by John Dryden
Tow. You command here, you know, sir.
Fisc. I’ll call him in; I am sure he will be proud, at any rate, to redeem your kind opinion of him.
[Exit.
Fiscal re-enters, with Harman Junior.
Har. Jun. Sir, my father, I hope, has in part satisfied you, that what I spoke was only an effect of sudden passion, of which I am now ashamed; and desire it may be no longer lodged in your remembrance, than it is now in my intention to do you any injury.
Tow. Your father may command me to more difficult employments, than to receive the friendship of a man, of whom I did not willingly embrace an ill opinion.
Har. Jun. Nothing henceforward shall have power to take from me that happiness, in which you are so generously pleased to reinstate me.
Har. Sen. Why this is as it should be; trust me, I weep for joy.
Beam. Towerson is easy, and too credulous. I fear ’tis all dissembled on their parts. [Aside.
Har. Sen. Now set we forward to the castle; the bride is there before us.
Tow. Sir, I wait you. [Exeunt Harman Sen. Towerson, Beamont, and Van Herring.
Enter Captain Perez.
Fisc. Now, captain, when perform you what you promised, concerning Towerson’s death?
Per. Never. — There, Judas, take your hire of blood again.[Throws him a purse.
Har. Jun. Your reason for this sudden change?
Per. I cannot own the name of man, and do it.
Har. Jun. Your head shall answer the neglect of what you were commanded.
Per. If it must, I cannot shun my destiny.
Fisc. Harman, you are too rash; pray hear his reasons first.
Per. I have them to myself, I’ll give you none.
Fisc. None? that’s hard; well, you can be secret, captain, for your own sake, I hope?
Per. That I have sworn already, my oath binds me.
Fisc. That’s enough: we have now chang’d our minds, and do not wish his death, — at least as you shall know.
[Aside.
Per. I am glad on’t, for he’s a brave and worthy gentleman; I would not for the wealth of both the Indies have had his blood upon my soul to answer.
Fisc. [Aside to Harman.] I shall find a time to take back our secret from him, at the price of his life, when he least dreams of it; meantime ’tis fit we speak him fair. [To Perez.] Captain, a reward attends you, greater than you could hope; we only meant to try your honesty. I am more than satisfied of your reasons.
Per. I still shall labour to deserve your kindness in any honourable way.[Exit Perez.
Har. Jun. I told you that this Spaniard had not courage enough for such an enterprise.
Fisc. He rather had too much of honesty.
Har. Jun. Oh, you have ruined me; you promised me this day the death of Towerson, and now, instead of that, I see him happy! I’ll go and fight him yet; I swear he never shall enjoy her.
Fisc. He shall not, that I swear with you; but you are too rash, the business can never be done your way.
Har. Jun. I’ll trust no other arm but my own with it.
Fisc. Yes, mine you shall, I’ll help you. This evening, as he goes from the castle, we’ll find some way to meet him in the dark, and then make sure of him for getting maidenheads to-night; to-morrow I’ll bestow a pill upon my Spanish Don, lest he discover what he knows.
Har. Jun. Give me your hand, you’ll help me.
Fisc. By all my hopes I will: in the mean time, with a feigned mirth ’tis fit we gild our faces; the truth is, that we may smile in earnest, when we look upon the Englishman, and think how we will use him.
Har. Jun. Agreed; come to the castle.[Exeunt.
SCENE III. — The Castle.
Enter Harman Senior, Towerson, and Isabinda, Beamont, Collins, Van Herring. They seat themselves.
EPITHALAMIUM.
The day is come, I see it rise,
Betwixt the bride and bridegroom’s eyes;
That golden day they wished so long,
Love picked it out amidst the throng;
He destined to himself this sun,
And took the reins, and drove him on;
In his own beams he drest him bright,
Yet bid him bring a better night.
The day you wished arrived at last,
You wish as much that it were past;
One minute more, and night will hide
The bridegroom and the blushing bride.
The virgin now to bed does go —
Take care, oh youth, she rise not so —
She pants and trembles at her doom,
And fears and wishes thou wouldst come.
The bridegroom comes, he comes apace,
With love and fury in his face;
She shrinks away, he close pursues,
And prayers and threats at once does use.
She, softly sighing, begs delay,
And with her hand puts his away;
Now out aloud for help she cries,
And now despairing shuts her eyes.
Har. Sen. I like this song, ’twas sprightly; it would restore me twenty years of youth, had I but such a bride.
A Dance.
After the Dance, enter Harman Junior, and Fiscal.
Beam. Come, let me have the Sea-Fight; I like that better than a thousand of your wanton epithalamiums.
Har. Jun. He means that fight, in which he freed me from the pirates.
Tow. Pr’ythee, friend, oblige me, and call not for that song; ‘twill breed ill blood. [To Beamont.
Beam. Pr’ythee be not scrupulous, ye fought it bravely. Young Harman is ungrateful, if he does not acknowledge it. I say, sing me the Sea-Fight.
THE SEA-FIGHT.
Who ever saw a noble sight,
That never viewed a brave sea-fight!
Hang up your bloody colours in the air,
Up with your fights, and your nettings prepare;
Your merry mates cheer, with a lusty bold spright,
Now each man his brindice, and then to the fight.
St George, St George, we cry,
The shouting Turks reply:
Oh now it begins, and the gun-room grows hot,
Ply it with culverin and with small shot;
Hark, does it not thunder? no, ’tis the guns roar,
The neighbouring billows are turned into gore;
Now each man must resolve, to die,
For here the coward cannot fly.
Drums and trumpets toll the knell,
And culverins the passing bell.
Now, now they grapple, and now board amain;
Blow up the hatches, they’re off all again:
Give them a broadside, the dice run at all,
Down comes the mast and yard, and tacklings fall;
She grows giddy now, like blind Fortune’s wheel,
She sinks there, she sinks, she turns up her keel.
Who ever beheld so noble a sight,
As this so brave, so bloody sea-fight!
Har. Jun. See the insolence of these English; they cannot do a brave action in an age, but presently they must put it into metre, to upbraid us with their benefits.
Fisc. Let them laugh, that win at last.
Enter Captain Middleton, and a Woman with him, all pale and weakly, and in tattered garments.
Tow. Captain Middleton, you are arrived in a good hour, to be partaker of my happiness, which is as great this day, as love and expectation can make it.
[Rising up to salute Middleton.
Mid. And may it long continue so!
Tow. But how happens it, that, setting out with us from England, you came not sooner hither.
Mid. It seems the winds favoured you with a quicker passage; you know I lost you in a storm on the other side of the Cape, with which disabled, I was forced to put into St Helen’s isle; there ’twas my fortune to preserve the life of this our countrywoman; the rest let her relate.
Isab. Alas, she seems half-starved, unfit to make relations.
; Van Her. How the devil came she off? I know her but too well, and fear she knows me too.
Tow. Pray, countrywoman, speak.
Eng Wom. Then thus in brief; in my dear husband’s company, I parted from our sweet native isle: we to Lantore were bound, with letters from the States of Holland, gained for reparation of great damages sustained by us; when, by the insulting Dutch, our countrymen, against all show of right, were dispossessed, and naked sent away from that rich island, and from Poleroon.
Har. Sen. Woman, you speak with too much spleen; I must not hear my countrymen affronted.
Eng. Wom.. I wish they did not merit much worse of me, than I can say of them. — Well, we sailed forward with a merry gale, till near St Helen’s isle we were overtaken, or rather waylaid, by a Holland vessel; the captain of which ship, whom here I see, the man who quitted us of all we had in those rich parts before, now fearing to restore his ill-got goods, first hailed, and then invited us on board, keeping himself concealed; his base lieutenant plied all our English mariners with wine, and when in dead of night they lay secure in silent sleep, most barbarously commanded they should be thrown overboard.
Fisc. Sir, do not hear it out.
Har. Sen. This is all false and scandalous.
Tow. Pray, sir, attend the story.
Eng. Wom. The vessel rifled, and the rich hold rummaged, they sink it down to rights; but first I should have told you, (grief, alas, has spoiled my memory) that my dear husband, wakened at the noise, before they reached the cabin where we lay, took me all trembling with the sudden fright, and leapt into the boat; we cut the cordage, and so put out to sea, driving at mercy of the waves and wind; so scaped we in the dark. To sum up all, we got to shore, and in the mountains hid us, until the barbarous Hollanders were gone.
Tow. Where is your husband, countrywoman?
Eng. Wom. Dead with grief; with these two hands I scratched him out a grave, on which I placed a cross, and every day wept o’er the ground where all my joys lay buried. The manner of my life, who can express! the fountain-water was my only drink; the crabbed juice and rhind of half-ripe lemons almost my only food, except some roots; my house, the widowed cave of some wild beast. In this sad state, I stood upon the shore, when this brave captain with his ship approached, whence holding up and waving both my hands, I stood, and by my actions begged their mercy; yet, when they nearer came, I would have fled, had I been able, lest they should have proved those murderous Dutch, I more than hunger feared.
Har. Sen. What say you to this accusation, Van Herring?
Van Her. ’Tis as you said, sir, false and scandalous.
Har. Sen. I told you so; all false and scandalous.
Isab. On my soul it is not; her heart speaks in her tongue, and were she silent, her habit and her face speak for her.
Beam. Sir, you have heard the proofs.
Fisc. Mere allegations, and no proofs. Seem not to believe it, sir.
Har. Sen. Well, well, we’ll hear it another time.
Mid. You seem not to believe her testimony, but my whole crew can witness it.
Van Her. Ay, they are all Englishmen.
Tow. That’s a nation too generous to do bad actions, and too sincere to justify them done; I wish their neighbours were of the same temper.
Har. Sen. Nay, now you kindle, captain; this must not be, we are your friends and servants.
Mid. ’Tis well you are by land, at sea you would be masters: there I myself have met with some affronts, which, though I wanted power then to return, I hailed the captain of the Holland ship, and told him he should dearly answer it, if e’er I met him in the narrow seas. His answer was, (mark but the insolence) If I should hang thee, Middleton, up at thy main yard, and sink thy ship, here’s that about my neck (pointing to his gold chain) would answer it when I came into Holland.
Har. Jan. Yes, this is like the other.
Tow. I find we must complain at home; there’s no redress to be had here.
Isab. Come, countrywoman, — I must call you so, since he who owns my heart is English born, — be not dejected at your wretched fortune; my house is yours, my clothes shall habit you, even these I wear, rather than see you thus.
Har. Sen. Come, come, no more complaints; let us go in; I have ten rummers ready to the bride; as many times shall our guns discharge, to speak the general gladness of this day. I’ll lead you, lady.
[Takes the Bride by the hand.
Tow. A heavy omen to my nuptials!
My countrymen oppressed by sea and land,
And I not able to redress the wrong,
So weak are we, our enemies so strong.[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. — A Wood.
Enter Harman Junior, and Fiscal, with swords, and disguised in vizards.
Har. Jun. We are disguised enough; the evening now grows dusk. — I would the deed were done!
Enter Perez with a Soldier, and overhears them.
Fisc. ‘Twill now be suddenly, if we have courage in this wild woody walk, hot with the feast and plenteous bowls, the bridal company are walking to enjoy the cooling breeze; I spoke to Towerson, as I said I would, and on some private business of great moment, desired that he would leave the company, and meet me single here.
Har. Jan. Where if he comes, he never shall return But Towerson stays too long for my revenge; I am in haste to kill him.
Fisc. He promised me to have been here ere now; if you think fitting, I’ll go back and bring him.
Har. Jun. Do so, I’ll wait you in this place. [Exit Fisc.
Per. Was ever villany like this of these unknown assassins? Towerson, in vain I saved thy sleeping life if now I let thee lose it, when thou wakest; thou lately hast been bountiful to me, and this way I’ll acknowledge it. Yet to disclose their crimes were dangerous. What must I do? This generous Englishman will strait be here, and consultation then perhaps will be too late: I am resolved. — Lieutenant, you have heard, as well as I, the bloody purpose of these men?
Sold. I have, and tremble at the mention of it.
Per. Dare you adventure on an action, as brave as theirs is base?
Sold. Command my life.
Per. No more. Help me despatch that murderer, ere his accomplice comes: the men I know not; but their design is treacherous and bloody.
Sold. And he, they mean to kill, is brave himself, and of a nation I much love.
Per. Come on then. [Both draw. To Har.] Villain, thou diest, thy conscience tells thee why; I need not urge the crime.
[They assault him.
Har. Jun. Murder! I shall be basely murdered; help!
Enter Towerson.
Tow. Hold, villains! what unmanly odds is this? Courage, whoe’er thou art; I’ll succour thee.
[Towerson fights with Perez, and Harman with the Lieutenant, and drive them off the stage.
Har. Jun. Though, brave unknown, night takes thee from my knowledge, and I want time to thank thee now, take this, and wear it for my sake; [Gives him a ring.] Hereafter I’ll acknowledge it more largely.
[Exit.
Tow. That voice I’ve heard; but cannot call to mind, except it be young Harman’s. Yet, who should put his life in danger thus? This ring I would not take as salary, but as a gage of his free heart who left it; and, when I know him, I’ll restore the pledge. Sure ’twas not far from hence I made the appointment: I know not what this Dutchman’s business is, yet, I believe, ’twas somewhat from my rival. It shall go hard, but I will find him out, and then rejoin the company.
[Exit.
Re-enter Harman Junior, and Fiscal.
Fisc. The accident was wondrous strange: Did you neither know your assassinates, nor your deliverer?
Har. Jun. ’Twas all a hurry; yet, upon better recollecting of myself, the man, who freed me, must be Towerson.
Fisc. Hark, I hear the company walking this way; will you withdraw?
Har. Jun. Withdraw, and Isabinda coming!
Fisc. The wood is full of murderers; every tree, methinks, hides one behi
nd it.
Har. Jun. You have two qualities, my friend, that sort but ill together; as mischievous as hell could wish you, but fearful in the execution.
Fisc. There is a thing within me, called a conscience which is not quite o’ercome; now and then it rebels a little, especially when I am alone, or in the dark.
Har. Jun. The moon begins to rise, and glitters through the trees.
Isab. [Within.] Pray let us walk this way; that farther lawn, between the groves, is the most green and pleasant of any in this isle.
Har. Jun. I hear my siren’s voice, I cannot stir from hence. — Dear friend, if thou wilt e’er oblige me, divert the company a little, and give me opportunity a while to talk alone with her.
Fisc. You’ll get nothing of her, except it be by force.
Har. Jun. You know not with what eloquence love may inspire my tongue: The guiltiest wretch, when ready for his sentence, has something still to say.
Fisc. Well, they come; I’ll put you in a way, and wish you good success; but do you hear? remember you are a man, and she a woman; a little force, it may be, would do well.
Enter Isabinda, Beamont, Middleton, Collins, Harman Senior; and Julia.
Isab. Who saw the bridegroom last?
Har. Sen. He refused to pledge the last rummer; so I am out of charity with him.
Beam. Come, shall we backward to the castle? I’ll take care of you, lady.
Jul Oh, you have drunk so much, you are past all care.
Col. But where can be this jolly bridegroom? Answer me that; I will have the bride satisfied.
Fisc. He walked alone this way; we met him lately.
Isab. I beseech you, sir, conduct us.
Har. Jun. I’ll bring you to him, madam.
Fisc. [To Har. Jun.] Remember, now’s your time; if you o’erslip this minute, fortune perhaps will never send another.
Har. Jun. I am resolved.
Fisc. Come, gentlemen, I’ll tell you such a pleasant accident, you’ll think the evening short.
Jul. I love a story, and a walk by moonshine.
Fisc. Lend me your hand then, madam. [Takes her by the one hand.
Beam. But one, I beseech you then; I must not quit her so.[Takes her by the other hand. Exeunt.