Citty. A great fleete! stay, stay, look to your selves, Don: they spitt
fire allready, and have hung up a thousand flaggs of defyance. They are
at the fort, the castle, at the castle: would I were pelted to death
with Oranges and Lymons.
_Ten_. Here comes _Don Fernando_. What newes?
_Enter Fernando with Eleonora_.
_Fer_. Assured danger, gentlemen, for all our men
Already are in a palsye and doe flye
They know not whither. They are _English_:
The Citty's allmost desperate.
_Ten_. _Don John_, come with me
And helpe to encourage the remayning soldiers.
_Fer_. New supply shall quickly cheare you hearts. -
_Fer_. In this confusion, when a thousand feares
Present themselves & danger with full face
Lookes on the generall Towne, let me locke up
This Treasure in your armes; &, for you have
At least an equall interest with mee
In _Eleonora_, in your fathers house
She may hope more security, being of strength;
For this storme cannot last. But in your love
She hath a stronger guard.
_Hen_. This act of confidence
Binds me for ever to _Fernando_: come,
Halfe of my soule, for we two must not bee
In life devided. Though the Citty lye
At mercy of the Enemy, yet from
_Don Pedro Gusman's_ house not all mankind
Shall take thee from me.
_Enter Buzzano and Spanyards flying_.
_Buz_. They come, they come, they come!
_Fer_. Committing this my Jewell to your trust
I must unto my charge: my blessing!
_Ele_. Oh doe not leave me, sir; for without you
What safety can I have? you are my father:
Pray, stay you with me.
_Fer_. Oh, my Girle, I cannot,
Dare not be so unfaithfull to the trust
His maiesty put me in, though I would stay.
_Ele_. I feare if you goe hence all will not long be well.
_Hen_. Distrust you me, Eleonora?
_Ele_. No, indeed:
You ever had with me th'opinion
Of a most noble gentleman.
_Fer_. What then?
_Ele_. I know not what besides my feare; and that
Beggs I may share your fortune, since you may not
Take up such safety here as I have.
You are to blame: this heaven that now lookes on us
With rugged brow may quickly smile againe
And then I shall revisite my _Eleonora_.
So, farewell. [_Exit_.
_Hen_. Till then with greater care then were the Dragons
Supposd to watch the Golden Apples growing
In the _Hesperides_, shall _Henrico_ wayte
On his best loved. Oh, my _Eleonora_,
I would to heaven there were no war but here
To shoote love darts! each smile from this fayre Eye
May take an Army prisoners: let me give
My life up here unto these lipps, and yet
I shall, by the sweetnes of a kisse, take back
The same againe. Oh thou in whom alone
Vertue hath perfect figure, hide not day
In such a Cloud: what feare hath enterd here?
My life is twisted in a Thread with thine;
Were't not defenced, there could nothing come
To make this cheeke looke pale, which at your Eye
Will not fall dead before you. -
Sirra, let all your care and duty bee
Employed to cheere this Lady: pray, be merry.
_Buz_. Oh, sir, yonders such doings.
_Hen_. Hell on your bawling! not a sillable to affright her,
or I shall tune your instrument there.
_Buz_. Hele breake the head of my instrument!
Why, sir, weomen are not affraid to heare of doings.
_Hen_. Still jarring?
_Buz_. When the whole towne is altogether by th'eares you might give
me leave to jar a little my selfe: - I have done, sir.
_Hen_. Putt on thy merryest face, _Buzzano_.
_Buz_. I have but one face, but I can make a great many.
_Hen_. My best _Eleonora_, I shall soone returne:
In the meane time be owner of this house,
The possesour. All danger, sweet, shall dwell
Far off: Ile but enquire the state of things
In the Citty, and fly back to thee with loves wings.
_Ele_. I prithee call him backe.
_Buz_. Signior _Henrico_,
She has something more to say to you. [_Redit_.
_Hen_. To me, sweetest?
_Ele_. _Henrico_, doe you love me?
_Hen_. By this faire hand.
_Ele_. And will you leave me, too?
_Hen_. Not for the wealth of _Spaine_.
_Ele_. Since I must be your prisoner let me have
My keepers company, for I am afraid
Some enemy in your absence, like a woolfe
May ceize on me. I know not whither now
I ere shall see my father: doe not you
Ravish yourselfe from me, for at the worst
We may dye here, _Henrico_; and I had rather
Fall in your eye than in your absence be
Dishonord; if the destinyes have not
Spun out a longer thread, lets dye together.
_Hen_. Oh doe not racke my soule with these sad accents.
Am I _Henrico_? there is not any place
Can promise such security as this
To _Eleonora_. Doe not talke of dying,
Our best dayes are to come: putt on thy quiet,
And be above the reach of a misfortune.
Ile presently wayte on thee, by this kisse.
_Buz_. Would I might keepe your oath: so please you, lady,
_Buzzano_ will sweare too.
_Buz_. That you'le be there and here agen presently.
_Hen_. Attend here, sirra.
_Buz_. If you must needes goe, pray, sir, keepe yourselfe out of
_Hen_. Mind you your charge.
_Buz_. You shall heare a good report of my piece, I warrant you.
Take heed you be not sent to heaven with a powder: a company of hott
shotts are abroad, I can tell you.
_Ele_. If you will goe may your successe be faire.
_Hen_. Farewell; heaven cannot chuse but heare your prayer.
_Buz_. Now what please you, madam? that I shall amble, trott, or walke?
_Ele_. Any pace.
_Buz_. Yet, if you would referre it to me, I'de use none of them.
_Ele_. What wouldst doe?
_Buz_. Why I would gallop or run, for I think long till I be at home in
our Castle of comfort. If it please you Ile lead you a hand gallop in
the plaine ground, trott up hill with you & racke downewards.
_Ele_. Talke not of rackes, prithee; the times present too many.
_Buz_. Ride me as you will, then; I am used both to curbe and snaffle.
_Ele_. I prithee tell me, _Buzzano_, - so, I heare thy master call thee -
_Buz_. He may call me at his pleasure, forsooth.
_Ele_. Dost thou know the nature of the _English_?
_Buz_. Both men and women: I travelled thither with an Embassadour. For
the men Ile not misse you a haire of their condition; and for the women
I know 'em as well as if I had bene in their bellyes.
_Ele_. Are they not cruell?
_Buz_. As Tygers, when they set on't: no mercy unlesse we aske them
_Ele_. That's somewhat yet.
_Buz_. But not to you; that's onely to men; for lett the women fall
downe afore 'em never so often they'le rather fall upon them. Nay, some
of them are so spitefull they'le breake their owne backes before they
let 'em rise againe.
_Ele_. Foole, I meane not your way.
_Buz_. Keepe your owne way, madam; I meane the playne way.
_Ele_. Are they not unmercifull in their natures to such as are in their
power, their Enemyes as we may be?
_Buz_. Their enemyes as we may be in their power! I had rather be
cramm'd into a cannon and shott against their ships then you should
prove a witch & tell true now. The _Tartar_ is not halfe so grim; not
a _Turke_ would use us so like _Jewes_ as they will.
If it come to that once that they take the Towne
You will see _Spanish_ Dons heads cryed up and downe:
as they doe our Orenges and Lymons; and the woemens heads shall off,
too, - not a maydenhead of gold shall scape 'em.
_Ele_. It is no valour to use Tyranny
Upon the conquerd: they have been reported
A noble nation; and when last the pride
Of this Citty adornd their victory, by command
Or their brave Generall, no outrage ever
The soldiers durst committ upon our persons:
Though all our wealth ran in full streames upon them
Our honours were preserved, or fame belys them.
_Buz_. No matter what fame sayes, perhaps I know more than she does;
& yet, now you talk of valour, they are not comparable to us.
_Buz_. Why, valour is but the courage of a man; courage is, as they say,
the spirit of a man; and the spirit of a man is the greatnes, as we call
it, of his stomake. Now 'tis well knowen to the whole world they feed
better and eate more then we: ergo, we have better stomackes then they.
But, see! we have talk't our selves at home already, and the point
(port?) is open. Will't please you enter, or shall I enter before you?
I am your man, madam.
_Ele_. You know the way best: - whilst abroad they are
At fight, twixt hope and feare at home I warre.
_Alarum; as the soft musicke begins a peale of ordnance
goes off; then Cornetts sound a Battaile; which ended
enter Captaine, Master of a ship, Dick Pike, with musketts_.
_Cap_. Fought bravely, countrymen! Honour all this while
Sate in a Throne of smoake with sparckling eyes
Looking upon your courages & admiring
Your resolutions, and now rewards your sweat
With victory. The castle groanes at heart;
Her strongest ribbs are bruizd with battering Cannons,
And she hath tane into her bowells fire
Enough to melt her.
_Ma_. My Lord came bravely up to her & shewd a spirit
That commands danger; his honorable example
Gave us new hearts.
_Sol_. Faith, give the _Spanyards_ their due; they entertaind us
handsomely with hott meat; 'twas no cold welcome.
_Pike_. But I would not willingly swallow their plums; they would rise
shrewdly in a man's stomacke.
_Cap_. At the first shott, when the _Convertine_ came in, 3 men were
_Ma_. At the second 4, was't not?
_Cap_. At the third two more: one salutation
Came so close that, with the very wind,
My hands have almost lost the sense of feeling.
_Jewell_, thou mad'st thy muskett spitt fire bravely.
_Ma_. And my _Devonshire_ blade, honest _Dick Pike_,
Spard not his Sugar pellets among my _Spanyards_.
_Cap_. He did like a soldier, as he that chargd his muskett told me:
in this service he hath dischargd 70 bulletts.
_Pike_. I did my part, sir, and wish I had bene able to have layd 'em
on thicker; but I have lynd somebodyes gutts, much good doe 'em with it;
some of them have wishd well to me.
_Cap_. Art hurt?
_Pike_. Nowhere; one of my flanckes itches a little; if a piece of lead
have crept in to hide it selfe cowardly I am not much in debt for't.
_Cap_. Let my Surgeons search it.
_Pike_. Search a pudding for plums; let my flesh alone; perhaps it wants
souldering. Shall we to't agen: I have halfe a score pills for my
_Spanyards_ - better then purging comfitts.
_Enter a Soldier_.
_Cap_. What newes?
_Sol_. The fort is yielded.
_Pike_. They have bene speechlesse a good while; I thought they'de yield
up the ghost shortly.
_Sol_. But on condition to march away with flying colours, which was
_Cap_. What's become of the Captaine of the fort?
_Sol_. _Don Francisco Bustament_ is carryed aboord our Generalls ship,
where he had a soldier like welcome; but he & all his company are put
over to _Port Reall_ upon the maine land because they should not succour
_Cap_. Unles he will swim to th'Iland. - And how fares the _Convertine_?
_Sol_. Her shroudes are torne to pieces & her tacklings to raggs.
_Cap_. No matter; she carryes the more honour.
_Sol_. 5 hundred Bulletts sticke in her sides.
_Pike_. 'Tis well they scaped her heart, lying all the fight little more
than pistoll shott from 'em; her Starboard still to the fort & at least
200 Musketts playing upon her. I wish'd heartily some of our London
roaring Boyes had bene in the heate of't.
_Sol_. Wouldst have 'em twice burnt.
_Pike_. They should have found a difference betwixt the smoake of
Tobacco and of a muskett; another manner of noise than _dam me & refuse
me_, which they vomitt dayly. It might have done some of 'em good,
for by that meanes they might have prayd heartily once in their lives.
_Cap_. The _Whitehall_ men did good service.
_Ma_. Who? the Collyers?
_Sol_. 4000 Bulletts their ordnance & the _Hollanders_ dischargd upon
_Cap_. 'Twas well done of all sides, Bullyes: but, since our forces
are landed, let it be your care to looke well to the Ships: and honest
_Dick_ of _Devonshire_ be not too carelesse of your hurts; he meanes to
fight againe that provides for his recovery soonest. Hold thee, here is
something to pay the Surgeon and to wash your wound withall.
_Pike_. My noble Captaine, I'le have care of my owne and drinke your
health with it.
_Ma_. Thou deservest more than common encouragement: prithee, remember
[_Exeunt Capt. & Mast_.
_Pike_. Why, now am I sorry I have no more hurt, gentlemen; but I tooke
it as earnest to receive more if occasion bee. I have but a barrell to
bestow among my Dons; while that lasts let 'em come & welcome, - the
drinke shalbe spicd to their hands. Their complexions are blacke, they
shall want no Balls to wash their faces; if any doe light in their
bodies they may chance be scourd all over.
_Sol_. 2. We may hap to be in the suddes ourselves.
_Pike_. There will be charges savd then; for my part I am but one, and
there are shotts enough.
_Sol_. 2. More by a score then I hope wilbe payd these two dayes.
_Pike_. Talke not of paying: here's more then a month comes to. Well,
if our service be done, & there be any other liquor to be gott, wele
drinke no salt water as long as this lasts.
_Sol_. 2. Come, let's have a dish to our countrymen & let's remember
_Pike_. Godamercy for that, boy. A match, a match!
_Enter Henrico Gusman, his sword drawne, & Eleonora_.
_Hen_. Yet the Citty is safe enough; feare not, _Eleonora_;
The Bullets make no noyse here: if the Towne
Should yield her strength up to th'invader, thou
Art lockd up like a spirit in a Christall:
Not an enchanted Castle, held up by
Strong charme, is halfe so safe. This house, though now
It carry not the figure & faire shape
Which the first workeman gave it, eating Time
Having devourd the face of't, is within
A Sanctuary, & hath so much cunning
Couchd in the body not a Laborinth
Is so full of Meanders.
_Ele_. Sir, your presence
Confirmes me in opinion of my safety;
Not of my life so much, for that's a thing
I owe to nature & should one day be
A-weary of it; like to Innes we take
Our houses up, having but here a place
Of _Lodging_ not of _dwelling_: - but of _honour_
You give me my assurance, for in such
A time of thicke confusions I much feare
That might be hazarded. And who knowes what
The soldier that hath no lawe but that
Of cruelty and rapine, when like a Bird
Of prey his Tallents are possessd of one
So weake as I am -
_Hen_. He that durst offend
Thee with a sillable or but fright that bloud
Out of thy Cheekes to seeke another place,
Not daring to be seene there where it now
Is of itselfe sufficient to ravish
A mortall that with just eyes can looke on it,
Had better be a divell. But a haire,
The poorest part of thee & in this excellent
Because 'tis thine, should any dare to ravish
From these his soft companions, which the wind
Would be for ever proud to play withall,
H'had better dig his mothers coffin up
And with his teeth eate what the wormes have left.
_Ele_. I know you will defend me.
_Hen_. Will defend thee!
Have I a life, a soule that in thy service
I would not wish expird! I doe but borrow
My selfe from thee.
_Ele_. Rather you put to Interest
And, for that principall you have credited
To _Eleonora_ her heart is paid backe
As the iust Usury.
_Hen_. You undoe me, sweet,
With too much love; if ere I marry thee
I feare thou'lt kill me.
_Hen_. With tendring me too much, my _Eleonora_;
For in my conscience thou'lt extreamely love me,
And extreames often kill.
_Ele_. There can be no extreme of love, sir.
_Hen_. Yes, but there may; and some say Jealousy
Runs from the Sea, a rivolet but deducted
From the mayne Channell.
_Ele_. This is a new language.
_Hen_. Have you not heard men have been killd with Joy?
Our griefe doth but contract the heart, & gladnesse
Dilate the same; and soo too much of eyther
Is hott i'th' fourth degree.
_Ele_. Sir, your discourse
Is stuff of severall pieces and knitts not
With that you usd but now: if we can practize
A vertuous love there's no hurt to exceed in't.
- What doe you, Sir?
_Hen_. Looke on thee.
_Ele_. Why doe you eye me soe? this is not usuall.
Are you well?
_Hen_. Well, never better.
_Ele_. Pray heaven it bode me no unhappinesse!
How doth my father?
_Hen_. He's very well, too; feare not.
_Ele_. Still I read in your eyes -
_Hen_. What Babyes, prety one? Thy owne face, naught else;
I receive that way all this beauty into
My heart, and 'tis perhaps come backe to looke
Out at the window. Come, Ile winke againe,
It shall not trouble you: - hence my trayterous thoughts.
_Ele_. Indeed you are not well.
_Hen_. Indeed I am not; all's not well within me.
Why should I be a villaine? _Eleonora_
Doe not looke on me; turne those eyes away,
They would betray thee to thy sorrow; or
Lett me by parting carry along with me
That which to know undoes thee.
_Ele_. Are you not hurt?
_Ele_. Good heaven defend! I have a soveraigne Balme.
_Hen_. Vanish, you ugly shapes, & with her presence
Quitt your sharp stings! into what monstrous creature
Feele I myself a-growing! yet I cannot
Force backe the streame, it comes so fast upon me;
_Ele_. Here, good _Henrico_, let me see your wound.
_Hen_. No, I am well againe; thankes, my best love.
Come, let us walke and talke; I had a fancy,
But 'tis no matter: - _Buzzano_!
_Buz_. Did you call?
_Hen_. Yes, the Balme here -
_Buz_. What shall I doe with it?
_Hen_. Lay it up safe; 'tis good for a greene wound
But mines a blacke one: - and d'you heare, sirra,
Draw up the bridge, give entrance unto none.
_Buz_. All my fellowes are abroad, sir; there's nobody at home but I.
_Hen_. No matter, let none enter; were my father
Brought with a whirlwind backe, he finds all shutt
Till I have done.
_Buz_. Well, sir; - madam, all this is that you should not b' afraid:
you now see what a kind man he is, - he will suffer none to enter but
_Ele_. If all this proceed out of your care of me, how much am I bound
to acknowledge you. Sir, methinkes you minde me not.
_Hen_. Yes, I doe nothing else but thinke of thee, & of my father, too,
_Ele_. Ha! I hope he's well.
_Hen_. I wish he were returned, my _Eleonora_, for both our sakes.
_Ele_. The same wish I, sir.
_Hen_. That then our Joys, which now like flowers nippd
With frost, hang downe the head as if the stalkes
Could not sustaine the toppes, they droope to much; -
At his returne th'art mine.
_Ele_. I am yours now
In holyest Contract.
_Hen_. That's the ground we build on:
Faith, since allready the foundation's layd,
Let's work upon't. Y'are mine, you say, allready -
Mine by all tearmes of Law, & nothing wanting
But the possession: let's not then expect
Th'uncertainety of a returne from France,
But be all one ymediately.
_Ele_. I understand you not.
_Hen_. Since y'are a Tree reservd for me what now
Should hinder me from climbing? All your apples
I know are ripe allready; 'tis not stealth,
I shall rob nobody.
_Ele_. You'le not be a divell?
_Hen_. No, I will but play the man with you: why, you know 'tis nothing.
_Ele_. Will you enforce mine honour? oh, _Henrico_,
Where have you left your goodnesse? sure you cannot
Be so ignoble, if you thinke me worthy
To be your wife at least, to turne _Eleonora_
Into a whore.
_Hen_. Pish! some hungry Landlords would have rent before
The Quarter day, - I doe no more: by faire meanes
Yield up your fort; the Tenement is mine owne
And I must dwell in't.
_Ele_. My feares pointed wrong:
You are no enemy, no wolfe; it was
A villaine I disturbed: oh, make me not
Find in your presence that destruction
My thoughts were so affrighted with.
_Hen_. We shall have such adoe now!
_Ele_. Your fathers house will prove no castle to mee
If you at home doe wound mee. 'Twas an Angell
Spoke in you lately not my Cheeke should bee
Made pale with feare. Lay not a lasting blush
On my white name: - No haire should perish here
Was vowed even now: - Oh let not a blacke deed,
And by my sworne preserver, be my death
My ever living death. _Henrico_, call
To mind your holy vowes; thinke on our parents,
Ourselves, our honest names; doe not kill all
With such a murthering piece. You are not long
T'expect, with the consent of men and angells,
That which to take now from me will be losse
A losse of heaven to thee. Oh, do not pawne it
For a poore minutes sin.
_Hen_. If't be a worke, madam, of so short time,
Pray let me beg a minutes privacy;
'Twill be soone done.
_Ele_. Yes, but the horrour of
So foule a deed shall never: there's layd up
Eternity of wrath in hell for lust:
Oh, 'tis the devill's exercise! _Henrico_,
You are a man, a man whom I have layd up
Nearest my heart: in you 'twill be a sin
To threaten heaven & dare that Justice throw
Downe Thunder at you. Come, I know you doe
But try my vertue, whether I be proofe
Against anothers Battery: for these teares -
_Hen_. Nay, then I see you needs will try my strength:
My bloud's on fire, I boyle with expectation
To meete the pleasure and I will.
[_He forces her in_.
_Ele_. Helpe, helpe!
_Buz_. Helpe? what nightingale was that? did one cry out for helpe?
there's no Christian soule in the house but they two & my selfe; and
'twas not mine, I know by the smallnes of the voice; twas some woman
cryde out, & therefore can be none but my young Lady, - it was she as
sure as I am hungry; he's with her. But why, having one man did she cry
out for more? oh, our _Spanish_ ovens are not heated with one Bavyn.
Well, I must say nothing; my young Cocke has bene treading. Ile tread
softly & see what they doe: - but, see!
_Enter Henrico & Eleonora, loose haired and weeping_.
_Hen_. What doe you looke after?
_Buz_. Why, sir, I looke after a voyce that appeard to me even now,
crying "helpe," - a very small one.
_Hen_. If what thou seest or heard'st be ever muttered by thee
Though in thy sleep, villaine, Ile pistol thee.
_Buz_. Hum, it will not be safe to dreame of a knave shortly. Are you so
good at a gun? if you use this too often your birding piece will scarce
carry a yard levell.
_Hen_. Come, dresse your hayre up & be wise at last:
No more, I have done.
_Buz_. So I thinke in my conscience, - he hath done with her.
_Hen_. If you can be so simple to proclaime it,
I can be impudent.
_Ele_. Yet dar'st thou live? & doe I live to see
Myselfe the shame of weomen? have I not
Wept teares enough to drowne me? then let fire
Enthrone it selfe within me & beget
Prodigious Cometts, that with flaming haires
May threaten danger to thee!
_Hen_. Nay, nay, nay, if you be so hott Ile brave you: like wine that's
burnt you must be set light by, & then you'le come to a temper.
_Ele_. Oh, helpe me out of hell!
_Buz_. Sh'has bene at Barleybreake. - Madam I must say nothing:
- there is a Pistol and so forth: - but if you have occasion to use me,
try mee; if I doe not prove an honester man to you then my Master,
would my Cod piece point were broake. I know what I know, and yet Ile
tell no tales; - but if ever I come to speake once - I say nothing.
_Ele_. Oh that I could not breath! how can I have
A Joy in life whose honour's in the Grave!
_Enter Pike with his sword in his hand, a Cloake in his Arme_.
_Pike_. The freshnes of this Ayre does well after the saltnes of the
Sea. A pleasant Country, too, to looke upon, & would serve well to live
upon if a man had it & knew how to place it out of this hott Clymate! I