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

WHen puts my Lord to Sea?

When the winde's faire.

O, were it come to that!

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

I vow she is for me.

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

An argument that shee's not proud.

No, were she proud, she'd fall.

No better motion: Come to the Castle then.

What, to the old house still?

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

As if thou knewst it not.

What, Besse?

Even she.

Yes, and loves you.

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

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

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

Wheres Besse?

Marry above with three or foure Gentlemen.

Goe call her.

Ile draw you a cup of the neatest wine in Plimouth

Ile tast none of your drawing. Goe call Besse.

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

What sa'y Sir?

Nothing sir, but Ile goe call her presently.

Tell her who's here.

The devill rid her out of the house for me.

Sa'y sir?

Nothing but anon anon sir.

See she's come.

Sir I shall.

Bring me some wine.

Troth tis a pretty soule.

Never question that.

Tis of the best Graves wine sir.

Gramarcie Girle, come sit.

Pray pardon sir, I dare not.

Ile ha'it so.

To your good voyage.

Did you call sir?

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

Let it come sir.

Must you be set, and we wait, with a—

What say you sir?

Anon, anon, I come there.

What will you venture Besse to sea with me?

You binde me to you.

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.

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

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.

Sir, you are welcome, so are your friends.

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.

I pray [...]e civill.

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

She shall not stir.

How sir?

You lie.

The Gentleman's slaine, away.

Oh heaven, what have you done?

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

Tush, all our help's in vaine.

It grew first from your incivilitie.

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

How fell they out, canst thou tell?

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

Your name's Besse Bridges?

Know you this Ring?

Is he fled, and freed from danger?

You are too full of passion.

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

I have done my message sir.

I this.

We trifle howers. Farewell.

Best be gone, for harke I heare some tread.

A thousand farewels are in one contracted. Captaine away.

Oh, I shall dye.

Hah, is my Spencer gone?

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.

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

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

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

Whither canst thou tell?

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.

Actus secundus, Scena prima.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Give me their names.

Minion, how?

Pray hands off.

'Las good-man.

What, threat a woman?

Well, I shall study for't.

Consider on't. Farewell.

What newes with you?

I am now going to carry the Captaines a reckning.

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.

What were you thinking sir?

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.

Make good thy words.

I say thou hast injur'd me.

Tell me wherein.

Content.

You shall not fight.

Tis some Chaplaine,

I doe not like his text.

Let's beate their weapons downe.

Ile aime at him that offers to divide us!

How fares my friend?

Sir how cheare you?

A noble Legacy.

Else let me dye a prodigie.

And what of that?

Sense else forsake me.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

Throw your Sword.

Tye that shooe.

I shall sir.

Vntrusse that point.

Any thing this day to save mine oath.

Sweet sir any thing.

I am Besse Bridges. brother,

Still me thought that you were somthing like her.

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

Too well, the devill take you.

A stiffe gale blowes from the shore.

Sir will you take the long boat and aboard?

With all my heart.

What are you ready Mates?

I thanke thee honest Friend.

Sir I can tell you newes.

What ist I prethee?

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

Sir doubt not your recovery.

A noble resolution.

All bound that way are vnder saile already.

Friend I thanke thee.

Actus tertius. Scena prima.

As how I pray?

Pray what was he?

Of what stature and yeares was he?

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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:

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

Minion dare you scould?

Yes sir, and lay my ladle over your coxcombe.

How now Besse?

Shall we be never quiet?

You are too rude.

Now I professe all patience.

Then proceede.

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

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.

Once more proceed.

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

Why fly you not if he be in such danger?

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.

It cannot be deny'd.

Hold, hold; I sweare.

Dare not to enter at my doore till then.

Shame confounds me quite.

VVill you be [...] sir?

I am bound to see the end on't.

Are you sir?

Ile bring newes from the key.

Please you Ile motion it.

VVe understand you.

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

I did so:

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

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

Her name Besse Bridges?

The worse for me.

I intreat you to sup with me to night.

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.

Ile hold up my hand there presently.

I understand, you came now from the Islands,

VVe did so.

Of what name?

One Spencer.

VVe both saw and knew the man.

In Fiall.

VVas he in health? how did he fare?

Why well.

Did you love him?

Next to my hopes in heaven.

Then change your mirth.

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

He lives not.

Mistris use patience, which conquers all despaire.

True, we see't.

Ile use your kindnesse.

You are welcome sir.

Are you the Mistresse?

I command the house.

Of what birth are you, pra'y?

A Tanners daughter.

VVhere borne?

In Somersetshire.

None sir, but what are honest.

VVhat's your name?

Besse Bridges most men call me.

Y [...]are a whore.

Not all this move her patience.

Pardon sir, I both must and will leave you.

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.

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.

Wheres this harlot?

What was that Friend?

I am inexorable.

My name is Captaine T [...]as Good—

Goodlacke's my name.

You'l returne it?

As I am chaste I'will.

For once Ile trust you.

Sure, most sure, this cannot be dissembled.

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

God be w'you.

I tell you true.

You will restore my Picture? will you?

You change my blood.

What study you?

Both for his love and yours, command my service▪

To what end?

I sound it not.

Actus quartus. Scena prima.

Sirrah, what are you?

Masters! Insulting bragging Thrasoes.

And now towards Spaine with our brave English prise.

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.

Pray speake on.

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

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?

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.

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

Not for the world.

What saith that fellow?

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

Then change a hand.

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

Wee two are friends.

All this is gran [...]ed.

T will be ominous, and bode disaster fortune.

Ile ha'it so.

Why then she shall be pitcht blacke as the devil,

But [...] are we bound?

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 [...].

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.

Come, Ile make one.

And what's one ship to these▪

They buryed him ith fields.

Oh still more cruell.

Let's first begin with these.

We shall.

And if he can to batter it to the earth.

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.

Wee have.

This wench would of a coward make an Hercules.

Gunners straight give fire.

How is it with the Captaine?

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

Whence are you sir? and whither were you bound?

Forset, convey the owner to his cabin.

I pray sir what young Gentleman is that?

We towards Mamorrah.

Actus quintus. Scena prima.

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?

The newes with thee?

Long live the high and mighty King of Fesse.

We will conduct her to your presence straight.

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

Long live the King of Fesse.

Captaine reade.

To these I vow and seale.

This kisse hath all my vitalls extaside.

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.

Sweet, your name?

Elizabeth.

She is.

In that I am your servant.

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

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.

I pray sir are you of the English traine?

Why what art thou my friend?

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?

To the Gallowes?

What are you sir?

A Florentine Merchant.

Then you are, as they say, a Christian?

Heaven forbid else.

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.

Tis he, and Ile salute him.

Him I wel know, but how should she come hither

What ist that troubles you?

Thou shalt command my silence, and his eare.

This.

Enough. VVhat said you highnesse?

Good.

Well.

You minde me not sweet Virgin.

Enough: come sir, you must along with me.

By your leave my Masters: roome for Generosity.

Pray sir remember me.

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.

One of thy traine, sweet Besse?

And no worse man then my selfe sir.

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.

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

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.

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

There's honour for me.

Come follow.

No sir, Ile goe before you for mine honour.

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?

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

Cal'd your Majestie?

I attend your highnesse pleasure.

I wait still.

You neede not mee.

Say, wher's the King?

I'th Presence.

How?

I shall.

Madam, I shall.

'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.

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.

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.

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.

This should have better sense, Ile next prove him.

A poore Gentleman.

Weel make thee rich; spend that.

Let that jewell be worne as our high favour.

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

May I trust you?

Madam, let this,

What?

This kisse.

This foole, this asse, this insolent gull.

Why, did not your grace meane plainely?

In what, sir?

Did you not court me?

I am your prisoner.

I am fast.

Wrong my friend?

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.

Take the advantage of this night.

So make a Queen thy friend.

The Queen attends you.

Let her attend.

Strange disturbances.

What might the project be?

My lord.

Rides the English Negro still within the harbour?

Some league from land.

I shall.

Ile be an Argus o're them.

How goes the hower?

About some fower.ꝰ

Your sunshine is our day.

Long live the King:

That I can do't?

Golden promises.

Teach me how.

You wonder me.

Ha, was that by us?

Who's i'th next room?

My lord.

How, me my lord?

Dare you trust me?

I dare.

I am not to be shaken.

Captain.

I would we might change businesse.

I would give boot so to be rid of mine.

Shall we be free and open breasted?

How?

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.

Nobly resolved.

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.

Again.

Thanks heaven.

And now again 'tis gone.

Can you not catch fast hold on't?

Good.

'Twere excellent.

But how shall this be done?

Why Captain, know not you?

Noble Captain, I do not wish to outlive thee.

Actus secundus. Scena prima.

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.

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.

The king still loves your Besse.

Ha?

The Queen your Spencer.

How?

This night he must enjoy her.

And she him.

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 things run retrograde.

I studie for you.

What means Besse?

What, noble friend?

To thrive but as we purpose.

Have you way?

If thou hast any project.

Ioy or comfort.

And if not comfort, counsell.

Say it thrive?

What Captain? what?

And prove to me disloyall?

And yeeld her self to his intemperate lust?

Heare him out.

The event of this?

Oh, could this be.

Noble C [...]ptain.

I am gone in a twinkling.

Done.

Is he ours?

Yours.

And wee ever thine.

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.

At your pleasure,

Remember.

'Tis writ here.

Captain,

Tread soft, good Madam.

Is this the Chamber.

Thou mak'st a Queen thy servant.

And in the dark.

We use it for the most part.

This the place where Besse expects her Spencer▪

My excellent friend.

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.

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.

How that?

Yeeld to times necessities, and to our strict disa­sters.

Besse, be swaid.

Or me. Ile buffet with him for my passage.

Nobly resolv'd.

Who calls?

One from the King.

How shall I know that?

Mullisheg.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

When this news shall come to her,

Speak your thoughts.

Whence [...]es it then?

Sir, you confound me.

Who Mullish [...]g?

Are they escapt?

By three [...]o morrow.

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

Onely your hand and word.

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

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

Your highnesse cal'd?

With the fair English bride.

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

Speak, thy n [...]ws.

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.

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

But that's not all.

Can there be worse behinde?

Pardon great King.

Is he prisoner then?

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?

None.

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

That I shall.

To what end would you use it?

Your glasse.

We have.

Yet hope the best.

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.

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

For England Gentlemen.

To make the Queen vex and torment▪ her self.

Captain, stay.

Leave me? Oh, fatall.

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

Produce your prisoner, Bashaw.

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.

Yet come at last.

Well, propose it.

Ile try your patience: Off with his head.

Her's more worke, stay.

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.

I am as deep as any.

Actus quartus. Scena prima.

ALl is lost.

Save these our selves.

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

Speneer may live.

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

Cease, and surprise the prisoners: thou art mine.

Villain, hands off, knowst thou whom thou of­fendest?

Binde her fast, and after captive him.

VVhat's thy purpose?

I intend to ravish thee.

Help, murther, rape, murther.

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

Hell prevented.

Where were you bred?

In England, royall Sir.

In England?

By shipwrack.

From Barberie.

From Barberie? our Merchant, you came lately thence.

Behold that wonder. Lady, know you▪ me?

Not I, I can assure you, Sir.

You are gratefull, Sir, beyond my merit

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.

A gift above the wealth of Barbarie.

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.

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?

Why, is he lost?

By all conjectures never to be found.

I shall.

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.

These letters will speak further.

Farara was exceeding bountifull.

'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?

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

Welcome Gentlemen. Score a quart.

Ha?

How?

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?

Clem?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

And I would so.

You shall choose for me.

Sir, I bleed.

Seat you Princes, Ile tell you a strange project.

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

Ile speak for this.