THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. OR, A Girle worth gold. The first part. As it was lately acted before the King and Queen, with approved liking. By the Queens Majesties Comedians.

Written by T. H.


LONDON, Printed for Richard Royston, and are to be sold at his Shop in Ivie Lane. 1631.

To the much worthy, and my most respected, IOHN OTHOVV, Esquire, Counsellour at Law, in the noble Societie of Graies Inne.


EXcuse this my boldnesse, (I intreat you) and let it passe under the title of my love and respect, long devoted unto you; of which, if I endeavour to present the world with a due acknow­ledgement without the sordid expecta­tion of reward, or servile imputation of flatterie, I hope it will be the rather accepted. I must ingenuously acknowledge, a weigh­tier argument would have better suited with your grave imployment; but there are retire­mēts necessarily belonging to all the labours of the body and brain: If in any such cessati­on, you will daigne to cast an eye upon this weak and unpollish't Poem, I shall re­ceive it as a courtesie from you, much ex­ceeding [Page] any merit in mee, (my good mea­ning onely accepted.) Thus wishing you healthfull ab [...] in body, [...]ubled con [...]nt in [...]de: with the happi [...] fruition of both the temporall felicities of the world present, and the eternall blessednesse of the life future; I still remain as ever,

Yours, most affectionately devoted, THOMAS HEYVVOOD.

To the READER.

CVrteous Reader, my Plaies have not beene exposed to the publike view of the world in numerous sheets, and a large volume; but singly (as thou seest) with great modesty, and small noise. These Comedies, bear­ing the title of, The fair Maid of the West: if they prove but as gratious in thy private reading, as they were plausible in the pub­lick acting, I shall not much doubt of their successe. Nor neede they (I hope) much fear a rugged and censorious brow from thee, on whom the greatest and best in the kingdome, have vouc [...]safed to smile. I hold it no neces­sity to trouble thee with the Argument of the story, the matter it self lying so plainly before thee in Acts and Scenes, without any deviations, or winding indents.

Peruse it through, and thou maist finde in it,
Some mirth, some matter, &, perhaps, some wit.
He that would studie thy content, T. H.

Dramatis personae.

  • TWo Sea Captains.
  • Mr. Caroll, a G [...]ntlemā.
  • Mr. Spencer. By Mr. Michael Bowyer.
  • Captain Goodlack, Spen­cers friend; by Mr. Rich. Perkins.
  • Two Vintners boyes.
  • Besse Bridges, The fair Maid of the west; by Hugh Clark.
  • Mr. Forset, a Gentleman; by Christoph. Goad.
  • Mr. Ruffman, a swagger­ing Gentleman; by William Shearlock.
  • Clem, a drawer of wine under Besse Bridges; by Mr. William Robinson.
  • Three Saylers▪ A Surgeon.
  • A kitching Maid; by Mr. Anthony Furner.
  • The Maior of Foy, an Al­derman, and a servant.
  • A Spanish Cap. by. C. Goad
  • An English Merchant; by Rob. Axell.
  • Mullisheg, K. of Fesse, by Mr. Will. Allen.
  • Bashaw Alcade; by Mr. Wilbraham.
  • Bashaw Ioffer.
  • Two Spanish Captains.
  • A French Merchant.
  • An Italian Merchant.
  • A Chorus.
  • The Earl of Essex going to Cales: the Maior of Pli­moth, with Petitioners, Mutes, personated.


AMongst the Grecians there wer [...] annuall feasts,
To which none were invited as chief guests,
Save Princes and their Wives. Amongst the men,
There was no argument disputed then,
But who best govern'd: And (as't did appeare)
He was esteem'd sole Soveraigne for that yeare.
The Queens and Ladies argued at that time,
For Vertue and for beauty which was prime,
And she had the high honour. Two here be,
For Beauty one, the other Majesty,
Most worthy (did that custome still persever)
Not for one yeare, but to be Soveraignes ever.

THE FAIRE MAID of the VVest: OR, A Girle worth Gold.

Enter two Captaines, [...]nd Mr. Carrol.
1. Capt.

WHen puts my Lord to Sea?

2. Capt.

When the winde's faire.

R [...]olve me I intreat, can you not guesse
The purpose of this voyage?
1. Capt.
Most men thinke
The Fleet's bound for the Ilands.
Nay, tis like.
The great successe at Cales under the conduct
Of such a Noble Generall, hath put heart
Into the English: They are all on fire
To purchase from the Spaniard. If their Carracks
Come deeply laden, wee shall tugge with them
For golden spoile.
2. Capt.

O, were it come to that!

1 Capt.
How Plimouth swells with Gallants▪ how the streets
Glister with gold! You cannot meet a man
But trickt in skarffe and feather, that it seemes
As if the pride of Englands Gallantry
Were harbourd here. It doth appeare (me thinkes)
A very Court of Souldiers.
It doth so.
[Page 2]Where shall we dine to day?
2. Capt.

At the next Taverne by; there's the best wine,

1 Cap.
And the best wench, Besse Bridges, she's the flowre
Of Plimouth held: the Castle needes no bush,
Her beauty drawes to them more gallant Customers
Then all the signes ith' towne else.
2. Capt.
A sweet Lasse,
If I have any judgement.
1. Capt.
Now in troth
I thinke shee's honest.
Honest, and live there?
What, in a publike Taverne, where's such confluence
Of lusty and brave Gallants? Honest said you?
2. Capt.

I vow she is for me.

1. Capt.

For all, I think. I'm sure she's wondrous modest.

But withall
Exceeding affable.
2 Capt.

An argument that shee's not proud.


No, were she proud, she'd fall.

1 Capt.
Well, shee's a most attractive Adamant,
Her very beauty hath upheld that house,
And gain'd her master much.
That Adamant
Shall for this time draw me to, wee'll dine there.
2. Capt.

No better motion: Come to the Castle then.

Enter M. Spencer, and Capt. Goodlack.

What, to the old house still?

Canst blame me, Captaine,
Beleeve me, I was never surprisde till now,
Or catch [...] upon the sudden.
Pray resolve me,
Why being a Gentleman of fortunes, meanes,
And well revenude, will you adventure thus
A doubtfull voyage, when onely such as I
Borne to no other fortunes then my sword
[Page 3]Should seeke abroad for pillage.
Pillage, Captaine?
No, tis for honor; And the brave societie
Of all these shining Gallants that attend
The great L. Generall, drew me hither first:
No hope of gaine or spoyle.

I, but what drawes you to this house so oft?


As if thou knewst it not.


What, Besse?


Even she.

Come, I must tell you, you forget your selfe,
One of your birth and breeding, thus to dote
Vpon a Tanners daughter: why, her father
Sold hydes in Somersetshire, and being trade-falne,
Sent her to service.
Prethee speake no more,
Thou telst me that which I would faine forget,
Or wish I had not knowne. If thou wilt humor me
Tell me shee's faire and honest.

Yes, and loves you.

To forget that, were to exclude the rest:
All saving that, were nothing. Come let's enter.
Enter 2. Drawers.
1. Draw.

You are welcome Gentlemen. Shew them into the next roome there.

2. Draw.

Looke out a Towell, and some Rolls, a Salt and Trenchers.


No sir, we will not din [...].

2. Draw.
I am sure ye would if ye had my stomacke.
What wine drinke yee, Sacke or Claret?

Wheres Besse?

2. Draw.

Marry above with three or foure Gentlemen.


Goe call her.

2. D.

Ile draw you a cup of the neatest wine in Plimouth


Ile tast none of your drawing. Goe call Besse.

[Page 4]2 Draw.

Theres nothing in the mouthes of these Gal­lants, but Besse, Besse.


What sa'y Sir?

2. Draw.

Nothing sir, but Ile goe call her presently.


Tell her who's here.

2. Draw.

The devill rid her out of the house for me.


Sa'y sir?

2 Draw.

Nothing but anon anon sir.

Enter Besse Bridges.

See she's come.

Sweet Mr Spencer, y'are a stranger growne,
Where have you beene these three dayes?
The last night
If ate up late, at game: here take this bagge,
And lay't up till I call for't.

Sir I shall.


Bring me some wine.

I know your taste,
And I shall please your palate.

Troth tis a pretty soule.

To thee I will unbosome all my thoughts,
Were her low birth but equall with her beauty
Here would I fixe my thoughts.
You are not mad sir?
You say you love her.

Never question that.

Then put her to't, win Oportunity,
Shees the best bawd: If (as you say) she loves you,
She can deny you no [...]hing.
I have proved her
Vnto the utmost test. Examin'd her.
Even to a modest force: but all in vaine:
Shee'll laugh, conferre, keepe company, discourse,
And something more, kisse: but bey [...]nd that compasse
She no way can be drawne.
[Page 5]Goodl.
Tis a vertue,
But seldome found in tavernes.
Enter Besse with wine.

Tis of the best Graves wine sir.


Gramarcie Girle, come sit.


Pray pardon sir, I dare not.


Ile ha'it so.

My fellowes love me not, and will complaine
Of such a sawcy boldnesse.
Pox on your fellowes,
Ile try whether their pottle pots or heads
Be harder, if I doe but heare them grumble.
Sit: now Besse drinke to me.

To your good voyage.

Enter the second Drawer.
2 Draw.

Did you call sir?


Yes sir, to have your absence. Captaine, this health.


Let it come sir.

2 Draw.

Must you be set, and we wait, with a—


What say you sir?

2 Draw.

Anon, anon, I come there.


What will you venture Besse to sea with me?

What I love best, my heart: for I could wish
I had beene borne to equall you in fortune,
Or you so low, to have beene rankt with me,
I could have then presum'd boldly to say,
I love none but my Spencer.
Besse I thanke thee.
Keep [...] still that hundred pound till my returne
From th'Islands with my Lord: if never, wench
Take it, it is thine owne.

You binde me to you.

[Page 6]Enter the first Drawer.
1 Draw.

Besse, you mu [...]t fill some wine into the Port­cullis, the Gentlemen there will drinke none but of your drawing.


She shall not rise sir, goe, let your Master snick-up.

1 D.

And that should be cousin-german to the hick-up.

Enter the second Drawer.
2 Draw.

Besse, you must needs come, the gentlemen fling pots, pottles, drawers, and all down [...] staires. The whole house is in an uprore.


Pray pardon sir, I needs must be gone.

2 D.
The Gentlemen sweare if she come not up to thē
They will come downe to her.
If they come in peace,
Like ciuill Gentlemen, they may be welcome:
If otherwise, let them usurpe their pleasures.
We stand prepar'd for both.
Enter Caroll and two Captaines.
Save you gallants, we are somwhat bold to presse
Into your company. It may be held scarce manners,
Therefore fit that we should crave your pardon.

Sir, you are welcome, so are your friends.

1 Capt.

Some wine.


Pray give me leave to fill it.


You shall not stir. So please you wee'l joyne cōpany. Drawer, more stooles.


I tak't that's a she drawer. Are you of the house?


I am sir.


In what place?


I draw.


Beere, doe you not? You are some tapstresse.

Sir, the worst character you can bestow
Vpon the maide is to draw wine.
[Page 7]Caroll.
She wo [...] draw none to us,
Perhaps she keepes a Rundlet for your taste,
Which none but you must pierce.
2 Capt.

I pray [...]e civill.

I know no [...], Gentlemen, what your intents be,
Nor doe I feare or care. This is my [...],
And if you beare you, as you seeme in shew,
Like Gentlemen, sit and be sociable.

We will. Min [...], by your leave: Remove I say.


She shall not stir.


How sir?

No sir: could you out-face the devill,
We doe not feare your roaring.
Though you may be companion with a drudge,
It is not fit shee should have place by us.
About your businesse, huswife.
She is worthy
The place as the best here, and she shall keep [...].

You lie.

They bustle. Caroll s [...]aine.

The Gentleman's slaine, away.


Oh heaven, what have you done?


Vndone thy selfe and m [...] too. Come away▪

Oh sad misfortune, I shall lose him ever.
What, are you men or milk sops? Stand you still
Senslesse as stones, and see your friend in danger
To expire his last?
1 Capt.

Tush, all our help's in vaine.

2 Capt.
This is the fruit of whoores.
This mischiefe came through thee▪

It grew first from your incivilitie.

1 Cap.
Lend me a hand to lift his body hence.
It was a fatall businesse.
Exeunt Captaines.
Enter the two Drawers.
1 Dr.
One call my Master, another fetch the constable,
Here's a man kild in the roome.

How, a man kill'd saist thou. Is all paid?

1 Dr.

How fell they out, canst thou tell?

2 Dr.

Sure about this bold Betrice: tis not so much for the death of the man, but how shall we come by our rec­koning?

Exeunt Drawers.
What shall become of me! Of all lost creatures
The most infortunate. My innocence
Hath beene the cause of blood, and I am now
Purpled with murder, though not within compasse
Of the Lawes severe censure: but which most
Addes unto my affliction, I by this
Have lost so worthy and approv'd a friend,
Whom to redeeme from exile, I would give
All that's without and in me.
Enter Forset.

Your name's Besse Bridges?

An unfortunate Maid.
Knowne by that name too well in Plimouth here.
Your businesse, sir, with me?

Know you this Ring?

I doe: it is my Spencers.
I know withall you are his trusty friend,
To whom he would commit it. Speake, how fares he?
Is hee in freedome, know yee?
Hee's in health
Of body, though in minde somwhat perplext
For this late mischiefe happened.

Is he fled, and freed from danger?

Neither. By this token
He lovingly commends him to you Besse,
And prayes you when tis darke meet him o'th Hoe
Neere to the new-made Fort, where hee'll attend you,
Before he flyes, to take a kinde farewell.
Theres onely Goodlack in his company,
He intreats you not to faile him.
Tell him from me, Ile [...]ome, Ile runne, Ile flye,
Stand Death before me: were I sure to die.
Enter Spencer and Goodlacke.

You are too full of passion.

Canst thou blame me,
To have the guilt of murder burden me,
And next, my life in haz [...]td to a death
So ignominious: last, to lose a Love
So sweet, so faire, so am'rous, and so chaste,
And all these at an instant? Art thou sure
Carol is dead?
I can beleeve no lesse.
You hit him in the very speeding place.

Oh but the last of these sits neer'st my heart.

Sir be advis'd by mee.
Try her before you trust her. She perchance
May take th'advantage of your hopefull fortunes:
But when she findes you subject to distresse
And casualty, her flattering love may die:
Your deceased hopes.
Thou counselst well.
Ile put her to the test and utmost tryall
Before I trust her further. Here she comes.
Enter Forset, and Besse with a bagge.

I have done my message sir.

Feare not sweet Spencer, we are now alone,
And thou art sanctuar'd in these mine armes.
While these conferre wee'll centinel their safety.
This place Ile guard.

I this.

Are you not hurt?
Or your skinne rac'd with his offensive steele?
How is it with you?
[Page 10]Spenc.
Besse, all my afflictions
Are that I must leave thee: thou knowst withall
My extreame necessity, and that the feare
Of a most scandalous death doth force me hence.
I am not neare my Country, and to stay
From new supply from thence, might deeply ingage me [...]
To desperate hazard.
Is it coyne you want?
Here is the hundred pound you gave me late,
Vse that, beside what I have stor'd and sav'de
Which makes it fifty more: were it ten thousand
Nay, a whole million, Spencer, all were thine.
No, what thou hast keepe still, tis all thine owne.
Here be my keyes, my trunkes take to thy charge:
Such gold fit for transportage as I have,
Ile beare along: the rest are freely thine,
Money, apparell, and what else thou findst,
Perhaps worth my bequest and thy receiving,
I make thee mistresse of.
Before I doted,
But now you strive to have me extaside.
What would you have me doe, in which t' expresse
My zeale to you?
Which in my chamber hangs,
My picture, I injoyne thee to keepe ever,
For when thou partst with that, thou [...] me.
My soule may from my body be divorc'd,
But never that from me.
I have a house in Foy, a taverne calld
The Winde-mill, that I freely give thee too,
And thither if I live Ile [...]end to thee.
So soone as I have cast my reckonings up,
And made even with my Master, Ile not faile
To visit Foy in Cornwall. Is there else
Ought that you will injoyne me?
Thou art faire,
[Page 11]Ioyne to thy beauty vertue. Many suiters
I know will tempt thee: beauty's a shrewd baite,
But unto that if thou add'st chastitie,
Thou shalt ore-come all scandall. Time cals hence,
We now must part.
Oh that I had the power to make Time lame,
To stay the starres, or make the Moone stand still,
That future day might never haste thy flight.
I could dwell here for ever in thine armes.
And wish it alwayes night.

We trifle howers. Farewell.

First take this Ring:
Twas the first token of my constant love
That past betwixt us. When I see this next,
And not my Spencer, I shall thinke thee dead:
For till death part thy body from thy soule
I know thou wil [...] not part with it.
Sweare for me Besse: for thou maist safely do [...].
Once more sarewell: at Foy thou shalt heare from me.
Theres not a word that hath a parting sound
Which through mine eares shrills not immediate death.
I shall not live to lose thee.

Best be gone, for harke I heare some tread.


A thousand farewels are in one contracted. Captaine away.

Exit Spencer, & Goodlacke.

Oh, I shall dye.

What mean you Besse, wil you betray your friend,
Or call my name in question? Sweet, looke up.

Hah, is my Spencer gone?

With speed towards Foy,
There to take ship for Fiall.
Let me recollect my selfe,
And what he left in charge. Vertue and Chastitie.
Next, with all sudden expedition
[Page 12]Prepare for Foy: all these will I conserve,
And keepe them strictly, as I would my life.
Plimouth farewell: in [...]ornwall I will prove
A second fortune, and for ever mourne,
Vntill I see my Spencers safe returne.
A dumbe Show. Enter Generall, Captaines, the Mayor: Petitioners the other way with papers: amongst these the Drawers. The Generall gives them bagges of money. All goe off saving the two Drawers.
1 Draw.

Tis well yet w [...] have gotten all the money due to my Master. It is the commonest thing that can bee for these Captaines to score and to score: but when the scores are to be paid, Non est inventus.

2 Draw.

Tis ordinary amongst Gallants now a dayes, who had rather sweare forty oaths, then onely this one oath, God let me never be trusted.

1 Draw.

But if the Captaines would follow the noble minde of the Generall, before night there would not bee one score owing in Plimouth.

2 Draw.

Little knowes Bess [...] that my Master hath got in these desperate debts: but she hath c [...]st up her account▪ and is gone.

1 Draw.

Whither canst thou tell?

2 Draw.

They say to keepe a Taverne in Foy, and that M. Spencer hath given her a stocke to set up for her selfe. Well, howsoever, I am glad, though he kild the man wee have got our money.

Explicit Actus primus.

Actus secundus, Scena prima.

Enter Forset and Roughman.

IN your time have you seene a sw [...]ter creature?


Some weeke or thereabouts.


And in that small time shee hath almost undone all the other Taverns. The Gallants make no rendezvous now but at the Wind-mill.


Spight of them Ile have her. It shall cost me the setting on but Ile have her.


Why, doe you thinke she is so easily won?


Easily or not, Ile bid as fayre and farre as any man within twenty miles of my head, but I will put her to the squeake.


They say there are Knights sonnes already come as suiters to her.


Tis like enough, some younger brothers, and so I intend to make them.

F [...]s.

If these doings hold, shee will grow rich in short time.


There shall bee doings that shall make this Wind-mill my grand seate, my mansion, my pallace, and my Constantinople.

Enter Besse Bridges like a Mistresse, and Clem.

Here she comes: observe how modestly she beares her selfe.


I must know of what burden this vessell is, I shall not beare with her till shee beare with mee, and till then, I cannot report her for a woman of good cariage.

[Page 14]Besse.

Your olde Master that dwelt here before my comming, hath turn'd over your yeares to me.


Right forsooth: before he was a Vintner, hee was a shoo-maker, and left two or three turne-overs more besides my selfe.


How long hast thou to serve.


But eleven yeares next grasse, and then I am in hope of my freedom. For by that time I shall be at ful age.


How old art thou now?


Forsooth newly come into my Teenes. I have scrap'd trenchers this two yeares, and the next Vintage I hope to be Barre-boy.


What's thy name?


My name is Clem, my father was a Baker, and by the report of his neighbors, as honest a man as ever lived by bread.


And where dwelt he?


Below here in the next crooked street, at the signe of the Leg. Hee was nothing so tall as I, but a little wee-man, and somewhat huckt-backt.


He was once Constable?


Hee was indeede, and in that one yeare of his raigne, I have heard them say, hee bolted and sifted out more businesse, then others in that office in many yeares before him.


How long ist since he dyed?


Marry the last deare yeare. For when corne grew to be at an high rate, my father never dowed after.


I thinke I have heard of him.


Then I am sure you have heard he was an honest neighbor, and one that never lov'd to be meale-mouth'd.


Well sirrah, proove an honest servant, and you shall finde me your good Mistresse. What company is in the Marmaid?


There be foure Sea captaines. I bele [...]ve they be little better then spirats, they are so flush of their rudocks.

No matter, we [...] will take no note of them.
Here they vent many brave commodities,
By which some gain accrews. Th'are my good customers,
And still returne me profit.

Wot you what Mistresse, how the two Saylers would have served me, that calld for the pound and halfe of Cheese?


How was it Clem?


When I brought them a reckoning, they would have had me to have scor'd it up. They tooke me for a sim­ple gull indeed, that would have had me to have taken Chalke for Cheese:


Well, goe waite upon the Captaines, see them want no wine.


Nor reckoning neyther, take my word Mistress.

Shee's now at leasure, Ile to her.
Lady, what Gentlemen are those above?
Sir they are such as please to be my guests,
And they are kindly welcome.

Give me their names.

You may goe search the Church-booke where they were christned.
There you perhaps may learne them.

Minion, how?

Fie, fie, you are too rude with this faire creature,
That no way seekes t'offend you.

Pray hands off.

I tell thee maid, wife, or what e'er thou beest,
No man shall enter here but by my leave.
Come, let's be more familiar.

'Las good-man.

Why knowst thou whō thou sleightft. I am Roughman,
The onely approved gallant of these parts,
A man of whom the Roarers stand in awe,
And must not be put off.
I never yet heard man so praise himselfe,
[Page 16]But prov'd in'th end a coward.
Coward, Bess?
You will offend me, raise in me that fury
Your beauty cannot calme. Goe to, no more,
Your language is too harsh and peremptory.
Pray let me heare no more on' [...]. I tell thee
That quiet day scarce past me these seven yeares
I have not crackt a weapon in some fray,
And will you move my spleene?

What, threat a woman?

Sir, if you thus persist to wrong my house,
Disturbe my guests, and nightly domineire,
To put my friends from patience, Ile complaine,
And right my selfe before the Magi [...]trate.
Can we not live in compasse of the Law,
But must be swaggerd out on't?
Goe too, wench,
I wish thee well, thinke on't, theres good for thee
Stor'd in my brest, and when I come in place
I must have no man to offend mine eye:
My love can brooke no rivals. For this time
I am content your Captaines shall have peace,
But must not be us'd to't.
Sir if you come like other free & civill Gentlemen
Y'are welcome, otherwise my doores are barr'd you.
That's my good Girle,
I have fortunes laid up for thee: what I have
Command it as thine owne. Goe too, be wise.

Well, I shall study for't.


Consider on't. Farewell.

My minde suggests mee that this prating fellow
Is some notorious Coward. If he persist
I have a tricke, to try what metall's in him.
Enter Clem.

What newes with you?


I am now going to carry the Captaines a reckning.

[Page 17]Besse.

And what's the [...]umme?


Let me see, eight shillings and six pence.


How can you make that good? write them a bill.


Ile watch them for that, tis no time of night to use our bils, the Gentlemen are no dwarfes, and with one word of my mouth, I can tell them what is to be-tall.


How comes it to so much?


Imprimis, six quarts of wine at seven pence the quart, seven sixpences.


Why dost thoureckon it so?


Because as they came in by hab nab, so I will bring them in a reckning at six and at sevens.


Well, wine—3 s, 6 d.


And what wants that often groats?


Tis two pence over.


Then put six pence more to it, and make it 4 s, wine, though you bate it them in their meate.


Why so I prethee?


Because of the old proverbe, VVhat they want in meate, let them take out in drinke. Then for twelve peny­worth of Anchoves, 18 d.


How can that be?


Marry very well Mistresse, 12 d. Anchoves, and 6 d. oyle and vineger. Nay they shall have a sawcy recko­ning


And what for the other halfe crowne?


Bread, beere, salt, napkins, trenchers, one thing with another, so the summa totalis is—8 s, 6 d.


Well, take the reckoning from the bar.


What needs that forsooth? The Gentlemen seem to be high flowne already, send them in but another pottle of Sacke, and they will cast up the reckoning of them­selves. Yes, Ile about it.

VVere I not with so my sutors pesterd,
And might I injoy my Spencer, what a sweet
Contented life were this? For money flowes
And my gaine's great. But to my▪ Roughman next:
[Page 18]I have a tricke to try what spirit's in him,
It shall be my next businesse: in this passion
For my deare Spencer, I propose me this,
Mongst many sorrowes some mirth's not amisse,
Enter Spencer, and Goodlac [...]e.

What were you thinking sir?

Troth of the world, what any man should see in't
To be in love with it.

The reason of your meditation.


To imagine that in the same in [...]nt that one for­fets all his estate, another enters upon a rich possession: as one goes to the Church to be marryed, another is hurri­ed to the gallowes to be hang'd, the last having no feeling of the first mans joy, nor the first of the last mans misery. At the same time that one lyes tortured upon the Racke, another lyes tumbling with his Mistresse over head and eares in downe and feathers. This when I truly consider, I cannot but wonder why any fortune should make a man extasy'd.


You give your selfe too much to melancholy.


These are my Maximes, and were they as faith­fully practised by others, as truly apprehended by me, we should have lesse oppression, and more charitie.

[...]nter the two Captaines that were before.
1 Capt.

Make good thy words.

2 Capt.

I say thou hast injur'd me.

1 Capt.

Tell me wherein.

2 Capt.
When we a [...]aulted Fiall,
And I had by the Generals command
The onset, and with danger of my person
Enforc'd the Spaniard to a swift retreat,
And beat them from their Fort, thou when thou sawst
All feare and danger past, mad'st up with me
[Page 19]To share that honour which was sole mine owne,
And never ventur'd shot for't, or ere came
Where bullet graz'd.
See Captaine a fray towards,
Let's if we can attone this difference.


1 Capt.
Ile prove it with my sword,
That though thou hadst the formost place in field,
And I the second, yet my Company
Was equall in the entry of the Fort.
My sword was that day drawne as soone as thine,
And that poore honour which I won that day
Was but my merit.
2 Capt.
Wrong me palpably
And justifie the same?

You shall not fight.

1 Capt.
Why sir, who made you first a Iusticer,
And taught you that word shall? you are no Generall,
Or if you be, pray shew us your Commission.
Sir you have no commission but my counsell,
And that Ile shew you freely.
2 Capt.

Tis some Chaplaine,

1 Capt.

I doe not like his text.


Let's beate their weapons downe.

1 Cap.

Ile aime at him that offers to divide us!

2 Cap.
Pox of these part-frayes, see I am wounded
By beating downe my weapon.

How fares my friend?

You sought for blood, and Gentlemen you have it,
Let mine appease you, I am hurt to death.
1 Capt.
My rage converts to pitie, that this Gentleman
Shall suffer for his goodnes.
Noble friend,
I will revenge thy death.
He is no friend
That murmurs such a thought. Oh Gentlemen.
[Page 20]I kill'd a man in Plimouth, and by you
Am [...]ine in Fiall, Caroll fell by me,
And I fall by a Spencer. Heav'n is just,
And will not suffer murder unreveng'd,
Heaven pardon me, as I forgive you both,
Shift for your selves: away.
2 Capt.
VVe saw him die,
But grieve you should so perish.
Note Heavens justice,
And henceforth make that use on [...]. I shall faint.
1 Capt.
Short Farewels now must serve. If thou surviv'st
Live to thine honour: but if thou expi [...]st
Heaven take thy soule to mercy. Exeunt.
I bleed much,
I must goe seeke a Surgeon.

Sir how cheare you?

Like one thats bound upon a new adventure
To th' other world: yet thus much worthy friend
Let me intreat you, since I understand
The Fleet is bound for England, take your occasion
To ship your selfe, and when you come to Foy
Kindly commend me to my dearest Besse,
Thou shalt receive a Will, i [...] which I have
Possest her of five hundred pounds a yeare.

A noble Legacy.

The rest I have bestow'd amongst my friends,
Onely reserving a bare h [...]ndred pounds
To see me honestly and well intert'd.
I shall performe your trust as carefully
As to my father, breath'd he.
M [...]rke me Captaine:
Her Legacie I give with this proviso,
If at thy arrivall where my Besse remaines,
Thou findst her well reported, free from scandall,
My VVill stands firme: but if thou hear'st her branded
For loose behaviour, or immodest life,
[Page 21]VVhat she should have, I here bestow on thee,
It is thine owne: but as thou lov'st thy soule
Deale faithfully betwixt my Besse and me.

Else let me dye a prodigie.

This Ring was hers, that, be she loose or chaste,
Being her owne, restore her, she will know it,
And doubtlesse she deserves it. Oh my memory,
VVhat had I quite forgot? She hath my picture,

And what of that?

If she be ranckt amongst the loose and lewd,
Take it away, I hold it much undecent,
A whore should ha't in keeping: but if constant
Let her injoy it: this my Will performe
As thou art just and honest.

Sense else forsake me.

Now lead me to my Chamber, all's mads even,
My peace with earth, and my atone with heaven.
Enter Besse Bridges like a Page with a sword, and Clem.
But that I know my mother to be chaste,
I'de sweare some Souldier got me.

It may be many a Souldiers Buffe Ierkin came out of your fathers Tanne-fat.

Me thinkes I have a manly spirit in me
In this mans habit.

Now am not I of many mens mindes, for if you should doe me wrong, I should not kill you, though I tooke you pissing against a wall.

Me thinkes I could be valiant on the sudden:
And meet a man [...]h field.
I could doe all that I have heard discourst
Of Mary Ambree or Westminsters Long-Meg.

VVhat Mary Ambree was I cannot tell, but un­lesse you were taller you will come short of Long Meg▪

Of all thy fellowes thee I ouely trust,
And charge thee to be secret.

I am bound in my Indentures to keepe my Ma­sters secrets, and should I finde a man in bed with you, I would not tell.


Be gone sir, but no words as you esteeme my favor.


But Mistresse, I could wish you to looke to your long seames, fights are dangerous. But am not I in a sweet taking thinke you?


I prethee why?


Why, if you should swagger and kill any body, I being a Vintner should be calld to the Barre.

Let none condemne me of [...]odesty,
Because I [...]rie the courage of a man
Who on my soule's a Coward: beates my servants,
Cuffes them, and as they passe by him kickes my maids,
Nay domineirs over me, making himselfe
Lord ore my house and houshold. Yesternight
I heard him make appointment on some businesse
To passe alone this way. Ile venture faire,
But I will try what's in him.
Enter Roughman and Forset.
Sir, I can now no further, weighty businesse
Calls me away.
Why at your pleasure then,
Yet I could wish that ere I past this field,
That I could meet some Hector, so your eyes
Might witnesse what my selfe have oft repeated,
Namely that I am valiant.

Sir no doubt. But now I am in haste. Farewell,

How many times brave words beare out a man?
For if he can but make a noise, hee's fear'd.
To talke of fraies, although he ne'er had heart
To face a man in field, that's a brave fellow,
I have beene valiant I must needs confesse,
[Page 23]In street and Taverne, where there have beene men
Ready to part the fray: but for the fields
They are too cold to fight in.

You are a villaine, a Coward, and you lie.

You wrong me I protest. Sweet courteous Gentlemā
I never did you wrong.
Wilt tell me that?
Draw forth thy coward sword, and suddenly,
Or as I am a man Ile runne thee through,
And leave thee dead ith field.
Hold as you are a Gentleman. I have tane an oath
I will not fight to day.
Th'ast tooke a blow already and the lie,
Will not both these inrage thee?
No, would you give the bastinado too,
I will not breake mine oath.
Oh, your name's Roughman.
No day doth passe you but you hurt or kill.
Is this out of your calender?
I, you are deceiv'd,
I ne'er drew sword in anger I protest,
Vnlesse it were upon some poore weake fellow
That ne'er wore steele about him.

Throw your Sword.

Here sweet young sir, but as you are a gentleman,
Doe not impaire mine honor.

Tye that shooe.


I shall sir.


Vntrusse that point.


Any thing this day to save mine oath.

Enough: yet not enough, lie downe
Till I stride ore thee.

Sweet sir any thing.

Rise, thou hast leave. Now Roughman thou art blest
This day thy life is sav'd, looke to the rest.
Take backe thy sword.
[Page 24]Roughm.
Oh you are g [...]rous: honour me so much
As let me know to whom Iowe'my life.

I am Besse Bridges. brother,


Still me thought that you were somthing like her.

And I have heard,
You domineir and revell in her house,
Controle her servants, and abuse her guests,
VVhich if I ever shall hereafter heare,
Thou art but a dead man.
She never told me of a brother living,
But you have power to sway me.
But for I see you are a Gentleman,
I am content this on [...]o let you passe,
But if I finde you fall into relapse,
The second's farre more dangerous.

I shall feare it. Sir will you take the wine?

I am for London.
And for these two termes cannot make returne▪
But if you see my sister, you may say
I was in health.

Too well, the devill take you.

Pray use her well, and at my comming backe
Ile aske for your acquaintance. Now farewell.
None saw' [...]hee's gone for London: I am unhurt,
Then who shall publish this disgrace abroad?
One man's no slander, should he speake his worst,
My tongue's as loud as his, but in this coun [...]y
Both of more fame and credit. Should we contest
I can out-face the proudest. This is then
My comfort: Roughman, thou [...] still the same,
For a disgrace not seent, is held no shame.
Enter two Sailons.
[...] Sa [...]
Aboard, aboard, the wind stands faire for England,
The ships have all weigh'd anchor.
2 Sail.

A stiffe gale blowes from the shore.

[Page 25]Enter Captaine Goodlacke.
The Sailers call aboard, and I am forc'd
To leave my friend now at the point of death,
And cannot close his eyes. Here is the Will,
Now may I finde yon Tann [...]rs daughter turn'd
Vnchaste or wanton, I shall gaine by it
Five hundred pounds a yeare: here is good evidence.
1 Sailor.

Sir will you take the long boat and aboard?

Enter a third Sailor.

With all my heart.

3 Sail.

What are you ready Mates?

1 Sail.
We staid for you. Thou canst not tel who's dead?
The great bell rung out now.
3 Sailor.
They say twas for one Spencer, who this night
Dyde of a mortall wound.
My worthy friend.
Vnhappy man that cannot stay behind [...]
To doe him his last rights. Was his name Spencer?
3 Sail.
Yes sir, a Gentleman of good account
And well knowne in the navy.
This is the end of all mortalitie:
It will be newes unpleasing to his Besse.
I cannot faire amisse, but long to see
Whether these Lands belong to her or mee.
Enter Spencer, and his Surgeon.
Nay feare not sir, now you have scap'd this dressing
My life for yours.
Spen [...].

I thanke thee honest Friend.


Sir I can tell you newes.


What ist I prethee?

There is a Gentleman one of your name,
That dide within this hower.

My name? what was he, of what sicknes dide he?

No sicknesse, but a sleight hurt in the body,
Which shewed at first no danger, but being searcht,
He dyde at the third dressing.
At my third search I am in hope of life.
The heavens are mercifull.

Sir doubt not your recovery.

That hundred pound I had prepar'd t'expend
Vpon mine owne expected Funerall
I for name sake will now bestow on his.

A noble resolution.

What ships are bound for England, I would gladly
Venture to sea, though weake.

All bound that way are vnder saile already.

Here's no securitie,
For when the beaten Spaniards shall returne,
They'le spoile whom they can finde.
We have a ship,
Of which I am Surgeon, that belongs unto
A London merchant, now bound for Mamorah
A towne in Barbary, please you to use that,
You shall command free passage: ten months hence
We hope to visit England.

Friend I thanke thee.

Ile bring you to the Master, who I know
Will entertaine you gladly.
When I have seene the funerall rights perform'd
To the dead body of my Country man
And kinsman, I will take your courteous offer.
England no doubt will heare newes of my death,
How Besse will take it is to me unknowne:
On her behaviour I will build my fa [...]e,
There raise my love, or thence erect my hate.
Explicit Actus secundus.

Actus tertius. Scena prima.

Enter Roughman and Forset.
OH y'are well met, j [...]st as I propheside
So it fell out.

As how I pray?

Had you but staid the crossing of one field,
You had beheld a Hector, the bold [...]st [...]
That ever Roughman met with.

Pray what was he?

You talke of Little Davy, Cutting Dick,
And divers such, but tush, this hath no fellow.

Of what stature and yeares was he?

Indeed I must confesse he was no giant,
Nor above fifty, but he did bestirre him,
Was here and there, and every where at once,
That I was ne'er so put to't since the Midwife
First wrapt my head in linnen. Let's to Besse.
Ile tell her the whole project.

Heres the house, wee'll enter if you please.

Where be these Drawers, Rascals I should say?
That will give no attendance.
Enter Clem.

Anon, [...]non sir, please you see a roome. What you here againe? Now we shall have such roaring.


You sirrah call your Mistresse.


Yes sir, I know it is my duty to call her Mistresse.


See and the slave will stir.


Yes I doe stir.

Shal we have humors, sauce box, you have [...]ares
Ile teach you prick-song.

But you have now a wrong Sow by the eare. I will call her,


Doe sir, you had best.


If you were twenty Roughmans, if you lug me by the eares againe, Ile draw.


Ha, what will you draw?


The best wine in the house for your worship: and I would call her, but I can assure you she is eyther not stir­ring, or else not in cafe.


How not in case?


I thinke she hath not her smocke on, for I thinke I saw it lye at her beds head.


What, Drawers grow capritious?


Help, help.

Enter Besse Bridges.
What uprore's this? shall we be never rid
From these disturbances?
Why how now Besse? Is this your huswifry?
When you are mine Ile have you rise as early as the La [...]ke,
Looke to the Bar your selfe: these lazy rascalls
Will bring your sta [...]e behinde hand.

You lye sir?


How? lye?


Yes sir at the Raven in the high-street, I was at your lodging [...]his morning for a pottle pot.

You will about your businesse, must you heare
Stand gaping and idle?
You wrong me sir,
And tyrannize too much over my servants.
I will have no man touch them but my selfe.

If I doe not put Rats-bane into his wine in stead of Sugar, say I am no true Baker.

VVhat, rise at noone?
A man may fight a tall fray in a morning,
And one of your best friends too be hackt and mangled,
[Page 29]And almost cut to peeces, and you fast
Close in your bed, ne'er dreame on't.

Fought you this day?


And ne'er was better put too't in my daies.


I pray, how was't?


Thus: as I past yon fields:

Enter the Kitchin-maid.

I pray forsooth, what shall I reckon for the Iolle of Ling in the Port-cullis.

A pox upon your Iolles, you kitchin-stuffe,
Goe scowre your skillets, pots, and dripping-pans,
And interrupt not us.
The Devill take your Oxe-heeles, you foule
Cods-head, must you be kicking?

Minion dare you scould?


Yes sir, and lay my ladle over your coxcombe.

I doe not thinke that thou darst strike a man,
That swaggerst thus ore women.

How now Besse?


Shall we be never quiet?


You are too rude.


Now I professe all patience.


Then proceede.

Rising up early, Minion whilst you slept,
To crosse you field, I had but newly parted
With this my friend, but that I soone espide
A gallant fellow, and most strongly arm'd.
In the mid-field we met, and both being resolute,
VVe justled for the wall.

VVhy, did there stand a wall in the mid-field?

I meant strove for the way.
Two such brave spirits meeting, straight both drew.
Enter Clem.

The Maid forsooth sent me to know whether you would have the shoulder of mutton roasted or sod.


A mischiese on your shoulders.

That's the way to make me never prove good porter


You still heape wrongs on wrongs.

I was in fury
To thinke upon the violence of that fight,
And could not stay my rage.

Once more proceed.

Rough [...].
Oh had you seene two tilting meteors justle
In the mid Region, with like feare and fury
We two encounter'd. Not Briarius
Could with his hundred hands have strucke more thicke.
Blowes came about my head, I tooke them still.
Thrusts by my sides twixt body and my armes,
Yet still I put them by.
When they were past he put them by. Goe on.
But in this fury what became of him?
I thinke I paid him home, hee's soundly maul'd,
I bosom'd him at every second thrust.
Be [...]

[...]cap'd he with life?

Ro [...]
[...], thats my feare: if he recover this,
I [...]e never trust my sword more.

Why fly you not if he be in such danger?

Because a witch once told me
I n [...]r should dye [...]or murder.
I beleeve thee,
But tell me pray, was not this gallant fellow,
A pretty faire young youth about my yeares?

Even thereabout.


He was not fiftie then.


Much of my stature?


Much about your pitch.


He was no giant then.


And wore a suit like this?


I halfe suspect.

That gallant [...]ellow,
So wounded and so mangled, was my selfe,
You base white-lyver'd slave, it was this shooe
[Page 31]That thou stoopt to untie: untrust those points:
And like a beastly coward lay along,
Till I stridd over thee. Speake, was't not so?

It cannot be deny'd.

Hare hearted fellow, Milk-sop, dost not blush?
Give me that Rapier: I will make thee sweare,
Thou shalt redeeme thi [...] scorne thou hast incurr'd,
Or in this woman shape Ile cudgell thee,
And bea [...]e thee through the streets. As I am Besse, I'll do't.

Hold, hold; I sweare.


Dare not to enter at my doore till then.


Shame confounds me quite.

That shame redeem: perhaps we [...] doe thee gra [...]
I love the valiant, but despise the base.

VVill you be [...] sir?

She hath wakend me,
And kindled that dead fire of courage in me,
VVhich all this while hath slept: To spare my fl [...]sh
And wound my fame, what is't? I will not rest
Till by some valiant deed I have made good
All my disgraces past. Ile crosse the st [...]eete,
And strike the next brave fellow that I meet.

I am bound to see the end on't.


Are you sir?

Boates off Forset.
Enter Mayor of Foy, an Alderman; and Servant.
Beleeve me sir, she beares her selfe so well,
No man can justly blame her: and I wonder
Being a single woman as she is,
And living in an house of such resort,
She is no more dist [...]ted.
The best Gentlemen
The Country yeelds, become her daily guests.
Sure sir I thinke shee's rich.
[Page 32]Mayor.
Thus much I know, would I could buy her state
VVere't for a brace of thousands.
A shot.
[...] was said a ship is now put into harbour,
Know whence she is.

Ile bring newes from the key.

To tell you true sir, I could wish a match
Betwixt her and mine owne and onely sonne,
And stretch my purse too upon that condition.

Please you Ile motion it.

Enter the Servant.
One of the ships is new come from the Islands,
The greatest man of note's one Captaine Goodlack.
It is but a small Vessell.
Enter Goodlack and Sailors.
Ile meet you straight at th' VVind-mill.
Not one word of my name.
[...] Sail.

VVe understand you.


Sir tis told us you came late from th'Islands▪


I did so:


Pray sir the n [...]wes from thence.

The best is, that the Generall is in health,
And Fiall won from th' Spaniards: but the Fl [...]ct
By reason of so many dangerous tempests
Extremely wether-beaten. You sir I take it,
Are Mayor o'th towne.

I am the Kings Lief [...]nant.

I have some Letters of import from one
A Gentleman of very good account,
That dide late in the Islands, to a Maide
That keepes a Taverne here.

Her name Besse Bridges?

The same. I was desir'd to make inquirie
VVhat fame she beares, and what report shee's of.
Now you sir being here [...]hiefe Magistr [...],
Can best resolve me.
[Page 33]Mayor.
To our understanding,
Shee's without staine or blemish well reputed,
And by her modesty and faire demeanour,
Hath won the love of all.

The worse for me.

I can assure you many narrow eyes
Have lookt on her and her condition,
But those that with most envy have endevour'd
T' entrap her, have return'd won by her vertues.
So all that I inquire of make report.
I am glad to heare't. Sir I have now some businesse,
And I of force must leave you.

I intreat you to sup with me to night.

Sir I may trouble you.
Five hundred pound a yeare out of my way.
Is there no flaw that I can tax her with,
To forfeit this revenew? Is she such a Saint,
None can missay her? why then I my selfe
VVill undertake it. If in her demeanor
I can but finde one blemish, staine or spot,
It is five hundred pound a yeare well got.
Enter Cle [...] and the Sailors on the one side, at the other Roughman, who drawes upon them, and beates the [...] off.
Enter Besse, Clem, and the Sailors.

But did he fight it bravely?


I assure you mistresse most dissolutely: hee hath runne this Sailer three times through the body, and yet never toucht his skinne.


How can that be?


Through the body of his doublet I meant.

How shame, base imputation, and disgrace
Can make a coward valiant: Sirrah you
Looke to the barre.

Ile hold up my hand there presently.


I understand, you came now from the Islands,

1 Sail.

VVe did so.

If you can tell me tydings of one Gentleman
I shall requite you largely.
1 Sailor.

Of what name?


One Spencer.

1 Sailor.

VVe both saw and knew the man.

Onely for that call for what wine you please.
Pray tell me where you left him.
2 Sailor.

In Fiall.


VVas he in health? how did he fare?

2 Sail.

Why well.

For that good newes, spend, revell, and carouse,
Your reckning's paid before-hand. I'me extaside,
And my delights unbounded.
1 Sail.

Did you love him?


Next to my hopes in heaven.

1 Sail.

Then change your mirth.

VVhy, as I take it, you told me he was well,
And shall I not rejoyce?
1 Sail.

Hee's well in heaven, For Mistrisse, he is dead,

Hah, dead! was't so you said? Th'ast givē me, friend
But one wound yet, speake but that word againe,
And kill me out-right.
2 Sail.

He lives not.

And shall I? VVilt thou not breake heart?
Are these my ribs wrought out of brasse or steele,
Thou canst not craze their barres?
1 Sail.

Mistris use patience, which conquers all despaire.

You advise well:
I did but jeast with sorrow: you may see
I am now in gentle temper.
2 Sail.

True, we see't.

Pray take the best roome in the liouse, and there
Call for what wine best tasts you: at my leasure
[Page 35]Ile visit you my selfe.
1 Sail.

Ile use your kindnesse.

Exeu [...].
That it should be my fate. Poore poore sweet-ha [...]
I doe but thinke how thou becomst thy grave,
In which would I lay by thee: what's my wealth
To injoy't without my Spencer. I will now
Study to die, that I may live with him.
Enter Goodlack.
The further I inquire, the more I heare
To my discomfort. If my discontinuance
And change at Sea disgusse me from her knowledge
I shall have scope enough to prove her fully.
This sadnesse argues she hath heard some newes
Of my Friends death.
It cannot sure be true
That he is dead, Death could not be so envious
To snatch him in his prime. I study to forget
That ere was such a man.
If not impeach her,
My purpose is to seeke to marry her.
If she deny me, Ile conceale the VVill,
Or at the least make her compound for halfe.
Save you faire Gentlewoman.

You are welcome sir.

I heare say there's a whore here that draws wine,
I am sharp se [...], and newly come from sea,
And I would see the [...]rash.
Sure you mistake sir.
If you desire attendance and some wine
I can command you both. VVhere be these boyes?

Are you the Mistresse?


I command the house.


Of what birth are you, pra'y?

B [...]ss.

A Tanners daughter.


VVhere borne?

[Page 36]Besse.

In Somersetshire.

A trade-falne Tanners daughter goe so brave:
Oh you have trickes to compasse these gay cloaths.

None sir, but what are honest.


VVhat's your name?


Besse Bridges most men call me.


Y [...]are a whore.

Sir, I will fetch you wine to wash your mouth,
It is so foule, I feare't may fester else.
There may be danger in't.

Not all this move her patience.

Good sir, at this time I am scarce my selfe
By reason of a great and weighty losse
That troubles me: but I should know that Ring.
How, this, you baggage? It was never made
To grace a strumpets finger.

Pardon sir, I both must and will leave you.

Did not this well▪ This will sticke in my stomack
I could repent my wrongs done to this maid:
But Ile not leave her thus: if she still love him.
Ile breake her heart-strings with some false report
Of his unkindnesse.
Enter Clem.

You are welcome Gentleman: what wine will you drinke? Claret, Metheglin, or Muskadine, Cyder or Pyrrey, to make you merry, Arag [...], or Peter-see-mee▪ Canary or Charnico? But by your nose sir you should love a cup of Malmsey: you shall have a cup of the best in Corn­waile.


Here's a brave draw [...]r will quarrell with his wine.


But if you preferre the Frenchman before the Spaniard, you shall have either here of the deepe red grape or the pallid white. You are a pretty tall Gentleman, you should love High-Country wine: none bu [...] Clarkes and Sextons love Graves wine. Or are you a [...]ied man, Ile [Page 37] furnish you with bastard, white or browne, according to the complexion of your bed-fellow.

You rogue, how many yeares of your prentiship
Have you spent in studying this set sp [...]h?

The first line of my part was, Anon anon, sir: and the first question I answerd to, was logger-head, or block­head, I know not whether.


Speake, wheres your Mistresse?


Gone up to her chamber.


Set a pottle of Sacke in th'fire, and carry it into the next roome.


Score a pottle of Sacke in the Crowne, and see at the barre for some rotten egges to burne it: we must have one tricke or other to vent away our bad commodities.

Enter Besse with Spencers Picture.
To dye, and not vouchsafe some few commends
Before his death, was most unkindly done.
This Picture is more courteous: 'twill not shrinke
For twenty thousand kisses: no nor blush:
Then thou shalt be my husband, and I vow
Never to marry other.
Enter Goodlacke.

Wheres this harlot?

You are immodest sir to presse thus rudely
Into my private chamber.
Pox of modesty
When punks must have it mincing in their mouthes.
And have I found thee? then shalt hence with me.
Rob me not of the chiefest wealth I have:
Search all my trunks, take the best Iewels there:
Deprive me not that treasure, Ile redeeme it
With plate, and all the little coyne I have,
So I make keepe that still.
Thinkst thou that bribes
Can make me leave my friends Will unperform'd?
[Page 38]Besse.

What was that Friend?

One Spencer, dead [...]h Islands,
Whose very last words uttered athis death
Were these, If ever thou shalt come to Foy,
Take thence my picture, and deface it quite:
For let it not be said, my pourtrature
Shall grace a strumpets chamber.
Twas not so:
You lye, you are a villaine: twas not so.
Tis more then sinne thus to bely the dead:
Hee knew if ever I would have transgrest,
'Thad beene with him: he du [...]st have sworne me chaste,
And dyde in that beliefe.
Are you so briefe?
Nay, [...]e not trouble you: God b'oy you.
Yet leave me still that Picture, and Ile sweare
You are a Gentleman, and cannot lie.

I am inexorable.

Are you a Christian, have you any name
That ever good man gave you?
'Twas no Saint you were call'd after. Whats thy na [...]e?

My name is Captaine T [...]as Good

I can see no good in thee▪ Race that syllable
Out of thy name.

Goodlacke's my name.

I cry you mercy sir: I now remember you,
You were my Spencers friend, and I am sory,
Because he lov'd you, I have beene so ha [...]h:
For whose sake, I intreat ere you take't he [...]ce,
I may but take my leave on't.

You'l returne it?


As I am chaste I'will.


For once Ile trust you.

Oh thou the perfect semblance of my Love,
And all that's left of him, take one sweet kisse,
As my la [...] farewell. Thou resemblest him
[Page 39]For whose sweet safety I was every morning
Downe on my knees, and with the Larkes sweet tunes
I did begin my prayers: and when sad sleepe
Had charm'd all eyes, when none save the bright starres▪
Were up and waking, I remembred thee,
But all, all to no purpose.

Sure, most sure, this cannot be dissembled.

To thee I have beene constant in thine absence,
And when I look'd upon this painted peece
Remembred thy last rules and principles:
For thee I have given almes, visited prisons,
To Gentlemen and passengers lent coyne,
That if they ever had abilitie
They might repay't to Spencer: yet for this,
All this, and more, I cannot have so much
As this poore table.

I should question truth, if I should wrong this creature.

I am resolv'd.
See sir, this Picture I restore you backe,
Which since it was his will you should take hence,
I will not wrong the dead.

God be w'you.

One word more.
Spencer you say was so unkinde in death:

I tell you true.

I doe intreat you even for goodnesse sake
Since you were one that he intirely lov'd,
If you some few dayes hence here me expir'd,
You will mongst other good men, and poore people
That haply may misse Besse, grace me so much
As follow me to th' grave. This if you promise,
You shall not be the least of all my friends
Remembred in my will. Now fare you well.
Had I a heart of flint or adamant
It would relent at this. My Mistris Besse,
I have better tydings for you.
[Page 40]Besse.

You will restore my Picture? will you?

Yes, and more then that,
This Ring from my friends finger sent to you,
With infinite commends.

You change my blood.

These writings are the evidence of Lands▪
Five hundred pound ay eare's bequeath'd to you,
Of which I here possesse you: all is yours.
This surplussage of love, hath made my loss [...]
That was but great before: now infinite.
It may be compast: there's in this my purpose
No impossibilitie.

What study you?

Foure thousand pound besides this Legacie,
In [...]ewels, gold, and silver I can make,
And every man discharg'd. I am resolv'd
To be a patterne to all Maides hereafter
Of constancy in love.
Sweet Mistris Besse, will you command my service,
If to succeed your Spencer in his Love,
I would expose me wholly to your wishes.
Alas my love sleepes with him in his grave,
And cannot thence be wakend: yet for his sake
I will impart a secret to your trust,
Which, saving you, no mortall should partake.

Both for his love and yours, command my service▪

There's a prise
Brought into Famouth Road, a good tight Vessell,
The Bottome will but cost eight hundred pound,
You shall have money: buy it.

To what end?

That you shall know hereafter. Furnish her
With all provision needfull: spare no cost:
And joyne with you a ginge of lusty ladds,
Such as will bravely man her: all the charge
I will commit to you: and when sh [...] [...]d,
[Page 41]Captaine she is thine owne.

I sound it not.

Spare me the rest. This voyage I intend,
Though some may blame, all Lovers will▪ commend.
Explicit Actus tertius.

Actus quartus. Scena prima.

After an Alarmne, Enter a Spanish Captaine, with Saylors, bringing in a Merchant, Spencer, and the Surgion prisoners.
FOr Fialls losse, and spoile by th'English done,
We are in part reveng'd. There's not a Vessell
That beares upon her top S. Georges Crosse,
But for that act shall suffer.
Insult not Spaniard,
Nor be too proud, that thou by oddes of ship [...],
Provision, m [...], and powder mad'st us yeeld.
Had you come one to one, or mad [...] [...]
With reasonable advantage; w [...]e by [...]
Had made the carkasse of your ship your graves,
Low suncke to the Seas bottome.
Englishman, thy ship shall yeeld us pillage,
Th [...] prisoners we wi [...] keepe in [...]gest Hold,
To pay no other [...]ome then [...]ir lives▪
Degenerate Spaniard, there's no noblesse in thee
To threaten men unarm'd and miserable,
Thou mightst as well [...]ad [...]e a field o [...] [...]aughter,
And kill them ore, that are already sla [...]e,
And brag thy manhood.

Sirrah, what are you?

Thy equall as I am a prisoner,
But once to stay a better man then thou,
[Page 42]A Gentleman in my Country.
Wert thou not so, we h [...]ve st [...]appadoe, bolts,
And engines to the Maine-mast- [...]tened,
Can m [...]ke you gentle.
Spa [...]iard doe thy worst, thou [...]nst not act
More tor [...]ures then my courage is able to endure.
These Englishmen
Nothing can daunt them: Even in misery
They'l not regard their masters.

Masters! Insulting bragging Thrasoes.

His sawcinesse wee' [...] punish 'bove the rest.
About their censures we will next devise,

And now towards Spaine with our brave English prise.

Exe [...]nt.
Enter Besse, Mayor, Alderman, Cl [...]. A tableseto [...]t out, and stooles.

A Table and some stooles.


I shal give you occasion [...]o case your tailes presently.


Will' [...] please you sit?


Wi [...] all our hearts, and thanke you.


Fetch me that parchment in my Closet window.


The three [...] [...] with the wrong side outward


That with the [...].


I hope it is my Indenture, and now shee [...] to give me my time.

And now you are alo [...], faire Mistresse Elz [...]beth
I thinke it good to [...]ste you with a motion.
That no way can displease you.

Pray speake on.

'T hath pleas'd here Master Mayor [...]o far to look
Into your faire [...] that he thinkes you
A fit match for his Sonne.
Enter Clem with the [...].

Here's the parchment, but if it bee the lease of your house, I can assure you 'tis out.

[Page 43]Besse.

The yeares are not expired.


No, but it is out of your Closet.


About your businesse.


Here's even Susanna bewixt the two wicked elders.


What thinke you Mistresse Elzabeth?

Sir I thanke you.
And how much I esteeme this goodnesse from you
The trust I shall commit unto your charge
Will truly witnes. Marry, gentle Sir!
'Las I have sadder businesse now in hand,
Then sprightly marriage, witnesse these my teares.
Pray reade there.

The last Will and Testament of Elzabeth Bridges to be committed to the trust of the Mayor and Aldermen of Foy, and their Succe [...]ors for ever.

To set up yong beginners in their trade, a thousand pound
To relieve such as have had losse by Se [...], 500 pound.
To every Maid that's married o [...]t of Foy,
Whose name's Elzabeth ten pound.
To relieve maimed Souldiers, by the yeare ten pound.
To Captaine Goodlacke, if hee shall performe
The businesse hee's imployed in, five hundred pound.
The Legacies for Spencer thus to stand,
To number all the poorest of his kin,
And to bestow on them. Item to—
Enough: you see sir I am now too poore
To bring a dow [...]y with me fit for your sonne.
You want a president, you so abound
In charitie and goodne [...]e.
All my servants
I leave at your disc [...]ons to dispose
Not one but I have left some Leg [...]cie.
What shall become of me, or what I purpose
Spare further to enquire.
May [...]r.
Wee'll take our leaves.
And move to you [...] [...].
[Page 44]In this bequest.
Let never such despaire,
As dying rich, shall make the poore their h [...]yre.
Why what is all the wealth the world containes.
Without my Spencer?
Enter Roughm [...] and Forset.
Wl [...]res my sweet Besse [...]?
Shall I become a welcome suiter now?
That I have chang'd my Copie?
I joy to heare it.
Ile finde imployment for you.
Enter Goodlacke, Sailors, and Clem.
A gallant ship, and wondrous proudly trim'd,
Well calk [...], well tackled, every way prepar'd.

Here [...] our [...]rning for a [...]son end.

Besse, shall I strike that Captaine? say the word,
Ile have him by the ear [...]s.

Not for the world.


What saith that fellow?


He [...] your lov [...], good, [...] [...]et him ha [...]t.


Then change a hand.

Resolve me all. I am bound [...]pon a voyage,
Will you in this adventure take such part,
As I my [...] shall doe?

With my [...] Besse, to the worlds end.

Then Captaine and [...] both, join [...] hands,
Such are your places now.

Wee two are friends.

I next must swear [...] you [...]wo, [...] [...] yo [...]r ginge
True to some articles you must observe,
Reserving to my [...] a prime co [...] [...]d,
Whilst I injoyne nothing unreason [...].

All this is gran [...]ed.

Then first, you [...] your [...]ip [...] [...] [...]
[Page 45]Ile have her pitcht all ore, no spot of white,
No colour to be [...]eene, no Saile but blacke,
No Flag but sable.

T will be ominous, and bode disaster fortune.


Ile ha'it so.


Why then she shall be pitcht blacke as the devil,

She sh [...]ll be call'd The Negro, when you know
M [...] conc [...], Captaine, you will thanke for' [...].

But [...] are we bound?

Pardon me that.
When wee are out at sea Ile t [...]ll you all.
For mine owne wearing I have rich apparell,
For man or woman as occasion serves.

But M [...]strisse, if you be going to sea, what shall become of me a land.


Ile give thee thy full time.


And shall I [...] time, when time is, and let my Mistresse slip away. No, it shall be seene that my teeth are as strong to grinde bisket as the best sail or of them all, and my stomac [...] as able to digest po [...]derd b [...]ese and Poore­john. Shall I st [...]y here to see [...]re a pudding in the Hal [...] ­moone, and [...]ee my [...] esse at the [...] yard with her sailes up, and spread. No it shall be seene that I who have beene brought up to draw wine, will see what wa [...]r the ship drawes, or Ile beray the Voyage.


If thou ha [...] so much co [...]rage, the Captaine shall accept th [...].


If I have so much courage? When did you see a bla [...]ke beard with a white lyvor, or a little fellow with­out a tall stomacke. I doubt not but to prove an honour to-all the Drawers in Cornwall.


What now [...]?


To make my [...] [...] in this bold enterpr [...].

[...] gladly sir.
And now our number's full, what's to be done.
First, at my charge Ile fea [...] the [...] [...] [...]oy,
[Page 46]Then set the Cellers ope, that these my Mates
May quaffe unto the health of our boone voyage,
Our needfull things being [...]ce convay'd aboard,
Th [...] casting up our caps in signe of joy.
Our purpose is to bid farewell to Foy.
Hoboyes long.
Enter Mullisheg Bas [...] Alcad [...], and Ioffer: with other Attendants.
Out of these bloody and intestine broiles
Wee have at length attain'd [...] [...]ort na [...]e peace,
And now at last establisht in the Throne
Of our great Ancestors, and raigne King
Of Fesse and great Morocco.
Mighty Mullisheg,
Pride of our age, and glory of the Moores,
By whose victorious hand all Barbary
Is conquer'd, aw'd, and swai'd: behold thy vassalls
With loud applauses greet thy victory.
sh [...] flourish.
M [...]ll.
Vpon the slaughtered bodies of our foes,
We mount our high Tribunall, and being sole
VVithout competitor, we now have leasure
To stablish lawes fi [...]st [...] our Kingdomes safetie,
The inriching of our publique Treasury,
And last our state and pleasure: then give order
That all such Christian Merchants as have traffique
And freedome in our Country, that conceale
The least part of our Custome me due to us,
Shall forfeit ship and goods.
There are appointed
Vnto that purpose carefull officers.
Those forfeitures must help to furnish up
Th'exhausted treasure that our wars consum'd,
Part of such profits as [...] that way
VVe have already tast [...]d.
[Page 47]Al [...].
Tis most fit,
Those Christians that reape profit▪ by our Land
Should con [...]ribute unto so great a losse.
Alcad [...], They sh [...]ll. But what's the style of King,
VVithout his pleasure? Finde us concubines,
The fayrest Christian Damsells you can hire,
O [...] buy for gold: the loueliest of the Moores
VVe can command, and Negroes every where▪
Italians, French, and Dutch, choise Turkish Girles
M [...]st fill our Alkedavy, the great Pallace,
Where Mullisheg now daines to keepe his Court.
Who else are worthy to be Libertines,
Butsuch as beare the Sword?
Ioffer, Thou pleasest us.
If Kings on earth be termed Demi-gods.
Why should we not make here terrestriall heaven?
VVe can, wee will, ou [...] God shall be our pleasure,
For so our Mecan Prophes warrants as.
And now the musicke of the Drums surcease,
Wee'll learne to dance to the soft tunes of peace.
Ent [...]r Besse like a Sea-captaine, Goodlack [...], Roughman, For [...]t, and Cle [...].
Good morrow Captaine. Oh this last Sea-sight
VVas gallantly perform'd. It did me good
To see the Spanish Carveile vaile her top
Vnto my Maiden Flag. VVhere ride we now?

Among the Islands.


VVhat coast is this wee now desc [...]y from [...].


Yon Fort's call'd Fiall.


Is that the place where Spenc [...]rs body lies?


Yes, in yon Church hee's buried.

Then know, to this placo was my voyage bound
To fetch the body of my Spenc [...]r thence.
[Page 48]In his owne Count [...]y to erect a tombe▪
And lasting monum [...]t, where when I die
In the same bed of [...] my [...] may [...]
Then all that love me▪ arme and make for shore,
Yours be the spoile, he mine, I [...]rave no more.
May [...] man dye derided and accurst
That will not follow [...] a woman leades.
Roughwan, you are too rash, and counsell ill,
Have not the [...] [...]ortifide the towne?
In all our Ginge wee are but sixty five.
Rough [...].

Come, Ile make one.

Attend me good Lieutenant.
And sweet Besse, liften what I have devis'd,
With ten tall Fellowes I hav [...] man'd our Boat,
To see what stragling [...] they c [...]n take.
And see where [...] [...] [...] prisoners.
These Spania [...]ds we by [...] of day surpris'd,
As they were ready to take [...] for [...].
Spaniards, upon your lives resolve us truly
How strong's the Towne and Fort.
Since English Rawleigh wan and spoil'd it first,
The Towne's [...] and [...] new [...],
And foure Field-peeces in th [...] [...] house lye
To keepe the Harbours mouth.

And what's one ship to these▪

Was there not in the time of their [...]
A Gentleman call'd Sponcer buryed there
Within the Church, whom some report was [...],
Or perisht by a wound?
Sp [...]n.
[...] [...] was,
And ore him rais'd a goodly [...],
But when the English Navy were fail'd thence,
And that the Spaniands did possesse the Towne.
Because they held him for [...] Heretike,
They straight remov'd his body from th [...] Church.
And would the tyrants be so uneharitable
To wrong the dead? where did they then bestow him?

They buryed him ith fields.


Oh still more cruell.

The man that ought th [...] field, doubtfull his corne
Would never prosper whilst an hereticks body
Lay there, hee made petition to the Church
To ha'it digd up and burnt, and so it was.
What's he that loves me would perswade me live.
Not rather leape ore hatches into th'Sea:
Yet ere I die I hope to be reveng'd
Vpon some Spaniards for my Spencers wrong.

Let's first begin with these.

'Las these poore slaves! besides their pardond lives
One give them money. And Spaniards where you come,
Pray for Besse Bridges, and speake well o'th English.

We shall.

Our mourning wee will turne into revenge,
And since the Church hath censur'd so my Spencer,
Bestow upon the Church some few cast Peeces,
Command the Gunner do't.

And if he can to batter it to the earth.

A Peece.
Enter Clem falling for haste.

A Saile, a Saile.


From whence?


A pox upon yon Gunner, could he not giue war­ning before he had shot?


Why I prethee?


Why? I was sent to the top-mast to watch, and there I fell fast asleepe. Bounce quoth the guns, downe tumbles Clem, and if by chance my feet had not hung in the tackles, you must have sent to England for a bone­setter, for my necke had beene in a pittifull taking,


Thou toldst us of a Saile.

[Page 50]Enter Sailer above.
Arme Gentlemen, a gallant ship of warre
Makes with her full sailes this way: who it seemes
Hath tooke a Ba [...]ke [...]f England.
Which wee'll r [...]cue.
Or perish in th'adventure. You have sworne
That howsoere we conquer or miscary
Not to reveale my sex.

Wee have.

Then for your Countries honor, my revenge,
For your owne fame, and hope of golden spoile,
Stand bravely to' [...]. The manage of the fight
We leaue to you.
Then now up with your fights, & let your ensignes
Blest with S. Georges Crosse, play with the windes.
Faire Besse, keepe you your cabin.
Captaine you wrong me, I will face the [...]ght,
And where the bullets sing loudst 'bout mine eares,
There shall you finde me chearing up my men.

This wench would of a coward make an Hercules.

Trumpets a charge, and with your whistles shrill
Sound boatswaynes an alarum to your mates.
With musicke cheare up their aston [...] soules,
The whilst the thundring Ordnance beare the Base.
To fight against the Spaniards we desire▪
Alarme Trumpets.

Gunners straight give fire.

Enter Goodlacke hurt. Besse, Roughman, Forset, Clem.
I am shot and can no longer man the Decke,
Yet let not my wound daunt your courage mat [...].
For every drop of blood that thou hast shed,
Ile have a Spaniards life. Advance your Targets,
And now cry all, Boord, boord, amaine for England.
[Page 51]Enter with victory Besse, Roughman, Forset, Clem. &c. The Spaniards Prisoners.

How is it with the Captaine?

Nothing dangerous,
But being shot ith'thigh hee keepes his Cabin▪
And cannot rise to greet your victory.

He stood it brav [...]ly out whilst he could stand.

But [...]or these Spaniards, now you Don Diegoes,
You that made Pa [...]les to stinke.
Before we further censure them, let's know
What English prisoners they have here aboord.
You may command them all. We that were now
Lords ouer them, Fortune hath made your slaves,
Release our prisoners.
Had my captaine dide
Not one proud Spaniard had escap'd with life,
Your ship is forfeit to us, and your goods.
So live. Give him his long Boate: him and his
Set safe ashore; and pray for English Besse.
I know not whom you meane, but be [...] your Queene
Famous Elizabeth, I shall report
She and her subjects both are mercifull.
Enter Roughman, with the Merchant and Spencer.

Whence are you sir? and whither were you bound?

Merc [...].
I am a London bound for Barbary,
But by this Spanish Man-of-warre surpris'd,
Pillag'd and captiv'd.
We much pitty you,
What lo [...]e you have sustain'd, this Spanish prey
Shall make good to you to the utmost farthing▪
Our lives, and all our fortunes whatsoever
Are wholly at your service.
These Gentlemen have been dejected long,
Let me peruse them all, and give them mon [...]y
[Page 52]To drinke our health, and pray forget not Sirs,
To pray for—Hold, support me, or I faint▪
What sudden unexpected extasie
Disturbs your conquest.
Interrupt me not,
But give me way for Heavens sake.
I have seene a face ere now like that yong Gen­tleman,
But not remember where.
But he was slaine,
Lay buried in yon Church, and thence remov'd,
Denyde all Christian rights, and like an Infidell
Confinde unto the fields, and thence digd up,
His body after death had mar [...]yrdome:
All these assure me tis his shadow dogs me,
For some most just revenge▪thus farre to Sea.
Is it because the Spaniards scap'd with life,
That were to thee so cruell after death
Thou hauntst me thus? Sweet ghost thy rage forbeare,
I will revenge thee on the next we se [...]ze.
I am amaz'd, this sight Ile not endure.
Sleepe, sleepe, faire ghost, for thy revenge is sure.

Forset, convey the owner to his cabin.


I pray sir what young Gentleman is that?

Hee's both the owner of the ship and goods,
That for some reasons hath his name conceal'd.
Me thinke he lookes like Besse, for in his eyes
Lives the first▪love that did my heart surprise.
Come Gentlemen, first make your losses good
Out of this Spanish prize. Let's then divide
Both severall wayes, and heavens be our guide.

We towards Mamorrah.

We where the Fates do [...] please,
Till we have tract a wildernesse of Seas.
[Page 53]Enter Chorus.
Our Stage so lamely can expresse a Sea,
That we are forst by Chorus to discourse
What should have beene in action. Now imagine
Her passion ore, and Goodlacke well recoverd,
Who had he not been wounded and seene Spencer,
Had sure descride him. Much prise they have tane,
The French and Dutch she spares, onely makes spoile
Of the rich Spaniard, and the barbarous Turke.
And now her fame growes great in all these seas.
Suppose her rich, and forst for want of water
To put into Mamorrah in Barba [...]y,
Where wearied with the habit of a man,
She was discoverd by the Moores aboord,
Which told it to the amorous King of Fesse,
That ne'er before had English Lady seene.
He sends for her on shore, how he receives her,
How she and Spencer meet, must next succeed.
Sit patient then, when these are fully told,
Some may hap say, I, there's a Girle worth gold.
Act long.
Explicit Actus quartus.

Actus quintus. Scena prima.

Enter Mullisheg, Alcade, Ioffer, and Attendants, &c.

BVt was she of such presence?


To decribe her were to make eloquence dumb


Well habited?


I ne'er beheld a beauty more compleat.


Thou hast inflam'd our spirits. In England borne?

The Captaine so reported.


How her ship?

I never saw a braver Vess [...]ll saile,
And she is call'd The Negro.
Perhaps to our good fate, She in a Negro
Hath sail'd thus farre to bosome with a Moore.
But for the motion made to come ashore,
How dis she relish that?
I promist to the Captaine large reward
To winne him to it, and this day he'hath promist
To bring me her free answer.
When he comes
Give him the entertainment of a Prince.
Enter a Moore.

The newes with thee?

The Captaine of The Negro craves admittance
Vnto your Highnesse presence.
A Guard attend him, and our noblest Bashawes
Conduct him safe where we will parly him.
Enter Goodlacke, and Roughman.

Long live the high and mighty King of Fesse.

If thou bringst her then dost thou bring me life.
Say, will she come?
She will my Lord, but yet conditionally
She may be fr [...] from violence.
Now by the mighty Prophet we adore,
She shall live Lady of her free desires,
Tis love, not force, must quench our amorous fires.

We will conduct her to your presence straight.

We will have banquets, revels▪ and what not
To entertaine this stranger.
Enter Besse Bridges vail'd, Goodlack, Roughman, Forset, and Moores.

A goodly presence! why's that beauty vail'd?

[Page 55]Besse.

Long live the King of Fesse.

I am amaz'd,
This is no mortall creature I behold,
But some bright Angell that is dropt from heaven,
Sent by our prophet. Captaine, let me thus
Imbrace thee in my armes. Load him with gold
For this great favour.
Captaine, touch it not.
Know King of Fesse my followers want no gold,
I onely came to see thee for my pleasure,
And shew thee, what these say thou never saw'st,
A woman borne in England.
That English earth may well be term'd a heaven,
That breedes such divine beauties. Make me sure
That thou art mortall, by one friendly touch.
Keepe off: for till thou swearst to my demands
I will have no commerce with Mullisheg,
But leave thee as I came.
Were't halfe my Kingdome,
That, beautious English Virgin, thou shalt have.

Captaine reade.

First, libertie for her and hers to leave the Land at her pleasure.
Next, safe conduct to and from her ship at her owne discretion.
Thirdly, to be free from all violence, eyther by the King or any of his people.
Fourthly, to allow her mariners fresh victuals aboord.
Fiftly, to offer no further violence to her person, then what hee seekes by kingly usage, and free intreaty.

To these I vow and seale.

These being assur'd
Your courtship's free, and henceforth we secur'd.
Say Gentlemen of England, what's your fashion
And garbe of entertainment?
Our first greeting
[Page 56]B [...]gins still on the lips.
Fayre creature, shall I be immortaliz'd
With that high favour?
Tis no immodest thing
You aske, nor shame, for Besse to ki [...]e a King.

This kisse hath all my vitalls extaside.

Captain this king is mightily in love. VVel let her
Doe as she list, Ile make use of his bounty.

We should be mad men else.


Grace me so much as take your seat by me.


Ile be so farre commanded.


Sweet, your age?


Not fully yet seaventeene.

But how your birth? how came you to this wealth,
To have such Gentlemen at your command?
And what your cause of travell?
Mighty Prince,
If you desire to see me beat my brest,
Poure forth a river of increasing teares,
Then you may urge me to that sad discourse.
Not for Mamo [...]ahs wealth, nor all the gold
Coyn'd in rich Barbary. Nay sweet arise,
And aske of me be'it halfe this kingdomes treasure,
And thou art Lady on't.
If I shall aske, 'tmust be, you will not give.
Our country breedes no beggers, for our hearts
Are of more noble temper.

Sweet, your name?



There's vertue in that name.
The Virgin Queene so famous through the world,
The mighty Empresse of the maiden-Ile,
Whose predecessors have ore-runne great France,
Whose powerfull hand doth still support the Dutch,
And keepes the potent King of Spaine in awe,
Is not she titled so?
[Page 57]Besse.

She is.

Hath she her selfe a face so faire as yours
When she appeares for wonder.
Mighty Fess [...],
You cast a blush upon my maiden cheeke,
To patterne me with her. Why Englands Queene
She is the onely Phoenix of her age,
The pride and glory of the Westerne Isles:
Had I a thousand tongues they all would tyre
And faile me in her true description.
Grant me this,
To morrow we supply our Iudgement-seate,
And sentence causes, sit with us in state,
And let your presence beautifie our Throne.

In that I am your servant.

And we thine.
Set on in state, attendants, and full traine:
But finde to aske, we vow thou shalt obtaine.
Enter Clem, manet Goodlacke.
It is not now as when Andrea liv'd,
Or rather Andrew our elder Iourneyman: what, Drawers
become Courtiers? Now may I speake with the old ghost
in Ieronimo;
When this eternall substance of my soule
Did live imprisoned in this wanton flesh,
I was a Courtier in the Court of Fesse.
Oh well done Clem. It is your Mistris pleasure
None come a shore that's not well habited.

Nay for mine owne part, I hold my selfe as good a Christian in these cloaths, as the proudest Infidell of them all.

Enter Alcade and Ioffer.

Sir, by your leave, y'are of the English traine?


I am so thou great Monarch of the Mauritanians.


Thē tis the Kings cōmand we give you al attendance

Great Seignior of the Sarazens I thanke thee.


Will you walke in to banquet?


I will make bold to march in towards your ban­quet, and there comfit my selfe, and cast all carawayes downe my throat, the best way I have to conserve my selfe in health: and for your countries sake which is called Barbery, I will love all Barbers and Barberies the better: And for you Moores, thus much I meane to say, Ile see if Moore I eate the Moore I may.

Enter two Merchants.
1. Merch.

I pray sir are you of the English traine?


Why what art thou my friend?

1 Mer.
Sir, a French merchant runne into relapse,
And forfeit of the Law: heres for you sir
Forty good Barbery peeces to deliver
Your Lady this petition, who I heare
Can all things with the King.

Your gold doth binde me to you: you may see what it is to be a sudden Courtier. I no sooner put my nose into the Court, but my hand itches for a bribe already. What's your businesse my friend?

2 Mer.
Some me of my men for a little outrage done
Are sentenc'd to the Gallyes.

To the Gallowes?

2 Mer.
No, to the Gallies: now could your Lady purchase
Their pardon from the King, heres twenty angels?

What are you sir?

2 Merc.

A Florentine Merchant.


Then you are, as they say, a Christian?

2 Mer.

Heaven forbid else.

I should not have the faith to take your gold else.
Attend on mee, Ile speake in your behalfe.
Where be my Bashawes? vsher us in state, Florish.
And when we fit to banquet see you waite.
Enter Spencer solus.
This day the king ascends his royall throne,
[Page 59]The honest Merchant in whose ship I came,
Hath by a cunning quiddit in the Law
Both ship and goods made forfeit to the king,
To whom I will petition. But no more,
Hee's now upon his entrance.
Enter the King, Besse, Goodlacke, Roughman, Alcade, Ioffer, with all the other Traine.
Here seat thee Maid of England like a Queene,
The style wee'll give thee, wilt thou daigne us love.

Blesse me you holy Angels.


What ist offends you Sweet?


I am amaz'd, and know not what to thinke on't.


Captaine, dost not see? Is not that Spencers ghost?


I see, and like you I am extaside.

If mine eyes mistake nor,
That should be Captaine Goodlacke, and that Besse.
But oh, I cannot be so happy.

Tis he, and Ile salute him.

Captaine stay,
You shall be swaide by me.

Him I wel know, but how should she come hither


What ist that troubles you?

Most mighty king,
Spare me no longer time, but to bestow
My Captaine on a message.

Thou shalt command my silence, and his eare.

Goe winde about, and when you see least eyes
Are fixt on you, single him out and see
If we mistake not. If he be the man,
Give me some private note.



Enough. VVhat said you highnesse?

Harke what I profer thee, Continue here,
And grant me full fruition of thy love.


Thou shalt have all my Peeres to honour thee
Next our great prophet.


And when th'art weary of our Sun-burnt clime,
Thy Negro shall be ballast home with gold.
I am eterniz'd ever.
Now all you sad disasters dare your worst,
I neither care nor feare: my Spencer lives.

You minde me not sweet Virgin.

You talke of love.
My Lord, Ile tell you more of that hereafter.
But now to your State-businesse: bid him do [...] thus
No more, and not be seene till then.

Enough: come sir, you must along with me.

Now stood a thousand deaths before my face,
I would not change my cheare, since Spencer's safe.
Enter Clem and the Merchants.

By your leave my Masters: roome for Generosity.

1 Merch.

Pray sir remember me.

2 Merch.

Good sir, my suit.


I am perfect in both your parts without prompting. Mistresse, here are two christen friends of mine have for­seiter ships and men to the black a Morrian king. Now one sweet word from your lips might get their release. I have had a feeling of the businesse already.

For dealing in commodities forbid
Y'are fin'd a thousand duckats.
Cast off the burden of your heavy doome,
A follower of my traine petitions for him.

One of thy traine, sweet Besse?


And no worse man then my selfe sir.

Well sirrah, for your Ladies sake,
His ship and goods shall be restor'd againe.
1 Mer.

Long live the King of Fess [...].

Maist thou never want sweet water to wash thy blacke face in, most mighty Monarke of Morocco. Mistris, another friend, I, and paid before hand.

Sirrah, your men for outrage and contempt
Are doom'd unto the Gallies.
A censure too severe for Christians.
Great King, Ile pay their ransome.
Thou my Besse?
Thy word shall be their ransome, th'are discharg'd.
What grave old man is that?
A Christian Preacher, one that would convert
Your Moores, and turne them to a new beliefe.

Then he shall die, as wee are king of Fesse.

For these I onely spake, for him I kneele,
If I have any grace with mighty Fesse.
We can deny thee nothing beautious maid,
A kisse shall be his pardon.

Thus I pay't.


Must your black face be smooching my Mistresses white lips with a moorian. I would you had kist her a—


Ha, how is that sir?


I know what I say sir, I would he had kist her a—


A- what?


A thousand times to have done him a pleasure.

Enter Spencer and Goodlacke.
That kisse was worth the ransome of a King.
What's he of that brave presence?
A Gentleman of England, and my friend,
Do [...] him some grace for my sake.
For thy sake what would not I performe?
Hee shall have grace and honour. Ioffer, goe
And see him gelded to attend on us,
He shall be our chiefe Eunuch.
Not for ten worlds. Behold great king I stand
Betwixt him and all danger. Have I found thee?
Ceaze what I have, take both my ship and goods,
[Page 62]Leave nought that's mine unrifled: spare me him.
And have I found my Spencer!

Please your Majestie, I see all men are not capable of honour, what he he refuseth, may it please you to bestow on me.

With all my heart. Goe beare him hence Alcade,
Into our Alkedavy, honour him,
And let him taste the razor.

There's honour for me.


Come follow.


No sir, Ile goe before you for mine honour.

Oh shew your selfe renowned king the same
Fame blazons you: bestow this Maid on me,
Tis such a gift as kingdomes cannot buy:
She is a president of all true love,
And shall be registred to after times,
That ne'er shall patterne her.
Heard you the story of their constant love.
'Twould move in you compassion.
Let not intemperate love sway you bove pitty,
That forraigne nation that ne'er heard your name,
May chronicle your vertues.
You have wakend in me an heroick spirit:
Lust shall not conquer vertue. Till this h [...]wer
We grac'd thee for thy beauty English woman,
But now we wonder at thy constancy.
Oh were you of our faith, Ide sweare great Mullisheg
To be a god on earth. And lives my Spencer?
In troath I thought thee dead.
In hope of thee
I liv'd to gaine both life and libertie.
Enter Clem running.

No more of your honour if you love me. Is this your Moorish preferment to rob a man of his best jewels?


Hast thou seene our Alkedavy?

Davy doe you call him? he may be call'd shavee
I am sure he hath tickled my currant commodity,
No more your cutting honour if you love me.
All your strange fortunes we will heare discourst
And after that your faire espousals grace,
If you can finde a man of your beliefe
To doe that gratefull office.
None more fit
Then this religious and grave Gentleman
Late rescewed from deaths sentence.
None more proud
To doe you that poore service.
Noble Englishman,
I cannot fasten bounty to my will,
Worthy thy merit, move some suite to us.
To make you more renown'd great king, and us
The more indebted, theres an Englishman
Hath forfeited his ship for goods uncustom'd.
Thy suite is granted ere it be halfe begg'd,
Dispose them at thy pleasure.
Mighty king
We are your Highnesse servants,
Come beautious Maid, wee'll see thee crown'd a bride,
At all our pompous banquets these shall waite.
Thy followers and thy servants presse with gold,
And not the mean'st that to thy traine belongs,
But shall approve our bounty. Leade in state,
And wheresoe'er thy fame shall be inroll'd,
The world report thou art a Girle worth gold.
Explicit Actus quintus.

THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST. OR, A Girle worth gold. The second part. As it was lately acted before the King and Queen, with approved liking. By the Queens Majesties Comedians.

Written by T. H.


LONDON, Printed for Richard Royston, and are to be sold at his Shop in Ivie Lane. 1631.

To the true favourer of the Muses, and all good Arts, Thomas Hammon, Esquire, of Graies Inne, &c.

THe first part of this work I bestowed upon your friend Mr. Iohn Othow, the second I have confer'd up­on you, both being incor­porated into one House, and noble Societie. The proximitie in your Chambers, and much familiar conference, having bred a mutuall correspondencie be­twixt you. The prime motive inviting me to this Dedication; the much love, and ma­ny courtesies reflecting upon me from you both: Being the rather incouraged thereun­to, that though the subject it self carry no great countenance in the Title, yet it hath not onely past the censure of the Plebe and Gentrie; but of the Patricians and Praetex­tatae: as also of our royall Augustus and Li­via. [Page] The reason why I have selected you my Patrons, was to exclude my self from the number of those of whom Iuvenal speaks, Satyre 7.

Scire volunt omnes, mercedem solvere nemo. Please you at any of your more leasur'd houres, to vouchsafe the perusall of these sleight papers, your acceptance shall be my recompence. Receive my wishes for your earths happinesse in millions, for your hea­vens blisse in myriads. Taking my leave of you with that in Adelph.

Nunquam ita magnifice quicquam dicam,
Id virtus quin superet tua.
Yours plenally devoted THOMAS HEYVVOOD.

To the READER.

CVrteous Reader, if thou beest tired in the first part, I would not wish thee to be travel'd in the second; but I hope much better, and that thou didst leave in the last, as one that came late to his Inne to rest himself for that night, one­ly with purpose to go on with the second, as he that ri­seth early the next morning (having refresh't himself) to proceed on his journey. By this time you cannot choose but be acquainted with the most of our Acts, bu [...] not with all; and more particularly for Spencer, and his westerne Besse. With these Countreymen of ours in their fellowship, you have heard the beginning of their troubles, but are not yet come to the end of their tra­vells; in which you may accompany them on land, without the prejudice of deep wayes, or robbers; and by Sea, free from the danger of rocks or Pirates; as neither using horse or ship, more then this book in thine hand, and thy chaire in thy chamber. More comple­ment I purpose not, and (I hope) thou expectest not▪ Farewell.

One studious to be thine T. H.

Dramatis Personae.

  • TOota, Queen of Fesse, and wife of Mullisheg. By heophilus Bourne
  • Bashaw I offer.
  • Ruffman.
  • Clem, the Clown.
  • Mullisheg, King of Fesse.
  • Bashaw Alcade. By Mr. An­onie Turner.
  • Mr. Spencer.
  • Capt. Goodlacke.
  • Forset.
  • Besse Bridges.
  • A P [...]rter of the kings gate.
  • A Lieutenant of the Moors.
  • A Guard.
  • A Negro.
  • A Chorus.
  • A Captain of the Bandetti.
  • The D. of Florence, with followers. By Mr. Ioh. Somner.
  • The Duke of [...]. By Rob. Axall.
  • The D. of Farara. By Chri­stoph. Goad.
  • An English Merchant.
  • Two Florentine lords.
  • Pedro Venturo, Generall at Sea for the D. of Florence.

THE FAIRE MAID of the West: OR, A Girle worth Gold.
The second part.

Enter Tota Mullishegs wife.
IT must not, may not, shall not be indur'd:
Left we for this our Countrey? to be made
A meere neglected Lady here in Fesse,
A slave to others, but a scorne to all?
Can womanish ambition, heat of blood,
Or height of birth brooke this, and not revenge?
Revenge? on whom? on mighty Mullisheg?
We are not safe then; On the English stranger?
And why on her, when thers no apprehension
That can in thought pollute her innocence?
Yet something I must doe. What? nothing yet?
Nor must we live neglected; I should doubt
I were a perfect woman, but degenerate
[Page]From mine owne sex if I should suffer this:
I have a thousand projects in my braine,
But can bring none to purpose.
Enter Bashaw Ioffer.

Cal'd your Majestie?

No, yet I thinke I did, be gone, yet stay.
Will not this mishapt Embrion grow to forme?
Not yet? nor yet?

I attend your highnesse pleasure.

'Tis perfect, and Iha'te,
I am ambitious but to thinke upon't,
And if it prove as I have fashiond it,
I shall be trophide ever.

I wait still.

The King no way in perill, she secure,
None harm'd, all pleas'd, I sweetly satisfied,
And yet reveng'd at full. Braine, I for this
Will wreathe thee in a glorious arch of gold,
stuck full of Indian gemmes. But Tota, whom
Wilt thou imploy in this? the Moores are treacherous,
And them we dare not trust.

You neede not mee.


Say, wher's the King?


I'th Presence.



Distempered late, and strangely humerous,
The cause none can conjecture.
Send in his sweet heart,
And were his owne heart double rib'd with brasse,
Yet she would search the inmost of his thoughts.
No, 'tis not her on whom I build my project.
Is the King upon his entrance?
'Tis thought he is,
If so, this sudden strange distemperature
Hath not his purpose altered.
You have now leave
To leave us and attend the King,

I shall.

If any of the English Ladies traine
Come in your way, you may request them hither,
Say, we would question some things of their countrey.

Madam, I shall.

Then on to your attendance, what we must,
Weele worke by th'English, these we dare not trust.
Enter Clem meeting Ioffer.

'Tis the Queenes pleasure you attend her.


The Queene speake with me? Can you tell the businesse? A murren of these barbers of Barberie, they have given me a receipt, that scape the collicke as well as I can, I shall be sure never to be troubled with the stone.


Yonder she walkes. I leave ye.


Now sir, you are of England?


And I thinke you are a witch.


How sirrah?


A foolish proverbe we use in our countrey, which to give you in other words, is as much as to say, You have hit the naile on the head.

And servant to the English Elizabeth,
So great in Court by mighty Mullisheg,
You follow her?

I must confesse I am not her Gentleman usher to goe before her, for that way as the case stands with mee now, I can doe her but small pleasure, I doe follow her.


You have seene both nations, England and our Fesse, how doe our people differ?


Our countreymen eate and drinke as yours doe for all the world, open their eyes when they would see, and shut them againe when they would sleepe: when they goe they set one leg before another, and gape when their mouthes open, as yours eate when they have sto­mackes, [Page] scratch when it itcheth: onely I hold our nation to be the cleanlier.


Cleanlier, wherein?


Because they never sit downe to meat with such foule hands and faces.


But how your Ladies and choice Gentlewomen?


You shall meete some of them sometimes as fresh as flowers in May, and as faire as my Mistrisse, and within an hower the same Gentlewoman as blacke as your selfe, or any of your Morians.


Can they change faces so? not possible: shew me some reason for't.


When they put on their maskes.


Miskes, what are they?


Please you to put off yours, and Ile tell you.


We weare none but that which nature hath be­ [...]owed on us, and o [...]r births-give us freely.


And our Ladies weare none but what the shops yeeld, and they buy for their money.


Canst thou be secret to me Englishman?


Yes, and chast too, I have tane a medioine for't.

Be fixt to me in what I shall employ thee,
Constant and private unto my designes,
More grace and honour I will do to thee,
Then ere thou didst receive from Mullisheg.

Grace and honour? his grace and honour was to take away some part, and she would honour me to take away all: Ile see you damn'd as deep as the black father of your generation the devill first.


Mistake me no [...].


Nay if you were with childe with a young princely devill, and had a minde to any thing that's here, Ide make you lo [...]e your longing.


Sure this fellow is some sot.


Grace and honour, quotha.

[Page]Enter Ruffman.

How now Clem, whither in such post hast?


There, if you will have any grace and honour, you may pay fort as deare as I have done; 'sfoot I have little enough left, I would faine carry home something in­to my own countrey.


Why, what's the matter? I prethee stay.


No, Lieutenant you shall pardon me, not I, the room is too hot for me: Ile be gone, do you stay at your own perill: Ile be no longer a prodigall, Ile keep what I have.

Exit Clem.

This should have better sense, Ile next prove him.

Excuse me mighty Princesse, that my boldnesse
Hath prest thus far into your privacies.
You no way have offended; nay, come neare,
We love to grace a stranger.
'T was my ignorance,
And no pretended boldnesse.
I have observed you
To be of some command amongst the English,
Nor make I question but that you may be
Of fair revennues.

A poore Gentleman.


Weel make thee rich; spend that.

Your graces bounty
Exceeds what merit can make good in me:
I am your highnesse servant.

Let that jewell be worne as our high favour.

'Sfoot I think
This Queen's in love with me. Madam, I shall.
If any favour I can do in Court
Can make you further gracious, speak it freely;
What power we have is yours.

Doubtlesse it is so, and I am made for ever.

Nay wee shall [...]ake it ill
To give our selves so amply to your knowledge,
And you not use us.
Vse us, now upon my life shee's caught:
What, courted by a Queene? a royall Princesse;
Where were your eyes Besse, that you could not see
These hidden parts and misteries, which this Queene
Hath in my shape observed? 'tis but a fortune
That I was borne to, and I thanke heaven fort.

May I trust you?

With your life, with your honour.
Ile be as private to you as your heart
Within your bosome, close as your owne thoughts.
Ile bragge of this in England, that I once
Was [...]avourite to a Queene, my royall-mistris.
If what you have already promised youle made good,
Ile prove so.

Madam, let this,




This kisse.


This foole, this asse, this insolent gull.


Why, did not your grace meane plainely?


In what, sir?


Did you not court me?

How, that face?
Thinkest thou I could love a Monkey, a Babone?
Know, were I mounted in the height of lust,
And a mere prostitute, rather then thee
Ide imbrace, one, name but that creature
That th [...] dost thinke most odious.
Pardon me Lady,
I humbly take my leave.
Have I given you your description I pray, sir,
Be secret in' [...].
I shall be loath to tell it,
Or publish it to any.
Yet you are not gone:
Know then you have incur'd
The Kings wrath first, our high displeasure next,
The least of which is death; yet will you grow
More neare to us, and prove loyall unto my present pur­poses.
I will not onely pardon you what's past.
But multiply my bounties.

I am your prisoner.

Be free, th [...]s nothing can be cal'd offence,
But that in thee we pardon.

I am fast.

And yet a free man: I am injur'd highly,
And thou must aide me in my just revenge.
Were it to combate the most valiantst Moore,
That ever Fesse, Morocko, or Argiers bred,
I for your sake would doe it.
We seeke nor blood,
Nor to expose thee to the least of danger:
I am modest, and what I dare not trust my owne tongue with,
Or thoughts, Ile bouldly give unto thine eares,
List: Do you shake your head, say, Is't done already?

Wrong my friend?

Doe you cast doubts or dangers? Is not our l [...]fe.
Our honour all in your hand, and will you lavish us.
Or scant that bounty should crowne you with excesse.

Ile pause upon't.


Is not your life ours by your insolence? have not we power to take it?


Say no more, Ile doe it.


But may I hope,


I have cast all doubts, and know how it may be compa [...].


Ther's more gold, your secresie that's all I crave.

To prove my selfe in this just cause I have,
An honest man, or a pernicious knave.

Take the advantage of this night.

I shall expect faire end,
All doubts are cast.

So make a Queen thy friend.

Enter Mullisheg, Ioffer, and Alcade, Spencer, Goodlack, Besse, and the rest.
All musick's harsh, command these discords cease,
For we have war within us.
Mighty King,
What is't offends your highnesse?
Nothing Besse:
Yet all things do: Oh, what did I bestow,
When I gave her away.

The Queen attends you.


Let her attend.

I, King, neglected still,
My just revenge shall wound, although not kill.
I was a traitor to my own desires,
To part with her so sleightly: what, no means
To alter these proceedings?

Strange disturbances.


What might the project be?

May it please your Highnesse, shall the Mask go forward,
That was intended to grace this joviall night?
Wee'll have none,
Let it be treason held
To any man that shall but name our pleasure,
Or that vain word, delight: The more I gaze,
The more I surfet; and the more I strive
To free me from these fires, I am deeper wrapt:
In flames I burne.
Your discontent, great Prince, takes from us all
The edge of mirth: these nuptiall joyes that should
Have sweld our souls with all the sweet varieties
Of apprehensive wishes, with your sadnesse
Grows dull and leaden: they have lost their taste
[Page]In this your discontent all pleasures lose their sweetnesse.
Mighty Fesse,
Hath any ignorant neglect in us
Bred these disturbances?
Offence and you
Are like the warring elements, oppos'd.
And Fesse, why a king, and not command thy pleasure?
Is she not within our kingdome? nay, within our palace,
And therefore in our power: is she alone
That happinesse that I desire on earth?
Which since the heavens have given up to mine hands,
Shall I despise their bounty? and not rather
Run through a thousand dangers, to enjoy
Their prodigall favours? dangers? tush, ther's none:
We are here amidst our people, wall'd with subjects round,
And danger is our slave: besides, our war
Is with weak woman. Oh, but I have sworn
And seal'd to her safe conduct; What of that?
Can a king sweare against his own desires,
Whose welfare is the sinews of his Realm?
I should commit high treason gainst my self,
Not to do that might give my soul content,
And satisfie my appetite with fulnesse. Alcade.

My lord.


Rides the English Negro still within the harbour?


Some league from land.

Lest that these English should attempt escape,
Now they are laden fully with our bounties,
Cast thou a watchfull eye upon these two.

I shall.

I know their loves so fervent and entire,
They will not part asunder, she leave him,
Or he without her make escape to sea.
Then while the one's in sight our hopes are safe.
Be that thy charge.

Ile be an Argus o're them.

Vnlesse the King be still in love with Besse,
Repenting him of their late mariage,
'Tis beyond wonder to calculate these stormes.

How goes the hower?


About some fower.ꝰ

We rose too soon Besse from your nuptiall feasts,
Something we tasted made us stomack sick,
But now we finde a more contentfull change.

Your sunshine is our day.

Dispose your selves
All to your free d [...]sires; to dancing some,
Others to mount our stately Barberie horse,
So famous through the world for swift carere,
Stomack, and fierie pace.
Those that love arms,
Mount for the tilt: this day is yours, to you tis consecrate.
He commits treason in the highest degree,
Whose cloudy brow dares the least tempest shew
To crosse what we intend: pleasure shall spring
From us to flow on you.

Long live the King:

Manet Goodlack.
To your free pastimes; leave us.
Captain, stay Captain, I read a fortune in thy brow,
More then the slight presage of a [...]guire,
Which tells me thou, and onely thou art mark't
To make me earthly blest.

That I can do't?

It lies in thee to raise thy ruin'd fortunes
As high as is a Viceroy's, wreathe thy front
Within a eircled piramis of gold,
And to command in all our territories,
Next to our person.

Golden promises.

Our words are acts, our promises are deeds,
[Page]We do not feed with ayre: it lies in thee,
We two may grapple souls, be friends and brothers.

Teach me how.

I do not finde thee comming: in thy looks
I cannot spie that fresh alacritie,
Which with a glad and sprightfull forwardnesse,
Should meet our love half way.

You wonder me.

No, thou art dull, or fearfull, fare thee well,
Thou hadst a fate lade up to make thee chronicled
In thy own Countrey, but thou wilt basely lose it,
Even by thine own neglect.
Forespeak me not,
The Sun nere met the summer with more joy
Then I'de embrace my fortunes; but to you,
Great king, to whom I am so greatly bound,
I'de purchas't with a danger should fright earth,
Astonish heaven, and make all hell to tremble;
I am of no shrinking temper.
Prove but as wise as thou art bould and valiant,
And gain me wholly to thee, half thou hast already
Purchast by this bold answer; but perform
The rest, and we are all and onely thine.
Shew me the way to gain this royall purchase,
If I do't not, divide me from your presence,
From your grace, and all those glorious hopes you have propos'd
Turne into scorns and scandalls.
I am dull,
And drowsie on the sudden: whilst I sleep,
Captain, read there.
He counterfets sleep, and gives him a letter.
To make Besse mine some secret means devise,
To thy own height and heart Ile make thee rise.
Is not this ink the blood of Basilisks,
[Page]That kills me in the eies, and blindes me so,
That I can read no further: 'twas compos'd
Of Dragons poyson, and the gall of Aspes,
Of Serpents venome, or of Vipers stings,
It could not read so harsh else: Oh my fate;
No [...]hing but this? this? Had a parliament
Of fiends and furies in a synod sat,
And devis'd, plotted, parlied, and contriv'd,
They scarce could second this; This? 'tis unparallel'd:
To strumpet a chast Lady, injure him
That rates her honour dearer then his life.
T'imploy a friend in treasons gainst his friend,
And put that friend to do't: t'impose on me
The hatefull stile and blot of pandarisme,
That am a Gentleman: nay, worse then this,
Make me in this a traytor to my countrey,
In giving up their h [...]nours: Who but a Moor,
Of all that beares mans shape, likest a devill,
Could have devis'd this horrour? Possible
That he should mark out me? What does my face
Prognosticate, that he should finde writ there
An index of such treasons? But beware,
'Twas his own plot, I, and his cunning too:
Ile adde that to his project: but a Viceroy,
And a kings Minion, titles that will shadow
Ills the most base and branded. Not to do it
May purchase his displeasure, which can be
No lesse then death or bondage: heer's propos'd
Honour and perill. But what writes he further;
We are impatient of delayes, this night
Let it be done.
I am doubtfull of my purpose,
And can resolve of nothing.
Mullisheg starts out of his chaire as from a dream.
If he fail,
[Page]Ile have his flesh cut small as winters snow
O [...] summers attoms.

Ha, was that by us?

Where was I? Oh, I dream't upon the sudden,
How fast was I.
A fair warning 'twas, have you the cunning
To speak your thoughts in dreams?

Who's i'th next room?


My lord.

My Captain, was it thou?
Sleep did surprise my senses, worthy friend,
And in my dreams I did remember thee.

How, me my lord?

Me thought I had emploid thee in a businesse,
In which thou wert or fearfull, or else false,
At which I was so overcome with rage,
That from my dreams I started.
Seamen say,
When Halcions sing, look for a storme that day
Ther's death in my deniall.
Did you read,
That scrowl we gave you Captain ther's wrapt up
A thousand honours for thee, and more gold
Then shouldst thou live a double Nestors age,
Thou couldst finde waies to lavish.
Add to your work a businesse of more danger,
That I may think me worthy, otherwise
This sleight employment will but prize me low
And of desertlesse merit.
Think'st thou Captain
It may be easily compast?

Dare you trust me?


I dare.

Then know, besides to dare and can,
I will, though work beyond the power of man,
Ile set my brains in action.
Noble friend,
Above thy thoughts our honours shall extend.

I am not to be shaken.

Where be our Eunuchs?
Wee'l crown our hopes and wishes with more pomp
And sumptuous cost, then Priam did his sons,
That night he bosom'd Hellen; shee's as fair,
And wee'l command our pomp to be as rare.
Wee will have torches shall exceed the stars
In number and in brightnesse: we will have
Rare change of musick shrill and high,
That shall exceed the spheres in harmonie.
The jewels of her habit shall reflect,
To daze all eyes that shall behold her state.
Our treasure shall like to a torrent rush
Streams of rewards, richer then Tagus sands,
To make these English strangers swim in gold.
In wilde Moriskoes we will lead the bride:
And when with full satieties of pleasures
We are dull and satiate, at her radiant eyes
Kindle fresh appetite, since they aspire,
T'exceed in brightnesse the high orbs of fire.
Make this Night mine, as we are King of Fesse,
Th'art Viceroy, Captain.
Exit Mullisheg.
Make my estate much lesse,
And my attempts more honourable: honour and vertue,
To me seem things in opposition:
Nor can we with small danger catch at one,
But we must lose the other. Oh my brain,
In what a labyrinth art thou? Say I could
Be false, as he would make me; what device?
What plot? what train have I to compasse it?
Or with what face can I sollicite her,
In treason towards my friend?
[Page]Enter Ruffman.
I am to sollicite Spencer
To lie with the Moors Queen; a businesse, Besse
Will hardly thank me for: but howsoever
I have undertane it.
Impossibilities all; the more I wade,
The more I drown in weaknesse.


Oh Lieutenant,
Never was man perplext thus.
What, as you?
Had you but my disturbance in your brain,
'Twould tax a Stoicks wit, or Oedipus.
Why Captain, a whole school of Sophisters
Could not unriddle me.

I would we might change businesse.


I would give boot so to be rid of mine.


Shall we be free and open breasted?



As thus;
Tell me thy grievances, and unto thee
I will unvail my bosome: both disclos'd
Ile beg in mine thy counsell and assistance,
Thy cause shall mine command.

A heart, a hand.


I am to woo fair Besse to lie with Mullisheg.


And I woo Spencer to embrace the Queen.


Is't possible?


'Tis more then possible, 'tis absolutely past.


Ther's not a hair to chose, canst counsell me?


Can you advise me?


I am past my wits.


And I beyond all sense.


Wouldst thou do't, here lay the way plain before thee.

What, for gold
[Page]Betray my friend and countrey, would you Captain?
What and wear a sword
To guard my honour and a Christians faith,
I'de flesh it here fi [...]st.

Nobly resolved.

We are not safe Lieutenant, Moors are trecherous.
Nay come, thy counsell,
Fesse hath proferd me
The honour of a Viceroy; and withall,
If I should fail performance, cunningly
Hath threatned me with death.
You still propose
The danger, but you shew no way to clear them.

Brain, let me waken thee, 'sfoot hast thou no project? dost thou pertake my dulnesse?


The more I strive, the more I am intangled.


And I too. Not yet?


Nor yet, nor ever.


'Twas comming here, & now again 'tis vanisht.


Cal't back again for heavens sake.




Thanks heaven.


And now again 'tis gone.


Can you not catch fast hold on't?

Give me way,
Let's walk Lieutenant: Could a man propose
A stratagem to gull this lustfull Moor,
To supply him, aud then to satiate her?


Next, out of all these dangers secure us,
And keep our treasure safe.

'Twere excellent.


But how shall this be done?


Why Captain, know not you?

Think'st thou it in the power of man to work it?
Yet come, Ile try, I owe my fate a death,
[Page]Be swaid by me in all things.

Noble Captain, I do not wish to outlive thee.

Explicit Actus primus.

Actus secundus. Scena prima.

Enter Spencer, Besse, and cl [...]m.
THe King was wondrous pleasant: Oh my Besse,
How much am I indebted to his highnesse,
Onely for gracing thee.
Could my Spencer
Think that a barbarous Moor could be so train'd
In humain vertues?

Fie upon't: I am so tir'd with dancing with these same black shee-chimney-sweepers, that I can scarce set the best leg forward, they have so tir'd me with their Morisc [...]es, and I have so tickled them with our Countrey dances, Sellengers round, and Tom Tiler: we have so fid­led it.


Sirrah, what news will you tell to your friends when you return into England.


Brave news, which though I can neither write nor read, yet I have committed them to my tables and the rest of my memory.


Let's heare some of your novelties.


First and foremost I have observed the wisdome of these Moors, for some two dayes since being invited to one of the chief Bashaws to dinner, after meat, sitting by a huge fire, and feeling his shins to burn, I requested him to pull back his chaire, but he very understandingly sent for three or four Masons and removed the chimney: [Page] the same Mo [...]ian intreated me to lie with him, and I ac­cording to the state of my travells, willing to have a can­dle burning by, but he by no meanes would grant it; I ask't him why? No, sayes he, wee'll put out the light that the fleas may not know where to finde us.

Enter Goodlack and Ruffman.
No storm at sea could be so tyranous,
Nor half th' [...]right beare in his forehead bare,
As I spie in that look.
Bess [...].
Let not your looks pre [...]ge more terrours then▪
Your tongues can speak; out with't at once Lieutenant.

Captain speak.


W'are all lost.


All shipwrak't.


Are we ashore, and shall wee be cast away?


Great Mullisheg is royall.


False to you.


Gratious and kinde.


Disloy all to us all.

Wrap me not in these wonders worthy friend,
The very doubt of what the danger is,
Is more then danger can be.
Be it death,
So we may dye together: heer's a heart
Fear never could affright.

The king still loves your Besse.




The Queen your Spencer.




This night he must enjoy her.


And she him.

A thousand deaths are in that word contriv'd.
Ile make my passage through the blood of kings,
Rather then suffer this.
I through hell,
[Page]Or were there place more dangerous.

Else all die.


Die, 'sfoot this is worse then being made an Eunuch as I was.


We have yet life, and therefore cherish hope.

All hopes are banisht in the deep abysse
Of our perplexed thoughts.

All things run retrograde.

Why Captain? why Lieutenant? had you the skill
To bring my ship thus far, to wrack her here?
Past you the Ocean, to perish in the harbour?
Thou, Tom Goodlack
Wert ever true and just to my designes,
And canst thou fail me now?

I studie for you.

Hast thou brought me but to see my Spencers sha­dow,
And not enjoy the substance: for what more
Have I yet had from him, then from his picture,
That once hung in my Chamber. Gentlemen, amongst you all
Rescue an innocent maid from violence:
Or do but say it cannot be prevented:
I begin, he that best loves me follow.

What means Besse?

If it could be fashion'd to my thoughts,
And have successe, 'twere brave.

What, noble friend?


To thrive but as we purpose.


Have you way?

'Tis bu [...] a desperate course; and if it fail
The worst can be but death: and I, even I,
That laid the plot, will teach them how to dye.
Ile lead them on.

If thou hast any project.


Ioy or comfort.


And if not comfort, counsell.


Say it thrive?


What Captain? what?

You'l rip it from the wombe
Ere it be fully hatch't now:
If it prosper but to my desire
And wishes, 'twere admirable.
No longer hold us in suspence, good Captain.
But free us from these fears.
You noble friend,
This night cast gracious eyes upon the Queen:

And prove to me disloyall?

Still you crosse me,
And make the birth abortive. You fair Besse,
With amourous favours entertain the King.

And yeeld her self to his intemperate lust?

You still prevent me; either give me way
To shew you light unto your liberties,
Or still remain in darknesse.

Heare him out.

You sooth the Queen,
Ile flatter with the King,
Let's promise fayre on both sides: say, 'tis done
All to their own desires.

The event of this?

A happy freedome, with a safe escape
Vnto our ship this night.

Oh, could this be.

Fortune assists the valiant and the bold,
Wee'll bid fare for't. I had forgot my self,
Wher's Clem?

Noble C [...]ptain.

Post to the ship, bid Forset man the long Bo [...]
With ten good Musketiers, and at a watchword,
If we can free our passage, take us in.
Nay make haste, one minuts stay is death.

I am gone in a twinkling.

To compasse the Kings signet; then to command
[Page]Our passage, scape the gates and watches too:
For that I have brain. The King's upon his entrance;
Howers wast, revells come on, a thousand projects
Of death, hopes, and fears, are warring
In my bosome, and at once.
Eye you the Queen, and humour you the King;
Let no distaft nor discontented brow
Appeare in you: their lust Ile make the ground,
To set all free, or keep your honour sound.
Disperse, the King's on comming.
Enter Mullisheg, Tota, Ioffer, and Alcade.
We consecrate this evening, beautious Bride,
To'ch honour of your nuptialls.—Is all done?



Is he ours?




And wee ever thine.

I, and so cast, that she shall grasp you freely;
And think she hugs her Spencer.
And when he bosoms you, thinkes he infolds
His lovely Besse.

Thou mak'st a Queen thy servant.


Your highnesse Signet to command our passage from chamber to chamber.


'Tis there.


The word.


'Tis Mullisheg.


This must bring us safe aboard.

We keep the Bride
Too long from rest now, she is free for bed.
Please her to accept it,
In honour of her beauty, this night Ile do her any service.
Mighty princesse,
Excuse my breeding from such arrogance,
And overbold presumption, you nor yours
[Page]Can owe me any duty: ' [...]is besides
The fashion of our countrey, not to trust
The secrets of a nuptiall night like this,
To the eyes of any stranger.

At your pleasure,

With our first nights unlacing, mighty Queen,
We dare not trust our husbands, 'tis a modestie
Our English maids professe.
Keep your own customes as you shall think best,
So for this night we leave you to your rest.



'Tis writ here.



Exeunt. Manet Goodlack.
I am fast,
Now is my task in labour, and is plung'd
In thousand throes of childebirth, dangerous it is
To deal where kings affaires are questiond,
Or may be parled. But what's he so base,
That would not all his utmost powers extend,
For freedome of his countrey and his friend.
When all the Court is silent, sunk in dreams,
Then must my spirits awake. By this the King
H'as tane his leave of bride and bridegrome too:
And th' [...]morous Queen longs for some happy news
From Ruffman, as great Fesse expects from us.
My friend and Besse wrapt in a thousand fears,
To finde my plot in action: and it now
Must take new life: auspitious fate thy aide,
To guard the honour of this English maid.
Enter Ruffman ushuring the Queen.

Tread soft, good Madam.


Is this the Chamber.

Ile bring him instantly.
[Page]He thinks this bed provided for his Besse,
And that she lodges here, while she poore soul
Embraceth nought but ayre.

Thou mak'st a Queen thy servant.

Beware, be not too loud lest that your tongue
Betraies you.
Mute as night,
As silent and as secret. Wrongs should be
Paid with wrongs, for so indeed 'tis meet,
My just revenge, though secret yet 'tis sweet.
Haste time, and hast our bounty.
Queen I shall.
So now were we all safe and in our Negro shipt,
Might'st thou lie there till dooms day, lustfull Queen.
Enter Goodlack and the King.
My lord the custome is in England still
For maids to go to bed before their husbands,
It saves their cheek from many a modest blush.

And in the dark.


We use it for the most part.

Soft may their bones lie in their beds of ashes
That brought this custome into England first.

This the place where Besse expects her Spencer▪

Thou Viceroy of Argiers, for Captain, that
Is now thy title: thou hast won a King,
To be thy breast companion.
Not too loud.
Why enters not your highnesse? you are safe.
With as much joy as to our prophets rest.
But what thinks Spencer of this?
I have shifted in her place
A certain Moor, whom I have hir'd for money,
Which (poore soul) he entertains for Besse.

My excellent friend.

Beware of conference, lest your tongue reveals
[Page]What this safe darknesse hides.
I am all silent.
Oh, thou contentfull night, into thy arms,
Of all that ere I tasted, sweetest and best,
I throw me, more for pleasure then for rest.
Exit King.
One fury claspe another, and there beget
Young devills between you: so fair Besse be safe.
I have here the kings signet, this will yeeld us
Way through the court and city, Besse being mask't,
How can she be discride, when none suspect,
Our flight this day not dream't on: now to execute
What was before purpos'd, which if it speed,
Ile say the heavens have in our fates agreed.
Enter Besse, Spencer, and Ruffman.

How goes the night?


Tis some two howers from day.


Yet no news from the Captain.


I have done a Midwives part, I have brought the Queen to bed, I could do no more.

Enter Goodlack.

The Captain is come.


Thy news.


All safe, faith wench, I have put them to it for a single combate, I have left them at it.


King and Queen.


The same.


Now for us.

I, ther's all the danger, ther's one Bashaw
Whose eyes is fixt on Spencer, and he now
Walks e'ne before our lodging.
Then what's past,
Is all yet to no purpose.
He and I
May freely passe the Court: and you fair Besse,
[Page]I would disguise: but [...]hen for Spencer?
Why that's the main of all▪ all without his free­dome
That we can aime at's, nothing.
It shall be thus, which alter none that loves me.
With this signet you three shall passe to' [...]h ship
Whil'st I'me in sight she will not be suspected:
My escape, leaue to my own fair fortunes.

How that?

Through twenty Bashaws I will hew my way,
But I will see thee e're morning.
Think'st thou Spencer
That I will leave thee? thinkst thou that I can?
Thou maist as well part body from the soul,
As part us now: It is our wedding night,
Would'st now divide us?

Yeeld to times necessities, and to our strict disa­sters.

Words are vain,
We now must cleave to action: our stay's death,
And if we be not quick in expedition,
We all perish.

Besse, be swaid.

To go to sea without thee,
And leave thee subject unto a tyrants cruelty?
Ile dye a thousand deaths first.
First save one,
And by degrees the rest. When thou hast past
The perills of this night, I am half safe,
But whilst thou art still invirond, more then better
Half of my part's indanger'd.
Talk your selves
To your deaths, do: will you venter forth?
Leave me to the Bashaw.

Or me. Ile buffet with him for my passage.

Neither, in what I purpose I am constant.
Conduct her safe; th'advantage of the night
Ile take for my escape: and my sweet Beffe,
[Page]If in the morning I behold thee not
Safe within my Negro, be assur'd
I am dead. Nay, now delaies are vain.
Sir, did you love
Me, you would not stay behinde me.
Ile ha't so.
Gentlemen, be charie of this jewell
That throws her self into the armes of night,
Vnder your conduct. If I live, my Besse,
To morrow Ile not fail thee.
And if thou diest to morrow, be assur'd
To morrow Ile be with thee.
Shall thy love
Betray us all to death.
Well, I will go,
But if thou dost miscary, think the Ocean
To be my Bride-bed.
Heaven for us,
That power that hath preserv'd us hitherto,
Will not let's sink now. And, brave gentlemen,
Of the Moors bounty beare not any thing
Vnto our ship, lest they report of us,
We fled by night and rob'd them.

Nobly resolv'd.

Now embrace and part; and my sweet Besse,
This be thy comfort gainst all future fears,
To meet in mirth that now divide in tears:
Farewell Besse, Ile back into my chamber.
Can I part with life
In more distracted horrour?
You spoil all
That we before have plotted.
Will you mask your self, and to the Porter first.
Ho, Porter.
Enter Porter.

Who calls?


One from the King.


How shall I know that?

This token be your warrnt, behold his signet.
That's not enough, the Word.


Passe freely: some weighty buisinesse is in hand
That the kings signet is abroad so late;
But no matter, this is my discharge, Ile to my rest▪
Exit Porter.
Enter Alcade.

I much suspect,

These English 'mongst themselves are treacherous:

I have observ'd, the king had conference with the Cap­tain: many whisperings and passages I have observed, but that which makes me most suspect is, because the king hath removed his lodging, and it may be to prostitude the English Maid: Ha, suspect said I; nay, examine things exactly, and 'tmust needs be so, the king is wondrous bountifull, and what i'st gold cannot. Troth I could even pitty the poore [...]orlorn Englishman, who this night must be forc't lie alone, and have the king taste to him.

Enter Spencer.

Sure this Moore hath been made private to the Kings intents, which if I finde, Ile make him the instru­ment for me to passe the Court gates. This man, whose office was to keep me, shall be the onely means to free me.


On his marriage night, and up at this hower? nay, if I once suspect, 'tis as firme as if it were confirmed by Alkaron, or [...] himself had sworn it: Ile sport my self with his distast and sorrow.


Thus abus'd.

What up so late and on your bridall night
When you should lie lul'd in the fast imbrace
Of your fair Mistrisse. I hope I have given't him soundly.
To lodge my brid [...] in one place, and dispose me
To a wrong chamber: she not once send to me,
[Page]That I might know to finde her.
Excell [...].
Nay, if I once suspect, it never fails.
Ile not tak' [...]
At th'hands of an Empresse, much lesse at hers.

Why, what's the businesse, Sir? Oh, I guesse the cause of your griefe.


And Sir, you may, but Ile be reveng'd.


Troth and I would.

Ile bosome some body,
Be it the common'st Cur [...]zan in Fesse,
If not for love, to vex her.

Can you do lesse?


To leave me the first night.


Oh, 'twas a signe she never dearly lov'd you.


I perceive B [...]shaw Alcade you understand my wrongs.


In part, though not in whol.

Your word is warrant, passe me the court gate,
Ile to some loose Burdello, and tell her when I have done.

Were it my cause, Ide do this, and more.


Make me wait thus!


Oh Sir, 'cis insufferable.


Troth I dally my revenge too long, what ho, Porter.


How now, who calls?


Her's Bashaw Alcade, turn the key.


His name commands my gate, passe freely.

Sir, I am bound to you,
To take this wrong I should be held no man.
Now to the watch, scape there as I can.

Ha, ha, so long as she sleeps in the arms of Fesse, let him pack where he pleases: Porter, now hee's without, let him command his entrance no more, neither for re­ward nor intreaty, till day breaks.


Sir, he shall not.

'Tis well we are so rid of him: Mulli [...] will give me great thanks for this.
[Page]Ile to his chamber, there attend without,
Till he shall waken from his drowsie rest,
And then acquaint him with this fortunate jest.
Enter Ioffer, Lieutenant, Spencer prisoner and wounded.
Sir, though we wonder at your noble deeds,
Yet I must do the office of a subject,
And take you prisoner? by that noble blood
That runs in these my veins, when I behold
The slaughter you have made, which wonders me,
I wish you had escapt, and not been made captive
To him, who though he may admire and love you,
Yet cannot help you.
Your stile is like your birth, for you are Ioffer,
Chief Bashaw to the king, and him I know
Lord of most noble thoughts. Speak, what's my danger?
Know Sir, a double forfeit of your life:
Your outrage first is death, being in the night,
And gainst the watch; but those that you have slain
In this fierce conflict, brings' [...] without all bounds
Of pardon.
Spen [...].

I was born too [...], and I embrace my fortune.

Sir, now I know you
To be that brave and worthy Englishman,
So highly grac't in court, which more amazeth me
That you should thus requite him with the slaughter
Of his lou'd subjects.
I intreat you Sir,
As you are noble question me no further,
I have many private thoughts that trouble me,
And not the fear of death.
We know your name, and now have prov'd your courage,
Both these moves us to give you as easie bondage as our loyalty
To the king can suffer, you are free
From irons.

When this news shall come to her,

Lieutenant, lead the watch some distance of,
[Page]Bid them remove these bodies lately slain,
I must have private conference with this prisoner,
Leave him to my charge.
Sir think me though a Moore,
A nation strange unto you Christians,
Yet that I can be noble: but in you
I have observ'd strange contrarieties,
Which I would b [...] resolv'd in.

Speak your thoughts.

When I con [...]'d the noblenesse of your blood,
With this your pres [...]nt passion, I much m [...],
Why either such a small effuse of blood,
These your sl [...]ght wounds, or the pale fear of death,
Should have the power to force a tea [...] from such
A noble eye.
Why thinkst thou Bashaw
That wounds, blood, or death
Could force a teare from me, thou noblest of thy nation,
Do not so farre mis [...]se me: I tell the [...] Bashaw,
The rack, strapado, or the scalding oyl,
The burning pincers, or the boyling l [...]d,
The stakes, the pikes, the caldron, or the wheel,
Were all these to [...] to befelt an once,
Could not draw w [...]r hence.

Whence [...]es it then?

From that whose pains as far surmount [...] all those
As whips of furies do the Ladies fans,
Made of the plumes o'th Estridge: this like the Sunne,
Extracts the de [...] [...]om my declining soul,
And swi [...]s mine eyes in moist eff [...]ie.
O Bess [...], Bess [...], Bess [...], Bess [...].
Dead pitty you have wakened in my bosome,
And made me with you like compassionate.
Freely relate your sorrows.
Sir, I shall:
If you have ever loved, or such a maid,
[Page]So fair, so constant, and so chast as mine,
And should fortune to lamentable fortune,
Betray her to a black abortive fate,
How would it wring you? Or if you had a heart,
Made of that mettall that we white men have,
How would it melt in you?

Sir, you confound me.

I will be brief; the travells of my Besse,
To finde me out, you have pertook at full,
In presence of the King, these I omit.
Now when we came to summe up all our joy,
And this night were entring to our hoped blisse,
The king, Oh most unworthy of that name,
He quite fell off from goodnesse.

Who Mullish [...]g?

His lust out-waid his honour: and as if his soul
Were blacker then his face, he laid plots
To take this sweet night from me: but prevented,
I have convai'd my beautious bride aboard,
My Captain and Lieutenant.

Are they escapt?

Safe to my Negro. Thus farre fortune led me
Through many dangers till I past this bridge,
The last of all your watches. And muse not
Bashaw, that I thus single durst oppose my self,
I wore my Mistris here, and she, not I,
Made me midway a conquerour.
She being at sea,
And safe, why should your own fates trouble you?
Renowned Moor, there is your greatest errour;
When we parted, I swore by the honour of a Gentleman,
And as I ever was her constant friend,
If I surviv'd, to visit her aboard
By such an houre: but if I fail, that she
Should think me dead: now, if I break one minute,
She leaps into the sea: 'tis this, great Bashaw,
[Page]That from a soul [...]ers eyes draws pear [...]y tears:
For my own [...] [...] de [...]pise all [...]ars.
You have deep [...]y touch [...] ▪ and to let you know
All morra [...] [...] [...] not [...]olely grounded
In th'hearts [...] [...], go and [...];
Keep your appointed houre, preserve her life:
I will conduct you past all danger: but withall
Rememb [...] my [...] [...] to answer it.
Spen [...].
Is ho [...]our [...] from Ch [...]ians unto Moors,
That I may say in Birbarie [...]ound
This rare black Swan.
And when you are a [...] sea,
The winde no [...] [...] [...]; your [...]
They are soon waid, and you [...] [...]ea [...]oome [...]ree
To passe unto your countrey: 'tis but my life,
And I shall think it nobly spent to [...]ave you,
Her, and your train from many [...]ad di [...]ters.
Sir, [...] thank you,
Appoint me a [...] [...]ower, if [...] [...]turn not,
May I be held a scorn to Chri [...]tendome,
And recreant to my countrey.

By three [...]o morrow.


Bin [...] me by [...] [...].


Onely your hand and word.

Which if I break.
What my heart thinks, my tongue forbears to speak.

Ile bear you pa [...] [...] [...],

Ex [...]unt.
Explic [...] Act us [...]ecundus.

A [...]tus tertius. [...] prima.

Enter [...].
THrough satia [...] with the pleasures of this night.
The morning [...] [...] from the sweet embraces▪
[Page]Of the fair English Damsell.
The English stranger
Is [...]toln from forth mine arms. I am at full revenged:
Were I again to match, I de marry one
Of this brave nation, if a Gentleman,
Before the greatest Monarch of the world,
They are such sweet and loving bedfellows.
Now to my chamber, darknesse guid my way,
Lest what none yet suspect, the night betray.
Let all like me wrong'd in their nuptiall bed,
Not aim at th'heart, but rather strike at th'head.
Venetian Ladies, nor the Persian Girles,
The French, the Spanish, nor the Turkish Dames,
Ethiope nor Greece can kisse with half that art
These English can, nor entertain their friends
With 'tenth part of that ample willingnesse
Within their arms.

Your highnesse cal'd?

To tell thee that none shall pertake but thou.
Oh, I have had the sweetest nights content
That ever king enjoy'd.

With the fair English bride.

Nor envy if I raise the Captain for't,
For he shall mount.
And he deserves it: but to me you owe
Part of that honour, I had a hand in't too,
Although perhaps you thought me ignorant
In what is past.
Hadst thou no more
Then half a finger in this nights content,
It shall not be forgot, but thou as he
Shalt be rais'd one step higher.
Observing what had past, I spide the bridegr [...]
As still mine eies were fixt on him, up and late,
Then by a trick, a pretty sleight, a fine fetch of mine own,
I past him forth the gates, and gave command,
[Page]He should not have his entr [...]ce back again,
Neither for reward nor intreaties, till day broke.

Your [...]im in t [...]t?

For fear lest he by some suspitious jealous [...]
Should have disturb'd your rest.
Thy providence
Shall not die unrewarded: [...] him hence,
And with his will toe, this [...]akes thee
Of our counsell.
'Tis an honour
My wisedome haih long aim'd at, and I hope
Now shall receive his [...]rit.
Enter a Negro.
Pardon great king that I thus rudely presse
Into your private bed-chamber.

Speak, thy n [...]ws.

The English Captain, with the lovely Bride,
With her Lieutenant hath [...]ecretly this night,
With your highnesse signet and the word past the Court­gates, past all the watches, and got aboard their Negro, and I was sent to know your highnesse pleasure.
Ha, this night? Alo [...]de, seek, search,
I left her sleeping in our royall bed.

I shall my lord, I half suspect.


But was not Spencer with them?


Onely they three: and we, by vertue of your highnesse signet, past them the court-gates without trouble.

Enter Alcad.
We are amazed:
Alcade, whom find'st thou there?
Nothing, my lord, but empty sheets,
A bed new tost; but neither English Lady, nor any Lady else.
We stand astonish't,
Not knowing what to answer.
[Page]Enter a second messenger.
Pardon great king if I relate the news
That will offend you highly.

That the English Captain, Lady, and Lieuté­nant are escapt.


But that's not all.


Can there be worse behinde?

Yes, if the losse of your dear subjects lives
Be worse then their escape: Spencer, without
The signet or the word, being left behinde.
You cal'd the porter up
And let him after.

Pardon great King.

Was this your trick, your sleight, your stratagem?
As we are king of Fesse, thy life shall pay
The forfet, thine own tongue shall sentence thee.
But to the rest.
Then past he to the bridge,
Where stood armed men, in number fourty:
Maugre all their strength, with his good sword
He would have made through all:
And in this fierce conflict, six, to the maze
Of all the rest, were slain: nor would he yeeld,
Till suddenly we rais'd a loud alarm,
At which the Captain of the watch came down,
And so there surpriz'd him.
M [...]l.

Is he prisoner then?

In custody of the great Bashaw Ioffer,
With whom we left him.
Comm [...]nd our Bashaw
To bring him clog'd in irons. These English Pirates
Have rob'd us of much treasure: and for that
His traiterous life shall answer. But for thee, traitor,
That had'st a hand in his escape,
Thou shalt be sure to pay for't.
Alas, my lord,
[Page]What I did was meerly ignorance.
Nay bribes,
And I shall finde it so: bear him to guard.
What dissolute strumpet did that traitrous Captain
Send to our sheets; but all our injuries,
Vpon that English prisoner wee'll revenge,
As we in state and fortune hope to rise,
A never heard of death that traitour dies.
Enter Captain, Besse, Ruffman, Clem.
No news from Forset yet that waits for Spencer,
The long boat's not return'd?

Not yet?


Clem. to the main top Clem, and give [...]s notice if thou seest any (like them) make from the shore; the day is broke already.


With all my heart, so you will give me warning before the Gunner shoots, left I tumble down again, and put my neck a second time in danger.


Prethee be gon, let's have no jesting now.


Then Ile to the main top in earnest.


How fares it with you Besse?

Like a hartlesse creature, a body without motion.
How can I chose when I am come to sea,
And left my heart ashore? What, no news yet?



I prethee Ruffman step into my Cabin, and bring me here my houre glasse.


That I shall.


To what end would you use it?

Shall I tell thee Captain,
I would know how long I have to live:
That glasse once turn'd, the sandy houre quite run,
I know my Spencer's dead, and my life's donne.
Enter Ruffman with the glasse.

Your glasse.

Gramercy good Lieutenant:
'Tis better then a gaudy looking glasse,
To deck our faces in; that shews our pride,
But this our ends those glasses seek to hide.
Have you been all at prayers?

We have.

I thank you
Gentlemen, never more need: and you would say
As I do, did you but know how near our ends some are.
Dost thou not think, Captain, my Spencer's slain?

Yet hope the best.

This is the hower he promist: Captain, look,
For I have not the heart, and truely tell me
How farre 'tis spent
Some fifteen minutes.
Alas, no more; I prethee tak't away,
Even just so many haue I left to pray,
And then to break my heart strings: None that loves me
Speake one word to me of him, or any thing:
If in your secret cabbins you'l bestow
Of him and me some tears and hearty prayers,
We, if we live shall thank you. Good Gentlemen
Ingage me so far to you.
Enter Clem.

News, news, news.


Ha, good or bad.


Excellent, most excellent, nay, super excellent, Forset and all his companions are rowing hither like mad men; and there is one that sits i'th stern and does not row at all, and that is, let me see who is it? I am sure 'tis he, noble Spencer.

Heart, let me keep thee; thou wast up to heaven
Half way in rapture. Art thou sure?

I think you'l make a man swear his heart out.

Teach me but how
[Page]I shall receive him when he comes aboard;
How shall I beare me, Captain, that my joy
Do not transcend my [...]out out of this earth,
Into the aire with passionate ex [...]:
Enter Spencer.
Now farewell Barbarie, king M [...]llisheg,
We have sea room, and winde at will, not ten
Of thy best Gallies arm'd with Moors,
Can fetch us back.

For England Gentlemen.

Oh, wher's the Gunner:
See all the ordnance be straight discharged
For joy my Spencer lives; let's mist our selves
In a thick cloud of smoak, and speak our joyes
Vnto the highest heavens in fire▪ and thunder.

To make the Queen vex and torment▪ her self.

To make the King tear his contorted locks,
Curl'd like the knots of furies: Oh this musick
Doth please me better then th' [...]minate strings,
Tun'd to their wilde Moriskoes: dance my [...]oul,
And caper in my bosome, joyfull heart,
That I have here my Spencer.
Come, waigh Anchor,
Hoist sail, we have a fair and gentle gale
To beare us to our countrey.

Captain, stay.

I did not heare my Spencer speak till now,
Nor would my sudden joy give me that judgement
To spie that sadnesse in thee I now see;
Good, what's the cause, canst thou conceal't from me?
What, from thy Besse? Whence came that sigh?
You will not tell me; no, do not:
I am not worthy to partake your thoughts.
Do you repent you that you see us safe
Imbar'kt for England to enjoy me there:
[Page]Is there some other whom you better love?
Let me but know her, and for your sweet sake
Ile serve her too: come, I will know the cause.
Know all in one:
Now I have seen you, I must leave you Besse.

Leave me? Oh, fatall.


Speak, my Besse, it is thy Spencer tells thee.

That he will leave me: if the same tongue
That wounded me, gives me no present cure,
It will again intrance me.
Arm your self,
It must be spoke again, for I must leave you.
My honour, faith, and coun [...]y are ingag'd,
The reputation of a Christian's pawn'd;
And all that weare that sacred livery,
Shall in my breach be scandal'd. Moors will say,
We boast of faith, none does good works but they.
I am nor sleep nor waking, but my senses
All in a confus'd slumber.
Sir, resolve us;
You wrap us in a Labyrinth of doubts,
From which I pray unloose us.
I shall;
I made my way through slaughter; but at length
The watch came down and took me prisoner
Vnto a noble Bashaw: for my valour,
It pleas'd him to admire me: but when sorrow
To disappoint my Besse, strok me in passion,
He urg'd me freely to relate my griefs,
Which took in him such deep impression,
That on my word and promise to return
By such an hower, he left himself in hostage,
To give me my desires.
'Twas nobly done.
But what's the lives of twenty thousand Moors,
To one that is a Christian?
We have liberty, and free way to our countrey,
Shall not we take th' advantage that the heavens
Have lent us: but now, as if we scorn'd
Their gracious bounty, give up our selves
To voluntary bondage.
Prize you my love no better, then to rate i [...]
Beneath the friendship of a barbarous Moor?
Can you, to save him, leave me to my death? Is this
The just reward of all my travells?
I prize my honour, and a Christians faith,
Above what earth can yeeld: shall Fesse report,
Vnto our countreys shame, and to the scandall
Of our religion, that a barbarous Moor
Can exceed us in noblenesse? no, Ile die
A hundred thousand deaths first.
Oh, my fate, was ever maid thus crost,
That have so oft been brought to see my blisse,
And never taste it? to meet my Spencer living after death,
To joyn with him in marriage, not enjoy him?
To have him here free from the barbarous Moors,
And now to lose him? being so o [...]'d
Vnto the height of all felicity
To make my ruine greater. If you needs
Will hazzard your own person, make me partner
In this thy present danger; take me with thee.
Not for the world, no living soul shall bleed
One drop for me.
Canst thou be so unkinde? then false man know,
That thou hast taught me harshnesse. I without
Thee came to Momarah, and to my countrey back,
I will return without thee: I am here
In mine own vessell, mine own train about me:
And since thou w [...]t forsake me, to embrace
The Queen of Moors: though coyning strange excuse.
E'ne at▪thy pleasure be i [...], my wa [...]e's into my coun [...]rey▪
Farewell, Ile not shed one tear more.
My partings death,
But honour wakens me, the hower draws nigh,
And if I fail one minut, he must die.
The long boat now. Farewell Besse.
Why, farewell
Spencer, I alwaies lov'd thee but too well,
Captain, thine [...]are,
This I have vow'd, and this you all shall swear.
Enter M [...]llisheg, Queen, Ioffer, Headsman.

Produce your prisoner, Bashaw.

Mighty King,
Had you beheld his prowesse, and withall,
But seen his passions, you would then like me,
Have pittied his diasters.
We know no pitty for an injury
Of that high nature, more then our revenge,
We have vow'd his death, and he shall therefore di [...]
Go, bring him forth.

Spare me, my lord, but some few howers, I shall.


The least delay is death.


Then know, my lord, he was my prisoner.


How, was? and is not?


By promise.


Not in gyves.


Hee's gyv'd to me by faith, but else at liberty.

I pray unriddle us, and teach us that
Which we desire to know, where is the English prisoner?
I presum'd, my lord,
Such noble valour could not be log'd alone,
Without some other vertues, faith and honour,
Therefore I gave him freedome to his ship,
Onely upon his promise to return;
Now if there be such noblenesse in a Christian,
Which being a Moor, I have exprest to him,
He will not see me perish.
Foolish Bashaw
To jeast away [...]hy [...]ad: you [...] [...] [...] ours
Against our person: and you all shall [...].
Why? can [...] thou think a [...] so re [...]ote,
Both in countrey and religion, being [...]'t
At sea, and under sail, [...]ee [...]om o [...] bands
In the arms of his fair bride,
His Captain and his sayl [...] all abo [...],
Sea room and winde at will, and will return
To expose all the [...] t [...] volun [...]ary da [...],
For a bare verball pro [...]?
If he comes no [...],
Be this mine honour, King, th [...] [...]ough I bl [...]d,
A Moor a Chris [...] [...]hus [...] [...] [...].
The hower is past,
The Christian hath br [...]e faith.
Off with his head.
Enter Spen [...]

Yet come at last.

[...]t possible?
Can England so farre di [...]ant harbour such noble ver [...]s?
I beshrow yo [...], Sir,
You come unto your death, and you [...] [...]
Much honour from me, and ingrost it all
To your own fame; 'twould have li [...] [...]g by [...]e,
Then any monument [...] [...], to ha [...] lo [...]
My life for such a nob [...] [...],
Whose vertue even in this la [...] a [...] [...]rs,
I wish this blood, which now a [...] [...]ndly [...]s.
You are come unto yo [...]r death.
Why, 'twas my purpose;
And by that death, to make my h [...]nour shine.
Great Mullisheg, cheri [...] this noble Moor,
Whom all thy co [...]nes cannot para [...]ell
For vertue and true noblenesse. [...]e my ship
Should with such black dishonour beare me sa [...]
[Page]Into my countrey by thy Bashaws death,
I would have bent my ordnance gain [...] her kee [...],
And sunk her in the harbour.
Thou hast slain
Six of our subjects.
Oh, had you seen
But with what eminent valour.
Nought that's ill
Can be well done: then Bashaw, speake no more,
His life is meerly forf [...]it, and h [...] shall pay it.
I am proud, Fesse, that I now owe thee nothing▪
But have in me ability to pay.
If it be forfeit, take it, lay all on me,
Ile pay the debt, then set the Bashaw free▪
Besides, misprising all our gracious favours,
To violate our laws, infringe our peace,
Distu [...]be our watch by night, and now perhaps
Having rob'd us of much treasure, ▪stoln to sea.
In that thou art not royall, Mullisheg.
Of all thy gold and jewels lately given us,
Ther's not a doit imbark't,
For finding [...]ee dishonourably unkinde,
Scorning thy gold, we left it all behinde.
If private men be [...]ords of such brave spirits,
How royall should their [...]inces be!
Ther's but one way for thee to save thy life,
From eminent death.

Well, propose it.

Send to thy Negro, and surrend [...]r up
Thy Captain and thy fair Bride; otherwise,
By all the holy rights of our great Prophet,
Thou shalt not live an hower.
Alas, good King,
I pitty and despise thy tyranny:
[Page]Not live an hower? And when my head is off,
What canst thou do then? Calls't thou that revenge,
To ease me of a thousand turbulent griefs,
And throw my soul in glory for my honour.
Why, thou striv'st to make me happy but for her;
Wert thou the King of all the kings on earth,
Couldst thou lay all their scepters, roabs, and crowns,
Here at my feet, and hadst power to install me
Emperour of th' universall Emperie,
Rather then yeeld my basest ship-boy up,
To become thy stave; much lesse betray my Bride
To thee and to thy bruitish lust, know king
Of Fesse, I'de die a hundred thousand deaths first.

Ile try your patience: Off with his head.

Enter Besse, Goodlack, Ruffman.

Her's more worke, stay.

What make you here?
You wrong me above injury.
If you loue blood,
That river spare, and for him take a flood,
Be but so gracious as save him alone,
And great King see I bring thee three for one:
Spare him, thou shalt have more,
The lives of all my train, what saiest thou to't?
And with their lives my ship and all to boot.
I could be angry with you above measure,
In your four deaths I die, that had before
Tasted but one.
Captain, art thou there? how e're these fare,
Thou shalt be sure to pay for't.
'Tis my least care,
What's done is mine, I here confes't,
Then seize my life in ransome of the rest.
Lieutenant, you are a base villane,
What groom betrai'd you to our sheets?

Please keep your tongue, I did you no dishonour.


Whom did you bring to our free [...]mbraces?


'Twas the King, conceal what's past.


How e're my minde, then yet my bodie's chast.


Make use on't.

Dismisse, great King, these to their ship again,
My life is solely forfeit, take but that,
I shall report thee mercifull.
It were no justice, King, to forfeit his,
And to spare mine, I am as deep as he,
Since what my Spencer did was all for me.
Great King, if any faulted, then 'twas I,
I led them on, and therefore first should die.

I am as deep as any.

Oh, had my head
Excus'd all these, I had been nobly dead.
Why pause you king? Is't by our noble v [...]rtes,
That you have lost the use of speech? or can you think
That Spencer dead, you might inherit me.
No, first with Roman Portia I'de eate fire,
Or with Lucretia character thy lust
'Twixt these two breasts. Stood I ingag'd to death.
I'd scorn for life to bend a servile knee:
But 'tis for thee, my Spencer, what was his fault?
'Twas but to saue his own, rescue his dear Bride
From adulterate sheets, and must he die for this?
Shall lust in me have chief predominance?
And vertuous deeds, for which in Fesse
I have been long renown'd, be quite exilde?
Shall Christians have the honour
To be sole heirs of goodnesse, and we Moors,
Barbarous and bloody. Captain, resolve me,
What common Curtezan didst thou convey
Into our royall bed.
I can excuse him, pardon me great King,
I having private notice of your plots,
Wrought him unto my purpose, and 'twas I [Page] lodg'd in your arms that night.
These English are in all things honourable,
Nor can we tax their waies in any thing,
Vnlesse we blame their vertues. English maid,
We give thee once more back unto thy husband,
Whom likewise freely we receive to grace:
And as amends for our pretended wrongs,
With her wee'll tender such an ample dower,
As shall renown our bounty: but we fear
We cannot recompence the injurious losse,
Of your last nights expectations.
'Tis full amends,
Where but the least part of your grace extends.
Captain, we prize thy vertues to thy friends,
Thy faith to us, and zeal unto our Queen.
And Bashaw, for thy noblenesse to a Gentleman
Of such approved valour and renown,
We here create thee Viceroy of Argiers,
And do esteem thee next our Queen in grace.
Y'have quench't in me all lust, by which shall grow,
Vertues which Fesse, and all the world shall know.
We shall report your bounties, and your royalties
Shall flie through all the parts of Christendome.
Whilst Besse has gold, which is the meed of baies,
Shee'l make our English Poets tune thy praise.
And now my Spencer, after all our troubles,
Crosses and threatnings of the seas rough brow,
Ine're could say thou wert mine own till now.
Call this your harbour, and your haven of joy,
For so wee'll strive to make it, noble strangers,
Those vertues you have taught us by your deeds,
We futurely will strive to imitate.
And for the wrongs done to the hop't delights
Of your last nights divorce, double the magazine
VVith which our larges should have sweld your ship.
A golden Girl th' art cal'd,
[Page]And wench, be bold,
Thy lading back shall be with pearl and gold.
Exe [...]nt.
Enter Chorus.
I Magine Besse and Spencer under sail:
But the intelligence of their great wealth,
Being bruited 'mongst the Merchants, comes to'th eares
Of a French Pirate, who with two ships wellrig'd,
Way laies them in their voyage: long they fought,
And many slain on both sides; but the Fr [...]chmen,
Proud of their hopefull conquest, boarding twice,
Are twice blown up, which add [...]s courage to the English;
But to the Frenchmen fear: just as they buckeld,
Spencer and Goodlack, with two proofe Targets arm'd,
Into the French ship leap, and on the [...]atches,
There make a bloody slaughter: but at that instant,
The billows swel'd, the windes grew high, and loud,
And as th [...] soul and body use to part,
With no lesse force these lovers are divided,
He wafts to her, and she makes signes to him:
He calls, and she replies:—they both grow hoarse,
With shriking out their last farewell.—now she swounds
And sinks beneath the arms of Ruffman. Spencer,
Vpon a Chest gets hold and safe arives
I'th Marquis of Farara's countrey: the like adventure
Chanc'd Goodlack, upon a Mast he pierces Italie,
Where these two Dukes were then at ods. Spencer is cho­sen
Farara's Champion: Mantua makes Goodlack his.
What happen'd them if you desire to know,
To cut off words, wee'll act it in dumb show.
Dumb Show.
The Dukes by them atton'd, they graced and prefer'd,
Take their next way tow̄ards Florence. What of Besse,
Ruffman, and Clem becomes, must next succeed.
The seas to them like cruell proves, and wracks
Their Negro on the coast of Florence, where
[Page]They wander up and down 'mongst the Bandetties,
More of their fortunes we will next pursue,
In which we mean to be as brief as true.
Explicit Actus tertius.

Actus quartus. Scena prima.

Enter Besse, Ruffman, and Clem.

ALl is lost.


Save these our selves.


For my part I have not so much left as a [...]lean Shirt.

And Spencer too, had the seas left me him,
I should have thought them kinde, but in his fate,
All wishes, fortunes, hopes of better daies

Speneer may live.


I, that he may, if it be but in a sea-water green suit, as I was, among the haddocks.

How many bitter plunges have I past.
Ere I could win my Spencer? who no sooner
Maried, but quite divorst, possest for some few daies,
Then rent asunder, as soon a widow as I was a Bride:
This day the mistris of many thousands,
And a begger now, not worth the clothes I wear.
At th [...] lowest ebbe
The tides still flow, besides, b [...]ing on the ground,
Lower we cannot fall.
Yes, into the ground, the grave.
Ruffman, would I were there; till then I never
[Page]Shall have true rest: I fain would know
VVhat greater misery heaven can inflict, I have not y [...]t
Indur'd: if there be such, I dare it, let it come.
Enter Captain Bandetties, and others.

Cease, and surprise the prisoners: thou art mine.


Villain, hands off, knowst thou whom thou of­fendest?


Binde her fast, and after captive him.

I will rather die
Then suffer her sustein least injury.
Ruffman is beaten off.

VVhat's thy purpose?

In all my travells, and my quest of blood,
I ne're encountred such a beauteous prize:
Heavens, if I thought you would accept his thanks
That trades in deeds of hell, I would acknowledge
My self in debt to you.
VVhat's thy intent,
Bold villein, that thou mak'st this preparation?

I intend to ravish thee.

All goodnesse pardon me, and you blest heavens,
VVhom I too boldly challeng'd for a misery
Beyond my Spencers losse. VVhat, rape intended?
I had not thought there had been such a mischief,
Devis'd for wretched woman: ravish me?
'Tis beyond shipwrack, poverty, or death:
It is a word invented first in hell,
And by the devills first spew'd upon earth:
Man could not have invented to have given
Such letters sound.
I trifle howers too long,
And now to my black purpose. Envious day,
Gaze with thy open eyes on this nights work,
For thus the Prologue to my lust begins.

Help, murther, rape, murther.


Ile stop yo [...] mo [...]h from bawling.

Enter Duke of Fl [...]rence, and a train, and Merchant.
This way the cry came: resoue for the Lady,
Hold thy desperate fury, and arm thy [...]
For my encounter.

Hell prevented.

Vnbinde that beautio [...]s Lady, and pursue
The Ruffin; he that can bring his head shall have
A thousand crowns propo [...]'d for his reward:
He should be Captain of those bloody theevs,
That haunts our mountains, and of our dear subjects
Hath oft made outrage. Go, [...] this proclaim'd.
E're I, the happy wish [...] of my soul,
My orizons to heaven, or make free [...]nder
Of a most bounden duty, grace my mi [...]ry,
To let me know, unto what worthy person,
Of what degree or state, I owe the service
Of a most wretched life, lest i [...] my ignorance,
I prove an heretick to all good manners,
And harshly so off [...]nd.
Fairest of thy sex, I need not question thine,
Because I read a [...] in thy [...],
But to resolve thee, know, I am [...], The Duke
Of Florenco, and of this countr [...]y Prince.
Then from my [...] I [...] [...]at on my face,
In bound obeysance.
That earth's too base for s [...]eh pure lips to ki [...].
They should rather joyn with a Princes, as at first
Made for such use: nay, we will have it so.
That Lady; if my memory be faithfull
Vnto my judgement, I should have seen e're now,
But where, what place, or in what [...], now
I cannot call to minde.

Where were you bred?


In England, royall Sir.


In England?

By what strange adventure then
Happened you on these coasts?

By shipwrack.

Then churlish were the waves t'expose you [...]
Such danger. Whence disimbark't you last?

From Barberie.


From Barberie? our Merchant, you came lately thence.

'Tis she, I now remember her,
She did me a great curtesie, and I am proud,
Fortune, how ever enemy to her,
Has given me opportunity to make
A just requitall.
What occasion
Fair Lady, being of such state and beauty,
Drew you from your own countrey, to expose you
To so long travell.
Mighty Soveraign,
Pardon my interuption, if I make bold
To put your grace in minde of an English Virgin,
So highly grac't by mighty Mullisheg.
A legend, worthy to be writ in gold,
Whose strangenesse seem'd at first to exceed belief;
And had not thy approved honesty
Commanded our attention, we should have doubted
That thou therein hadst much hyperboliz'd.
What would your grace give,
To see that miracle of constancie,
Shee who reliev'd so many Christian captives,
Redeem'd so many of the M [...]rchants goods,
[...]eg'd of the king so many for [...]tures,
Kept from the Gallies some, and some from slaughter,
She whom the king of Fesse never denied,
But she deni'd him love; whose chastity
[Page]Conquer'd his lust, and maugre his incontinence,
Made him admire hir vertues.
The report
Strikes us with wonder and amazement too:
But to behold the creature were a project,
Worthy a theatre of Emperours;
Nay, gods themselves to be spectatours.

Behold that wonder. Lady, know you▪ me?


Not I, I can assure you, Sir.

Ile give you instance then;
I was that Florentine:
Who being in Fesse; for a strange outrage there,
Six of my men were to the Gallies doom'd:
But at your intercession to the king,
Freely releast: for which, in this dejection,
I pray accept these thousand crowns, to raise
Your ruin'd fortunes.

You are gratefull, Sir, beyond my merit

I cannot blame great Fesse
To become inamour'd on so fair a creature.
You had a friend much grac'd by that same Moor,
Whom, as our Merchant told us, you were espous'd to
In the Court of Fesse, whe [...] he?

I cannot speak it without [...]ears.


Why, is he dead?


I cannot say he lives.


How were you sever'd?


It asks a sad relation.

Wee'll finde a fitter time to hear't. But now,
Augment your griefs no further: on what coast
Pray, were you shipwrack't?
Vpon these neighbouring [...]; where all the wealth
I had from B [...]rbarie is perish't in the sea.
I that this morn commanded half a million,
Have nothing now but this good merchants bounty.
You are richer
[Page]In our high favour, then all the royalty,
Fesse could have crown'd your pearlesse beauty with:
He gave you gold; but we your almost forfeit chastitie.
Bess [...]

A gift above the wealth of Barbarie.

Conduct this Ladie to the City streight,
And bear this our signet to our treasurer,
Command for her ten thousand crowns immediately.
Next to our wardrobe, and what choife of habit
Best likes her, 'tis her own;
Onely for all this grace, daign beauteous Lady;
That I may call you servant.
Pardon me, Sir,
You are a Prince, and I am here your vassall.
As you respect our favour see this done.
What must my next fall be? I that this morning
Was rich in wealth and servants, and e're noon
Commanded neither: and next doom'd to death;
Not death alone, but death with infamy.
But what's all this unto my Spencers losse?
You to the City, wee'll pursue the chase.
Madam, be comforted, wee'll send, or see you;
All your fortunes are not extinct in shipwrack,
The land affords you better if you'l be swai'd by us.
As first you finde us, wee'll be still the same:
Oft have I chac't nere found so fair a game.
Enter Clem solus.

Where are my Bashaw's now? Let me see, what shall I do? I have left my Mistrisse, where shall I have my wages? shee's peper'd by this: but if the Captain of the Bandetties had had but that grace and honour that I had when I was in Barbarie, he would not have been so lusty. She scapt drowning, which is the way of all fish, and by this is gone the way of all flesh. My Lieutenant hee's sure [...]ut to pieces among the Bandetties, and so had I been, [Page] had not my Bakers legs stept a little aside. My noble Ca­ptain and Sp [...]ncer, they are either drowned i'th tempest, or murthered by the Pirates, and none is left alive but I Clem, poor Clem: but poor Clem, how wilt thou do now? what trick have you to sati [...] Colon, here in a strange Countrey? It is not now with me as when Andrea liv'd. Now I bethink me, I have a trade, and that, they say, will stick by a man when his friends fail [...]m: the City is hard by, and Ile see and I can be entertained to my old trade of drawing [...]ne: if't be but an under skinker, I care not, better do so then like a prodigall feed upon husks and acorns.

Well, if I chance to lead my life under some happy [...]gne▪
To my Countreymen still Ile fill the best wine.
Enter Ru [...] bleeding.

Wounded, but scapt with life: but Besses losse, that's it that gri [...] me in [...]d: rav [...], perhaps, and murthered. Oh, if Spencer and Goodlack sur [...], how would they blame my cow [...]? a threed [...], may be untwined, but things in nature done, undone can never be. Shee's lost, they are perish't, they are happy in their deaths, and I surviving [...] to [...]he [...]arth mo [...] miserable. No means to raise my self? I [...] a P [...] even now, pro­claiming to the man could bring the head of the Bandet­ties Captain, for his reward a thousand crowns: If not for gain of gold, yet for he injur'd Besse, that shall be my next task: What though I die?

Be this my comfort, that it chanc▪t me well,
To perish by his hand by whom she [...]ll.
Enter Duke of [...]ence. Merchant.
Our Merchant, have you [...] [...]h English Lady
As we commanded, did she take the gold?
After many complements, circumstances,
Modest re [...]alls, sometimes with repu [...],
[Page]I forc't on her your bounty: Had you seen
What a bewitching art she striv'd to use,
Betwixt deniall, and disdain; contempt and thankfulnesse,
You would have said, that out of a meer scorn
T'accept your gift, she exprest such gratitude,
As would demand a double donative.
And it has don't, it shall be doubl'd straight,
Arising thence unto an infinite,
If shee'll but grant us love. How for her habit?
With an inforst will, wilfull constraint,
And a meer kinde of glad necessity,
She put it on but to lament the death
Of her lost husband.

Why, is he lost?

Mer [...]h.

By all conjectures never to be found.

The les [...]e her hope is to recover him,
The more our hopes remains to conquer her:
Bear her from us this jewell, and withall
Provide a banquet, bid her leave all mourning,
This night in person we will visit her.

I shall.

Withall more gold.
And if thou canst by way of conference,
Get from her how she stands affected towards us:
It shall not be the furthest way about
To thy preferment and our speciall favour.
Enter a messenger.

The two bold Dukes of Mantua and [...], after many bloody garboils have entred league: and with­in these two daies mean to visit Florence, to make your Court a witnesse of their late concluded amity.

Wee'll receive them,
As Princes that in this would honour us.

These letters will speak further.

Bear them streight
[Page]Vnto our Secretarie, and withall, give order,
That all our Court may shine in gold and pearl,
They never could have come in a happier season,
Then when the great and high magnificence,
Without suspect we would have shown to her,
Will be accounted honour done to them.
In fates despight,
we will not lose the honour of this night.
Enter Spencer, Goodlack.

Farara was exceeding bountifull.

So was the Duke of Mantua. Had we staid
Within their confines, we might even till death
Have liv'd in their high favour.
Oh, but Captain,
What would their Dukedomes gain me without Besse,
Or all the world t'injoy it without her:
Each passage of content or pleasing fortune,
VVhen I record she has no part in it,
Seems rather as an augmentation
Of a more great disease.
This be your comfort, that by this
Shee's best part of her way for England, whither
She is richly bound, then where she is most hopelesse
Of this your safety,
VVith your survivall to receive us gladly
VVith an abundant treasure.
But for that,
I had sunk e're this beneath the weight of war.
And chus'd an obscure death, before the glorie
Of a renowned souldier. But we are now
As farre as Florence onward of our way,
VVere it best that we made tender of our service
To the grand Duke?

'Tis the greatest benefits of all our travells, to see forraigne Courts, and to discourse their fashions: let [Page] us by no means neglect that duty.


Where were we best to lodge?


Hard by is a Tavern, let's first drink there, and after make inquir [...]e who's the best host for strangers.


Come ho, where be these Drawers?

Enter a Drawer.

Gentlemen, I draw none my self, but Ile send some.

Enter Clem with wine.

Welcome Gentlemen. Score a quart.






No, no, I am an asse, a very animall, it cannot be.


Why dost thou bear the wine back, the slave thinks belike we have no money?


What dost thou think us to be such casher'd sol­diers that we have no cash. Tush, it cannot be he.


How should he come here, set down the wine.


I will, I will, sir. Score a quart of—Tricks, meer fantasmes. Shall I draw wine to shadows? so I might runne o'th score, and finde no substance to pay for it.


Left we not him a shipboard on his voyage to­wards England with my


With Besse, true, Sirra, set down the wine.


Some Italian Mountebanks, upon my life, mee [...] jugling.


Vpon my life 'tis Cl [...]m.


Ca, Ca, Cap. Captain? Maister Spencer?




I am Clem.


And I am Spencer.


And I Goodlack, but cannot think thee Clem.


Yes, I am Clem of Foy, the Bashaw of Barbarie, who from a Courtier of Fesse, am turn'd a Drawer in Flo­rence: but let me clear my eies better; now I know you to be the same whose throats the Pirates would have cut, and have spoiled your drinkings.

Oh, tell us, and be brief in thy relation,
What hapened you, after the sudden tempest
Sever'd our ships? or what's become of Besse?

Where did our Negro touch?


Ile give you a touch, take it as you will: The Negro and all that was in her was wrack't on the coast of of Florence, her, and all the wealth that was in her, all drownd i'th bottome of the sea.


No matter for the riches, wher's she, worth More then ship or goods?


Wher's Ruffman? for thou we see art safe.

Nay speak, wher's Besse?
How my heart quails within me?

She, Ruffman, and I were all cast ashore safe, like so many drowned Rats, where we were no sooner landed, but we were set upon by the Bandetties; where she was bound to a tree, and ready to be ravish't by the Captain of the Out-laws.


Oh, worse then shipwrack could be.


I see Ruffman half cut in pieces with rescuing her, but whether the other half be alive or no, I cannot tell. For my one part, I made shift for one, my heels doing me better service then my hands: and comming to the City, having no other means to live by, got me to my old trade to draw wine, where I have the best wine in Flo­rence for you Gentlemen.


Ra [...]h't.


And Ruffman slain.

Oh, hard news:
It frets all my blood, and strikes me stiffe with
Horrour and amazement.
It strikes me
Into a marble statue, for with such
I have like sense and feeling.
Tell me Captain,
Wilt thou give me leave at length to despair
[Page]And kill my self: I will disclaim all further
Friendship with thee, if thou perswad'st me live.
Perhaps attempted but prevented,
Will you before you know the utmost certainty,
Destroy your self?
What is this world? what's man? are we created
Out of flint or iron, that we are made to bear this?

Comfort, Sir.


Your onely way is to drink wine if you be in grief, for that's the onely way, the old proverb saies, to comfort the heart.


Hark where we lie, and I prethee Clem lets hear from thee, but now leave us.


I will make bould inquire you out, and if you want mony (as many travellers may) as long as I have ei­ther credit, wages, or any coyne i'th world, you shall not want, as I am a true Eunuch.

Exit Clem.
Enter Florence ushuring Besse, Train.

Let's stand aside and suffer these Gallants passe, that with their state take a whol street before them.

Our Coach, stay, wee'll back some half houre hence,
Onely conduct this Lady to her lodging.
Ha, started you, Sweet, whence fetcht
You that sigh. Our train lead on,
W'have other businesse now to think upon.
Besse casts a jewell.

Sure this was some great Lady.


But observ'd you not this jewell that shee cast me? 'tis a rich one.


Believe me, worthy your wearing.

What might she be to whom I am thus bound?
I'me here a stranger, never till this day
Beheld I Florence, nor acquaintance, friend
Especially of Ladies.
By th [...]ir train,
The man that did support her by the arm
Was of some speciall note; and she a Lady
Nobly de [...]cended. Why should she throw you this,
Being a meer stranger?
The [...]'s some mystery in' [...],
If we could finde the depth on' [...], sure there is.
Perhaps some newly faln in love▪with you,
Now at first sight, and hurl'd that as a favour.
Yet neither of us had or the wit or sense to enquire her name:
Ile weare it openly and see if any
Will challenge it: the way to know her best.

And I would so.

Ile truce a while with sorrow for my Besse,
Till I finde th'event.
And at best leasure
Tender our service to the Duke,
Whom fame reports to be a bounteous prince,
And liberall to all strangers.
'Tis decreed-
But howso [...]'re his favours he impart,
My Besses losse will still sit near my heart.
Enter Florence, Mantua, Farara.
This honour you have done me, worthy Princes,
In leaving of your Courts to visit me,
We reckon as a trophe of your loves,
And shall remain a future monument,
Of a more firme and perfect amitie.
To you, as to the greatest, most honour'd,
And most esteemed Prince of Italy▪
After a tedious opposition,
And much effuse of blood, this Prince and I,
Late reconcil'd▪ make a most happy tender▪
Of our united league.
Selecting you
A royall witnesse of this union,
Which to expresse, we come to feast with you,
To sport and revell, and in full largesse,
To spread our royall bounty through your Court.
What neither letters nor Ambassadours,
Solliciting by factions, or by friends,
Heavens hand hath done by your more calmer temper.
All resistalls,
Quarells, and ripping up of injuries,
Are smother'd in the ashes of our wrath,
Whose fire is now extinct.
Which who so kindles,
Let him be held a new H [...]rostratus,
Who was so hated throughout Ephesus,
They held it death to name him.
Nobly spoke.
And now confederate Princes, you shall finde,
By our rich entertainment, how w'esteem
Your friendship. Speak, have we no Ladies here
To entertain these princes?
Enter Besse.
Me thinks I spie one beauty in this place▪
Worth all the sights that I have seen before.
I thinke, survay the spa [...]ious world abroad,
You scarce can finde her equall.
Had not wonder,
And deep amazement curb'd my speech in,
I had forestall'd this Prince in approbation
Of her comparelesse beauty.
Taste her Princes.
This surfets me, and ads unto my love,
That they should thus admire her.
Beautious Lady,
I [...] is not my least honour to be first
[Page]In this most wish'd sollicite▪
I stand a statue,
And cannot move but by anothers will,
And as I am commanded.
I should have wrastled for priority,
But that I hold it as a ble [...]ing,
To take off that kisse which he so late laid on.
Now tell me Princes,
How do you like my judgement in the choice Of a fair mistrisse?

You shall choose for me.

More happy in this beauty, I account you,
Then in your rech [...] treasure.
W [...]'t not cloud [...]d o're
With such a melancholly sadnesse, I'de
Not change it for the wealth of Italy.
Sweet, cheer this brow whereon no frown can sit,
But it will ill become you.

Sir, I bleed.

Ha, bleed?
I would not have a sad and ominous fate
Hang o're thee for a million:
Perhaps 'tis custome with you.
I have observed
Even from my childehood, never fell from h [...]nce
One crimson drop, but either my greatest enemy,
Or my dearest friend was near.
Why, we are here,
Fixt to thy side thy dearest friend on earth.
If that be all, fear nothing.
Pardon, Sir,
Both modesty and manners pleads for me
And I must needs retire.
Our train attend her,
Let her have all observance. By my royalty,
I would not have her taste the least disaster
[Page]For more then we can promise.
You have onely shewed us a rich Iewell, Sir,
And put it in a casket.
Of what countrey,
Fortune, or birth doth she proclaim her self?
For by her garb and language we may guess [...]
She was not bred in Florence.

Seat you Princes, Ile tell you a strange project.

Enter Spencer and Goodlack.

I have walk't the streets, but finde not any that will make challenge of this jewell. Captain, now wee'll try the Court.

Beware of these Italians,
They are by nature jealous and revengefull,
Not sparing the most basest opportunity,
That may procure your danger.
Is bold and cannot fear. But see the Duke▪
Wee'll tender him the solemnst reverence
Of travellers and strangers. Peace, prosperitie,
And all good fates attend your royalty.
Behold, w'are two poor English Gentlem [...],
Whom travell hath enforc' [...] through your Dukedome,
As next way to our countrey, prostrate you
Our lives and service: ▪tis not for reward,
Or hope of gain we make this tender to you,
But our free loves.
That which so freely comes,
How can we scorn? what are you Gentlemen?

Ile speak for this.

And I for him,
Well met renowned Englishman
Here in the Court of Florence: this was he,
Great Duke, whom fame hath for his valour bla [...]on'd;
Not onely through Mantua▪
[Page]But through the spatious bounds of Italie,
Where 'twas shown.
Hath fame been so injurious to thy merit,
That this great Court is not already fil'd
With rumour of their matchlesse chevalrie.
If these be they, as by their outward semblance,
They promise not much lesse: same hath been harbinger
To speak their praise before hand. Noble Gentlemen,
You have much grac't our Court; we thank you for't:
And though no way according to your merits,
Yet will we strive to cherish such brave spirits.
Th'acceptance of our smallest service, Sir,
Is bounty above gold: w'are poor Gentlemen,
And though we cannot, gladly would deserve.
'Tas pleas'd these princes to bestow on us
Too great a character: and gild our praises
Far above our deserts.
That's but your modesty.
English Gentlemen, let fame speak for you.
Gentlemen of England, we pardon you all duty,
We accept you as our friends and our companions:
Such you are, and such we do esteem you.
Mighty Prince,
Such boldnesse wants excuse.
Come wee'll ha' [...] so.
Amazement, can it be? Sure 'tis the self same jewell
I gave the English Lady: more I view it,
More it confirmes my knowledge: now is no time
To question it, once more renowned Englishmen,
Welcome to us and to these Princes.
Enter Ruffman.

Can any man shew mee the great Duke of Florence?

Mar [...]h.

Behold the Prince.

Daigne, thou renowned Duke, to cast thy ▪eyes
Vpon a poor dejected Gentleman,
[Page]Whom fortune hath dejected even to nothing.
I have nor meat nor money; these rags are all my riches;
Onely necessity compells me claim
A debt owing by you.
By us?
Let's know the summe, and how the debt acrues.
You have proclaim'd to him could bring the head
Of the Bandetties Captain, for his reward,
A thousand crowns. Now I being a Gentleman,
A traveller, and in want, made this my way
To raise my ruin'd hope: I singled him,
Fought with him hand to hand, and from his bloody shoulders
Lopt this head.
Boldly and bravely done: what e're thou be
Thou shalt receive it from our treasurie.
You shew your self as fame reports you,
A bounteous Prince, and liberall to all strangers.
From what countrey
Do you claim your birth?

From England, royall Sir▪

These bold Englishmen,
I think are all compos'd of spirit and fire,
The element of earth hath no part in them.
If, as you say, from England, we retein
Some of your Countreymen; know you these Gentlemen?
Let me no longer live in extasie,
This wonder will confound me: Noble friends,
Bootlesse it were to ask you why, because
I finde you here. Illustrious Duke, you owe
Me nothing now, to shew me these, is reward
Beyond what you proclaim'd: the rest I pardon.
What these are we know,
And what thou art we need not question much,
That head though mute can speak it.
Princes, once more receive our royall welcome.
Oh, but the jewell: but of that at leasure
[Page]Now we cannot stay. Our train, lead on.
Exeunt Dukes.
Oh, that we three so happily should meet,
And want the fourth.
I left her in the hands of rape and murther,
Whence, except some deity,
'Twas not in the power of man to rescue her;
How ever, a good office I have done her,
Which even in death her soul will thank me for,
Reveng'd her on that villain.
It hath exprest the noblenesse of thy Spirit.
For it we still shall owe thee.
But what adventure hath prefer'd you
And brought you thus in grace?
You shall hereafter
[...] of that at large. But leaving this discourse,
With our joynt perswasions let's strive to comfort him,
That's nothing but discomfort.
Would I had brought him news of that rare ver­rue.
Yet you have never heard of our late shipwrack.

Clem reported it.


How Clem, wher's he?


He has got a service hard by, and draws wine.

His master may well trust him with his maids,
For since the Beshaws gelded him, he has learn'd
To run exceeding nimbly.
Enter Merchant.
Sir, 'tis to you, I take it,
My message is directed.
The Duke would, have some conference with you, but it must be in private.
I am his servant, still at his command.
Where shall's meet anon.

At Clems.




Where wee'll make a due relation of all our desperate fortunes.


'Tis concluded.

Explicit Actus quartus.

Actus quintus. Scena prima.

Enter Duke of Florence and Spencer.
I Cannot rest till I am fully resolv'd
About this jewell. Sir, we sent to stay you,
And wean you some small season from your friends:
And you above the rest, because your presence
Doth promise good discourse.

Sir, I am all yours.


How long hath been your sojourn here in Flo­rence?


Two daies, no more.

Have you since your arivall
Retain'd no beauteous Mistrisse? Pardon me,
Sir, that I am come thus near you.
On my soul
Not any, royall Sir.
Think it my love that I presume thus farre
To question you. Have you observ'd no Ladie
Of speciall note, courted or discourst with any
Within these two daies.

Vpon my honour, none.

You are a souldier and a Gentleman,
And should speak all truth.

If otherwise, I should disclaim my gentry.

I beleev you, Sir. You have a rich jewell here,
Worthy a Princes wearing: twere not modestie
[Page]To ask how you came by it, or from whom.
Nor can I, Sir, resolve you, if you did:
But it was cast me by a Lady, of whom
As then I took small notice of, my minde
Being troubled.

'Tis even so.

Perhaps your grace by knowing of this jewell,
May know the beauteous [...]inger, and so
You might engage me deeply to acquaint me with her,
To prove her gratefull debtor.
No such thing,
You know none in this Citie?
Worse then scorn,
Or foul disgrace befall me if I know
Any you can call woman.
Be not moved,
I spoke but this in sport. Sure this strange Lady,
Casting her eye upon this Gentleman,
Grew straight [...]f him inamour'd, which makes her
Keep off from my embraces: but Ile sound all,
Yet my own wrongs prevent. Sir, I staid you,
But to another purpose, to commit
A weighty secret to you.
Wer't of millions,
Ide prove your faithfull steward.
I have a Mistrisse that Ptender dearer
Then mine own eyes. Observe me, dearer Sir,
Whom neither courtship moves, favours can work,
Nor no preferment tempt.
How rich were he
Could call himself lord of such a jewell.
My intreaties, friends, perswasions, importunities
Of my chast Ladies cannot prevail at all.
Now would I chose a stranger, selecting thee,
To bear to her these few lines which contein
The substance of my minde.

And Sir, I shall.

In thy aspect
I read a fortune that should destine me
To strange felicities. Wilt thou be faithfull?

As to my [...]oul▪

But thou shalt swear before thou undertak'stie,
(Though I suspect not falshood in thy visage)
Not once to cast on her an amourous look,
Speak to her no familiar sylla [...],
Not to embrace her, nor to kisse her hand,
Nor her free lip by no means.

Well, I swear.

But that's not all,
Swear by thy faith and thy religion▪
Not to taste the least small fauour for thy self,
Touch or come near her bosome; for, fair stranger,
I love her above measure, and that love
Makes me thus jealous.
By my honesty,
Faith, and religion, without free release
From your own lips, all this will I perform.
And so return the richest Englishman,
That ever pierst our Dukedome. Instantly
Thou shalt about thy task.
Enter Besse, Merchant.
You have tir'd our ears with your long disco [...]
Leave us to rest.

Dream on your best desires.

If at some half houre hence you visit us,
We shall be free for language.

Soft rest with you.

If my soft sleeps presents me any shadov
Oh, let it be my Spencers, him whom waking
I cannot see, I may in dreams perhaps
Converse with, my sudden bleeding and my drowsinesse,
[Page]Should not presage me good: pray heaven the Duke
Prove loyall to mine honour: howsoever
Death will end all: and I presume on this
'Tis way to Spencer, and my haven of blisse.
Shee lies to sleep.
Enter Spencer.
What beauty should this be, on whom the Duke
Is grown so jealous: sure 'tis some rare piece;
He tould me she was fairer th [...] I could either
Iudge, Or yet imagine.
Would Besse were here to wager beauties with her,
For all my hopes in England. This is the Chamber:
Ha, thus far off she seems to promise well,
Ile take a nearer and more free survay,
This taper shall assist me: fail my eies?
Or meet I nothing else but prodigies?
Oh heavens, it is my Besse; Oh, sudden rapture!
Let me retire to more considerate thoughts.
What should I think, but presently to wake her?
And being mine, to seize her where I finde her.
Oh, but mine oath, that I should never, never
Lie with her being my wife, nor kisse her, touch her,
Speak to her one familiar syllable.
Can oaths binde thus? My honesty, faith, and
Religion are all ingag'd, ther's no dispence for them.
And yet in all this con [...]ict to remember
How the Duke prais'd her vertu, chastitie,
And constancie, whom nothing could corrupt,
Ads to my joyes. But on the neck of this,
It laies a double [...] on my life.
First to forsweare, then leave so fair a wife.
She starts.
I am all distraction. In my sleep [...]
I saw him, could I but behold him waking.
That were a heaven. Ha, do I dream still?
Or was I born to [...]ee
[Page]Nothing but strange illusions. Spencer: Love.

I am neither.

Thou hast his shape, his gate, his face, his lan­guage:
Onely these words of thine and strange behaviour,
Never came from him. Let me imbrace thee.



Then kisse me.




Yet speak me fair.


I cannot.


Look on me.

I must not, I will not, fare thee well:
Yet first read that.

I have read too much already within thy chang [...] of looks.

Oh me my oath;
Ide chop off this right hand to cancell it.

But if not now, when then?




Not kisse me?




Not fold mee in thine arms?




Nor cast a gratious look upon thy Besse?


I dare not.




No never.


Oh, I shall die.

She swounds.
She faints, and yet I dare not for my oath
Once to support her. Dies before mi [...]ies.
And yet I must not call her back to life.
Where is the Duke? some help, no Ladies nigh?
Are you all, all asleep or dead,
Ther's no more noise in Court?
Enter Duke and his train.
Ha, what's the buisinesse, noble [...], what [...]?
[Page]How speed you with my Mistrisse?
You may see there on the ground, half
In the grave already. So [...] you well,
What grief mine is, those that love best can tell.

Support her. Speak love, look up divinest Mi­st [...]isse.


You said you would not speak, nor look, nor touch your Besse.

Who I?
By all my hopes I ne're had such a thought.

Oh, I mistook.

Why do you look so gastly about the room?
Whom do's your eyes enquire for?

Nothing, nay, no body.


Why do you we [...]p?

Hath some new love possest him, and excluded
Me from his bosome? can it be possible?

All leave the chamber.

But Ile be so reveng'd as never woman was:
Ile be a president to all wives hereafter,
How to pay home their proud neglectfull husbands;
'Tis in my way, I've power, and Ile do it.

What is't offends you?


'Tis you have don't.



If you be the Prince:
Ther's but one man I hate above all the world.
And you have sent him to torment me h [...].

What satisfaction shall I make thee for't?

This, and this onely; If you have any interest
In him, or power above him: if you be a Prince
In your own countrey, have command and rule
In your own do [...]ons, fre [...]ly resigne his person
And his state solely to my disposure.
But whence grows
The ground of such inveterate hate?
All circumstance to omit,
[Page]He, and onely he ravish't me from my countrey,
He was the cause of all my afflictions,
Tempests, shipwrack, fears. I never had just cause
Of care and grief but he was author of it.
Speak, is he mine?
What interest I can claim, either by oath
Or promise, thou art Commandresse of.
Then I am yours;
And to morrow in the publike view of all
The stranger Princes, Courtiers, and Ladies,
I will expresse my self. This night I intreat
I may repo [...]e my self in my own lodging
For private meditations.
What we have promist,
Is in our purpose most irrevocable,
And so we hope is yours.

You may presume, my lord.

Conduct this Lady to her chamber,
Let her have all observance: we will lay
Our strict command on him, lest he should leave
Our City before our summons, 'tis to morrow, then,
Shall happy thee, make us most blest of men.
Exit Duke.
Now shall I quite him home,
Th'ingrate shall know,
'Tis above patience to be injur'd so.

Will you walk Lady, or take your coach?

That we the streets more freely may survay,
Wee'll walk along.
Enter Clem with his pots.

Let me see, three quarts, two pottles, one gallon and a pin [...]e, one pinte, two quarts more, then I have my load: thus are we that are under▪journeymen put too't. Oh the fortune of the seas; never did any man that mar­ries a whore, so cast himself away, as I had been like i'th last tempest: yet nothing vexes me so much, that after all [Page] my travells, no man that meets me but may say, a [...]d say very truely, I am now no better then a pot companion.

En [...] Besse, Mer [...].
That should be Clem my man, give me some gold,
Here, Sirra, drink this to the health
Of thy old Mistris. Vsher on,
We have more serious things to think upon.

Mistris Besse, Mi [...]s Eli [...], 'tis [...]: [...], gold: hence pewter pots, Ile be a [...] porter no longer: my Mistris turn'd Gallant, and shall I do nothing but run up stares and down [...] [...], [...], anon, Sir? [...], I have gold, and anon will be as gall [...] as the proudest of them. Shall I stand at the Bar to bar any mans ca [...]ing that drinks hard? no, Ile send these pots home by some por­ter or other, put my self into a better habit, and say▪ The case is alter'd; then will I go home to the bush where I drew wine, and buy out my time, and take up my Cham­ber, be served in pomp by my fellow [...]:

I will presently thither,

Where I will flaunt it in my Cap and my [...]her.

Enter Good [...]k, Sp [...], Ru [...].

You tell us of the strangest [...] [...] ever'came within the compasse of my knowledge.


I tell you but what's true▪


It ca [...]not [...] example. Did you leave [...] those extremities of passion?


I think dying, or the next way to death.

To chear you,
The Dukes own witnesse of [...] [...]ancy,
And vertue, arm'd against all [...]tions,
Part of your griefs should le [...].
Rather friend,
Augment my passions, to be forc'd to lo [...],
And quite [...] [...] sweet a [...].
[Page]Oh, it breeds more distraction.
VVer't my cause,
I'de to the Duke and claim her, beg for justice,
And through the populous court clamor my wrongs,
If he detein her from you.
But my oath
Ties me from that, I have quite abjur'd her,
I have renounc'd her freely, cast her off,
Disclaim'd her quite: I can no more
Interest claim in her, then Goodlack
Thou, or Ruffman thou.
'Tis most strange, let's examine all our brains
How this may be avoided.

How now Clem, you loyter here, the house is full of guests, and you are extreamly call'd for.


You are deceived my Lieutenant▪ Ile assure you, you speak to as good a man as my self: Do you want any money?


Canst thou l [...]nd me any?


Look, I am the lord of these mines, of these Indies.

R [...]ff.

How camest thou by them?


A delicate sweet Lady, meeting me i'th street, like an Asse groaning under my heavy burthen, and be­ing inamour'd of my good parts, gave me this gold: if you think I lie, examine all these pots, whose mouthes, if they could [...], would say as much in my behalf. But if you want any money, speak in time, for if I once turn Courtier again, I will [...]orn my poor friends, look scurvily upon my acquaintance, borrow of all men, be beholding to any man, and acknowledge no man: and my Motto shall be, [...] [...] the man [...] [...].


But [...], how camest thou by this gold?


News, news, though not the lost sheep, yet the lost shrew is found, [...] Mistris, Mi [...] Elizabeth, 'tis she, she meeting me 'ith street, seeing I had a pot or two too [Page] much, gave me ten pounds in a purse to pay for it, Ecce signum.

Enter a Lord.
The Duke hath summond your appearance, Gentlemen,
And laies his power of love, not o [...] command,
To visit him in Court.

I am put into the number too, if he b [...] a tall man, tell him we will attend his high [...].


Fellow, my langu [...]ge was not aim'd at you.


But Sir, Ile make bold to come at first bidding.

Sir, your reward staies for you at Court,
For bringing of the ou [...] law'd Cap [...] head,
Ther's order tan [...] fo [...] from the treasuri [...].

The Duke is just and royall▪ VVee'll attend you.


And Ile go furnish my self with some be [...]r ac­coutriments, and [...]le b [...] with you to bring pr [...]sently.

Enter Florence, Mantua, and Farara.
There is not in your looks renowned Flor [...]
That sommers calme, and sweet alac [...]ie
That was wont there to shine, a winters storm
Sits threatning on your discontented brow.
May we desire the cause.
VVhich you shall know.
Princes, the fierce and bloody moors, have late
Committed outrage on our seas, especially,
One mightie Bashaw, ▪gainst whom w'have sent
Petro Deventuro, one of our best Sea Captains,
And, till we hear of his successe, [...]'are bard
Of much content.
Enter M [...]ent.
My lord, good new [...], [...]tro De [...] is return'd
With happy victory, and many noble prisoners,
And humbly laies his conquest at your feet.
E [...]ter Petro, Bashaw.
Petro, welcome.
[Page]This thy service shall not di [...] unrewarded. Freely relate
The manner of thy Sea fight.
Then thus, great Duke.
This noble Bashaw: noble I must call him,
For he deserves that worthy attribute,
Did lord o're these▪ our seas, appointed well;
Laden with many a rich and golden spoil,
Not weak to us in number; being in ken,
We had him and his Gallies straight in chase:
He ne're set sail or fled: afar our ordnan [...] plaid;
Comming more near, our muskets and our small shot,
Like showers of hail begun the slaughter;
There this Bashaw then perceiving straight
That he must either yeeld or die: his Semiter
He pointed to his breast, thinking thereon
To perish, had not my coming staid him.
Nor think, bold Christian,
That I can commend, or thank thee for't,
For who that's noble will not prize brave death
Before a slavish bondage: had I died
By mine own hand, 'th [...]d been a s [...]ldiers pride.
Although a prisoner captive and a Moor,
Yet use him like the noblest of his nation.
And now withdraw with him, till wee
Determine of his ransome.
Enter Merchant and Besse: also Spencer, Ruffman, Goodlack.

Way there for the Dukes Mistrisse.

Sp [...].

Ha, the Dukes Mistris, said he:


It was harsh.

Keep off, we would have no such rubs as these,
Trouble our way? but have them swept aside,
A company of base companions, to do no reverence
To a Princes Mistris.
[Page]Sp [...].

Heare you t [...]?


Give back, you trouble the pr [...]ce.


This cannot [...]e [...]sse, but some Furie hath stoln her shape.


It seems strange.


But unto me most horrid.


Great Duk, I come to keep my promise with you, if you keep your word with me.

These kinde regreets are unto me more welcome
Then my late victory [...] at Sea:
Wil [...] please you take your seat?

Is not yo [...] Spencer, and that the Captain of the Negro?


What shall w [...] next behold?


Yet are you mine▪

From all the world, great Fl [...]ence, witnesse this,
You ne're had yet a vo [...]ary kisse.
Spen [...].

'Sfoot I could tear my hair off.

Second your kindnesse, l [...] these Princes see
Your tempting lips solely [...]longs to me.
Ther's one again, i [...] [...] [...] 'bove measure,
To be a Princes dar [...], and [...]oice [...]ure.
Hold me Goodlack, or I shall break out,
Into some dangerous outrage.

Shew in this your wisdome, and quite suppresse your fury.

Princes, I fear you have mistook your selves
In these two [...]gers, for I have little hope
To finde them wort [...] your gr [...] [...]racter.

There must be great presumption that must force belief to tha [...].

Nay mo [...] th [...] pre [...]ptions, proofs,
Or they will win small credit.
Flo [...].
You had from us Lady, a costly jewell,
It cost ten thousand crowns, speak, can you shew it?
Bess [...]
I kept it chary
As mine own heart, because it came from you;
[Page]But hurrying through the street, some cheating fellow,
Snatcht it from my arm, therefore my suit is
With whomsoe're the jewell may be found,
The slave may die.
His sentence thine, we never will revoke i [...].
Our Merchant, search all our Courtiers and such
Strangers as are within our Court.

Her's one of no mean lustre that this Gentle­man wears in his hat.


Reach it the Lady.

This cannot be Besse Bridges, but some Medus [...],
Chang'd into her lively portrature.
Princes, the thief is found: what e're he be
That's guilty of this felony, I beg
That I may be his [...]cer.
Fl [...]r.

Thou shalt.

If you have any intrest in his blood▪
His oaths or vows, freely resigne them, him,
And all at my dispose.

Have [...] not don't?

Who can with the least honour speak for him,
The theft being so app [...]

Now if she should challenge me with the purse she gave me, and hang m [...] up for my labour, I should curse the time that ever I was a courtier.

Let me descend, and [...]'re I judge the Fello [...],
Survay him first. 'Tis pitty, for it seems
He hath an honest face. T [...] [...] was never.
Good [...].

What Bess [...], forget your self?


An indifferent pro [...] m [...], and take these cour­ses. You said you would not speak, nor look upon, nor touch your Besse.

I could be a new Si [...] and b [...]ray
A second Troy, rather then suffer this.
Good outward parts, but in a forraign clime
Shame your own countrey. Never think of that.
I fear my heart will break,
It doth so struggle for eruption forth.

When do you speak his sentence, Lady?


You'l confirm't what e're it be.


As! we are Prince we will.


Set forth the prisoner.


Stand forward Englishman.

Then hear thy doom, I give thee back thy life,
And in thy arms throw a most constant wife;
If Thou hast rashly sworn, thy oaths are free,
Th'art mine by gift, I give my self to thee.

Lady, we understand not this.

Shall I make it plain?
This is, great Duke, my husband,
Whose vertues even the barbarous Moors admir'd.
This the man for whom a thousand dangers l've endur'd,
Of whom the best approved Croniclers,
Might write a golden legend.
My lord, I know that Gentleman
For Spencer, and her husband, for mine eyes
Saw them espous'd in Fesse; that Gentleman,
As I take it, was Captain of the Negro,
Th'other his Lieutenant.

And do not you know me?


Not I, Sir.


I am Ba [...]haw of Barbarie, by the same token I sould certain precious stones to purchase the place.

Lady, you told us he [...]as the author
Of all your troubles, cares, and fears.
I told true, his love was cause of all,
It drew me from my Countrey in his quest,
When I despair'd: and finding him in Fesse,
Oh do but think great Duke if e're you lov'd,
What might have bought him from you.
Had my Spencer been an Euridice,
I would have plaid the Orpheus,
[Page]And found him out in hell.
We now perceive,
The cause of all these errours his unkindnesse,
Grounded on his rash oath, which we release;
And all those vertues, honours, and renowns,
Which e'ne the barbarous Moors seem'd to admire,
Wee'll dignifie and raise their suffrage higher,

Floren [...]e is honourable.

Enter Ioffer, Venturo.

Bring in the Bashaw, call Venturo forth.

Duke, I am prisoner,
Put me to ransome or to death: But to death rather;
For me thinks, a Souldier should not outlive bondage.
Bashaw Ioffer?
Leave my embraces, Besse, for I of force am cast
Into his arms. My noble friend?

I know you not, and I could wish you did not know me, now I am a prisoner, a wretch, a captive, and such a one as I would not have my friends to know. I pray stand off.

Because you are in durance,
Should I not know you? no:
For then the noblest mindes should friends best know.
Have you forgot me, Sir?
No; were I in freedome and my princely honours,
I should then be proud to call you Spencer,
And my friend, but now
An English vertue thou shalt try,
That for my life once didst not fear to die.
That for his noble office done to me,
Embrace him Besse, dear Goodlack, and the rest,
Whilst to this Prince I kneel. This was the Bashaw,
King Mullisheg made him great Viceroy of Argiers,
I know not, Prince, how he is faln so low,
But if my self, my friends, and all my fortunes
M [...]y redeem him home, unto my naked skin
[Page]Ile sell my self: and if my wealth
Will not amount so much, Ile leave my self in hostage.
'Tis the part
Of a most noble friend.

And in these times worthy admiration

I wonder not the Moors so grac'd this nation,
If all the English equall their vertues.
For this brave Stranger so indear'd to thee,
Passe to thy countrey ransomlesse and free.

Royall in all things is the duke of Florence.

Such honour is not found in Barbarie.
The vertue in these Christians hath converted me,
Which to the world I can no longer smother,
Accept me then a Christian and a brother.
These unexpected novelties,
Shall ad unto the high solemnity
Of your best welcome. Worthy Englishman,
And you, the mirrour of your sex and nation,
Fair English Elizabeth, as well for vertue
As admired beautie, wee'll give you cause, ere
You depart our Court, to say great Fesse
Was either poor, or else not bountifull.
Bashaw, wee'll honour your conversion,
With all due rites. But for you beauteous Lady,
Thus much in your behalf we do proclaim,
The fairest Maid ner [...] pattern'd in her life,
So fair a Virgin, and so chast a wife.


STill the more glorious that the Creatures be,
They in their native goodnesse are more free
To things below them: as the Sun we finde,
Vnpartially to shine on all mankinde,
Denying light to none. And you we may
(Great King) most justly call our Light, our Day:
Whose glorious course may never be quite run,
While earth hath Soveraigne, or the heavē a Sun.

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