 | Fortune by Land and Sea |  |
Act. 5.
Scen. 1.
Enter the Sheriffs, the silver Oare, Purser and Clinton going to Execution.Pur.
Now how is't with thee Clinton?
Clin.
Well, vvell.
Pur.
But vvas't not better vvhen vve reign'd as Lords, nay Kings at
Sea, the Ocean vvas our realm, and the light billows in the which we
sayl'd our hundreds, nay our shires, and provinces, that brought us annual
profit, those were daies.
Clin.
Yes golden daies, but now our last night's come, and we must
sleep in darkness.
Pur.
Worthy mate we have a flash left of some half hour long, that
let us burn out bravely, not behind us leave a black noysom snuf of cowardise
ith' nostrils of our noble countrymen; lets dye no base example.
Clin.
Thinks Tom wanton, whom storms could never move, tempests
daunt, rocks, terrifie, nor swallowing gulphs affright, to whom the base
abysse in roughest rage shew'd like a pleasant Garden in a calm, and the
Sea-monsters but like beasts at land of profit or pleasure Clinton can be
affrighted with a halter? hemp him strangle that thinks of him so basely.
In that word thou hast put a second sentence of our lives; yet
Clinton never was't my thoughts of thee: oh the naval triumphs thou
and I have seen, nay our selves made, when on the seas at once have
been as many bonefires as in Towns, kindled upon a night of Jubilee, as
many Ordnance thundring in the Clouds as at Kings Coronations, and
dead bodies heav'd from the hatches, and cast over-board, as fast and
thick as in some common Pest when the Plague sweeps Cities.
Clin.
That it had swept us then too, so the seas had been to us a glorious
monument, where now the fates have cast us on the shelf to hang
'twixt air and water.
Sher.
Gentlemen, your limited hour draws nigh.
Pur.
I that's the plague we spoke of, yet no greater then some before
have tasted, and hereafter many be bound to suffer (and if Purser, as
dying men seldom deeme amiss) presage not wrong, how many gallant
spirits, equal with us in fame, shall this gulf swallow, and make this silver
oare to blush in blood? how many Captains that have aw'd the seas
shall fal on this infortunate peece of land? some that commanded Ilands,
some to whom the Indian Mines pay'd Tribute, Turk vayl'd: but when
we that have quak'd, nay troubled flouds, and made Armadoes fly before
our stream, shall founder thus, be split and lost,
Since Purser and bold Clinton bide the same.
Clin.
What is our Ship wel tackled? we may lanch upon this desperate
voyage.
Hang.
Corded bravely.
Pur.
Call up the Boatswain, soundly lash the slave with a ropes end;
have him unto the Chest, or duck him at the Mainyard.
Hang.
Have me to the chest, I must first have you to the Gallows, and
for Ducking, I'm afraid I shall see you duckt and drakt too.
Pur.
Oh you brave Navigators that have seen, or ever had your selves
command a board, that knew our Empire there, and our fall now, pitty
at least us that are made the scorn of a base common Hangman.
Shr.
Thou doest ill to offend them in their deaths.
Hang.
I have, and long to make an end of them.
Pur.
Hadst thou but two months since wrinkled a brow, look'd but
askew, much less unloos'd thy lips to speak, speak said I? nay but lodg'd
a thought, or murmur of the least affront to us, thee, basest of all worms
meat, I had made unwholsom food for Hadocks: but I ha' done.
Clin.
Enough Tom Watton, with these sheets not sailes, a stiff gale
blows to split us on yon rock.
Pur.
And set sail from the fatal Marshal seas, and Wapping is our harbour,
whose valour, experience, skil, and Naval discipline, being lost, I wish
this land may never have need: but what star must we sail by? or what
compass?
Hang.
I know not the star, but here's your compass.
Pur.
Yes that way points the Needle, that way we steer a sad course,
plague of the Pilot; hear you Mr. Sherif, you see we wear good clothes,
they are payd for, and our own, then give us leave our own amongst our
friends to distribute: There's, Sir, for you.
Clin.
And you.
Pur.
The work man made them took never measure on a Hangmans
back; wear them for our sakes, and remember us; there's some content
for him too.
Hang.
Thank your worships.
Clin.
I would your knaveship had our worships place, if hanging now
be held so worshipful.
Pur.
But now our Sun is all setting, night comes on, the watery wilderness
ore which we raign'd, proves in our ruins peaceful, Mr. Chantes
trade fearless abroad as in the rivers mouth, and free as in a harbor, then
fair Thames, Queen of fresh water, famous through the world, and not
the least through us, whose double tides must o'rflow our bodies, and
being dead, may thy clear waves our scandals wash away, but keep our
valours living; now lead on Clinton, thus arm in arm lets march to death,
and wheresoe'r our names are memoriz'd,
Shot betwixt wind and water; so farewel.
Exeunt as they entered.
Enter old Forrest and young Forrest.
old For.
A fathers blessing, more then all thy honours crown thee,
and make thy fortunes growing stil: Oh heavens I shall be too importunate
to ask more earthly favours at your hands; now that you after
all these miseries have still reserv'd my son safe and unscorn'd. Besides
thy pardon and thy countries freedom, what favours hath her Grace
conferr'd on thee?
young For.
More then my pardon and the meed propos'd, to grace the
rest, she styl'd me with the order of Knighthood, and for the service of
my country, with promise of employments of more weight: the Pirats
were committed to the Marshalseas, condemn'd already, and this day to
dye: and now as part of my neglected dutie, it rests I visit that fair Gentlewoman
to whom I stand indebted for my life; that necessary duty
once perform'd, out of my present fortunes to distribute some present
comfort to my Sisters wants.
old For.
A grateful friend thou art, a kind dear brother, and a most
loving son.
Phil.
Sir, more then all these fortunes now befaln me, a fate 'midst all
disaster unexpected, my noble brothers late success at sea hath fild me
with a surplusage of joy, nor am I least of all endear'd to you, to be the
first reporter.
Mer.
'Tis most true, and I the man that in the most
distress had first share of his bounty.
Anne.
Of his goodness we have had sufficient taft already, but to be
made more happy in his sight would plenally rejoyce us.
Sus.
It would prove like surfet after sweet meats.
young For.
See all my friends, but rst let me salute her to whom I am
most bound.
Sus.
My most dear father.
old For.
My blessings meeting with a husbands love make thy yeares
long and happy.
Anne.
You are most grateful, and much beyond my merit.
Sus.
O spare me, Sir, to fly into his arms that hath so long fled from
me.
young For.
My sweet Sister?
Phil.
Bar me not all the best fruition of what in part you have tasted:
Sir, I am one amongst the rest that love you.
young For.
I take't my Sisters husband, unto me therefore one most
intir'd.
Mer.
Sir the same, and I though last in my acknowledgement,
yet first in due arrearage.
young For.
You I know to be a worthy Merchant and my friend, to
whose, next to your sisters curtesie I stand engag'd most for a forfeit life:
But he next to the powers divine above, I ever must adore; and now fair
creature I dare more boldly look upon the face of your good man then
when I saw you last.
Mer.
And that's some question.
young For.
Wherefore hath that word struck you with sudden sadness.
Anne.
My husband!
Phil.
He's late dead, and yet hath left her
none of the poorest widdows.
young For.
Dead did you say, and I a Batchelor, now on whom better
or justlier can I confer my self, then to be hers by whom I have my being,
and live to her that freely gave me life? there is a providence that
prompts too't, and I will give it motion: Gentle Lady, by you I am, and
what I am by you, be then to me as I have stil'd you last, a Lady, heavens
have made you my preserver, to preserve me for your self, loosing
a husband, who knows but you have sav'd me to that end, that lost
name to recover; and by me sweet enterchange and double gratitude:
I left you sped, but find you now dispoyl'd: Married you venter'd for
my single life; Widdow'd, by me to gain the name of wife.
What, pause you at the motion? you are not my Sister if you
deny him.
Phil.
Let me plead for him.
Sus.
O doubly link me to you, be you stil'd my Brother and my Father.
old For.
With you let my age joyn, and make me proud to say, that in
my last of daies, barren of issue, I have got so fair a daughter.
young For.
Sweet, your answer.
Anne.
Sir, I should much mistake my own fair ends,
Should I alone withstand so many friends.
I am yours, and onely so.
young For.
I yours the same, and Lady
now I kisse you by that name.
Enter Clown.
Clown.
What kissing already! then I smel another wedding towards,
and in no fitter time then now: prepare your selves Gentlemen and
Gentlewomen; make a hall; for I come to present you with a Mask.
Phil.
What Mask?
Clow.
Not such as Ladies wear upon their faces, to keep the foul from
the fair, but a plain Mask, or rather more properly I may call it a Muming,
because the presenters have scarce a word to speak for themselves.
Phil.
If there be any that appear as friends, and come to grace our
feast in courtesie, admit 'em prithee.
Clow.
That shall I Sir, and with all expedition,
And that without drum, without fife, or musitian.
These two lines shall serve for the Prologue: now enter scena prima,
Dramatis personæ; these be the Actors, yet let me entreat you not to
condemn them before you hear them speak.
Phil.
Amazement startles me: are these my brothers?
Clow.
By the Fathers side it should seem; for you know he was a hard
man, and it should seem 'tis but a hard world with them.
Phil.
And these my false friends that distrusted heaven, and put their
faith in riches; I pray Gentlemen how comes this change?
Joh.
How comes this change say you? no chang of pastors, which they
say makes fat calves, but change of drink, change of women, change of
ordinaries, change of gaming, and one wench in the change, all these
helpt to make this change in us.
Wil.
And change is no robbery, I have been robbed, but not at ruffe,
yet they that have robbed you see what a poor stock they have left me:
A whore stole away my Maidenhead, ill company my good conditions,
a broaker robbed me of my apparel, drink of my wits, and dice of my
money.
Phil.
This is no more then expectation: but how come you thus altered?
If you had said haltered, Sir, you had gone more roundly to
the business.
Fost.
Sir, there was coyning laid to my charge, for which (though I
acquit my self) I made my estate over unto a friend (for so I thought
him) but now he has cosened me, and turned me out of all.
Goodw.
In dead of night my counting house was broak ope by theeves,
and all my coyn (which was my whole estate, and god I then did trust
in) stole away, I left a forlorn beggar.
Phil.
O wondrous, why this passes.
Clow.
It may pass amongst the rest for a scurvey jest, but never like
Mother Passes Ale, for that was knighted.
Mer.
Ale knighted! how I prithee?
Clow:
You have heard of Ale Knights, therefore it is not improbable
that Ale may be knighted.
Mer.
Thy reason?
Clow.
Why there is Ale in the town that passes from man to man, from
lip to lip, and from nose to nose, but mother Passes double Ale I assure
you, Sir-passes, therefore knighted.
Phil.
Leave trifling, for more serious is the object offered before our
eyes: In these heavens justice, in these a most remarkable president to
teach within our height to know our selves; of which I make this use;
you are my brothers (a name you once disdained to call me by) your
wants shal be relieved: you that distrusted heavens providence, and made
a mock of want and others misery, no more deride; part of your losse
shall be by me supplyed according to my power.
young For.
My noble brother, you teach us virtue, of which I could
wish all those that see good daies make happy use, so those distrest; for
both theres president, but to our present nuptials; reverent Father, dear
Lady, Sister, Friend, nay brothers too, but you Sir, most conjoyned and
endeared.
Fortune in me by Sea, in you by Land.
Exeunt omnes.
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