University of Virginia Library

Scena prima.

Enter Luke, Sir John, Lacie and Plenty.
Luke.
You care not then, as it seems, to be converted
To our religion.

Sir John.
We know no such word,
Nor power but the Divel, and him we serve for fear,
Not love.

Luke.
I am glad that charge is sav'd.

Sir John.
We put
That trick upon your brother, to have means
To come to the Citie. Now to you wee'l discover
The close design that brought us, with assurance
Musicians come down to make ready for the song at Aras.
If you lend your aids to furnish us with that
Which in the Colonie was not to be purchas'd,
No merchant ever made such a return
For his most pretious venture, as you shall
Receive from us; far, far, above your hopes,
Or fancie to imagine.

Luke.
It must be
Some strange commoditie, and of a dear value,
(Such an opinion is planted in me,
You will deal fairly) that I would not hazard.
Give me the name of't.

Lacie.
I fear you will make
Some scruple in your conscience to grant it.

Luke.
Conscience! No, no; so it may be done with safety,
And without danger of the Law.

Plenty.
For that
You shall sleep securely. Nor shall it diminish,
But add unto your heap such an increase,
As what you now possess shall appear an Atome
To the mountain it brings with it.

Luke.
Do not rack me
With expectation.

Sir John.
Thus then in a word:
The Divel. Why start you at his name? if you
Desire to wallow in wealth and worldly honors,
You must make haste to be familiar with him.
This Divel, whose Priest I am, and by him made
A deep Magician (for I can do wonders)
Appear'd to me in Virginia, and commanded
With many stripes (for that's his cruel custome)
I should provide on pain of his fierce wrath
Against the next great sacrifice, at which
We groveling on our faces, fall before him,
Two Christian Virgins, that with their pure blood
Might dy his horrid Altars, and a third
(In his hate to such embraces as are lawful)
Married, and with your cerimonious rites
As an oblation unto Hecate,
And wanton Lust her favorite.

Luke.
A divellish custom:
And yet why should it startle me? there are
Enough of the Sex fit for this use; but Virgins,
And such a Matron as you speak of, hardly
to be wrought to it.

Plenty.
A Mine of Gold for a fee
Waits him that undertakes it and performs it.

Lacie.
Know you no distressed Widow, or poor
Maids, whose want of dower, though well born,
Makes'em weary of their own Country?

Sir John.
Such as had rather be
Miserable in another world, then where
They have surfeited in felicity?

Luke.
Give me leave,
I would not loose this purchase. A grave Matron
And two pure virgins. Umph! I think my Sister
Though proud was ever honest; and my Neeces
Untainted yet. Why should not they be shipp'd
For this employment? they are burdensome to me,
And eat too much. And if they stay in London,
They will find friends that to my losse will force me
To composition. 'Twere a Master-piece
If this could be effected. They were ever
Ambitious of title. Should I urge
Matching with these they shall live Indian Queens,
It may do much. But what shall I feel here,
Knowing to what they are design'd? They absent,
The thought of them will leave me. It shall be so.
I'le furnish you, and to indear the service
In mine own family, and my blood too.

Sir John.
Make this good, and your house shall not
Contain the gold wee'l send you.

Luke.
You have seen my Sister, and my two Neeces?

Sir John.
Yes Sir.

Luke.
These perswaded
How happily they shall live, and in what pomp
When they are in your Kingdoms, for you must
Work'em a beliefe that you are Kings.

Plenty.
We are so.

Luke.
I'le put it in practice instantly. Study you
For moving language. Sister, Neeces. How
Enter Lady, Ann, Mary.
Stil mourning? dry your eyes, and clear these clouds
That do obscure your beauties. Did you believe
My personated reprehension; though
It shew'd like a rough anger, could be serious?
Forget the fright I put you in. My ends
In humbling you was, to set off the height
Of honour, principle honor, which my studies
When you least expect it shall confer upon you.
Still you seem doubtfull: be not wanting to
Your selvs, nor let the strangenesse of the means,
With the shadow of some danger, render you
Incredulous.

Lady.
Our usage hath been such,
As we can faintly hope that your intents,
And language are the same.

Luke.
I'le change those hopes
To certainties.

Sir John.
With what art he winds about them!

Luke.
What wil you say? or what thanks shall I look for?
If now I raise you to such eminence, as
The wife, and daughters of a Citizen
Never arriv'd at. Many for their wealth (I grant)
Have written Ladies of honor, and some few
The Banquet ready. One Chair, and Wine.
Have higher titles, and that's the farthest rise
You can in England hope for. What think you
If I should mark you out a way to live
Queens in another climate?

Ann.
Wee desire
A competence.

Mary.
And prefer our Countries smoke
Before outlandish fire.

Lady.
But should we listen
To such impossibilities, 'tis not in
The power of man to make it good.

Luke.
I'le doo't.
Nor is this seat of majesty far remov'd.
It is but to Virginia.

Lady.
How, Virginia!
High Heaven forbid. Remember Sir, I beseech you,
What creatures are shipp'd thither.

Ann.
Condemn'd wretches,
Forfeited to the law.

Mary.
Strumpets and Bauds,
For the abomination of their life,
Spew'd out of their own Country.

Luke.
Your false fears
Abuse my noble purposes. Such indeed
Are sent as slaves to labour there, but you
To absolute soveraignty. Observe these men,
With reverence observe them. They are Kings,
Kings of such spacious territories, and dominions:
As our great Brtitain measur'd, will appear
A garden too't.

Lacie.
You shall be ador'd there
As Goddesses.

Sir John.
Your litters made of gold
Supported by your vassalls, proud to bear
The burthen on their shoulders.

Plenty.
Pomp, and ease,
With delicates that Europe never knew,
Like Pages shall wait on you.

Luke.
If you have minds
To entertain the greatnesse offer'd to you,
With outstretched arms, and willing hands embrace it.
But this refus'd, imagine what can make you
Most miserable here, and rest assur'd,
In storms it falls upon you: take em in,
And use your best perswasion. If that fail,
I'le send em aboard in a dry fat.

Sir John.
Be not mov'd Sir.
Exeunt Lacie. Plenty, Lady, Ann, Mary.
Wee'l work'em to your will: yet e're we part,
Your worldly cares defer'd, a little mirth
Would not misbecome us.

Luke.
You say well. And now
It coms into my memory, this is my birth-day,
Which with solemity I would observe,
But that it would ask cost.

Sir John.
That shall not grieve you.
By my art I will prepare you such a feast,
As Persia in her height of pomp, and riot
Did never equall: and ravishing Musick
As the Italian Princes seldome heard
At their greatest entertainments. Name your guests.

Luke.
I must have none.

Sir John.
Not the City Senate?

Luke.
No.
Nor yet poor neighbours. The first would argue me
Of foolish ostentation, The latter
Of too much hospitality, and a virtue
Grown obsolete, and uselesse. I will sit
Alone, and surfet in my store, while others
With envy pine at it. My Genius pamper'd
With the thought of what I am, and what they suffer
I have mark'd out to miserie.

Sir John.
You shall;
And somthing I will add, you yet conceive not,
Nor will I be slow-pac'd.

Luke.
I have one businesse,
And that dispatch'd I am free.

Sir John.
About it Sir,
Leave the rest to me.

Luke.
Till now I ne're lov'd magick.

Exeunt.