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A most excellent Sermon, and no doubt, Gentlemen, you have edisi'd much by it.

Sir, I find your Worship is no more afraid to be damn'd, than other fashionable Gentlemen of the Age: but, me-thinks, Halters and Axes should terrisie you. With reverence to your Worships, I've seen civiller men hang'd, and men of as pretty parts too. There's scarce a City in Spain but is too hot for you, you have committed such outrages wheresoe'r you come.

Come, for diversion, pray let's hear your Fool preach a little.

For my part, I cannot but be troubled, that I shall lose my honour by you, Sir; for people will be apt to say, Like Ma­ster, like Man.

Your honour, Rascal, a Sow-gelder may better pre­tend to it.

But I have another scruple, Sir.

What's that?

I fear I shall be hang'd in your company.

That's an honour you will ne'r have courage to de­serve.

It is an honour I am not ambitious of.

Why does the Fool talk of hanging? we scorn all Laws.

It seems so▪ or you would not have cut your Elder Brother's throat. Don Lopez.

Why, you Coxcomb, he kept a good Estate from me▪ and I could not Whore and Revel fufficiently without it.

Look you, Jacomo, had he not reason?

Yes, Antonio, so had you to get both your Sisters with Child; 'twas very civil, I take it.

Yes, you Fool, they were lusty young handsome Wenches, and pleas'd my appetite. Besides, I sav'd the Honour of the Family by it▪ for if I had not, some body else would.

I, you Rascal.

Oh no, Sir, you are as innocent. To cause your good old Father to be kill'd was nothing.

It was something, and a good thing too, Sirra: his whole design was to debar me of my pleasures: he kept his purse from me, and could not be content with that, but still would preach his sensless Morals to me, his old dull foolish stuff against my pleasure. I caus'd him to be sent I know not whether. But he believ'd he was to go to Heav'n; I care not where he is, since I am rid of him.

Cutting his throat was a very good return for his be­getting of you.

That was before he was aware on't, 'twas for his own sake, he ne'r thought of me in the business.

Heav'n bless us!

You Dog, I shall beat out your brains, if you dar [...] be so impudent as to pray in my company.

[...]ood Sir, I have done, I have done—

Prethee let the insipid Fool go on.

'Twere better thou wer't hang'd.

Repent! Cowards and Fools do that.

After the murder of your Father, the brave Don Pe­dro, [...]overnour of Sevil, for whom the Town are still in grief, was, in his own house, barb'rously kill'd by you.

Barbarously, you lie, you Rascal, 'twas finely done; I run him through the Lungs as handsomely, and kill'd him as decently, and as like a Gentleman as could be. The jealous Coxcomb deserv'd death, he kept his Sister from me; her eyes would have kill'd me if I had not enjoy'd her, which I could not do without killing him: Besides, I was alone, and kill'd him hand to fist.

I never knew you go to Church but to take Sanctuary for a Murder, or to rob Churches of their Plate.

Heav'n needs not be serv'd in Plate, but I had use on't.

How often have you scal'd the Walls of Monasteries? Two Nuns, I know, you ravish'd, and a third you dangerously wounded for her violent resistance.

The perverse Jades were uncivill, and deserv'd such usage.

Some thirty Murders, Rapes innumerable, frequent Sacrilege, Parricide; in short, not one in all the Catalogue of Sins have scap'd you.

My bus'ness is my pleasure, that end I will always compass, without scrupling the means; there is no right or wrong, but what conduces to, or hinders pleasure. But, you te­dious insipid Rascal, if I hear more of your Morality, I will Car­bonado you.

We live the life of Sense, which no fantastick thing, call'd Reason, shall controul.

My reason tells me, I must please my Sense.

My appetites are all I'm sure I have from Heav'n, since they are Natural, and them I always will obey.

I doubt it not, Sir, therefore I desire to shake hands and part.

D'ye hear, Dog, talk once more of parting, and I will saw your Wind-pipe. I could find in my heart to cut your Rascal's Nose off, and save the Pox a labour: I'll do't, Sirra, have at you.

Good Sir, be not so transported; I will live, Sir▪ and will serve you in any thing; I'll fetch a Wench, or any thing in the world Sir. O how I tremble at this Tyrant's rage.

Come, 'tis night, we lose time to our adventures.

I have bespoke Musick for our Serenading.

What will become of me? if I should leave him, he's so revengeful, he would travel o'r all Spain to find me out, and cut my throat. I cannot live long with him neither: I shall be hang'd, or knock'd o'th' head, or share some dreadful Fate or other with him. 'Tis just between him and me, as between the Devil and the Witch, Who repents her bargain, and would be free from future ills, but for the fear of present durst not venture.

Here comes Leonora, one of those multitudes of Ladies, he has sworn, li'd to, and betray'd.

Jacomo, where is Don John? I could not live to endure [Page 6] a longer absence from him. I have sigh'd and wept my self away I [...] but [...]ve no lif [...] le [...] in me. His coldness and his absence [...] gi [...]en me fearful and killing [...]. Where is my Dear?

Your Dear, Madam! he's your's no more.

Heav'n! what do I hear? Speak, is he dead?

To you he is.

Le [...], Madam, he ne'r had any.

It is impossible, you speak this out of malice sure.

There's no man knows him better than I do. I have a greater respect for you, than for any he has betray'd, and will undeceive you: he is the most perfidious Wretch alive.

Has he forgot the Sacred Contract, which was made privately betwixt us, and confirm'd before the altar, during the time of holy Mass?

All times and places are alike to him.

Oh how assiduous was he in his passion! how many thousand vows and sighs he breath'd! what tears he wept, seeming to suffer all the cruel pangs which Lovers e'r endur'd! how eloquent were all his words and actions!

His person and his parts are excellent, but his base vices are beyond all measure: why would you believe him?

My own love brib'd me to believe him: I saw the man I lov'd more than the world. Oft on his knees, with his eyes up to Heav'n, kissing my hand with such an amorous heat, and with such ardor, breathing fervent vows of loyal Love, and venting sad complaints of extreme sufferings. I poor easie Soul, flatter­ing my [...] to think he meant as I did, lost all my Sexes faculty, Di [...]embling; and in a moneth must I be thus betray'd?

Poor Lady! I cannot but have bowels for you; your sad Narration makes me weep in sadness: but you are better [...] than others. I ne'r knew him constant a fortnight before.

Then, then he promis'd he would marry me.

If he were to live here one moneth longer, he wou'd marry half the Town, ugly and handsome, old and young: [Page 7] nothing that's Female comes amiss to him—

Does he not fear a thunde [...] bolt from Heav'n.

No, nor a D [...]vil from [...]ll. He owns no Deity but his voluptuous appetite, whose satisfaction he will compass by Murders, Rapes, Treasons, or ought else. But pray let me ask you one civil question, Did you not give him earnest of your Body, Madam.

Mock not my misery.

Oh! that confounds me. Ah! I thought him true, and lov'd him so, I could deny him nothing.

Why, there 'tis; I fear you have, or else he wou'd have marri'd you: he has marri'd six within this moneth, and promis'd fifteen more, all whom he has enjoy'd, and left, and is this night gone on some new adventure, some Rape or Murder, some such petty thing.

What a pox does she swound at the news! Alas! poor Soul, she has mov'd me now to pity, as she did to love. Ha! the place is private—If I should make use of a Natural Receit to refresh her, and bring her to life again, 'twould be a great pleasure to me, and no trouble to her. Hum! 'tis very private, and I dare sin in private. A deuce take her, she revives, and pre­vents me.

Where is the cruel Tyrant! inhumane Monster! but I will strive to fortifie my self. But Oh my misfortune! Oh my misery! Under what strange Enchantments am I bound? Could he be yet a thousa [...]d times more impious, I could not chuse but love his person still.

Be not so passionate; if you could be [...], a [...]d love your self, I'd put you in a way to ease your gri [...]f now, and all your cares hereafter.

If you can now ease an afflicted Woman, who [...]lse must shortly rid her self of life, imploy your charity; 'twas never plac'd yet on a Wretchneeded it more than I.

If Loyalty in a Lover be a Jewel! say no more, I can tell you where you may have it—

Speak not of truth in man, it is impossible.

Pardon me, I speak on my own knowledge.

Is your Master true then? and have you happily de­ceiv'd me? Speak.

As true as all the power of Hell can make him.

If he be false, let all the world be so.

There's another-guess man than he, Madam.

He is a civil vertuous and discreet sober person.

Can there be such a man? what does he mean?

How! he may perhaps be brib'd by some other man, and what he said of his Master may be false.

How she surveys me! Fa-la-la

Who is this you speak of?

A man, who, envy must confess, has excellent parts, but those are gifts, gifts—meer gifts—thanks be to Heav'n for them.

But shall I never know his name?

He's one, whom many Ladies have honour'd with their affection; but no more of that. They have met disdain, and so forth. But he'll be content to marry you. Fa-la-la-la

Again I ask you who he is?

Lord, how inapprehensive she is? Can you not guess?

No.

Your humble Servant, Madam.

Yours, Sir.

It is my s [...]lf in person; and upon my honour, I will be true and constant to you.

Insolent Varlet! am I faln so low to be thy scorn?

Scorn! as I am a Christian Soul, I am in earnest.

Audacious Villain! Impudence it self!

Ah, Madam▪ your Servant, your true Lover must en­dure a thousand such bobs from his M [...]stris; I can bear, Madam, I can.

Because thy Master has betray'd me, am I become so in­famous?

'Tis something hard, Madam, to preserve a good re­putation in his company; I can scarce do't my self.

Am I so miserable to descend to his man?

Descend, say you: Ha, ha, ha!

Now I perceive all's false which you have said of him. Farewell, you base ing [...]ateful Fellow.

Hold, Madam, come in the morning and I will place you in the next room, where you shall over-hear our discourse. You'll soon discover the mistake, and find who 'tis that loves you. Retire, Madam, I hear some body coming.

Let me see, here lives a Lady: I have seen Don Octa­vio haunting about this house, and making private signs to her. I never saw her face, but am resolv'd to enjoy her, because he likes her; besides, she's another Woman.

Antonio, welcome to our place of randezvous. Well, what game! what adventure!

Come, dear Lopez.

I have had a rare adventure.

What, dear Antonio?

I saw at a Vill [...] not far off, a grave mighty bearded Fool, drinking Lemonado with his Mistris; I mislik'd his face, pluck'd him by the Whiskers, pull'd all one side of his Beard off, fought with him, run him through the thigh, carri'd away his Mistris, [Page 10] serv'd her in her kind, and then let her go.

Gallantly perform'd, like a brave Souldier in an Ene­mies Countrey: When they will not pay Contribution, you fight for Forrage.

Pox on't, I have been damnably unfortunate; I have neither beat man, nor lain with Woman to night, but faln in love most furiously: I dogg'd my new Mistris to her Lodging; she's Don B [...]rnardo's Sister, and shall be my Punk.

I could meet with no willing Dame, but was fain to commit a Rape to pass away the time.

Oh! a Rape is the joy of my heart; I love a Rape, upon my Clavis, exceedingly.

But mine, my Lads, was such a Rape, it ought to be Registred; a noble and heroick Rape.

Ah! dear Don John!

How was it?

'Twas in a Church, Boys.

Ah! Gallant Leader!

Renown'd Don John!

Come, let's retire, you have done enough for once.

Not yet, Antonio, I have an Intrigue here.

Here are my Fidlers. Rank your selves close under this Win­dow, and sing the Song I prepar'd.

Now Fidlers, be gone.

Retire, my Dear Octavia; read that Note. Adieu.

Good, she takes me for Octavio. I warrant you, Boys, I shall succeed in this adventure. Now my false Light assist me.

Go from this Window, within eight minutes you shall be admitted to the Garden dore. You know the Sign.

Ha! the Sign, Gad she lies, I know not the Sign.

What will you do? you know not the Sign. Let's away, and be contented this night.

My friends, if you love me, retire. I'll venture, though Thunderbolts should fall upon my head.

Are you mad? as soon as she discovers the deceit, she'll raise the house upon you, and you'll be murder'd.

She'll not raise the house for her own sake, but rather grant me all I ask to keep her counsell.

'Tis very dangerous: be care [...]al of your self.

The more danger, the more delight: I hate the com­mon road of pleasure. What! can I fear at such a time as this! The cowardly Deer are valiant in their Rutting time. I say, Be gone—

We'll not dispute your commands. Good luck to you.

How shall I know this devillish▪ Sign?

Ha! whom have we hear? some Serenading Coxcomb. Now shall we have some damn'd Song or other, a Cloris, or a Phillis at least.

Be gone! be gone! the Window opens.

'Sdeath! this is Octavio. I must dispatch him, or he'll spoil all; but I would fain hear the Sign first.

What strange mistake is this? Sure he did not receive▪ my Note, and then I am ruin'd.

She expects the Sign. Where's my Whistle? O here.

I have found it, that must be the Sign—

I dare not speak aloud, go to the Garden door.

'Sdeath, what Ruffian's this?

One that will be sure to cut your throat.

Make not a promise to your self of what you cann't perfo [...]m.

I warrant you. Have at you.

O Heav'n! Octavio's fighting. Oh my heart!

Oh! I am slain—

I knew I should b [...] as good as my word. I think you have it, Sir—Ha! [...] he's dying—Now for the Lady—I'll draw him further off, that his groans may not disturb our pleasure—Stay—by your leave, Sir, I'll change Hat and Cloak with you, it may help me in my design.

O barbarous Villain!

They have done fighting, and I hear no noise. Oh un­fortunate Woman! my dear Octavio's kill'd—

Perhaps, Madam, he has kill'd the other. I'll down to the Garden door; if he be well, he'll come [...]hither, as well to satisfie his appointment, as to take refuge. Your Brother's safe, he may come in securely—

Haste! haste! Fly! fly! Oh Octavio. I'll follow her.

Now for the Garden door. This Whistle will do me excellent service. Now good luck—

Octavio?

The same.

Heav'n be prais'd, my Lady thought you had been kill'd.

I am unhurt: let's quickly to her.

Oh! he'll be over-joy'd to see you alive.

I'll make her more over-joy'd before I have don [...] with [...]er. This is a rare adventure!

Here's your Jewel, Madam, speak softly.

O my dear Octavio! have I got you within these arms?

Ay, my Dear, unpierc'd by any thing but by your eyes.

Those will do you no hurt. But are you sure you are not wounded?

I am. Let me embrace my pretty Dear; and yet she may be a Blackamore for ought I know—

We'll reti [...]e to my Chamber. Flora, go out, and prepare us a Collation.

O admirable adventure! Come, my Delight.

Where's my pious Master?

We left him hereabouts. I wonder what he has done in his adventure: I believe he has had [...]ome busle.

I thought I heard fighting hereabout.

Gad forgive me! fighting! where! where!

O thou incorrigible Coward!

See, here's some of his handy-wor [...] ▪ here's a man kill'd▪

Another murder. Heav'n, what wi [...] become of me? [...] shall be hang'd, yet dare not [...]un away [...]om h [...]m.

Stand! who are there?

We do stand, Rascal, we never use to run.

Now shall I be taken and hang'd for my Master's murder.

Stand, you Dog! offer once more to run, and I'll put Bilbow in your guts.

Gad forgive me! what will become of me?

What's here? a man murder'd? yield, you are my prisoners.

With all my heart! but as I hope to be sav'd, we did not kill him, Sir

These must be the murderers, disarm 'em.

How now, Rascal! disarm us!

We are not us'd to part with our Swords.

I care not a farthing for my Sword, 'tis at your service.

Do you hear, Rascal; keep it, and fight, or I'll swear the murder against you.

Offer to flinch, and I'll run you through.

Take their Swords, or knock 'em down.

A pox on't, I had as good fight and die, as be taken and be hang'd.

Are you gone, you Dogs? I have pinck'd some of you.

Ah Rogues! Villains! I have met with you.

O brave Jacomo! you fought like an imprison'd Rat: The Rogue had conceal'd Courage, and did not know it.

O Cowards! Rascals! a man can get no honour by fight­ing with such Poletroons! but for all that, I will prudently withdraw, this place will suddenly be too hot for us.

Once in your life you ar [...] in the right, Jacomo.

O good Sir, there is as much to be ascribed to Conduct, as to Courage, I assure you.

Speak softly, my Dear; should my Brother hear us, we are ruin'd.

Though I can scarce contain my joy, I will. O she's a rare Creature in the dark, pray Heav'n she be so in the light.

O Heav'n! I am ruin'd and betray'd.

He has Octavio's clothes on.

O he has murder'd him. My Brother shall revenge it.

I will cut his throat if he offers it.

Thieves! Murder! Murder! Thieves!

Thieves! Murder! Murder! Thieves!

I will stop your shrill wind-pipes.

'Sdeath! a man in my Sister's Chamber! Have at you, Villain.

Come on, Villain.

Murder! Murder!

O Villain, thou hast kill'd my Brother, and dishonour'd me.

O your Master's murder'd!

So many of you; 'tis no matter: your Hero's in Plays beat five times as many. Have at you, Rogues.

Now give me the Key of the Garden, or I'll murder thee.

Murder! Murder! There, take it—

So, thus far it is well; this was a brave adventure. 'Mongst all the Joys which in the world are sought, None are so great as those by dangers bought.

WHat will this leud Master of mine do? this Town of Se [...]il will not much care for his company after his last [...] Atchievments: He must now either fly, or hang for't. Ha! me-thinks my bloud grows chill at the naming of that d [...]eadful word, Hang What will become of me? I dare not leave him, and yet I fear that I shall perish with him. He's cer­tainly the sirst that ever set up a Religion to the Devil.

I come to claim your promise; is Don John within?

No, Madam, but I expect him every minute. You see, Madam, what honour I have for you, for I venture my ears to do this.

You oblige me extremely; so great is the present pain of doubt, that we desire to lose it: though in exchange of cer­tainty, that must afflict us more.

I hear him coming, withdraw quickly.

How now, Sir, what wise thoughts have you in your Noddle?

Why, Sir, I was considering how well I could endure to be hang'd.

And why so, Buffle?

Why you will force me to wait upon you in all your for­tunes, and you are making what haste you can to the Gal­lows—

Again at your reproofs. You insipid Rascal; I shall cut your ears off, Dog—

Good Sir, I have done; yet I cannot but admire, since you are resolv'd to go to the Devil, that you cannot be content with the common way of travelling, but must ride post to him.

Leave off your idle tales, found out by Priests to keep the Rabble in awe.

Oh horrid wickedness! If I may be bold to ask, what noble exploits did your Chivalry perform last night?

Why, Sir, I committed a Rape upon my Father's Mo­nument.

Oh horror!

Do you start, you Villain? Hah!

I, Sir, who I, Sir? not I, Sir.

D'hear, Rascal, let me not see a frown upon your [Page 18] face; if I do, I will cut your throat, you Rogue.

No, Sir, no, Sir, I warrant you; I am in a very good hu­mour, I assure you—Heav'n deliver me!

Now listen and learn. I kill'd a Lady's Lover, and suppli'd his place, by stratagem enjoy'd her: In came her foolish Brother and surpriz'd me, but perish'd by mv hand; and I doub [...] not but I maul d three or four of his Servants.

Oh horrid fact!

Again, Villain, are you frowning?

No, Sir, no, Sir; don't think so ill of me, Sir. Heav'n send me from this wicked Wretch! What will become of us, Sir? we shall be apprehended.

Can you fear your Rascally Carcase, when I venture mine? I observe always, those that have the most despicable persons, are most careful to preserve 'em.

Sir, I beg your pardon; but I have an odd humour, makes me something unsit for your Worship's service.

What's that, Sirra?

'Tis a very odd one, I am almost asham'd to tell it to you.

Out with it, Fool—

Why Sir, I cannot tell what is the reason, but I have a most unconquerable antipathy to Hemp. I could never endure a Bell-rope. Hanging is a kind of death I cannot abide, I am not able to endure it.

I have taken care to avoid that; my friends are gone to hire a Vessel, and we'll to Sea together to seek a refuge, and a new Scene of pleasure.

All three, Sir?

Yes, Sir.—

Three as civil dis [...]reet sober persons, as a man wou'd wish to drink with.

I can hold no longer!

'Sdeath, you Dog, how came she here?

I don't know, Sir, she stole in—

What Witchcraft do I suffer under? that when I abhor his vices, I still love his person. Ah, Don John! have I deserv'd that you should fly me? are all your Oaths and Vows forgotten by you?

No, no; in these cases I always remember my Oaths, and never forget to break them.

Oh impiety!

Did I, for this, yield up my Honour to you? after you had sigh'd and languish'd many moneths, and shew'd all signs of a sincere affection, I trusted in your truth and constancy, without the Bond of Marriage, yielded up a Virgin's Treasure, all my Inno­cence, believ'd your solemn Contract, when you invok'd all the Pow'rs above to testifie your Vows.

They think much of us, why don't they witness 'em for you—Pish, 'tis nothing but a way of speaking, which young amorous Fellows have gotten—

Did you not love me then? What injury had I e'r done you, that you shou'd feign affection to betray me?

Yes 'faith, I did love you, and shew'd you as frequent and as hearty signs of it as I could; and i'gad y'are an ungrateful Woman if you say the contrary.

O heav'n! Did you, and do not now? What crime have I committed, that could make you break your Vows and Oaths, and banish all your passion? Ah! with what ten­derness have I receiv'd your feign'd affection, and ne'r thought I liv'd but in your presence; my love was too fervent to be counterf [...]it—

That I know not, for since your Sex are such dissem­blers, they can hold out against, and seem to hate the men they love; why may they not seem to love the men they hate?

O cruel man! could I dissemble? had I a thousand lives, I ventur'd all each time I saw your face; nay, were I now dis­cover'd, I should instantly be sacrifi [...]'d to my raging Brother's fury; and can I dissemble?

I do not know whether you do or no; you see I don't, I am something free with you.

And do you not love me then?

Faith, Madam, I lov'd you as long as I could for the [Page 20] heart and bloud of me, and there's an end of it; what a Devil wou'd you have more?

O cruel man! how miserable have you made me!

Miserable! use variety as I do, and you'll not be [...]. Ah! there's nothing so sweet to frail humane flesh [...] variety.

[...]nhumane Creature! what have I been guilty of, that [...]hou shouldst thus remove thy [...] from me?

Guilty, no: but I have had enough of you, and I have done what I can for you, and there's no more to be said.

Tigers would have more pity than thou hast.

Unreasonable Woman! would you have a man love [...] [...]njoyment? I think the Devil's in you—

Do you upbraid me with the rash effects of Love, which you caus'd in me? and do you hate me for what you ought to love me for? were you not many moneths with Vows and Oaths betraying me to that weakness? Ungrateful Monster!

Why the Devil did you not yield before? you Wo­men always rook in Love; you'll never play upon the square with us..

False man! I yielded but too soon. Unfortunate Wo­man!

Your dissembling Arts and jilting tricks, taught you by your Mothers, and the phlegmatick coldness of your consti­tutions, make you so long in yielding; that we love out almost all our love before you begin, and yet you would have our love last as long as yours. I got the start of you a long way, and have reason to reach the Goal before you.

Did you not swear you wou'd for ever love me?

Why there 'tis; why did you put me to the trouble to swear it? If you Women would be honest, and follow the Dictates of Sense and Nature, we shou'd agree about the business presently, and never be forsworn for the matter.

Are Oaths so slighted by you? perfidious man!

Oaths! Snares to catch conceited Women with; I wou'd have sworn all the Oathes under the Sun; why I wou'd have committed Treason for you, and yet I knew I should be weary of you—

I thought such love as mine might have deserv'd your constancy, false and ungrateful man!

Thus your own vanity, not we betray you. Each wo­man thinks, though men are false to others, that she is so fine a person, none can be so to her. You should not take our words of course in earnest.

Thus Devils do in Hell, who cruelly upbraid whom they hav [...] tempted thither.

In short, my constitution will not let me love you longe [...]: and what ever some [...] pretend, all mankind obey their constitutions, and cannot do otherwise—

Heav'n, sure, will punish this vile treachery.

Do you then leave it to Heav'n, and trouble your self no farther about it.

Ye Sacred Pow'rs, who take care of injur'd innocence, assist me.

Sir, Sir! stand upon your guard.

How now! what's the matter?

Here's a whole Batalion of couragious Women come to charge you.

Keep ' [...]m out, you Villain.

I cannot, they over-run me.

What an inundation of Strumpets is here?

O Heav'n! I can stay no longer to be a witness of his falshood—

My Dear, I desire a word in private with you.

'Faith, my Dear, I am something busie, but I love thee dearly.

Don John, a word: 'tis time now we should declare our marriage; 'tis now above three weeks.

Ay, we will do it suddenly—

Pre'thee, Honey, what bus'ness can these idle Women [Page 22] have▪ send them packing, that we may confer about our [...].

Lord! how am I amaz'd at the confidence of some Women! who are these that will not let one converse with one's own Husband? By your leave, Ladies.

Now it works! tease him, Ladies, worry him sound­ly—

Nay, by your leave, good Madam; if you go to that.

Ladies, by all your leaves; sure none of you will have the considence to pretend an interest in this Gentleman—

I shall be torn in pieces: Jacomo, stand by me.

Lord, Madam, what's your meaning? none ought to claim a right to another Woman's Husband, let me tell you that.

You are in the right, Madam. Therefore prethee, Dear, let's withdraw, and leave them; I do not like their com­pan [...].

Ay, presently, my Dear. What an excellent thing is a Woman before enjoyment, and how insipid after it!

Come, prethee, put these Women out of doubt, and let them know our Marriage.

Tomorrow we'll declare and celebrate our Nuptials.

Ladies, the short and the long on't is, you are very uncivil to press upon this Gentleman. Come, Love, e'en tell 'em the truth of the story—

Uncivil, Madam, pardon me; one cannot be so in sp [...]aking to one's own.

That's true; she little thinks who that is.

To their own! Ha, ha, ha, that's true—Come, Honey, keep 'em no longer in ignorance.

Come, Ladies, I will undeceive you all; think no further of this Gentleman, I say, think no further of him—

What can this mean?

Hold, for Heav'n's sake; you know not what you do.

Yes, yes, I do; it shall all out: I'll send 'em away with Fleas in their Ears. Poor silly Creatures!

Now will Civil Wars arise—

Trouble your selves no longer about Don John, he is mine—he is mine, Ladies—

Yours!—

[...]ox on't, I must set a good face upon the bus'ness; I see murder will out—

Yours! that's pleasant; he's mine—

I have been too long patient; he is my Husband.

Yours, how can that be? I am sure I am his Wife.

Are you not [...], Ladies, to claim my Husband?

Are you all mad? I am sure I am marri'd to him.

You!

Look you, Ladies, a Man's but a Man; here's my Bo­dy, tak't among you as far as 'twill go. The Devil cann't please you all—

Pray, Ladies, will you dispatch; for there are a matter of fifteen more that are ready to put in their claims, and must be heard in their order—

How now, Rogne? this is your fault, Sirra.

My fault, Sir, no; the Ladies shall see I am no Traitor. Look you, Ladies—

Peace, Villain, or I will cut your throat. Well, La­dies, know then, I am marri'd to one in this company; and to morrow morning, if you will repair to this place, I will declare my Marriage, which now, for some secret Reasons, I am oblig'd to conceal—Now will each Strumpet think 'tis her I mean.

That's well enough.

I knew he would own me at last.

Now they will soon see their errors.

5. Now we'll conceal it no longer, Dearest.

No, no, I warrant you—

Lord how blank these Ladies will look.

Poor Ladies—

Ladies, pray let me ask a question, which of you is really marri'd to him?

I, I, I—

'Sdeath, you Son of a Baboon. Come, Pox on't, why should [...] dally any longer! why should I conc [...]al my good acti­ons! in one word, I am married to every one of you, and have [Page 24] above fourscore more; nor will I ever give over, till I have as many Wives and Concubines as the Grand Seignior.

A very modest civil person truly—

O horrid Villain!

Perfidious Monster!

How now, Don John; Hah! you are a rav'nous Bird of prey indeed; do you fly at no less than a whole Covee of Whores at once? you scorn a single Strumpet for your Quarry.

What, in tears too! Fie, Don John; thou art the most ungentle Knight alive: use your Ladies civilly for shame.

Ay, before the Victory, I grant you; but after it, they should wear Chains, and follow the Conqueror's Chariot.

Alas, poor Harlots!

Peace, peace, good words; these are certain Animals call'd Wives, and all of 'em are my Wives: Do you call a man of Honour's Wives, Harlots? out, on't.

Per [...]idious Monster!

Excellent!

Come on, you are come very opportunely, to help to celebrate my several and respective Weddings. Come, my Dears; 'faith we will have a Ballad at our Weddings. Where are my Fidlers?

O salvage Beast!

Inhumane Villain! revenge shall follow.

Pox on revenge. Call in my Ministrils.

Come, sing my Epithalamium.

At the first going down, &c.

Let the Rabble obey, &c.

Come, how do you like this? let's be merry, my Brides.

O monstrous Traitor! do you mock our misery?

Good Spouse, be not passionate—faith we'll have a Dance. Strike up—

Be comforted, good Ladies; you have Companions in [...]our misfortunes—

He has been marri'd in all the Cities of Spain; what a breed of Don Johns shall we have?

Come, Sweethearts; you must be civil to these Gen­tlemen; they are my Friends, and men of Honour▪

Men of Honour! they are Devils if they be your▪ Friends.

I hate unreasonable, unconscionable fellows, who when they are weary of their Wives, will still keep 'em from other men. Gentlemen, ye shall command mine.

Thinkest thou I will out-live this affront?

I'll trust you for that, there's ne'r a Lu [...]rece now adays, the Sex has learnt more wit since. Let me see, Antonia, thou shalt have for thy present use, let me see, my sixth Wife—▪faith she's a pretty buxom Wench, and deserves hearty usage from thee.

Traitor! I'll be reveng'd on all thy treachery.

A mettel'd Girl, I like her well: she'll endure a Rape gallantly. I love resistance, it endears the pleasure.

And, Lopez, thou shalt have, let me see, ay, my fourth Spous [...], she's a brave Virago; and Gad if I had not been some­thing familiar with her already, I would venture my life for her.

Vile Wretch! think'st thou I will out-live this af­front? Impious Villain! though thou hast no sense of Vertue or Honour left, thou shalt find I have.

Vertue and Honour! There's nothing good or ill, but as it seems to each man's natural appetite, if they will consent freely. You must ravish friends: that's all I know, you must ravish.

Unheard of Villany! Fly from this Hellish place.

Ladies, you shall fly, but we must ravish first.

Yes, I assure you we must ravish—

No, Monster, I'll pr [...]vent you.

Pox on't, she has prevented me; she's dead.

Say you so? well, go thy ways, thou wer't a Girl of pretty parts, that's the truth on't; but I ne'r thought this had been in thee.

These, sure, are Devils in the shape of men.

Now see my providence, if I had been marri'd to none but her, I had been a Widdower.

O horror! horror! flie! flie!

No, I'll be reveng'd first on this barbarous Wretch.

Why look you, here's a Wench of mettle for you; go ravish quickly—

Let's fly, and call for help, some in the street may help us ▪

Let 'em go, they are confin'd, they cann't get out.

It shall ne'r be said that a Woman went out of this house Reinfecta; but after that, 'twill be time for us to fly.

We have hir'd a Vessel, the Master is a brave Rogue of my acquaintance; he has been a Bandit.

A brave honest wicked Fellow as heart can wish, I have ravish'd, robb'd, and murder'd with him.

That's well. Hey, where are my Rogues? Hey!

Here, Sirra, do you send my Goods on Board.

My Man will direct you.

Come, Sirra, do you remove this Body to another Room—

O horrid fact! what, another Murder! what shall I do?

Leave your complaints, you Dog; I'll send you after her.

Oh! I shall be hang'd, I shall be hang'd.

Take her up, Rascal; or I'll cut your throat.

I will, Sir. Oh mercy upon me! I shall be hang'd—

Now, Sirra, do you run into the stre [...]ts, and force in the next Woman you meet, or I'll cut your Wind-pipe; and let nobody out—

What hellish fact will he now commit?

Take her up, you Hen-hearted compassionate Rascal.

Heav'n! what will become of me? Oh! Oh—

Now, Gentlemen, you shall see I'll be civil to you, you shall not ravish alone: indeed I am loath to meddle with mine old acquaintance, but if my Man can meet with a Woman I have not lain withall, I'll keep you company; let her be old or young, ugly or handsome, no matter.

'Faith I will eversay, you are a well bred man.

A very civil person, a man of Honour.

This unlucky Rogue has made but a scurvy choice, but I'll keep my word. Come, Bawd, you must be ravish'd, Bawd.

O murder! murder! help! help! I was never ra­vish'd in my life.

That I dare swear; but to show I am a very vigorous man, I'll begin with you. But, you Rascal, Jaccall, I'll make you Cater better next time.

Indeed, Sir, this was the first I met.

Come on, Beldam, thy face shall not protect thee.

Oh my Honour! my Honour! help, help, my Honour!

Come to our business.

O Sir▪ [...]! shift for your self; we shall all be hang'd: [...] house is [...]. Oh what shall we do?

Away, Coward: were the King of Spain's Army be­leagu'ring [Page 29] us, it should not divert me from this Exploit.

Nor me.

Nor me: let's on.

Keep the doors fast, Sirra. Come on.

Oh what will become of me! Oh Heav'n! mercy on me! Oh! Oh!

Leave your complaints. Tears are no Sacri [...]ice for bloud.

I will not leave you, till death takes me from you.

Let's to our Sacred Instruments of revenge.

For half the Sum, I'd kill a Bishop at th' Altar.

Now we have finish'd our design; let's make a Salley, and raise the Siege.

Jacomo, do you lead the Van.

Lead on, Jacomo, or we are sure to lose you; you are not good at bringing up the Rear.

Nay, good Gentlemen, I know my self better than to take place of Men of Quality, especially upon this occasion.

Sirra, go on: I'll prick him forward. Remember, if you do not fight, I am behind you.

Oh Heav'n! Oh Jacomo! what will become of thy dear person? Is this your Courage to put me forward, to what you dare not meet your selves?

No words, Rogue, on, on, I [...]ay—

O I shall be murder'd! murder'd! Oh! Oh!—

On, on, you Dog.

Inhumane Master! It must be so! Heav'n have mercy on my better part.

Fall on, fall on, that's the Villain! Have at you, Dog▪

Courage, Jacomo.

Oh! Oh!

Oh cowardly Villains! the Traitor will escape their hands. Oh Dogs! more feeble than the feeblest of our Sex Let's after him, and try our strength.

He is return'd—fall on.

Ha! must I encounter Boys?

Oh I am slain—

At thy heart, base Villain.

There, take your Sword; I'll not nip Roguery in the bud; thou may'st live to be as wicked as my self.

Poor Flora! But, Dog, I'll be reveng'd on thee yet ere I die.

What! no thanks! no reward!

What's the matter, Sirra?

What, no acknowledgment? you are but an ungrateful man, let me tell you that, to treat a man of my prowess thus.

What has your valour done?

Nothing, nothing; sav'd your life onely, that's all: but men of valour are nothing now adays. 'Tis an ungrateful Age. I fought like a Hero

Call'd a Stag at Bay.

You can fight, when there's no way of escape, with­out it.

Oh! what's here! another murder! fly, fly; we shall be hang'd.

Come on! let's now to Sea to try our fortunes.

Ay, make haste; I've laid Horses, and will shift by Land. Farewell, Sir; a good Voyage——

I will murder you, if you refuse to go to Sea—

O, good Sir, consider, do but consider; I am so Sea-sick always: that wicked Element does not agree with me.

Dare you dispute! go on, I say.

O, good Sir, think, think a little; the merciless Waves will never consider a man of parts: besides, Sir, I can swim no more than I can fly.

I'll leave you dead upon the place, if you refuse.

O Sir, on my knees I beg you'll let me stay. I am the last of all my Family; my Race will fail, if I should fail.

Damn your Race ▪

Do not we venture with you?

You have nothing but your lives to venture, but I have a whole Family to save; I think upon Posterity. Besides, Gentle­men, I can look for no safety in such wicked company.

I'll kill the Villain. His fear will else betray us.

O hold! hold! for Heav'ns sake hold ▪

Hold! hold!

Ay, hold, hold. Oh Heav'n! your Father's Ghost; a Ghost! a Ghost! Oh! Oh!

'Sdeath! what's here? my Father alive!

No, no; inhumaue Murderer, I am dead.

That's well; I was afraid the old Gentleman had come for his Estate again; if you wou'd have that, 'tis too late; 'tis spent—

Monster! [...]ehold these wounds.

I do; they were well meant, and well perform'd, I see.

This is strange! how I am amaz'd!

Unheard of Wonder!—

Oh! Oh! Heav'n deliver me from these Monsters.

Farewell, thou art a foolish Ghost; Repent, quoth he! what could this mean? our senses are all in a mi [...]t sure.

They are not, 'twas a Ghost.

I ne'r believ'd those foolish Tales before.

Come, 'tis no matter; let it be what it will, it must be natural—

And Nature is unalterable in us too.

'Tis true, the nature of a Ghost cannot change ours.

It was a silly Ghost, and I'll no sooner take his word than a Whores.

Thou art in the right. Come, Fool, Fool, rise; the Ghost is gone.

Oh! I die, I die; pray let me die in quiet.

Oh! if he be dying▪ take him up; we'll give him burial in the Sea. Come on.

Hold, hold, Gentlemen; bury me not till I am dead, I beseech you—

If you be not, Sirra, I'll run you through.

Hold, hold, Sir, I'll go, I'll go—

Let's on.

Let's on.

Should all the Bugbears Cowards feign appear, I would urge on without one thought of fear.

And I.

And I.—

MErcy upon us! what sudden dreadful storm is this? we are all lost; we shall split upon the Rocks. Loof, loof—

Oh! Oh! Mercy! Oh I was afraid of this! See what your wickedness has brought me to? Mercy! mercy!

Takeaway thy Cowardly face, it offends me, Rascal.

Such dreadful claps of Thunder I never yet remember'd.

Let the Clowds roar on, and vomit all their Sulphur out, they ne'r shall fright me.—

These are the Squibs and Crackers of the Sky.

Fire on, fire on; we are unmov'd.

The Heav'ns are all on sire; these unheard of Prodigies amaze me.

Can you, that have stood so many Cannons, be fright­ed at the farting and the b [...]lching of a Clowd?

Bless me, Captain! six of our Foremast men are even now struck dead with Lightning.

O that clap has rent our Masts in sunder.

O we are lost! You can swim, Sir; pray save me, Sir, for my own and Family's sake.—

Toss these cowardly Rogues over-board. Captain, Cou­rage! let the Heav'ns do their worst, 'tis but drowning at laft.

But—in the name of Heav'n, but drowning, quoth he; your drowning will prepare you for burning, though Oh, Oh, Oh—

Captain, Captain, the Ship's on [...]ire in the Forecastle—

All hands to work upon the Forecastle. Heav'n! how it blazes already!—

Oh! Oh! we burn, we drown, we sink, Oh! we peri [...]h, we are lost, we are lost. Oh, Oh, Oh—

O horrid Apparitions! Devils stand and guard the fire, and will not suffer us to quench it. We are lost.

In all the dangers I have been, such horrors I never knew; I am quite unmann'd.

A man and fear: 'tis but dying at last.

I never y [...]t could know what that foolish thing Fear is.

Help, help, the fire increases. What horrid sights are these? where e'r I turn me, fearful Spirits appear.

Let's into the Boat, and with our Swords ke [...]p out all others.

While they are busie 'bout the sire we may 'scape.

If we get from hence, we certainly shall perish on the Rocks—

I warrant you—

O good Gentlemen, let us shift for our selves, and let the rest burn, or drown, and be damn'd and they will.

No, you have been often leaving me: now shall be the time we'll part. Farewell.

Oh! I'll stand by you while I live. Oh the Devil, the Devil! What horrors do I feel? Oh I am kill'd, I am dead!

'Sdeath! why this to me? you paltry foolish bug­bear Thunder, am I the mark of your sensless rage?

Nothing but accident. Let's leap into the Boat.

The Sailors all make towards us; they'll in and sink it.

Sirra, if you come on, you run upon my Sword.

O cruel Tyrant! I burn, I drown, I sink! Oh I die, I am lost.

All shift aboard; we perish, we are lost.

All lost, all lost.

This fourty years I've liv'd in this neighbouring Cave, and srom these dreadful Cliffs which are always beaten by the foami [...]g Surges of the Sea; beheld the Ocean in its wildestrage, and ne'r yet saw a storm so dreadful: such horrid flashes of lightning, and such claps of thunder, never were in my remem­brance. Yon Ship is all on fire, and the poor miserable Wretches must all perish. The dreadful object melts my heart, and brings a floud of tears into my eyes: It is prodigious, for on the sud­den, all the Heavens are clear again, and the inraged Sea is be­come more pati [...]nt.

Oh Father, have you not been frighted at this pro­digious storm, and at yon dreadful spectacle?

No man that has an apprehension, but wou'd have been mov'd wi [...]h horrour.

' [...]was the most violent Tempest I ever saw. Hold, yonder are some coming in a small Ves [...]l, and must necessarily split upon the Rock; I'll go and help to succour 'em.

I'll haste to their relief—

Hah! these are come safe to Land, three men, goodly men they seem to be; I am bound in charity to serve them: they come towards me.

Much ado we are safe, but my Man's lost; pox on him, I shall miss the Fool, it was a necessary Blockhead.

But you have lost your Goods, which were more ne­cessary.

Our Jewels and Money we have all about us.

It makes m [...] laugh to think, how the Fools we left [Page 38] behind were puzzl'd which death to chuse, burning or drown­ing—

But how shall we dispose of our selves, we are plaguy wet and cold. Hah! what old Fool is that?

It is an Hermit, a fellow of mighty Beard and Sanctity.

I know not what Sanctity he may have, but he has Beard enough to make an Owl's Nest, or stuff a Saddle with.

Gentlemen, I see you are shipwrack'd, and in distress; and my Function obliges me in charity to succour you in what I may.

Alas! what canst thou help us to? dost thou know of ever a house near hand, where we may be furnished with some necessaries?

On the other side of this vast Rock, there is a fertile and a pleasant Valley, where one Don Francisco, a rich and ho­spitable man, has a sweet Dwelling; he will entertain you no­bly: He's gone to assist some shipwrack'd persons, and will be here presently. In the mean time, what my poor Cave can afford, you shall be welcome to.

What can that afford? you oblige your self to fasting and abstinence ▪

I have studi'd Physick for the relief of needy people, and I have some Cordials which will refresh you; I'll bring one to you—

A good civ [...]l old Hipocrite: but this is a pleasant kind of Religion, that obliges 'em to nastiness and want of meat. I'll ha' none on't.—

No, nor of any other, to my knowledge.

Gentlemen, pray taste of this Vial, it will comfort your cold stomachs.

Ha! 'tis excellent 'faith. Let it go round.

Heav▪n bless it to you.

Ha! it wa [...]ms.

Thank thee, thou art a very honest old fellow i'faith.

I see thou art very civil; but you must suppl [...] us [Page 39] with one necessary more; a very neces [...]ary thing, and very re­freshing.

What's that, Sir?

It is a Whore, a fine young buxom Whore.

A Whore, Old man, a Whore.

A Whore, Old man, a Whore.

Bless me, are you Men or Devils?—

Men, men, and men of lust and vigour. Pre'thee, old Sot, leave thy prating, and help me to a Strumpet, a fine sala­cious Strump [...]t; I know you Zealots have enough of 'em. Wo­men love your godly Whore-masters.

O Monsters of impiety! are you so lately scap'd the wrath of Heaven, thus to provoke it?

How! by following the Dictates of Nature, who can do otherwise?

All our actions are necessitated, none command their own wills.

Oh horrid blasphemy! would you lay your dreadful and unheard of Vices upon Heaven? No, ill men, that has given you free-will to good.

The Understanding yet is free, and might perswade 'em better.

Lay by your devillish Philosophy, and change the dan­gerous and destructive course of your leud lives.

Change our natures? Go bid a Blackamore be white, we follow our Constitutions, which we did not give our selves.

What we are, we are by Nature, our reason tells us we must follow that.

Our Constitutions tell us one thing, and yours ano­ther; and which must we obey? If we be bad, 'tis Nature's fault that made us so.

Farewell. I dare no longer hear your impious dis­course. Such harden'd Wretches I ne'r heard of yet.

Farewell, old Fool.

Thus Sots condemn what they can never answer.

This I believe is Francisco, whom he spoke of; if he has but a handsome Wife, or Daughters, we are happy.

Sir, we are shipwrack'd men, and if you can direct us to a place, where we may be furnish'd with some necessaries, you will oblige us—

Gentlemen, I have a House hard by, you shall be welcome to it: I even now endeavoured to succour a Youth and beauteous Woman, who, with two Sailors, in a Boat, were driven towards these Rocks, but were forc'd back again, and, I fear, are lost by this time. I desire nothing more, than to assist men in extremes, and am o'rjoy'd at the opportunity of serving you.

We thank you.

You shall command my House as long as you please: [Page 41] I see you are Cavaliers, and hope you will bear with some in­convenience. I have two young, and, though I say it, handsome Daughters, who are, to morrow morning to be marri'd; the So­lemnity will bring much company together, which, I fear, may incommode my house and you—

You pose us with this kindness.

What ever pleases you, cannot be inconvenient to us.

On the contrary, we shall be glad to assist you at the Ceremony, and help to make up the joyful Chorus.

You shall command my house and me; I'll shew you the way to it▪

Your humble Servant. We'll follow you.

Well said, Don; we will not be wanting in our en­deavours to succeed you.

To you alone we must give place. Allons.

Heaven be prais'd, you are safely now on Land.

We thank you, reverend Father, for your assistance.

We never shall forget the obligation.

I am happy to be so good an Instrument.

We follow'd a Vessel, which we saw fir'd with Light­ning, and we fear that none of 'em escap'd.

I hope the Villain I pursue has scap'd. I would not be reveng'd by Heaven, but my own hand; or, if not by that, by the Hangman's.

Did any come to [...]and? for I most nearly am concern'd [Page 42] or one; the grief for whom, if he belost, will soon, I fear, de­stroy me.

Here were three of that company came safe to Land; but such impious Wretches, as did not deserve to escape, and such as no vertuous person can be concern'd for, sure; I was stiff with fear and horrour when I heard 'em talk.

Three, say you?

By this sad description it must be Don John, and his two wicked Associates; I am asham'd to confess the tenderness I have for him. Why should I love that Wretch? Oh my too violent passion hurries me I know not whether! into what fear­ful dangerous Labyrinths of misery will it conduct me?

Were they Gentlemen?

By their out-sides they seem'd so, but their in-sides de­clar'd them Devils.

You seem o'r-joy'd at the news of their safe arrival: Can any have a kindness for such dissolute abandon'd Atheists?

No; 'tis revenge that I persue against the basest of all Villains.

Have a care; Revenge is Heavens, and must not be usurp'd by Mortals.

Mine is revenge for Rapes and cruel murders, and those Heaven leaves to Earth to punish.

They are horrid crimes, but Magistrates must punish them.

What do I hear? were he the basest of all men, my love is so head-strong and so wild within me, I must endeavour to preserve him, or destroy my self: to what deplorable condi­tion am I fall'n? what Chains are these that hold me? Oh that I could break them! and yet I wou'd not if I cou'd; Oh my heart!

They are gon to one Don Francisco's house, that Road [Page 43] will bring you to it; 'tis on the other side of this Rock, in a pleasant Valley. I have not stirr'd these fourty years from these small bounds, or I wou'd give him notice what Devils he har­bours in his house. You will do well to do it.

(within) Help, help, murder! I am drown'd, I am dead; Help, help!

Hah! what voice is that? I must assist him—

Father, farewell. Come, Madam, will you go to this house? Now, Monster, for my revenge.

Oh help, help! I sink, I sink!

Poor man, sure he is almost drown'd.

No, not yet; I have onely drunk something too much of a scurvy unpleasant Liquor.

Reach me your hand—

Ay, and my heart too; Oh! Oh!

Sir, a thousand thanks to you: I vow to Gad, y'are a very civil person, and, as I am an honest man, have done me the greatest kindness in the world, next to the piece of the Mast which I floated upon, which I must ever love and honour; I am sorry it swam away, I wou'd have preserv'd it, and hung it up in the Se [...]t of our antient Family.

Thank Heaven for your deliverance, and leave such vain thoughts.

I do with all my heart; but I am not setled enough to say my prayers yet: pray, Father, do you for me; 'tis nothing with you, you are us'd to it, it is your Trade.

Away, vain man; you speak as if you had drunk too deeply of another Liquor than Sea-water.

No, I have not, but I wou'd fain: Where may a man light of a good Glass of Wine? I would gladly have an Antidot [...] to my Poison. Methinks, Pah! these Fishes have but a scurvy time; I am sure they have very ill drinking.

Farewell, and learn more devotion and thankfulness to Heav'n—

Ha! 'tis uncivilly done to leave a man in a strange Country. [Page 44] But these Hermits have no breeding. Poor Jacomo, Dear Jaco­mo, how I love thy person, how glad am I to see thee safe? for I swear, I think thou art as honest a fellow as e'r I met with. Well, farewell, thou wicked Element; if ever I trust thee again—Well, Haddocks, I desie you, you shall have none of me, no, not a Collop; no, no, I will be eaten by Worms, as all my Ancestors have been. If Heaven will but preserve me from the Monsters of the Land, my Master and his two Compani­ons (who, I hope, are drown'd) I'll preserve my self from those of the Sea. Let me see, here is a path—this must lead to some house. I'll go, for I am plaguy sick with this Salt-water. P [...]h—

Oh, Flavia, this will be our last happy night, to mor­row is our Execution day; we must marry.

Ay, Clara, we are [...]ondemn'd without reprieve. 'Tis better to live as we have done, kept from all men, than for each to be confin'd to one, whom yet we never saw, and a thousand to one shall never like.

Out on't, a Spanish Wife has a worse life than a coop'd Chicken.

A singing Bird in a Cage is a Princely creature, compar'd to that poor Animal, call'd a Wife, here.

Birds are made tame by being cag'd, but Women grow wild by confinement, and that, I fear, my Husband will find to his cost.

None live pleasantly here, but those who should be miserable, Strumpets: They can choose their Mates, but we must be like Slaves condemn'd to the Gallies; we have not li­berty to sell our Selves, or venture one throw for our freedom.

O that we were in England! there, they say, a Lady may choose a Footman, and run away with him, if she likes him, and no dishonour to the Family.

That's because the Families are so very Honourable, that nothing can touch them: there Wives run and ramble whither [...]nd with whom they please, and defie all censure.

Ay, and a jealous Husband is a more monstrou [...] Cr [...] ­ture there, than a Wittall here, and wou'd be more pointed at: They say, if a man be jealous there, the women will all joyn and pull him to pieces.

Oh happy Countrey! we ne'r tou [...]h money, there the Wives can spend their Husbands Estates for 'em. Oh b [...]ess'd Countrey!

Ay, there, they say, the Husbands are the prettiest civil easie good natur'd indi [...]erent persons in the whole world; they ne'r mind what their Wives do, not they.

Nay, they say, they love those men best tha [...] are kindest to their Wives. Good men! poor hearts. And here, if an honest Gentleman offers a Wife a civility by the By, our bloudy butch­erly Husbands are cutting of throats presently—

Oh that we had those frank civil English-men, instead of our grave dull surly Spanish Blockheads, whose greatest ho­nour lies, in preserving their Beards and Foreheads inviolable.

In England, if a Husband and Wife like not one ano­ther, they draw two several ways, and make no bones on't, while the Husband treats his Mistris openly in his Glass-Coach; the Wife, for decency's sake, puts on her Vizar, and whips away in a Hackney with a Gallant, and no harm done.

Though, of late, 'tis as unfashionable for a Husband to love his Wife there, as 'tis here, yet 'tis fashionable for her to love some body else, and that's something.

Nay, they say, Gentlemen will keep company with a Cuckold there, as soon as another man, and ne'r wonder at him.

Oh happy Countrey! there a Woman may chuse for her self, and none will into the Trap of Ma [...]imony, unless she likes the Bait; but here we are tumbl'd headlong and blindfold in­to it.

We are us'd as they use Hawks, never unhooded, or whistled off, till they are just upon the Quarry.

And 'tis for others, not our selves, we fly too.

No more, this does but put us in mind of our misery.

It does so: but prethee let's be merry one night, to mor­row is our last. Farewell all happiness.

O that this happy day would last our lives-time. But [Page 46] prethee, my Dear, let's have thy Song, and divert our s [...]lves as well as we can in the mean time.

'Tis a little too wanton.

Pr [...]thee let's be a little wanton this evening, to morrow we must take our leaves on't.

Come on then; our Maids shall joyn in the Chorus: Here they are.

Oh, dear Clara, that this were true! But now let's home, our Father will miss us.

No, he's walk'd abroad with the three Shipwrack'd Gentlemen.

They're proper handsome Gentlemen; but the chief, whom they call Don John, exceeds the rest.

I never saw a finer person; pray Heaven either of our Husbands prove as good.

Do not name 'em. Let the Maids go home, and if my Father be there, let him know we are here.

In the mean time, if he be thereabouts, do you go down that Walk, and I'll go this way, and perhaps one of us shall light on him.

Agreed.

Where have you left the Old man, Don Francisco?

He's very busie at home, seeing all things prepar'd for his Daughters Weddings to moriow.

His Daughters are gone this way: if you have any [Page 48] friendship for me, go and watch the Old man; and if he offers to come towards us, divert him, that I may have freedom to at­tack his Daughters.

You may be sure of us, that have serv'd you with our lives; besides, the justice of this cause will make us serve you. Adieu.

Now for my Virgins. A [...]sist me, Love. Fools, you shall have no Maiden-heads to morrow-night. Husbands have Maiden-heads! no, no—poor sneaking Fools.

I have lost my way, I think I shall never find this house: But I shall never think my self out of my way, unless I meet my impious Master; Heaven grant he be drown'd.

How now, Rascal, are you alive?

Oh Heaven! he's here. Why was this leud Creature sav'd? I am in a wo [...]se condition than ever; now I have scap'd drowning, he brings hanging fresh into my memory.

What mute, Sirra?

Sir, I am no more your Servant, you parted with me, I thank you, Sir, I am beholding to you: Farewell, good Sir, I am my own man now—

No: though you are a Rogue, you are a necessary Rogue, and I'll not part with you.

I must be gone, I dare not venture further with you.

Sirra, do you know me, and dare you say this to me? have at your Guts, I will rip you from the Navel to the Chin.

O good Sir, hold, hold. He has got me in his clutches, I shall never get loose—Oh! Oh!—

Come, Dog, follow me close, stinking Rascal.

I am too well pickl'd in the Salt-water to stink, I thank you, I shall keep a great while. But you were a very generous man, to leave a Gentleman, your Friend, in danger, as you did me. I have reason to follow you: but if I serve you not in your kind, then am I a sows'd Sturgeon.

Follow me, Sirra; I see a Lady.

Are you so fierce already?

A delicate Creature. Ha! this is the Lady. How happy am I to meet you here—

What mean you, Sir?

I was undone enough before, with seeing your Picture in the Gallery; but I see you have more Excellencies than Beau­ty, your Voice needed not have conspir'd with that to ruine me.

Have you seen my Picture?

And lov'd it above all things I ever saw, but the Ori­ginal. I am lost beyond redemption, unless you can pity me.

He has been lost a hundred times, but he always sinds himself again—and me too; a pox on him.

When Love had taken too fast hold on me, ever to let me go, I too late found you were to morrow to be marri'd.

Yes, I am condemn'd to one I never saw, and you are come to railly me and my misfortunes.

Ah, Madam, say not so, my Master is always in earnest.

So much I am in earnest now, that if you have no way to break this marriage off, and pity me, I soon shall repent I ever came to Land; I shall suffer a worse wrack upon the Shoar, here I shall linger out my life in the worst of pains, despairing Love; there, I should have perish'd quickly—

Ah poor man! he's in a desperate condition, I pity him with all my heart—

Peace, Rascal. Madam, this is the onely opportunity I am like to have; Give me leave to improve it.

Sure, Sir, you cannot be in earnest.

If all the Oaths under the Sun can convince you, Ma­dam, I swear—

O Sir, Sir, have a care of swearing, for fear you should, once in your life, be forsworn—

Peace, Dog, or I shall slit your Wind-pipe.

Nay, I know if he be forsworn, 'tis the first time, that's certain.

But, Sir, if you be in earnest, and I had an inclination, Tis impossible to bring it about, my Father has dispos'd of me.

Dispose of your self, I'll do well enough with him, and my Fortune and Quality are too great for him, for whom you are intended, to dispute with me.

If this be true, wou'd you win a Woman at first sight?

Madam, this is like to be the [...]irst and last; to morrow is the fatal day that will undo me.

Courage, Don, matters go well.

Nay, I had rather have a Peasant of my own choosing, than an Emperor of another's. He is a handsome Gentleman, and seems to be of quality: Oh that he could rid me of my in­tended slavery.

Sir, talk not of impossible things; for could I wish this, my Father's Honour will not suffer him to dispense wtih his promise.

I'll carry you beyond his power, and your intended Husband's too.

It cannot be; but I must leave you, I dare not be seen with you—

Remember the short time you have to think on this: will you let me perish without relief? if you will have pity on a wretched man, I have a Priest in my company, I'll marry you, and we'll find means to fly early in the morning, before the house are stirring.

I confess I am to be condemn'd to a Slavery, that no­thing can be worse; yet this were a rash attempt.

If you will not consent to my just desires, I am resolv'd to kill my self, and fall a Sacrifice to your disdain. Speak, speak my doom—

Hold, hold—

Ay, hold, hold: poor foolish Woman, she shou'd not need to bid him hold.

I'll find a means this night to speak with you alone; but I fear this is but for your diversion.

Yes, 'tis for diversion indeed; the common diversion of all the world.

By all that's great and good, my intentions are honourable.

Farewell, Sir, I dare not stay longer.

Will you keep your word, Madam?

You'll keep yours, no doubt—

I will, any thing rather than marry one I cannot love, as I can no man of another's choosing.

Remember, Madam, I perish if you do not; I have onely one thing to say, Keep this Secret from your Sister, till we have effected it; I'll give you sufficient reason for what I say.

Victoria, Victoria; I have her fast, she's my own.

You are a hopeful man, you may come to good in time.

Here is the other Sister; have at her.

Why, Sir, Sir; have you no conscience? Will not one at once serve your turn?

Stand by, Fool. Let me see, you are the Lady.

What say you, Sir?

You have lately taken up a stray heart of mine, I hope you do not intend to detain it, without giving me your own in exchange.

I a heart of yours? since when, good Sir? you were but this day shipwrack'd on this Coast, and never saw my face before▪

I saw your Picture, and I saw your motion, both so charming, I could not resist them; but now I have a nearer view, I see plainly I am lost.

A goodly handsome man! but what can this mean?

Such killing Beauties I ne'r saw before; my heart is irrevocably gone.

Whether is it gone, Sir? I assure you I have no su [...] thing about me, that I know of.

Ah, Madam, if you wou'd give me leave to search you, I should find it in some little corner about you, that shall be nameless.

It cannot be about me, I have none but my own [...] [Page 52] that I must part with to morrow to I know not whom.

If the most violent love that man e'r knew can e'r deserve that treasure, it is mine; if you give that away, you lose the truest Lover that e'r languish'd yet.

What can be the end of this? Sure Bloud▪ must follow this dishonour of the Family▪ and I unfortunate, shall have my throat cut for company.

Do you know where you are?

Yes, Madam, in Spain, where opportunities are very [...], and those that are wise make use of 'em as soon as they have 'em.

You have a mind▪ to divert your self; but I must leave you, I am dispos'd to be more serious.

Madam, I swear by all—

Hold, hold; will you be forsworn again?

Peace, Villain, I shall cut that tongue out.

Farwell, I cannot stay.

I'll not leave her; I'll thaw her, if she were Ice, before I have done with her.

There is no end of this lewdness. Well, I must be kill'd or hang'd once for all, and there's an end on't.

I am faint with what I suffer'd at Sea, and with my wandring since; let us repose a little, we shall not find this house to night.

I ne'r shall rest till I have found Don Francisco's house; but I'll sit down a while.

I hope he will not find it, till I have found means to give Don John warning of his cruel intentions: I would save his life, who, I fear, would not do that for me. But in the miserable [...]ase that I am in, if he d [...]ies his love, death would be the wel­com'st thing on earth to me.

Oh my Octavio▪ how does the loss of thee perplex me with despair! the honour of Mankind is gone with thee. Why do I whine? grief shall no longer usurp the place of my revenge. How could I gnaw the Monster's heart, Villain! I'll be with you. [Page 53] When I have reveng'd my dear Octavio's loss, I then shall d [...] contented.

Th'old man's safe; I long to know Don John's success.

He's engag'd upon a noble cause: if he succeeds, 'twill be a victory worth the owning.

Hah! whom have we here? a young man well ha­bited, with a Lady too; they seem to be strangers.

A mischief comes into my head, that's worth the do­ing.

What's that, dear Antonio?

We are in a strange Countrey, and may want money: I would rob that young Fellow. We have not robb'd a good while; me-thinks 'tis a new wickedness to me.

Thou art in the right. I hate to commit the same dull sin over and over again, as if I were marri'd to it: variety makes all things pleasant.

But there's one thing we'll ne'r omit. When we have robb'd the Man, we'll ravish the Woman.

Agreed; let's to't, man. Come on, young Gentleman, we must see what riches you have about you.

O Villains! Thieves! Thieves! these are the inhu­mane Companions of that blou [...]y Monster.

Have pity on poor miserable Strangers.

Peace; we'll use you kindly, very kindly.

Do you carry that young Gentleman, bind him to a Tree, and bring the money, while I wait upon the Lady.

Will you play me no foul play in the mean time then? For we must cast Lots about the business you wot of.

No, upon my honour.

Honour, you Villain?

Come, young Gentleman, I'll tame you.

Help! help—

Have you no humanity in you? Take our money, but leave us liberty; be not so barb'rously cruel.

Come, I have made haste with him; now let us draw [Page 54] [...]uts who enjoys the Lady first.

O heav'n assist me! what do I hear? help! help!

Fel. What, two men a robbing of a Lady! Be gone, and let her alone, or we have sower Cudgels shall wasler your bones, I tell you that.

How now, Rogues?

Thanks to Heav'n. I fly! I fly! where shall I hide my self?—

I shall conquer'em both. Now, Sirra, what think you?

Why I think you manage your business as discreetly, and take as much pains to have your throat cut, as any man in Spain.

Your fear o'r-rules your sense, mine is a life Monarchs might envy.—

'Tis like to be a very short one at this rate.

Away, Fool, 'tis dark, I must be gone; I shall scarce find the way home—

Heav'n guard me from these wicked Wretches. Help! help! they are here.

How now, Madam? what▪ afraid of a Man!

Don John, no, not of you; you are the man i'th' world I wou'd have met.

Leonora, you are the woman i'th'world I would have avoided. 'Sdeath! she will spoil my new designs; but I have a trick for her. What miracle brought you hither?

Love, that works the greatest miracles, made me follow you; and the same Storm drove me on this shoar, on which you were thrown, and thus far I've wander'd till I have found you.

This is the most unreasonable unsatiable loving Lady▪ that ever was abus'd by man; she has a kind of Spaniel love, [Page 55] the worse you use her, the more loving she is. Pox on her, I mu [...] be rid of her.

I am very faint and weary, yet I was resolv▪d not to rest till I had found you.

Your unweari'd love has o'rcome and convinc'd me, there is not such a Woman breathing.

This is a Sovereign Medicine for all my sorrows, I now, methinks, am happier than ever: but I am faint and ill.

Here, Madam, I have an excellent Cordial, 'twill re­fresh you; and I'll conduct you where you shall never be un­happy more.

And to your own destruction; you have drunk your last.

What means my Love?

Y'have drunk the subtlest poison that Art e'r yet in­vented.

O murder! murder! what have you done?

Peace, Villain, leave your unseasonable pity—You cannot live two minutes.

O ungrateful Tyrant! thou hast murder'd the onely Creature living that cou'd love thee. Heaven will revenge it, though to me 'tis kindness. Here all my sorrows shall for ever cease.

Why would you persecute me with your love?

I could not help it. I came to preserve you, and am de­stroy'd for't.

Oh horrid fact!

To preserve me! I wear my safety by my side.

This object sure will strike your heart! Tygers would melt at this. Oh the Earth will open and swallow you up, and me for company. There's no end of your murders—

THis nights success exceeded all my hopes. I had ad­mittance to their several Chambers, and I have been contracted to both the Sisters, and this day resolve to mar­ry 'em, and at several time [...] enjoy them; and, in my opinion, I shall have a brace of as pretty Wives, as any man in Spain.

Brave Don John, you are Master of your Art, not a Woman in Spain can stand before you.

We can but envy you, and at a distance imitate; But both their Maids shall to pot, I assure you.

How far will the Devil hurry you?

'Tis not the Devil, 'tis the Flesh, Fool.

Here will be fine cutting of throats. Poor Jacomo, must thou be cut off in the flower of thy Age?

Gentlemen, your Servant; I hope you rested well this night.

We thank you, Sir; never better.

We never shall requite this o [...]ligation.

I warrant you my Master will; he's a very grateful civil person indeed.

The favour is too great to be suddenly requited; but I shall study to deserve it.

Good man, you will deserve it.

Gentlemen, you are come, you are early.

This joyful occasion made us think it late.

The expectation of so great a blessing as we this day hope to enjoy, would let us have but little rest last night.

And the fruition will afford us less to night.

Poor Fools! you shall be bob'd. How it tickles my Spleen to think on't.

These are to be my Sons in Law.

And my Cuckolds before-hand.

Pray know 'em, Gentlemen; they are men of Honour.

I shall be glad to serve them;

But first I'll serve their Ladies.

Come, Gentlemen, I'll now conduct you to my Daughters; and beg your pardon for a moment, I'll wait on you again.

These Fools will spoil your design.

No, poor Sots; I have perswaded the Ladies to feign sickness, and put off their marriage till to morrow morning, to gain time; in the mean while I have 'em safe, Boys.

But will not the Sisters betray you to one another?

No, I have wheedled each into a jealousie of the other, and each believes, that if the other knows it, she, in ho­nour, will reveal it to the Father.

Sir, if you be so very weary of your life, why don't you make use of a convenient Beam? 'tis the easier way; so you may die without the filthy pother you keep about it.

Away, Coward; 'tis a sign I am not weary of my life, that I make so much use on't.

Oh Jacomo! thou art lost; 'tis pity a Fellow of thy neat spruce parts should be destroy'd.

Come, Gentlemen, will you not refresh your selves with some cool Wines this morning?

We thank you, Sir, we have already.

Sir, here's a young Gentleman, a Stranger, desires to speak with you.

Admit him.

Your humble Servant.

Sir, when I ve told you what I come for, I doubt not but I shall deserve your thanks. I come to do you service.

You have'em, Sir, alread [...]—

You have lodg [...]d within your house some shipwrack'd men, who are greater Villains than the Earth e'r bore; I come to give you warning of 'em, and to beg your power to revenge such horrid actions, as heart could never yet conceive, or tongue could utter. Ha! they are these—Revenge, revenge cruel, unnatural Rapes and Murders. They are Devils in the shapes of men.

What say you, Sir?

Now the snare is faln upon me; me-thinks I feel cold Steel already in my body. Too well I know that face.

I know that face. Now, Impudence, assist me. What mad young man is that?

These, by their habits and their meens, are Gentle­men, and seem to be men of Honour.

By these two, last night, I was robb'd, and bound to a Tree, and there have been all night, and but this morning was reliev'd by Peasants—I had a Lady with me, whom they said they would ravish, and t [...] morning I saw her dead; they must have murder'd her.

Heav'n! what do I hear?

Oh! I am noos'd already, I feel the knot, methinks, un­der my left ear.

The youth raves; we never saw his face, we never stirr'd from the bounds of this house since we came hither.

'Sdeath, let me kill the Villain; shall he thus affront men of our quality and honour?

Hold, consider I am a Magistrate.

The Youth was robb'd, and with the fright has lost his wits. Poor Fool! let him be bound in's bed.

Do not persist in this, but have a care: These injuries to men of Honour shall not go unpunished.

Whither shall injur'd Innocence fly for succour, if you so soon can be corrupted? Monster, I'll revenge my self; have at thy heart.

What means the Youth? put up your Sword.

We told you, Sir, he was mad.

Oh impudent Villains! I ask your pardon, Sir: My griefs and injuries tr [...]nsport me so, I scarce can utter them. That Villain is Don John, who basely murder'd the Governour of Sevil in his house, and then dishonour'd his fair Sister.

Death and Hell! this injury is beyond all sufferance.

Hold, Sir, think in whose house you are.

O Lord! what will this come to? Ah Jacomo! thy line of life is short.

This is the Villain, who kill'd the Lover of Antonio's Sister, deflow'rd her, and murder'd her Brother in his own house.

I'll have no longer [...]ience.

Such a Villain should have his throat cut, though in a Church.

No man of honour will protect those, who offer such injuries.

Have at you, Villain.

Nay then; Within there: Ho! I will protect him, or perish with him.

What's the matter?

This rashness will spoil my design upon the Daugh­ters; if I had perfected that, I would have own'd all this for half a Duccatoon—

I ask your pardon fo [...] my ill manners; I was provok'd too far: indeed the accusations are so extravagant and odd, I rather [Page 60] should have laugh'd at 'em. Let the young Fool have a vein open'd, he's stark staring mad.

A foolish Impostor. We ne'r saw Sevil till last night.

Oh Impudence!

No, not we; we never were there till yesterday. Pray, Sir, lay that young Fellow by the heels, for lying on us, men of Honour.

What is the matter, Friend, you tremble so?

'Sdeath, the Dog's fear will betray us.

I tremble, Sir? no, no, Sir: I tremble—Though it would make any one tremble to hear one lie, as that young Gentleman does. Have you no conscience in you?

Heav'n can witness for me, I speak not false. Octavio, my dear Octavio, being dearest to me of all the world, I would in Sevil have reveng'd his murder; but the Villain there escap'd me: I follow'd him to Sea, and in the same Storm in which their Ship perish'd, I was thrown on shoar. Oh my Octavio! if this foul unnatural murther be not reveng'd, there is no Justice left among mankind. His Ghost, and all the rest whom he has bar­barously murder'd, will interrupt your quiet; they'll haunt you in your sleep. Revenge, revenge!

This is wonderful.

There must be something in this; his passion cannot be counterfeited, nor your man's fear.

My fear? I scorn your words; I fear nothing under the Sun. I fear? Ha, ha, ha—

Will you believe this one false Villain against three, who are Gentlemen, and men of honour?

Nay, against four, who are Gentlemen, and men of honour?

O Villain, that I had my Sword imbru'd in thy hearts bloud. Oh my dear Octavio! Do Justice, Sir, or Heav'n will punish you.

Gentlemen, he is too earnest, in his grief and anger, to be what you wou'd have him, an Impostor. My house has [Page 61] been your Sanctuary, and I am oblig'd in honour not to act as a Magistrate, but your Host, no violence shall here be offer'd to you; but you must instantly leave this house, and if you would have safety, find it somewhere else. Be gone.

This is very well.

Pray leave this place immediately.

Ah, good Sir, let's be gone—Sir, your most humble Servant.

Oh, Sir, consider what you do; do not banish Don John from hence.

Ha! what means she?

What say you?

Oh, Sir, he is my Husband, we were last night con­tracted.

Oh Heav'n! what do I hear?

I am dishonour'd, abus'd. Villain, thou die [...]t.

Villain, you lie; I will cut your throat first.

Hey, where are my people here.

Oh, Sir, hold; if you banish Don John, I am lost for ever.

Oh Devil! what do I hear?

He is my Husband, Sir, we were last night contracted.

Your Husband! Heav'n! what's this?

Hell and Damnation!

Oh! I have lost my senses.

Oh Monster! now am I to be believ'd?

Oh spare my life! I am innocent as I hope to live and breath.

Dog, you shall fight for your life, if you have it.

First, I'll revenge my self on these.

Hold, hold, they are both my Wives, and I will have them.

Oh Devil! fall on—

Fall on, I will assist you.

I could find in my heart to kill the Rascal; his fear, some time or other, will undo us.

Hold, Sir; I went, Sir, to provide for your escape. Let's take Horses out of the Stable, and flie; abundance of C [...] ­pany are coming, expecting the Wedding, and we are i [...] ­parably lost if we take not this time. I think my fear will now preserve you.

I think he counsels well. Let's flie to a new place of pleasure.

But I shall leave my business undone with the two Women.

'Tis now scarce feizible. Let's sly; you'll light on others as handsom, where we come next.

Well, dispose of me as you please; and yet it troubl [...]s me.

Haste, haste, or we shall be apprehended.

WEll, this damn'd Master of mine will not part with me; and we must fight five or six times a day, one day with another, that's certain: Therefore thou art wise, ho­nest Jacomo, to arm thy self, I take it. Sa, sa, sa—Methinks I am very valiant on the sudden. Sa, sa, sa. Hah! there I have you. Paph—Have at you. Hah—there I have you through: that was a fine thrust in tierce. Hah—Death! what noise is that?

How now, Sirra, what are you doing?

Nothing, but practising to run people through the bo­dies, that's all; for I know some body's throat must be cut be­fore midnight.

In Armour too! why, that cannot help you, you are such a cowardly Fool; fear will betray you faster within, than that can defend you without—

I fear no body breathing, I; nothing can terrifie me but the Devillish Ghost. Ha! who's that coming? Oh Heaven!

Is this your courage? you are preparing for flight be­fore an Enemy appears.

No, no, Sir, not I; I onely leapt back to put my self upon my guard—Fa, la, la—

Whom have we here?

Oh where! where! who are they?

Oh my Friends! where have you been?

We went to view the stately Nunnery hard by, and have been chatting with the poor sanctifi'd Fools, till it's dark; we have been chaffering for Nuns-flesh.

There I made such a discovery, if you do not assist me, I am ruin'd for ever. Don Bernardo's Sister, whom I fell in love with in Sevil, is this day plac'd there for probation; and if you cannot advise me to some way or other of getting her out, for some present occasion I have for her, I am a lost man, that's certain.

The business is difficult, and we resolve to manage it in council.

Now will they bring me into some wicked occasion or other of shewing my prowess: a pox on 'em.

Have you so long followed my fortunes, to boggle at difficulty upon so honourable an occasion; besides, here is no difficulty.

No? the Walls are so high, and the Nunnery so strongly fortifi'd, 'twill be impossible to do it by force; we must find some stratagem.

The stratagem is soon found out—

As how, Don John?

Why, I will set fire on the Nunnery; fire the Hive, and the Drones must out, or be burnt within: then may you, with ease, under pretence of succour, take whom you will.

'Tis a gallant design.

I long to be about it. Well, Don, thou art the bravest Fellow breathing.

Gentlemen, pray what became of that brave Fellow, that fir'd the Temple at Ephesus? was he not hang'd, Gentlemen, hum—

We are his Rivals, Fool; and who would not suffer for so brave an action?

He's a Scoundrel and a Poultroon, that would not have his Death for his Fame.

That he is, a damn'd Son of a Whore, and not fit to drink with.

'Tis a rare thing to be a Martyr for the Devil; But what good will infamy do you, when you are dead? when Ho­nour [Page 76] is nothing but a vapour to you, while you are living. For my part I'd not be hang'd to be Alexander the Great.

What a phlegmatick dull Rascal is that, who has no Ambition in him.

Ambition! what, to be hang'd? besides, what's the in­trinsick value of Honour when a man is under ground? Let ' [...]m but call me honest Jacomo, as I am, while I live, and let 'em call m [...], wh [...]n I am dead, Don John if they will.

Villain, dare you profane my name?

Hold, Sir, think what you do; you cannot [...]urt me, my Arms are Pistol-proof.

I come to give you notice of an approaching danger: You must fly; an Officer with some Shepherds have found you were at our house, and are come to apprehend you, for some outrage you have committed; I came to give you notice, know­ing our Family has a great respect for you.

Yes, I know your Family has a great respect for me, for I have lain with every one in it, but thee and thy Master.

Why look you now, I thought what 'twou'd come to: Fly, Sir, fly; the darkness of the night will help us. Come, I'll lead the way.

Stay, Sirra, you shall have one occasion more of show­ing your valour.

Did ever any Knight Errant fly, that was so well appointed?

No; you shall stay, and get Honour, Jacomo.

Pox of Honour, I am content with the Stock I have al­ready.

You are easily satisfied. But now let's fire the Nun­nery.

Come on.

I long to be at it.

O Jacomo! thy life is not worth a Piece of Eight. 'Tis in vain to disswade 'em, Sir; I will never trouble you with an­other [Page 77] request, if you'll be graciously pleas'd to leave me out of this adventure.

Well, you have your desire.

A thousand thanks; and when I see you again, I will be humbly content with a Halter.

But, do you hear, Fool? stand Centinel here; and if any thing happens extraordinary, give us notice of it.

O, good Sir! what do you mean? that's as bad as going with you.

Let me find you here when I come again, or you are a dead man—

I am sure I am a dead man, if you find me here: But would my Armour were off now, that I might run the lighter. Night assist me. Heaven! what noise is that? to be left alone in the dark, and fear Ghosts and Devils, is very horrible. But Oh▪ who are these?

We are thus far right; the Ravishers went this way.

For Heavens sake take 'em dead or alive; such despe­rate Villains ne'r were seen.

So; if I be catch'd, I shall be hang'd; if not, I shall be kill'd. 'Tis very fine. The [...]e are the Shepherds. I'll hide my self.

If we catch the Rogues, we will broil 'em alive; no death can be painful enough for such Wretches.

O bloudy minded men—

O impious vile Wretches! that we had you in our clutches! Open your Dark Lantern, and let's search for 'em.

What will become of me? my Armour will not do now.

Thus far we hunted them upon a good scent: but now we are at a fault.

Let me see; I have one trick left, I have a Disguise will fright the Devil.

They must be hereabouts.

I'll in amongst them, and certainly this will [...] [...].

Oh Heav'n! what horrid Object's this?

The Devil.

Oh fly, [...]ly! the Devil, the Devil! fly—

Farewell, good Gentlemen. This is the first ti [...] my face e'r did me good. But I'll not stay I take it; Yet wh [...]her shall I fly? Oh! what noise is that? I am in the dark, in a strange place too; what will follow? There lie. Oh! my A [...]ms. Hah! Who's there? Let me go this way—Oh [...]he Ghost! the Ghost! Gad forgive me, 'twas nothing but my fear—

Oh vile Wretches! they have done the deed. There is no [...]ly­ing; now the place will be full of people, and wicked Lights, that will discover me, if I fly.

Fire, fire, fire; the Nunnery's on fire; help, help—

What shall I do? there's no way but one, I'll go with the Crowd. Fire! Fire—Murder! help! help! fire! fire—

Fear not, Ladies, we'll protect you.

Our Sex and Habits will protect us.

Not enough, we will protect you better.

Pray leave us, we must not consort with men.

What would you run into the [...]ire to avoid Mankind? you are zealous Ladies indeed.

Come, Ladies, walk with us; we'll put you in a place of safety.

We'll go no further, we are safe enough; be gone, and help to quench the fire.

We have another fi [...]e to quench; come along with us.

Ay, come, you must go.

Come [...]long, we know what's good for you; you must go with us.

[...]ven! what violence is this? what impious men are thes [...]? H [...]lp! help!

Here are the bloudy Villains, the causes of our misery.

Inhumane Butchers! now we'll have your lives.

Hah! here are a brace of my Wives. If you have a mind to this Fool, take her betwixt you; for my part, I'll have my own. Come, Wives, along with me; we must consummate, my Spouses, we must consummate.

What Monsters are these?

Help! help!

'Sdeath! these foolish Women are their own Enemies.

Here are so many people, if they cry out more, they'll interrupt us in our brave design.

I warrant you; when they cry out, let us out-noise 'em. Come, Women, you must go along with us.

Heaven! what shall we do? Help! help!

Help! help! Fire! fire! fire!

Help! help!

Help! help!

Sirra, come along with me, I have use of you.

I am caught.

Here, Sirra, take one of my Wives, and force her after me. Do you refuse, Villain?

Help! help! good people [...]elp! rescue us from these Villains.

Who are you, committing viol [...]nce on Women?

Heavens! they are the Villains we seek for.

Where is my Armour now? Oh my Armour.

Fall on.

Say you so, Rogues?

So, the Field's our own.

But a pox on't, we have bought a Vic [...]ory too dear, we have lost the Women.

We'll find 'em again. But poor Jacomo's kill'd.

That's a lie.

'Faith, let's carry off our dead.

Agreed; we'll bury him in the Church, while the Ghost treats us, we'll [...]reat the Worms with the body of a Rascal.

Not yet a while.

Come, let's take away the Fool.

No, the Fool can take up himself. 'Sdeath! you resolve not to let me alone dead or alive—

Here are more Murders. Oh!

Oh counterf [...]iting Rascal! are you alive?

The Clock strikes Twelve.

'Slife, our times come, we must to the Tomb: I would not break my word with the Ghost for a thousand Doubloons—

Nor I keep it for ten times the Money.

But you shall keep your word, Sir.

Sir, I am resolv'd to fast to night, 'tis a Vigil: Besides, I care not for eating in such base company.

Follow, follow, follow—

D'hear that noise? the remaining Rogues have [...]ais'd [Page 81] the Mob [...]le, and are coming upon us.

Oh! l [...]t's f [...]ie—f [...]ie—what will become of me?

Let's to the Church, and give the Rogues the Go-by.

Come on, since 'tis my time, and I have promis'd the Governour, I'll go—You had best stay, Sirra, and be taken.

No: now I must go to the Church whether I will or no. Away, away, flie!

Here they went; follow, follow—