit.
Heark, Musick I think approaching.
'Tis from our Factory; some sudden entertainment I believe design'd for your return.
You ne'er shall have occasion on my part: the like I promise for our Factories, while I continue here: This Ile yields Spice enough for both; and Europe, Ports, and Chap∣men, were to vend them.
It does, it does, we have enough, if we can be contented.
And Sir, why shou'd we not, what mean these end∣less jars of Trading Nations? 'tis true, the World was never large enough for Avarice or Ambition; but those who can be pleas'd with moderate gain, may have the ends of Nature, not to want: nay, even its Luxuries may be supply'd from her o'erflowing bounties in these parts: from whence she yearly sends Spices, and Gums, the Food of Heaven in Sacrifice. And besides these, her Gems of richest value, for Ornament, more then necessity.
You are ith' right, we must be very friends, I faith we must, I have an old Dutch heart, as true and trusty as your English Oke.
We never can forget the Patronage of your Elizabeth, of famous memory; when from the Yoke of Spain, and Alva's Pride, her potent Succors, and her well tim'd Bounty, freed us, and gave us credit in the World.
For this we only ask a fair Commerce and Friendli∣ness of Conversation here: and what our several Treaties bind us to, you shall, while Towerson lives, see so perform'd, as fits a Subject to an English King.
Now by my faith you ask too little friend, we must have more then bare Commerce betwixt us: receive me to your bosom, by this Beard I will never deceive you.
I do not like his Oath, there's treachery in that Iu∣das colour'd Beard.
Pray use me as your Servant.
And me too Captain.
I receive you both as Jewels, which I'le wear in ei∣ther Ear, and never part with you.
I cannot do enough for him to whom I owe my Son.
Nor I, till fortune send me such another brave occasion of fighting so for you.
Captain, very shortly, we must use your Head in a certain business, ha, ha, ha, my dear Captain.
We must use your Head indeed Sir.
Sir, Command me, and take it as a debt I owe your Love.
Talk not of Debt, for I must have your Heart.
Your Heart indeed, good Captain.
You are weary now I know, Sea beat, and wea∣ry, 'tis time we respite further Ceremony; besides, I see one coming, whom I know you long to embrace, and I shou'd be unkind to keep you from her Arms.
Do I hold my Love, do I embrace him, after a te∣dious absence of three years? are ye indeed return'd, are ye the same? do you still love your Ysabinda? speak before I ask you twenty questions more: for I have so much Love, and so much Joy: that if you do not love as well as I, I shall appear distracted.
We meet then both out of our selves, for I am no∣thing else, but Love and Joy; and to take care of my dis∣cretion now, wou'd make me much unworthy of that pas∣sion, to which you set no bounds.
How cou'd you be so long away?
How can you think I was: I still was here, still with you, never absent in my mind.
She's a most charming Creature, I wish I had not seen her.
Now I shall love your God, because I see that he takes care of Lovers: but my dear Englishman, I prithee let it be our last of absence, I cannot bear another parting from thee, nor promise thee to live three other years, if thou again goest hence.
I never will without you.
I said before, we shou'd but trouble ye.
You make me blush, but if you ever were a Lover, Sir, you will forgive a folly, which is sweet, though I con∣fess, 'tis much extravagant.
A has but too much cause for this excess of Joy, oh happy, happy Englishman, but I unfortunate.
Now when you please, lead on.
THis to me, from you, against your friend.
Have I not Eies, are you not fair? why does it seem so strange?
Come, 'tis a plot betwixt you: my Englishman is jea∣lous, and has sent you to try my faith, he might have spar'd the experiment after a three years absence; that was a proof sufficient of my constancy.
I heard him say he never had return'd, but that his Masters of the East-India Company, proffer'd him large con∣ditions.
You do belye him basely.
As much as I do you, in saying you are fair; or as I do my self, when I declare I dye for you.
If this be earnest, you've done a most unmanly and ungrateful part, to court the intended Wife of him, to whom you are most oblig'd.
Leave me to answer that: assure your self I love you violently, and if you are wise, you'l make some diffe∣rence 'twixt Towerson and me.
Yes, I shall make a difference, but not to your ad∣vantage.
You must, or falsify your knowledge; an English∣man, part Captain, and part Merchant; his Nation of decli∣ning interest here: consider this, and weigh against that fellow, not me, but any, the least and meanest Dutchman in this Isle.
I do not weigh by bulk: I know your Countrey∣men have the advantage there.
Hold back your hand, from firming of your faith; you'l thank me in a little time, for staying you so kindly from embarking in his ruine.
His fortune is not so contemptible as you'd make it seem.
Wait but one month for the event.
I will not wait one day, though I were sure to sink with him the next: so well I love my Towerson, I will not lose another Sun, for fear a shou'd not rise to morrow. For your self, pray rest assur'd, of all Mankind, you shou'd not be my choice, after an act of such ingratitude.
You may repent your scorn at leisure.
Never, unless I married you.
Now my dear Ysabinda, I dare pronounce my self most happy: since I have gain'd your Kindred, all difficulties cease.
I wish we find it so.
Why, is ought happen'd since I saw you last? me∣thinks a sadness dwells upon your Brow, like that I saw be∣fore my last long absence. You do not speak: my friend dumb too? Nay then I fear some more then ordinary cause produces this.
You have no reason Towerson to be sad, you are the happy man.
If I have any, you must needs have some.
No, you are lov'd, and I am bid despair.
Time, and your Services, will perhaps, make you as happy as I am in my Ysabinda's love.
I thought I spoke so plain, I might be understood; but since I did not, I must tell you Towerson, I wear the Ti∣tle of your friend no longer, because I am your Rival.
Is this true Ysabinda?
I shou'd not, I confess, have told you first, because I wou'd not give you that disquiet; but since he has, it is too sad a truth.
Leave us my Dear a little to our selves.
I fear you'l quarrel, for he seem'd incens'd, and threatened you with ruine.
'Tis to prevent an ill, which may be fatal to us both, that I wou'd speak with him.
Swear to me by your Love you will not fight.
Fear not my Ysabinda; things are not grown to that extremity.
I leave you, but I doubt the consequence.
I want a name to call you by, Friend, you declare you are not, and to Rival, I am not yet enough accustom'd.
Now I consider on't, it shall be yet in your free
choice, to call me, one or other; for, Towerson, I do not decline your Friendship, but then yield Ysabinda to me.
Yield Ysabinda to you?
Yes, and preserve the Blessing of my Friendship; I'le make my Father yours, your Factories shall be no more opprest, but thrive in all advantages with ours; your gain shall be beyond what you cou'd hope for from the Treaty: in all the Traffick of these Eastern parts, ye shall—
Hold, you mistake me Harman, I never gave you just occasion to think I wou'd make Merchandise of Love; Ysabinda you know is mine, contracted to me e're I went for England and must be so till death.
She must not Towerson; you know you are not stron∣gest in these parts, and 'twill be ill contesting with your Masters.
Our Masters? Harman you durst not once have nam'd that Word in any part of Europe.
Here I both dare and Will, you ha'no Castles in Am∣boyna.
Though we have not, we yet have English Hearts and Courages, not to endure Affronts.
They may be try'd.
Your Father sure will not maintain you in this In∣solence, I know he is too honest.
Assure your self, he will Espouse my Quarrel.
We wou'd complain to England.
Your Countrey Men have try'd that course so often, methinks they should grow wiser, and desist: but now there is no need of troubling any others but our selves; the sum of all is this, you either must Resign me Ysabinda, or instant∣ly resolve, to clear your Title to her by your Sword.
I will do neither now.
Then I'le believe you dare not fight me fairly.
You know I durst have fought, though I am not vain enough to boast it, nor wou'd upbraid you with re∣membrance of it.
You destroy your benefit with Rehearsal of it, but that was in a Ship, back'd by your Men, single Duel is a fairer Tryal of your courage.
I'm not to be provok'd out of my temper: here I am a Publick Person, intrusted by my King and my Em∣ployers, and shou'd I kill you Harman,—
Oh never think you can, Sir.
I shou'd betray my Countreymen to suffer not on∣ly worse Indignities, then those they have already born, but for ought I know, might give 'em up to general Impri∣sonment, perhaps betray them to a Massacre.
These are but pitiful and weak excuses, I'le force you to confess you dare not fight, you shall ha' provoca∣tions.
I will not stay to take 'em: Only this before I go, if you are truly Gallant, insult not where you have power, but keep your Quarrel secret, we may have time and place out of this Island: mean while, I go to Marry Isabinda, that you shall see I dare: No more, follow me not an Inch be∣yond this place no not an Inch, adieu.
Thou goest to thy Grave, or I to mine.
Whither so fast Min Heer?
After that English Dog, whom I believe you saw.
Whom, Towerson?
Yes, let me go, I'le have his blood.
Let me advise you first, you young Men are so vio∣lently hot.
I say I'le have his Blood.
To have his Blood is not amiss, so far I go with you, but take me with you further for the means: first what's the injury?
Not to detain you with a tedious Story, I love his Mistriss, Courted her, was sleighted; into the heat of this he came, I offer'd him the best Advantages, he cou'd or to himself propose, or to his Nation, would he quit her Love.
So far you are prudent, for she's exceeding rich.
He refus'd all, then I threaten'd him with my Fathers power.
That was unwisely done; your Father, underhand, may do a mischief, but 'tis too gross above board.
At last, nought else prevailing, I defy'd him to single Duel, this he refus'd, and I believe twas fear.
No, no, mistake him not, 'tis a stout Whorson, you did ill to press him, 'twill not sound well in Europe, He be∣ing here a publick Minister; having no means of scaping shou'd he kill you, besides exposing all his Countrymen to a Revenge.
That's all one, I'm resolv'd I will pursue my course and Fight him.
Pursue your end, that's to enjoy the Woman, and her Wealth; I wou'd, like you, have Towerson dispatch'd; for as I am a true Dutchman, I do hate him, but I wou'd convey him smoothly out of the World, and without noise; they'le say we are Ingrateful else, in England, and barbarously cruel; now I could swallow down the thing Ingratitude, and the thing Murder, but the Names are odious.
What wou'd you have me do then?
Let him enjoy his Love a little while, twill break no squares, in the long run of a mans life; you shall have enough of her, and in convenient time.
I cannot bear he shou'd enjoy her first; no, tis de∣termin'd; I will kill him bravely.
I, a right young Man's bravery, that's Folly: Let me alone, something I'le put in practice, to rid you of this Rival e're he Marries, without your once appearing in it.
If I durst trust you now?
If you believe that I have Wit, or Love you.
Well Sir, you have prevail'd; be speedy; for once I will rely on you; farewell:
This hopeful business will be quickly spoil'd, if I not take exceeding care of it.
Stay, —Towerson to be kill'd and privately, that must be laid down as the groundwork, for stronger reasons then
a young Man's Passion, but who shall do't, no English Man will, and much I fear, no Dutchman dares attempt it.
Well said, I faith old Devil let thee alone, when once a Man is plotting Villany, to find him a fit Instrument.
This Spanish Captain, who commands our Slaves, is bold enough, and is beside in want, and proud enough to think he merits Wealth.
This Fiscal loves my Wife, I'm jealous of him, and yet must speak him fair to get my Pay; Oh, there's the Devil for a Castilian, to stoop to one of his own Masters Re∣bels who has, or who designs to Cuckold him.
I've been a better Friend to you, then perhaps you think Captain.
I fear you have indeed.
And faithfully sollicited your business; send but your Wife to morrow Morning early, the Money shall be ready.
What if I come my self.
Why ye may have it if you come your self Captain, but in case your occasions shou'd call you any other way, you dare trust her to receive it.
She has no skill in Money.
It shall be told into her hand, or given her upon ho∣nour, in a lump; but Captain, you were saying you did want, now I shou'd think three hundred Dobloons wou'd do you no great harm, they'le serve to make you Merry on the Watch.
Must they be told into my Wife's hand too?
No, those you may receive you self, if you dare Merit 'em.
I am a Spaniard Sir, that implies Honour: I dare all that is possible.
Then you dare Kill a Man.
So it be fairly.
But what if he will not be so civil to be kill'd that way? He's a sturdy Fellow, I know you stout, and do not question your Valor; but I wou'd make sure work, and not endanger you who are my Friend.
I fear the Governor will Execute me.
The Governor will thank you: 'tis he shall be your Pay-Master; you shall have your Pardon drawn up before hand, and remember, no transitory Sum, three hundred Quadruples in your own Countrey Gold.
Well, name your Man.
Your Wife comes, take it in whisper.
Yonder's my Master, and my Dutch Servant, how lovingly they talk in private; if I did not know my Don's temper to be monstrously jealous, I shou'd think, they were driving a secret Bargain for my Body; but Cuerno is not to be digested by my Castilian. Mi Mohen, my Wife and my Mistriss, a laies the Emphasis on me, as if to Cuckold him were a worse sin, then breaking the Commandment. If my English Lover Beamont, my Dutch Love the Fiscall, and my Spanish Husband, were Painted in a piece with me amongst 'em, they wou'd make a Pretty Emblem of the two Nati∣ons, that Cuckold his Catholick Majesty in his Indi's.
You'l undertake it then?
I have served under Towerson as his Lieutenant, serv'd him well, and though I say't, bravely, yet ne're have been rewarded, though he promis'd largely; 'tis resolv'd, I'le do't.
And swear secresie.
By this Beard.
Go wait upon the Governor from me, confer with him about it in my name, this Seal will give you credit.
I go.
What shall I be, before I come again?
Now my fair Mistriss we shall have the opportunity which I have long desir'd.
The Governor is now a sleeping, this is his hour of afternoons repose, I'le go when he's awake.
He slept early this afternoon, I left him newly wak'd.
Well, I go then, but with an aking heart
So, at length he's gone.
But you may find a was jealous by his delay.
If I were as you, I wou'd give evident proofs, shou'd cure him of that disease for ever after.
I have consider'd on't, and if you wou'd go along with me to the Governor, it wou'd do much better.
No, no, that wou'd make the matter more suspicious. The Devil take thee for an impertinent Cuckold.
Well I must go then.
Nay there was never the like of him, but it sha'n't serve his turn, we'l Cuckold him most furiously.
I had forgot one thing, dear sweet heart go home quickly, and oversee our business, it won't go forward with∣out one of us.
I warrant you, take no care of your business, leave it to me, I'le put it forward in your absence, go go, you'l lose your oppportunity; I'le be at home before you, and sup with you to night.
You shall be welcome, but—
Three hundred Quadruples.
That's true but —
But three hundred Quadruples.
The Devil take the Quadruples.
Ther's my Cuckold that must be, and my fellow swager the Dutchman, with my Mistriss, my Nose is wip'd to day, I must retire for the Spaniard is jealous of me.
Oh Mr. Beamont, I'm to ask a favor of you.
This is unusual, pray command it Sennor.
I am going upon urgent business, pray sup with me to night, and in the mean time, bear my worthy friend here company.
With all my heart.
So, now I am secure; though I dare not trust her with one of 'em, I may with both; they'l hinder one ano∣ther, and preserve my honour into the bargain. Now for my Dobloons.
Now Mr. Fiscall, you are the happy Man with the Ladies, and have got the precedence of Traffick here too; you've the Indie's in your Arms, yet I hope a poor English Man may come in for a third part of the Merchandise.
Oh Sir, in these Commodities here's enough for both, here's Mace for you, and Nutmegg for me in the same Fruit; and yet the owner has to spare for other friends too.
My Husbands Plantation's like to thrive well be∣twixt you.
Horn him, he deserves not so much happiness as he enjoyes in you; he's jealous.
'Tis no wonder if a Spaniard looks yellow.
Betwixt you and me; 'tis a little kind of venture, that we make in doing this Dons drudgery for him; for the whole Nation of 'em is generally so Pocky, that 'tis no lon∣ger a Disease, but a second nature in 'em.
I have heard indeed, that 'tis incorporated among 'em, as deeply as the Moors and Jews are, there's scarce a Family, but 'tis crept into their blood like the new Christi∣ans.
Come I'le have no whispering betwixt you, I know you were talking of my Husband, because my Nose itches.
Faith Madam, I was speaking in favor of your Na∣tion: what pleasant lives I have known Spaniards to live in England.
If you love me, let me hear a little.
We observ'd 'em to have much of the nature of our Flies, they buz'd abroad a Month or two i'th' Summer, wou'd venture about Dog dayes to take the Air in the Park, but all the Winter slept like Dormice, and if ever they appear'd in publick after Michaelmass, their Faces shew'd the diffe∣rence betwixt their Countrey and ours, for they look in Spain as if they were Roasted, and in England as if they were Sodden.
I'le not believe your description.
Yet our observations of 'em in Holland, are not much unlike it; I've known a great Don at the Hague, with the Gentleman of his Horse, his Major Domo, and two Secre∣taryes, all Dine at four several Tables, on the Quarters of a single Pullet: the Victuals of the under Servants were weigh'd out in ounces, by the Don himself; with so much Gar∣like in the other Scale: a thin slice of Bacon, went through the Family a week together: for it was daily put into the Pot for Pottage; was serv'd in the midst of the Dish at Din∣ners, and taken out and weigh'd by the Steward, at the end of every Meal, to see how much it lost; till at length, look∣ing at it against the Sun, it appear'd transparent, and then he wou'd have whip'd it up, as his own Fees, at a Morsel; but that his Lord bar'd the Dice, and reckon'd it to him for a part of his Board Wages.
In few words Madam, the general Notion we had of 'em, was, that they were very frugal of their Spanish Coyn, and very liberal of their Neapolitane.
I see Gentlemen, you are in the way of Rallying; therefore let me be no hinderance to your sport; do as much for one another, as you have done for our Nation.
Pray Min Heer Fiscal, what think you of the English.
Oh, I have an Honour for the Countrey.
I beseech you leave your ceremony, we can hear of our faults without choller, therefore speak of us with a true Amsterdam spirit, and do not spare us.
Since you command me, Sir, 'tis said of you, I know not how truly, that for your Fishery at home, you'r like Dogs in the Manger, you will neither manage it your selves, nor permit your neighbors; so that for your Soveraignty of the Narrow Seas, if the Inhabitants of 'em, the Herrings, were capable of being Judges, they wou'd certainly award it to the English, because they were then sure to live undisturb'd, and quiet under you.
Very good, proceed, Sir.
'Tis true, you gave us aid in our time of need, but you paid your selves with our Cautionary Towns: and that you have since deliver'd them up, we can never give suffi∣cient commendation, either to your Honesty, or to your Wit; For both which qualities, you have purchas'd such an immortal Fame, that all Nations are instructed, how to deal with you another time.
A most grateful acknowledgment, sweet Sir, go on.
For your Trade abroad, if you shou'd obtain it, you are so horribly expensive, that you wou'd undo your selves and all Christendome: for you wou'd sink under your very profit, and the gains of the Universal World wou'd beggar you: you devour a Voyage to the Indi's, by the Multitude of Mouths with which you Man your Vessels: providence has contriv'd it well, that the Indi's are Manag'd by us, an Industrious and frugal people, who distribute its Merchan∣dise to the rest of Europe, and suffer it not to be consum'd in England, that the other members might be starv'd, while you of Great Brittaine, as you call it, like a Rickety head, wou'd only swell and grow bigger by it.
I have heard enough of England; have you nothing to return upon the Neatherlands?
Faith very little, to any purpose; he has been before hand with us, as his Countrey-men are in their Trade, and taken up so many vices for the use of England, that a has left almost none for the Low Countreys.
Come a word however.
In the first place you shew'd your ambition, when you began to be a State: for not being Gentlemen, you have stollen the Arms of the best Families of Europe; and want∣ing a name, you made bold with the first of the divine At∣tributes; and call'd your selves the HIGH and MIGHTY: though, let me tell you, that, besides the Blasphemy, the Title is ridiculous; for HIGH is no more proper for the Neatherlands then MIGHTY is for seven little rascally Pro∣vinces, no bigger in all than a Shire in England. For my main Theam, your Ingratitude, you have in part acknow∣ledg'd it, by your laughing at our easy delivery of your Cautionary Towns: the best is, we are us'd by you, as well as your own Princes of the House of Orange, We and They have set you up, and you undermine their Power, and cir∣cumvent our Trade.
And good reason, if our interest requires it.
That leads me to your Religion, which is only made up of Interest: at home, ye tolerate all Worships, in them who can pay for it; and abroad, you were lately so civil to the Emperor of Pegu, as to do open sacrifice to his Idols.
Yes, and by the same token you English were such precise fools as to refuse it.
For frugality in Trading, we confess we cannot com∣pare with you; for our Merchants live like Noblemen: your Gentlemen, if you have any, live like Bores; you traffick for all the rarities of the World, and dare use none of 'em your selves; so that in effect, you are the Mill Horses of Mankind, that labor only for the wretched Provender you eat: a pot of Butter and a pickl'd Herring is all your Riches; and in short, you have a good Title to cheat all Europe, because in the first place, you cosen your own Backs and Bellies.
We may enjoy more when e're we please.
Your liberty is a grosser cheat then any of the rest; for you are ten times more Tax'd, then any People in Chri∣stendom: you never keep any League with Forreign Princes: you flatter our Kings, and ruine their Subjects: you never de∣ny'd
us satisfaction at home for injuries, nor ever gave it us abroad.
You must make your selves more fear'd when you ex∣pect it
And I prophesie that time will come, when some generous Monarch of our Island, will undertake our quarrel, reassume the Fishery of our Seas▪ and make them as conside∣rable to the English as the Indies are to you.
Before that comes to pass, you may repent your over lavish tongue.
I was no more in earnest then you were.
Pray let this go no further, my Husband has invited both to supper.
If you please, I'le fall to before he comes, or at least while he is conferring in private with the Fiscal.
TRue, the Reward propos'd is great enough, I want it too, besides this Englishman has never paid me, since, as his Lieutenant, I serv'd him once against the Turk at Sea, yet he confess'd I did my duty well, when twice I clear'd our Decks; he has long promis'd me, but what are promises to starving Men, this is his House, he may walk out this morning.
These belong to him, I'le hide till they are past.
He sleeps soundly for a Man who is to be marry'd when he wakes.
He do's well to take his time, for he do's not know when he's Marry'd, whether ever he shall have a sound sleep again.
He bid we shou'd not wake him, but some of us in good manners shou'd have stayd, and not have left him quite alone.
In good maners, I shou'd indeed, but I'le venture a Masters anger at any time for a Mistriss, and that's my case at present.
I'le tempt as great a danger as that comes to, for good old English fellowship; I am invited to a mornings draught.
Good morrow Brother, good morrow; by that time you have fill'd your Belly, and I have emptied mine, it will be time to meet at home again.
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 before hand; up Perez, rouze thy Spanish courage up, if he shou'd wake, I think I dare attempt him, then my revenge is nobler, and revenge, to injur'd Men is full as sweet as profit.
Asleep as I imagin'd, and as fast, as all the Plum∣mets of eternal night were hung upon his Temples: oh that some courteous Daemon in the other world, wou'd let him know, 'twas Perez sent him thither: a Paper by him too, he
little thinks it is his Testament, the last he e're shall make: I'le read it first.
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'le read it.
Memorandum, That my first action this morning shall be to find out my true and valiant Lieutenant, Captain Perez, and as a te∣stimony of my gratitude for his honourable Service 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 then damn'd; Heav'n took more care of me, then I of him, to ex∣pose this paper to my timely view. Sleep on thou Honoura∣ble Englishman, I'le sooner now, pierce my own breast then thine; see, he smiles too in his slumber, as if his Guardian Angel in a dream, told him, he was secure; I'le give him warning, though to prevent danger from another hand.
I have o'reslept my hour this morning, if to enjoy a pleasing dream, can be to sleep too long: me thought my dear Ysabinda and my self, were lying in an Arbor, wreath'd about with Myrtle and with Cypress; my Rival Harman re∣concil'd again to his friendship, strew'd us with Flowers, and put on each a Crimson colour'd Garment, in which we straight way mounted to the Skies, and with us, many of my English friends, all clad in the same Robes: if dreams have any mean∣ing, sure this portends some good — What's that I see, a Dagger stuck into the paper of my Memorials? and writ below, Thy Vertue sav'd thy life; it seems some one has been within my chamber whilst I slept; something of conse∣quence hangs upon this accident: what ho, who waits without—None answer me: are ye all dead?—what ho!—
How is it friend: I thought entring your House, I heard you call.
I did, but as it seems without effect, none of my Servants are within reach of my voice.
You seem amaz'd at somewhat!
A little discompos'd:—read that, and see if I have no occasion, that Dagger was stuck there, by him who writ it.
I must confess you have too just a cause: I am my self surpriz'd at an event so strange.
I know not who can be my Enemy within this Island, except my Rival Harman, and for him, I truly did re∣late, what pass'd betwixt us yesterday.
You bore your self 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 forc'd to decline fight∣ing, shew'd how much you did despise the Man who sought the quarrel: 'twas base in him, so back'd as he is here, to of∣fer it, much more to press you to it.
I may find a foot of ground in Europe, to tell the insulting Youth, he better had provok'd some other Man, but sure I cannot think 'twas he, who left that Dag∣ger there.
No, for it seems too great a Nobleness of Spirit, for one like him to practice: 'twas certainly an Enemy, who came to take your sleeping life; but thus to leave unfinish'd the designe, proclaims the act, No Dutchman.
That, time will best discover, I'le think no further of it.
I confess you have more pleasing thoughts to em∣ploy your mind at present; I left your Bride just ready for the Temple, and came to call you to her.
I'le straight attend you thither.
Remember, Sir, what I advis'd you; you must seem∣ingly make up the business.
I warrant you. What my brave bonny Bridegroom, not yet drest, you are a lazy Lover, I must chide you.
I was just preparing.
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.
I have some reasons, why I must refuse the Honor you intend me.
You must have none; what my old friend steal a Wedding from me? In troth you wrong our friendship.
Once more I beg your pardon, Sir.
Come, come, I know your reason of refusal, but it must not prevail; My Son has been to blame, I'le not main∣tain him in the least neglect, which he shou'd show to any En∣glishman, much less to you, the best, and most esteem'd of all my friends.
I shou'd be willing, Sir, to think it was a young Mans rashness, or perhaps the Rage of a successless Rival, yet he might have spar'd some words.
Friend, he shall ask your pardon, or I'le no longer own him; what, ungrateful to a Man, whose Valour has pre∣serv'd him? he shall do't, he shall indeed, I'le make you friends upon your own conditions, he's at the door, pray let him be admitted: this is a day of general Iubilee.
You Command here, you know Sir.
I'le call him in, I am sure he will be proud at any rate to redeem your kind opinion of him.
Sir, my Father, I hope, has in part satisfy'd you, that what I spoke, was only an effect of sudden passion, of which I am now asham'd, and desire it may be no longer lodg'd in your remembrance, then it is now in my intention to do you any injury.
Your Father may Command me to more difficult employments, then to receive the friendship of a Man, of whom I did not willingly embrace an ill opinion.
Nothing hence-forward, shall have power to take from me that happiness, in which you are so generously pleas'd to reinstate me.
Why this is as it shou'd be, trust me I weep for joy.
Towerson is easy, and too credulous. I fear 'tis all dis∣sembl'd on their parts.
Now set we forward to the Castle, the Bride is there before us.
Sir, I wait you.
Now Captain, when perform you what you pro∣mis'd concerning Towerson's death?
Never—There Iudas, take your hire of blood a∣gain.
Your reason for this suddain change.
I cannot own the name of Man and do't
Your Head shall answer the neglect of what you were Commanded.
If it must, I cannot shun my destiny.
Harman, you are too rash, pray hear his reasons first.
I have 'em to my self, I'le give you none.
None, that's hard; well, you can be secret Captain, for your own sake I hope.
That I have sworn already, my oath binds me.
That's enough: we have now chang'd our minds, and do not wish his death, at least as you shall know.
I am glad on't, for he's a brave and worthy Gentle∣man, I wou'd not for the wealth of both the Indies, have had his Blood upon my Soul to answer.
Captain, a reward attend you greater then you cou'd hope, we only meant to try your honesty. I am more then satisfy'd of your reasons.
I still shall labour to deserve your kindness in any honourable way.
I told you that this Spaniard had not courage enough for such an enterprize.
He rather had too much of honesty.
Oh you have ruin'd me, you promis'd me this day, the death of Towerson, and now instead of that, I see him hap∣py; I'le go and fight him yet, I swear he never shall enjoy her.
He sha'nnot, that I swear with you, but you are too rash; the business never can be done your way.
I'le trust no other Arm but my own in it.
Yes, mine you shall, I'le help you, this evening as he goes from the Castle, we'l find some way to meet him in the dark, and then make sure of him for getting Maidenheads to night; to morrow I'le bestow a Pill upon my Spanish Don, least he discover what he knows.
Give me your Hand, you'l help me.
By all my hopes, I will: in the mean time, with a fain'd Mirth, 'tis fit we guild our Faces; the troth is, that we may smile in earnest, when we look upon the Englishman, and think how we will use him.
Agreed, come to the Castle.
I like this Song, 'twas sprightly, it wou'd re∣store me twenty years of Youth, had I but such a Bride.
Come let me have the Sea fight, I like that better, then a thousand of your wanton Epithalamiums.
He means that Fight in which he freed me from the Pirats.
Prithee Friend oblige me, and call not for that Song, 'twill breed ill blood.
Prithee be not scrupulous, ye fought it bravely. Young Harman is ungrateful if he do's not acknowledge it. I say, sing me the Sea Fight.
The Sea Fight.
WHo ever saw a noble sight, That never view'd a brave Sea Fight: Hang up your bloody Colours in the Aire, Vp with your Fights and your Nettings prepare, Your Merry Mates chear, 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 Gunroom grows hot, Plie it with Culverin and with small shot; Heark do's it not Thunder, no 'tis the Guns roar, The Neighbouring Billows are turn'd into Gore, Now each man must resolve to dye, For here the Coward cannot flye.
Drums and Trumpets toll the Knell, And Culverins the Passing Bell. Now now they Grapple, and now board a Main, Blow up the Hatches, they're off all again: Give 'em a broadside, the Dice run at all, Down comes the Mast and Yard, and tacklings fall, She grows giddy now like blind fortunes 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.
See the Insolence of these English, they cannot do a brave Action in an Age, but presently they must put it into Meter, to upbraid us with their benefits.
Let e'm laugh that win at last.
Captain Middleton, you are arriv'd in a good hour, to be partaker of my happiness, which is as great this day, as Love and Expectation can make it.
And may it long continue so.
But how happens it that setting out with us from England, you came not sooner hither?
It seems the Winds favour'd you with a quicker pas∣sage: you know I lost you in a Storm on t'other side the Cape, with which disabl'd, I was forc'd to put into St. Hellens Isle, there 'twas my Fortune to preserve the life of this our Coun∣try Woman, the rest let her relate.
Alass, she seems half starv'd, unfit to make relati∣ons.
How the Devil came she off, I know her but too well, and fear she knows me too.
Pray Country Woman speak.
Then thus in brief; In my dear Husbands Company, I parted, from our sweet Native Isle: we to Lan∣tore were bound, with Letters from the States of Holland, gain'd for reparation of great dammages, sustain'd by us; when by the insulting Dutch, our Countreymen, against all show of Right, were dispossest, and Naked sent away from that rich Island, and from Poleroon.
Woman, you speak with too much spleen, I must not hear my Countreymen affronted.
I wish they did not merit much worse of me then I can say of them: well we sayl'd forward with a Merry Gale, till near St. Hellens Isle we were o'retaken, or rather way-lay'd 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 Hail'd, and then Invited us on Board, keeping himself conceal'd; his base Lieutenant ply'd all our English Mari∣ners with Wine, and when in dead of night they lay secure in silent sleep; most barbarously commanded, they shou'd be thrown o're board.
Sir, do not hear it out.
This is all false and scandalous.
Pray Sir, attend the Story.
The Vessel Rifl'd, and the rich Hould rum∣mag'd, they sink it down to rights; but first I shou'd have told you, (Grief alass has spoyl'd my Memory) that my dear Husband waken'd at the Noise before they reach'd the Cabin where we lay, took me all trembling with the sud∣dain 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 scap'd we in the dark. To sum up all, we got to shore, and in the Mountains hid us, untill the barbarous Hollanders were gone.
Where is your Husband, Country woman.
Dead with grief; with these two hands I scratch'd him out a Grave; on which I plac'd a Cross, and every day wept o're 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 rind of half ripe Lemmons, almost my only food, except some Roots; my House the Widdow'd Cave of some wild Beast: in this sad State, I stood upon the Shore, when this brave Captain with his Ship approach'd, whence holding up and waving both my hands, I stood, and by my Actions begg'd their Mercy, yet when they neerer came, I wou'd a fled, had I been able, least they shou'd have prov'd those Murderous Dutch, I more then Hunger fear'd.
What say you to this accusation Van Herring?
'Tis as you said Sir, false and scandalous.
I told you so; all false and scandalous.
On my soul it is not: her Heart speaks in her Tongue, and were she silent, her Habit and her Face speak for her.
Sir, you have heard the proofs,
Meer Allegations and no Proofs: seem not to be∣lieve it Sir.
Well, well, wee'l hear it another time.
You seem not to believe her Testimony, but my whole Crew can witness it.
Ay, they are all English men.
That's a Nation too gen'rous to do bad Actions, and too sincere to justifie e'm done; I wish their Neighbors were of the same temper.
Nay now you kindle Captain, this must not be, we are your Friends and Servants.
'Tis well you are by Land, at Sea you wou'd be Masters; there I my self have met with some Affronts, which though I wanted power then to return, I hail'd the Captain of the Holland Ship, and told him he should dearly answer it, if e're 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) wou'd answer it when I came into Holland.
Yes, this is like the other.
I find we must complain at home, there's no re∣dress to be had here.
Come Country woman, 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 Cloaths shall Ha∣bit you, even these I wear, rather then see you thus.
Come, come, no more complaints let us go in: I have ten Romers ready to the Bride; as many times shall all our Guns discharge, to speak the general gladness of this day. I'le lead you Lady.
WE are disguis'd enough; the evening now grows dusk, I wou'd the deed were done.
'Twill now be suddainly, if we have courage; in this wild woody Walk, hot with the Feast, and plenteous Bowls, the Bridal company are walking to enjoy the cooling breeze; I spoke to Towerson as I said I would, and on some private busi∣ness of great moment, desir'd, that he wou'd leave the company and meet me single here.
Where if he comes, he never shall return; but Towerson stays too long for my revenge; I am in haste to kill him.
He promis'd me to have been here e're now, if you think fitting, I'le go back and bring him.
Do so, I'le wait you in this place.
Was ever villany like this? of these unknown Assa∣sinates? Towerson, in vain I sav'd thy sleeping life; if now I let thee lose it, when thou wak'st; thou lately hast been bounti∣ful to me, and this way I'le acknowledge it. Yet to disclose their crimes were dangerous. What must I do? This gen'rous Englishman will strait be here, and consultation then perhaps will be too late; I am resolv'd. Lieutenant you have heard as well as I, the bloody purpose of these Men.
I have; and tremble at the mention of it.
Dare you adventure on an action as brave as theirs is base?
Command my life.
No more; help me dispatch that murderer, e're his Accomplice come; the Men I know not; but their design is trea∣cherous and bloody.
And he they mean to kill, is brave himself, and of a Nation I much love.
Come on then.
Murder,! I shall be basely murder'd; help.
Hold Villains; what unmanly odds is this? Courage, who e're thou art, I'le succor thee.
Though, (brave unknown;) night takes thee from my knowledge, and I want time to thank thee now; take this and wear it for my sake:
That voice I've heard, but cannot call to mind, except it be young Harman's— Yet who shou'd put his life in dan∣ger thus? this Ring I wou'd not take as Salary, but as a gage of his free heart who left it: and when I know him, I'le restore the pledge; sure 'twas not far from hence I made the appointment: I know not what this Dutchmans business is, yet I believe 'twas somewhat from my Rival; it shall go hard but I will find him out, and then re-joyn the Company.
The accident was wond'rous strange: did you neither know your Assasinates, nor your deliverer?
'Twas all a hurrey, yet upon better recollecting of my self, the Man who freed me, must be Towerson.
Hark, I hear the company walking this way, will you withdraw?
Withdraw, and Ysabinda coming!
The Wood is full of Murderers, every Tree methinks hides one behind it.
You have two qualities my friend, that sort but ill to∣gether, as mischievous as Hell could wish you, but fearful in the execution.
There is a thing within me call'd a Conscience, which is not quite o'recome, now and then it rebels a little, especially when I am alone, or in the dark.
The Moon begins to rise, and glitters through the Trees.
Pray let us walk this way, that farther Lawn between the Groves, is the most green and pleasant of any in this Isle.
I hear my Siren's voice, I cannot stir from hence. Dear friend, if thou wilt e're oblige me, divert the company a little, and give me opportunity a while to talk alone with her.
You'l get nothing of her, except it be by force.
You know not with what eloquence, Love may inspire my tongue: the guiltiest wretch when ready for his sentence, has something still to say.
Well, they come, I'le put you in a way, and wish you good success; but do ye hear; remember you are a Man, and she a Woman; a little force it may be wou'd do well.
Who saw the Bridegroom last?
He refus'd to pledge the last Romer; so I am out of charity with him.
Come, shall we backward to the Castle, I'le take care of you Lady.
Oh, you have drunk so much you are past all care.
But where can be this jolly Bridegroom? answer me that, I will have the Bride satisfy'd.
He walk'd alone this way; we met him lately.
I beseech you, Sir, conduct us.
I'le bring you to him, Madam.
I am resolv'd.
Come Gentlemen, I'le tell you such a pleasant accident, you'l think the evening short.
I love a Story, and a Walk by Moonshine.
Lend me your hand then Madam;
But one, I beseech you then; I must not quit her so.
Come Sir, which is the way? I long to see my love.
You may have your wish, and without stirring hence.
My Love so near? sure you delight to mock me.
'Tis you delight to torture me; behold the Man who loves you more then his own Eies, more then the joys of Earth, or hopes of Earth.
When you renew'd your friendship with my Towerson, I thought these vain desires were dead within you.
Smother'd they were, not dead, your Eies can kindle no such petty fires as only blaze a while and straight go out.
You know when I had far less ties upon me, I wou'd not hear you; therefore wonder not if I withdraw, and find the com∣pany.
That wou'd be too much cruelty to make me wretched, and then leave me so.
Am I in fault if you are miserable? so you may call the rich mans wealth, the cause and object of the Robbers guilt: pray do not persecute me farther: you know I have a Husband now, and wou'd be loath t' afflict his knowledge with your se∣cond folly.
What wond'rous care you take to make him happy! yet I approve your Method. Ignorance, oh 'tis a Jewel to a Husband, that, 'tis peace in him, 'tis vertue in his Wife, 'tis Honour in the World; he has all this, while he is igno∣rant.
You pervert my meaning: I would not keep my actions from his knowledge; your bold attempts I wou'd: but yet henceforth conceal your impious flames; I shall not ever be thus indulgent to your shame, to keep it from his notice.
You are a Woman; have enough of Love for him and me; I know the plenteous Harvest all is his: he has so much of joy, that he must labor under it. In charity you may allow some gleanings to a Friend.
Now you grow rude: I'le hear no more.
You must.
Leave me.
I cannot.
I find I must be troubl'd with this idle talk some Mi∣nutes more, but 'tis your last.
And therefore I'le improve it: pray resolve to make me happy by your free consent; I do not love these half Enjoyments, t'enervate my delights with using force, and nei∣ther give my self nor you that full content, which two can ne∣ver have, but where both joyn with equal eagerness to bless each other.
Bless me ye kind Inhabitants of Heaven, from hear∣ing words like these:
You must do more then hear 'em▪ you know you were now going to your Bridal Bed. Call your own thoughts but to a strict account, they'l tell you all this day, your fancy ran on nothing else; 'tis but the same Scene still you were to act; only the person chang'd, it may be for the better.
You dare not, sure, attempt this villany.
Call not the act of Love by that grosse name, You'l give it a much better when 'tis done; and wooe me to a second.
Dost thou not fear a Heaven!
No, I hope one in you. Do it, and do it heartily; time is precious; it will prepare you better for your Hus∣band.—Come.
Oh Mercy, Mercy, Oh pitty your own Soul, and pitty mine: think how you'l wish undone this horrid act when your hot Lust is slak'd: think what will follow when my Husband knows it, if shame will let me live to tell it him; and tremble at a power above, who sees, and surely will re∣venge it.
I have thought!
Then I am sure you're penitent.
No, I only gave you scope to let you see all you have urg'd I knew: you find 'tis to no purpose either to talk or strive.
You have led us here a Fairies round in the Moon∣shine, to seek a Bridegroom in a Wood, till we have lost the Bride.
I wonder what's become of her?
Got together, got together I warrant you, be∣fore this time; you Englishmen are so hot, you cannot stay for Ceremonies, a good honest Dutchman wou'd have been ply∣ing the Glass all this while, and drunk to the hopes of Hans in Kelder till 'twas Bed-time.
Yes, and then have rowl'd into the sheets, and turn'd o'th' t'other side to snore, without so much as a parting blow; till about midnight he wou'd have waken'd in a maze, and found first he was Married by putting forth a Foot and feeling a Woman by him; and it may be then in stead of kissing, de∣sir'd yough Fro to hold his head.
And by that nights work have given her a Proofe what she might expect for ever after.
In my Conscience you Hollanders never get your Children, but in the Spirit of Brandee; you are exalted then a little above your Natural Phlegm, and only that which can make you fight and destroy Men, makes you get 'em.
You may live to know, that we can kill Men when we are sober.
Then they must be drunk, and not able to defend themselves.
Pray leave this talke, and let us try if we can sur∣prize the Lovers under some convenient tree: shall we se∣parate and look them?
Let you and I go together then, and if we cannot find them, we shall do as good, for we shall find one ano∣ther.
Pray take that path, or that, I will pursue this.
So, now I have diverted them from Harman: I'le look for him my self; and see how he speeds in his adven∣ture.
Who goes there?
A Friend: I was just in quest of you, so are all the Company: Where have you left the Bride?
Ty'd to a Tree and Gagg'd, and—
And what? Why do you stare and tremble? an∣swer me like a man.
Oh, I have nothing left of Manhood in me; I am turn'd Beast or Devil; Have I not Hornes, and Tayle, and Leathern wings? methinks I shou'd have by my Actions— Oh I have done a Deed so ill, I cannot name it.
Not name it, and yet do it? that's a Fools Mode∣sty: Come, I'le name it for you: You have enjoy'd your Mistriss?
How easily so great a Villany comes from thy mouth! I have done worse, I have ravish'd her.
That's no harm, so you have kill'd her after∣wards.
Kill'd her! VVhy thou art a worse Fiend then I.
Those Fits of Conscience in another might be excu∣sable; but, in you, a Dutchman, who are of a Race that are born Rebels, and live every where on Rapine; VVou'd you degenerate, and have remorse? Pray what makes any thing a sin but Law; and, VVhat Law is there here against it? Is not your Father Chief? VVill he condemn you for a pet∣ty Rape? The VVoman an Amboyner, and what's less, now Marry'd to an Englishman: Come, if there be a Hell, 'tis but for those that sin in Europe, not for us in Asia; Heathens have no Hell. Tell me, How was't? Prithee the History.
I forc'd her—VVhat resistance She cou'd
make she did, but 'twas in vain; I bound her as I told you to a tree:
And she exclaim'd I warrant—
Yes, and call'd Heaven and Earth to witness.
Not after it was done.
More then before—Desir'd me to have kill'd her. Even when I had not left her power to speak, she curst me with her eyes.
Nay, then, you did not please her; if you had she ne're had curs'd you heartily; but, we lose time: since you have done this action, 'tis necessary you proceed; we must have no tales told.
What do you mean?
To dispatch her immediately; Cou'd you be so senceless to ravish her, and let her live? What if her Hus∣band shou'd have found her? What if any other English? Come there's no dallying; It must be done: My other plot is ripe, which shall destroy 'em all to morrow.
I love her still to Madness, and never can consent to have her kill'd, wee'l thence remove her if you please, and keep her safe till your intended Plot shall take effect; And, when her Husband's gone, I'le win her Love by every circumstance of kindness.
You may do so; but, t'other is the safer way: but I'le not stand with you for one life. I cou'd have wish'd that Towerson had been kill'd before I had proceeded to my plot; but since it cannot be, we must go on; Conduct me where you left her.
Oh that I cou'd forget both Act and Place.
Sure I mistook the place, I'le waite no longer, something within me does forebode me ill; I stumbled when I enter'd first this Wood: My Nostrills bled three drops: then stop'd the Blood, and not one more wou'd follow. What's that which seems to bear a Mortal
No longer Bridegroom thou, nor I a Bride; those names are vanish'd; Love is now no more; Look on me as thou wou'dst on some foul Leaper; and do not touch me: I am all polluted, all shame, all o're dishonour; fly my sight, and, for my sake, fly this detested Isle, where horrid Ills so black and fatal dwell, as Indians cou'd not guess, till Europe taught.
Speak plainer, I am recollected now: I know I am a Man, the sport of fate; Yet, Oh my better half, had Hea∣ven so pleas'd, I had been more content, to suffer in my self then thee.
What shall I say! That Monster of a Man, Harman; now I have nam'd him, think the rest. Alone, and singl'd like a tim'rous Hind from the full Herd, by flattery drew me first, then forc'd me to an Act, so base and Brutall, 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 sav'd me!
Heaven suffer'd more in that then you, or I: Wherefore have I been faithful to my trust, true to my Love, and tender to th' opprest? Am I condemn'd to be the se∣cond man, who e'r complain'd, he vertue serv'd in vain? But dry your tears, these sufferings all are mine. Your breast is white, and cold as falling Snow. You still as fra∣grant 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 bloud. Come to my arms again.
Oh never, never, I am not worthy now; My soul in∣deed is free from sin, but the foul speckled stains are from my body ne'r to be wash'd out, but in my death. Kill me, my Love, or I must kill my self; else you may think I was a black Adulteress in my mind, and some of me consented.
Your wish to die, shews you deserve to live. I have proclam'd you guiltless to my self. Self-homicide, which was in Heathens honour, in us is onely sin.
I thought th' Eternal Mind had made us Masters of these mortal frames; you told me he had given us wills to choose, and reason to direct us in our choice; if so, why should he tie us up from dying, when death's the greater good?
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.
I grant, it is its great general Law: But as Kings, who are, or should be above Laws, dispence with 'em when levell'd at themselves; Even so may man, without offence to Heaven, dispence with what concerns himself alone: Nor is death in it self an ill; then holy Martyrs sin'd, who ran uncall'd to snatch their Martyrdom: And blessed Virgins, whom you celebrate for voluntary death, to free themselves from that which I have suffer'd.
They did it to prevent what might ensue; your shame's already past.
It may return, if I am yet so mean to live a little longer.
You know not, Heaven may give you succour yet; you see it sends me to you.
'Tis too late, you shou'd have come before.
Yet you may live to see your self reveng'd. Come you shall stay for that, then I'le die with you. You have con∣vinc'd my reason, nor am I asham'd to learn from you. To Heavens Tribunal my appeal I make; if as a Governor he sets me here, to guard this weak built Cittadel of Life, when 'tis no longer to be held, I may with honour quit the Fort. But first I'll both revenge my self and you.
Alas, you cannot take revenge, your Countreymen are few, and those unarm'd.
Though not on all the Nation, as I wou'd; yet I at least can take it on the man.
Leave me to Heaven's revenge, for thither I will go, and plead my self my own just cause. There's not an injur'd Saint of all my Sex, but kindly will conduct me to my Judge, and help me tell my story.
I'l send th'offender first, though to that place he never can arrive: ten thousand Devils damn'd for less crimes then he, and Tarquin in their head, way-lay his Soul, to, pull him down in triumph, and to shew him in pomp among his Coun∣trey-men; for sure Hell has its Nether-lands, and its lowest Countrey must be their lot.
'Twas hereabout I left her ty'd. The rage of Love renews again within me.
She'l like th'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 offer'd her so sweet a violence.
Save me, sweet Heaven, the Monster comes again.
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 your self about me now, and tie me in your arms.
chastity, this Sword Heaven draws against thee, and here has plac'd me like a fiery Cherub, to guard this Paradice from any second Violation.
We must dispatch him, Sir, we have the odds; and when he is kill'd, leave me to invent the excuse.
Hold a little: As you shun'd fighting formerly with me, so wou'd I now with you. The mischiefs I have done are past recall. 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 onely alter'd.
Ye 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.
If Towerson wou'd, think'st thou my soul so poor to own thy sin, and make the base act mine, by choosing him who did it? Know, bad man, I'l die with him, but never live with thee.
Prepare, I shall suspect you stay for further help, and think not this enough.
We are ready for you.
Stand back, I'l fight with him alone.
Thank you for that; so if he kills you, I shall have him single upon me.
Heaven assist my Love.
There, Englishman, 'twas meant well to thy heart.
Oh you can bleed, I see, for all your cause.
Wounds but awaken English courages.
Yet yield me Ysabinda, and besafe.
I'l fight my self all scarlet o'r first; were there no love, or no revenge, I cou'd not now desist in point of honour.
Resolve me first one question, Did you not draw your sword this night before, to rescue one opprest with odds?
Yes, in this very Wood: I bear a Ring, the badge of gratitude from him I sav'd.
That Ring was mine; I shou'd be loth to kill the frank redeemer of my life.
I quit that obligation. But we lose time. Come, Ravisher.
Hold, and let him rise; for if you kill him, at the same instant you die too.
Dog, do thy worst, for I would so be kill'd; I'l carry his soul captive with me into the other world.
Oh mercy, mercy, Heaven.
Take this then in return.
Hold, hold, the weak may give some help.
Base beyond example of any Countrey, but thy own.
Kill him, sweet Love, or we shall both repent it.
'Tis none to kill a Villain, and a Dutchman.
Rise, take thy life, though I can scarce believe thee; if for a coward it be possible, become an honest man.
Oh Monster of Ingratitude!
Oh my unfortunate old age, whose prop, and only staff is gone, dead e're I dye, these shou'd have been his tears, and I have been that Body to be mourn'd.
I am so much amaz'd, I scarce believe my Senses.
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.
Oh Sir, remember, in that place you hold, you are a common Father to us all; we beg but justice of you; heark∣en first to my lamented story.
First hear me, Sir.
Thee slave, thou liv'st 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 inju∣ries.
I offer'd to have clear'd thy innocence who basely murder'd him? but words are needless; Sir, you see evidence before your eies, and I the witness, on my oath to Heaven how clear your Son, how criminal this Man.
Towerson cou'd do nothing but what was noble.
We know his Native worth.
His Worth? behold it on the Murderers 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't?
Sir, 'twas your Sons, that freely I acknowledge; but how I came by it—
No, 'tis too much, I'le hear no more.
The Devil of Jealousie, and that of Avarice, both I believe possest him; or your Son was innocently talking with his Wife, and he perhaps had found 'em; this I guess, but saw it not, because I came too late, I onely view'd the sweet Youth, just expiring, and Towerson stooping down to take the Ring: she kneeling by to help him; when he saw me, he wou'd, you may be sure have sent me after, because I was a witness of the fact; this on my Soul is true.
False as that soul, each Word, each Syllable; the Ring he put upon my hand this night, when in this Wood un∣known, and near this place, without my timely help he had been slain.
See this unlikely story, what enemies had he who shou'd assault him, or is it probable that very Man who actu∣ally did kill him afterwards, shou'd save his life so little time before.
Base Man thou know'st the reason of his death; he had committed on my Person Sir an impious Rape; first ty'd me to that tree, and there my Husband found me, whose revenge was such, as Heaven and Earth will justify.
I know not what Heaven will, but Earth shall not.
Her story carries such a face of Truth, ye cannot but believe it.
The other a malicious ill-patch'd lye.
Yes, you are proper Judges of his crime, who with the rest of your Accomplices, your Countrey-men, and Tow∣erson the chief, whom we too kindly us'd, wou'd have sur∣priz'd, the Fort, and made us Slaves; that shall be prov'd, more soon then you imagine; I found it out this evening.
Sure the Devil has lent thee all his stock of fals∣hood, and must be forc'd hereafter to tell truth.
Sir, 'tis impossible you shou'd believe it.
Seize 'em all.
You cannot be so base.
I'le be so just till I can hear your plea against this plot, which if not prov'd, and fully, you are quit, mean time, resistance is but vain.
Provided that we may have equal hearing, I am con∣tent to yield, though I declare, you have no power to judge us.
Barb'rous ungrateful Dutch.
See 'em convey'd apart to several prisons, least they combine to forge some specious Lye in their excuse, let Towerson and that Woman too be parted.
Was ever such a sad divorce made on a Bridal night! but we before were parted ne'r to meet, farewel, farewel, my last and only Love.
Curse on my fond credulity, to think there cou'd be Faith or Honor in the Dutch: Farewel my Ysabinda, and farewel my much wrong'd Countrey-men; remember yet that no unmanly weakness in your sufferings disgrace the Native Honour of our Isle;
For you I mourn; grief for my self were vain, I have lost all, and now wou'd lose my pain.MY sorow cannot be so soon digested for losing of a Son I lov'd so well, but I consider, great ad∣vantages must with some loss be bought▪ as this rich Trade which I this day have purchas'd with his death, yet let me be reveng'd, and I shall still live on, and eat, and drink down all my griefs. Now to the matter, Fiscal.
Since we may freely speak among our selves, all I have said of Towerson was most false; you were consenting,
Sir, as well as I, that Perez shou'd be hir'd to murder him, which he refusing when he was engag'd, 'tis dangerous to let him longer live.
Dispatch him, he will be a shrowd witness against us, if he return to Europe.
I have thought better, if you please, to kill him by form of Law, as accessary to the English plot, which I have long been forging.
Send one to seize him straite.
Nor I; but 'twas well done to feign that story.
The true one was too foul.
And afterwards to draw the English off from his concernment, to their own, I think 'twas rarely manag'd that.
So far, 'twas well; now to proceed, for I would gladly know whether the grounds are plausible enough of this pretended plot.
With favour of this Houourable Court, give me but leave to smooth the way before you. Some two or three nights since, (it matters not;) a Iapan Soldier under Captain Perez came to a Sentinel upon the Guard, and in familiar talk did question him about this Castle, of its strength; and how he thought it might be taken; this discourse the other told me early the next morning: I thereupon did issue private or∣der, to wrack the Iaponnese, my self being present.
But what's this to the English?
You shall hear, I ask'd him when his pains were strong∣est on him, if Towerson, or the English Factory, had never hir'd him to betray the Fort, he answer'd, (as 'twas true) they never had: nor was his meaning more in that discourse then as a Soldier to inform himself, and so to pass the time.
Did he confess no more?
You interrupt me, I told him I was certainly inform'd the English had designs upon the Castle, and if he franck∣ly wou'd confess their Plot, he shou'd not only be Releas'd
from Torment, but bounteously rewarded: present pain and future hopes, in fine so wrought upon him, he yielded to subscribe what e'r I pleas'd; and so he stands commit∣ted.
Well contriv'd, a fair way made upon this accusati∣on, to put them all to Torture.
By his confession, all of 'em shall dye, ev'n to their General Towerson.
He stands convicted of another Crime, for which he is to suffer.
This do's well, to help it though. For Towerson is here a Person publickly Employ'd from Eng∣land, and if he shou'd appeal, as sure he will, you have no power to Judge him in Amboyna.
But in regard of the late League and Union, be∣twixt the Nations, how can this be answer'd.
To Torture Subjects to so great a King, a pain ne'er heard of in their happy Land, will sound but ill in Europe.
Their English Laws, in England have their force; and we have ours, different from theirs; at home; It is enough, they either shall confess; or we will falsity their hands to make e'm; then for th' Apologie let me alone; I have it writ already to a Tittle, of what they shall subscribe; this I will publish, and make our most unheard of Cruelties, to seem most just, and legal.
Then in the name of him, who put it first into thy Head to form this damn'd false Plot, proceed we to the Exe∣cution of it; and to begin; first seize we their Effects, Ri∣fle their Chests, their Boxes, Writings, Books, and take of e'm a seeming Inventory; but all to our own use; I shall grow young with thought of this, and lose my Sons remem∣brance.
Will you not please to call the Prisoners in? at least inquire, what Torments have extorted.
Go thou and bring us word▪
Boy, give me some Tobacco, and a stope of Wine, Boy.
I shall Sir.
And a Tub to leak in Boy; when was this Table without a leaking Vessel.
That's an Omission.
A great Omission.
'Tis a Member of the Table, I take it so.
Never any thing of Moment was done at our Counsel Table, without a leaking Tub; at least in my time; great af∣fairs require great Consultations, great Consultations require great Drinking, and great Drinking a great leaking Ves∣sel.
I am e'en drunk with joy already, to see our god∣ly business in this forwardness.
Where are the Prisoners?
At the door,
Bring e'm in; I'le try if we can face e'm down by Impudence, and make e'm to confess.
You are not ignorant of our Business with you; the cryes of your Accomplices already have reach'd your Ears; and your own Consciences, above a thousand Summons, thousand Tor∣tures instruct you what to do. No farther Juglings, no∣thing but plain sincerity and truth to be delivered now; a free confession, will first attone for all your sins above; and may do much below to gain your Pardons, let me exhort you therefore, be you merciful, first to your selves, and make ac∣knowledgement of your Conspiracy?
What Conspiracy.
Why la you, that the Devil shou'd go Mask'd with such a seeming honest face; I warrant you know of no such thing.
Were not you Mr. Beamont, and you Collins both accessary to the horrid Plot, for the Surprisal of this Fort and Island.
As I shall reconcile my Sins to Heaven, in my last Article of Life, I'm innocent.
And so am I.
So, you are first upon the Negative.
And will be so till death.
What Plot is this you speak of?
Here are Impudent Rogues, now after confession of two Japonneses, these English Starts dare ask what Plot it is.
Not to enforme your knowledge, but that Law may have its course in every circumstance; Fiscal, sum up their accusation to e'm.
You stand accus'd, that New years day late past, there met at Captain Towerson's House, you present, and many others of your Factory: there, against Law and Justice, and all Tyes of Friendship, and of Partnership betwixt us, you did conspire to seise upon the Fort, to Murther this our Worthy Governor; and by the help of your Plantations near, of Iacatra, and Banda, and Loho, to keep it for your selves.
What proofs have you of this?
The confession of two Iaponneses hir'd by you to attempt it.
I hear they have been forc'd by Torture to it.
It matters not which way the truth come out; take heed, for their Example is before you.
Ye have no right, ye dare not Torture us, we owe you no subjection.
That Sir, must be disputed at the Hague; in the mean time we are in possession here.
And we can make our selves to be obey'd.
In few words Gentlemen confess. There is a Beverage ready for you else, which you'l not like to swallow.
How's this?
You shall be muffl'd up like Ladies, with an Oyl'd Cloath put underneath your Chins, then Water pour'd above; which either you must drink or must not breath.
That's one way, we have others.
Yes, we have two Elements at your Service, Fire, as well as Water; certain things call'd Matches to be ty'd to your Fingers ends, which are as soveraign as Nutmegs, to quicken your short Memories.
You are inhumane, to make your Cruelty your Pastime; Nature made me a Man, and not a Whale, to swal∣low down a flood.
You'l grow a Corpulent Gentleman like me; I shall love you the better for't, now you are but a spare rib.
These things are only offer'd to your choice; you may avoid your Tortures and confess.
Kill us first, for that we know is your design at last; and 'tis more Mercy now.
Be kind, and, Execute us, while we bare the shapes of Men, e're Fire and Water have destroy'd our Figures; let me go whole out of the World, I care not; and find my Body when I rise again so, as I need not be asham'd on't.
'Tis well you're Merry; will you yet confess?
Never.
Bear e'm away to Torture.
Wee'l try your Constancy.
Wee'l shame your Cruelty; if we deserve our Tor∣tures, 'tis first for freeing such an infamous Nation, that ought to have been slaves, and then for trusting them as Partners, who had cast off the Yoke of their lawful So∣veraign.
Away, I'le hear no more, now who comes the next?
Towerson's Page, a Ship Boy, and a Woman.
Call e'm in.
We shall have easie work with them.
Not so easie as you imagine, they have indur'd the Beverage already; all Master of their pain, no one con∣fessing.
the Devill's in these English, those brave Boys wou'd prove stout Topers if they liv'd.
Come hither ye perverse Imps, they say, you have indur'd the Water Torment, Wee'l try what Fire will do with you: you Sirrah, confess, were not you knowing of Towersons Plot, against this Fort and Island.
I have told your Hangman no, twelve times within this hour; when I was at the last Gaspe, and that's a time I think, when a Man shou'd not dissemble.
A Man, mark you that now; you English Boys have learn't a trick of late, of growing Men betimes, and doing Mens Work too, before you come to twenty.
Sirrah, I will try if you are a Salamander, and can live i'th' Fire.
Sure you think my Father got me of some Dutch Woman, and that I am but of a half straine courage; but you shall find that I am all o're English, as well in Fire as Wa∣ter.
Well of all Religions, I do not like your Dutch.
No, and why young stripling.
Because your Pennance comes before Confession.
Do you mock us Sirrah, to the Fire with him.
Do so, all you shall get by it, is this; before I an∣swered no, now I'le be sullen and will talk no more.
Best cutting off these little Rogues betime, if they grow Men, they'le have the Spirit of Revenge in e'm.
Yes, as your Children have that of Rebellion; Oh that I cou'd but live to be Governor here, to make your fat Guts pledge me in that Beverage I drunk, you Sir Iohn Falstaff of Amsterdam.
I have a little Brother in England, that I intend to ap∣pear to, when you have kill'd me; and if he do's not promise me the Death of ten Dutchmen in the next War, I'le haunt him in∣stead of you.
What say you Woman? have compassion of your self, and confess; you are of a softer Sex.
But of a Courage full as Manly; there is no Sex in Souls; wou'd you have English Wives shew less of Bravery then their Children do? to lie by an English Man's side, is enough to give a Woman Resolution.
Here's a Hen of the Game too, but we shall tame you in the fire.
My Innocence shall there be try'd like Gold, till it come out the purer. When you have burnt me all into one Wound, cram Gunpowder into 't, and blow me up, I'le not con∣fess one word to shame my Countrey.
I think we have got here the Mother of the Maccabees; away with them all three.
Oh you have ruin'd me, you have undone me, in the Person of my Husband!
If he will needs forfeit his Life to the Laws, by joyning with the English in a Plot, 'tis not in me to save him; but dear∣est Iulia be satisfy'd, you shall not want a Husband.
Do you think, I'le ever come into a Bed with him, who rob'd me of my dear sweet Man?
Dry up your Tears, I'me in earnest, I will Marry you, yfaith I will; it is your destiny.
Nay if it be my Destiny: but I vow I'le ne're be yours but upon one condition.
Name your desire and take it.
Then save poor Beamonts Life.
This is the most unkind Request you cou'd have made, it shews you Love him better: therefore in prudence I shou'd hast his Death.
Come, I'le not be deny'd, you shall give me his Life, or I'le not love you, by this Kiss you shall Child;
Pray ask some other thing.
I have your word for this, and if you break it, how shall I trust you for your Marrying me.
Well, I will do't to oblige you.
But to prevent her new designs with him, I'le see him shipt away for England straight.
I may build upon your promise then:
Most firmly: I hear company.
Now Captain Towerson you have had the Priviledge to be examin'd last: this on the score of my old Friendship with you, though you have ill deserv'd it. But here you stand accus'd of no less Crimes then Robbery first, then Murther, and last Treason: what can you say to clear your self?
You're interested in all, and therefore partial; I have consider'd on't, and will not plead, because I know you have no right to judge me: for the last Treaty 'twixt our King and you expresly said, that causes Criminal were first to be Examin'd, and then Judg'd, not here, but by the Councel of Defence; to whom I make Appeal.
This Court conceives that it has power to judge you; deriv'd from the most High and Mighty States, who in this Island are Supream, and that as well in Criminal, as Civil Causes.
You are not to question the Authority of the Court which is to Judge you.
Sir, by your favor, I both must, and will: I'le not so far betray my Nations right; we are not here your Subjects, but your Partners: and that Supremacy of power you claim, extends but to the Natives, not to us: dare you, who in the British Seas strike Sayl, nay more, whose Lives and Freedome are our Alms, presume to sit and judge your Benefactors. Your base new up∣start Common-Wealth shou'd blush, to doom the Subjects of an English King, the meanest of whose Merchants wou'd disdain the narrow life, and the Domestick baseness of one of those you call your mighty States.
You spend your Breath in Rayling; speak to the pur∣pose.
Hold yet: because you shall not call us cruel, or plead I wou'd be judge in my own cause; I shall accept of that appeal you make, concerning my Sons death; provided first you clear your self from what concerns the publick; for that relating to our general safety, the judgment of it cannot be deferr'd; but with our common danger.
Let me first be bold to question you: what circum∣stance can make this your pretended Plot seem likely? the Natives first you tortur'd, their confession Extorted so, can prove no crime in us. Consider next the strength of this your Castle; it's Garrison above two hundred Men, besides as many of your Ci∣ty Burgers, all ready on the least Allarme, or Summons, to Re∣inforce the others, for ten English, and Merchants they, not Soul∣diers, with the Ayd of ten Iapanners; all of e'm unarm'd, ex∣cept five Swords, and not so many Muskets; th' attempt had on∣ly been for Fools or Madmen.
We cannot help your want of Wit; proceed.
Grant then we had been desperate enough to hazard this; we must at least forecast how to secure possession when we had it. We had no Ship nor Pinnace in the Harbor; nor cou'd have Aid from any Factory: the nearest to us forty Leagues from hence, and they but few in number: you besides this Fort, have yet three Castles in this Isle amply provided for, and eight tall Ships riding at Anchor near; considering this, and think what all the World will judge of it.
Nothing but Falshood is to be expected from such a Tongue, whose Heart is foul'd with Treason. Give him the Be∣verage.
'Tis ready Sir.
Hold; I have some reluctance to proceed to that extremity: he was my Friend, and I wou'd have him franckly to confess: push ope that Prison door, and set before him the image of his pains in other Men.
Now Sir, how does the Object like you?
Are you Men or Devils! D'Alva, whom you con∣demn for cruelty did ne're the like; he knew original Villany was in your Blood: your Fathers all are damn'd for their Rebellion; when they Rebell'd, they were well us'd to this: these Tortures ne're were hatch'd in Humane Breasts, but as your Countrey lies confin'd on Hell, just on its Marches, your black Neighbors taught ye, and just such pains as you invent on Earth, Hell has reserv'd for you.
Are you yet mov'd?
But not as you wou'd have me. I could weep tears of Blood to view this usage; but you, as if not made of the same Mould, see with dry eyes the Miseries of Men, as they were Creatures of another kind, not Christians, nor Allies, nor Partners with you, but as if Beasts, transfix'd on Theatres, to make you cruel sport.
These are but vulgar Objects, bring his Friend; let him behold his Tortures; shut that door.
Courage my friend, and rather praise we Heaven, that it has chose two such as you and me, who will not shame our Countrey with our pains, but stand like Marble Statues in their fires, scorch'd and defac'd perhaps, not melted down. So let 'em burn this Tenement of Earth; they can but burn me naked to my soul▪ that's of a Nobler frame, and will stand Firme, Upright, and Unconsum'd.
Confess; if you have kindness, save your friend.
Yes, by my death I wou'd, not by my confession; he is so brave, he wou'd not so be sav'd; but wou'd renounce a friendship built on shame.
Bring more Candles, and burn him from the Wrists up to the Elbows.
Do, I'le enjoy the Flames like Scaevola; and when one's roasted, give the other hand.
Let me embrace you while you are a Man, now you must lose that form; be parch'd and rivel'd like a dry'd Mummy, or dead Malefactor, expos'd in Chains, and blown about by Winds.
Yet this I can endure, Go on, and weary out two E∣lements; Vex Fire and Water with th' Experiments of pains far worse then death.
Oh let me take my turn; you will have double pleasure, I'm asham'd to be the only Englishman untortur'd.
You soon shou'd have your wish; but that we know in him you suffer more.
Fill me a brim full Glass: now Captain, here's to all your Countreymen; I wish your whole East India Company were in this room, that we might use them thus.
They shou'd have Fires of Cloves and Cinamon, we wou'd cut down whole Groves to Honour 'em, and be at cost to burn 'em nobly.
Barb'rous Villains! now you show your selves.
Boy, take that Candle thence, and bring it hither, I am exalted, and wou'd light my Pipe just where the Wyck is fed with English Fat.
So wou'd I; oh the Tobacco tasts Divinely after it.
We have friends in England who wou'd weep to see this acted on a Theatre, which here you make your pastime.
Oh that this Flesh were turn'd a cake of Ice, that I might in an instant melt away, and become nothing, to escape this Torment, there is not cold enough in all the North to quench my burning blood.
Do with Beamont as you please, so Towerson dye.
You'l not confess yet Captain?
Hangman, no. I wou'd have don't before, if e're I wou'd: to do it when my friend has suffer'd this, were to be less then he.
Free him.
I have not sworn you shou'd not suffer, but that you shou'd not dye; thank Iulia for't, but on your life do not de∣lay this hour to post from hence; so to your next Plantation; I cannot suffer a lov'd Rival near me.
I almost question if I will receive my life from thee: 'tis like a cure from Witches; 'twill leave a sin behind it.
Nay, I'm not lavish of my courtesie; I can on easy terms resume my gift.
Captain, you're a dead man; I'le spare your torture for your Quality; prepare for execution instantly.
I am prepar'd.
You dye in charity I hope.
I can forgive even thee; my innocence I need not name, you know it. One farewel kiss of my dear Ysabinda, and all my business here on earth is done.
Call her, she's at the door.
Adieu, if I wou'd speak, I cannot.—
Is it permitted me to see your Eies once more, before Eternal night shall close 'em.
I summon'd all I had of Man to see you, 'twas well the time allow'd for it, was short, I cou'd not bear it long: 'tis dangerous, and would divide my Love 'twixt Heaven and you. I therefore part in haste; think I am going a suddain jour∣ney, and have not the leisure to take a ceremonious long fare∣wel.
Do you still love me?
Do not suppose I do, 'tis for your ease, since you must stay behind me; to think I was unkind, you'l grieve the less!
Though I suspect you joyn'd in my Sons Murder, yet since it is not prov'd, you have your life.
I thank you for't, I'le make the noblest use of your sad gift; that is, to dye unforc'd; I'le make a present of my life to Towerson; to let you see, though worthless of his Love, I would not live without him.
I charge you love my memory, but live.
She shall be strictly guarded from that violence, she means against her self.
Vain Men! there are so many paths to death, you can∣not stop 'em all; o're the green Turf where my Love's laid, there will I mourning sit, and draw no air but from the damps that rise out of that hallow'd Earth; and for my Dyet, I mean my Eies alone shall feed my Mouth. Thus will I live, till he in pity rise, and the pale shrowd take me in his cold Arms, and lay me kindly by him in his Grave,
No more; your time's now come, you must away.
Now Devils; you have done your worst with tor∣tures, Death's a privation of pain; but they were a continu∣al dying,
Farewel my dearest, I may have many Husbands, but never one like thee.
As you love my Soul, take hence that Woman; my English friends, I'm not asham'd of death, while I have you for part'ners; I know you innocent, and so am I, of this
pretended plot; but I am guilty of a greater crime; For, be∣ing married in another Countrey: the Governors perswasions, and my love to that ill Woman, made me leave the first, and make this fatal choice. I'm justly punish'd, for her sake I dye; the Fiscal to enjoy her has accus'd me. There is another cause—by his procurement I shou'd have kill'd.—
Away with him, and stop his mouth.
I leave thee Life with no regret at parting, full of whatever thou cou'dst give, I rise from thy neglected Feast, and go to sleep: yet on this brink of death, my Eies are open'd, and Heav'n has bid me prophesy to you th' unjust contrivers of this Tragick Scene; An Age is coming, when an English Mo∣narch with Blood, shall pay that blood which you have shed: to save your Cities from victorious Arms, you shall invite the Waves to hide your Earth, and trembling to the tops of Houses fly, while Deluges invade your lower rooms: Then, as with Waters you have swell'd our Bodies, with damps of Waters shall your Heads be swoln;
Till at the last your sap'd foundations fall, And Vniversal Ruine swallows all.Ay, ay, we'l venture both our Selves, and Chil∣dren for such another pull.
Let him prophesy when his Head's off.
There's ne'r a Nostradamus of 'em all shall fright us from our gain.
Now for a smooth Apology, and then a fawning Letter to the King of England; and our work's done.
'Tis done as I wou'd wish it. Now Brethren, at my proper cost and charges, three days you are my Guests; in which good time we will divide their greatest Wealth by Lots, while wantonly we rifle for the rest:
Then in full Romers, and with joyful Hearts We'l drink confusion to all English Starts