 | The Knight of Malta |  |
Scæna Prima.
A Sea fight within, alarum.Enter Norandine, Miranda, and Souldiers and Gentlemen.
Mir.
How is it Sir?
Nor.
Pray set me down; I coole,
And my wounds smart.
Mir.
I hope yet
Though there be many, ther's none dangerous.
Nor.
I know not, nor I care not much, I got 'em
Like a too forward foole; but I hope the Surgeons
Will take an order I shall not leave 'em so
I make the rogues more work then all the Island,
And yet they give me the hardest words for my money.
Mir.
I am glad ye are so sprightly: ye fought bravely
Go call the Surgeons Souldiers: wondrous nobly
Upon my life, I have not seen such valour,
Maintained so long, and to so large a ruin,
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Nor.
I thank ye,
And thank ye for your help, your timely succour.
By th'mas, it came ith' nick sir, and well handled;
Stoutly, and strongly handled: we had duckt else,
My Turke had Turk'd me else: but he has wel paid for't.
Why what a Signe for an Almanack h'as made me?
Enter Astorius.
Ast.
I am glad to finde ye here sir, of necessity
I must have come aboard else; and brave Captain
We all joy much in your faire victory,
And all the Island speaks your valour nobly.
Have ye brought the Turke in that ye took?
Mir.
He rides there.
Nor.
If he were out again, the devill should bring him.
H'as truely circumcis'd me.
Ast.
I have a businesse
Which much concernes ye, presently concernes ye;
But not this place nor people: pray ye draw off sir,
For tis of that weight to ye.
Mir.
Ile wait on ye,
I must crave leave a while: my care dwels with ye,
And I must wait my selfe.
Nor.
Your servant sir.
Mir.
Believe I shall, and what my love can minister;
Keep your stout heart still.
Nor.
That's my best Physitian.
Mir.
And I shall keepe your fame faire.
Exit.
Nor.
Ye are too Noble.
A brave young fellow, of a matchlesse spirit;
He brought me off like thunder, charg'd, and boorded,
As if he had been shot to save mine honour:
And when my fainting men tyr'd with their labour,
And lacke of blood gave to the Turke assurance
The day was his; when I was cut in shreds thus,
And not a corn of Powder left to blesse us,
Then flew his Sword in, then his Cannon roard,
And let flie blood and death in storms amongst em.
Then might I heare their sleepy Prophet howl'd too,
And all their silver Crescents then I saw
Like falling Meteors spent, and set for ever
Under the Crosse of Malta; death so wanton
I never lookt upon, so full of revell.
Enter Surgeon.
I will not be drest yet: Me thought that fellow
Was fit for no conversation, nor no Christian
That had not halfe his brains knockt out, no Souldier.
Oh valiant young man, how I love thy vertue.
1 Soul.
Pray ye sir be drest, alasse ye bleed apace yet.
Nor.
Tis but the sweat of honour (alas) thou milksop,
Thou man of March-paine, canst thou feare to see
A few light hurts, that blush they are no bigger,
A few small scratches? get ye a Cawdle sirha,
Your finger akes: and let the old wives watch thee:
Bring in the booty, and the prisoners;
By Heaven Ile see 'em, and dispose 'em first,
Before I have a drop of blood wipt from me; goe.
Exeunt Souldiers.
Surg.
You'l faint sir.
Nor.
No, ye lie sir, like an Asse, sir;
I have no such pigs hurt in my belly.
Sur.
By my life Captaine
These hurts are not to be jested with.
Nor.
If thou hadst 'em:
They are my companions foole, my family;
I cannot eate nor sleepe without their company.
Dost take me for St Davy, that fell dead
With seeing of his nose bleed?
Enter Souldiers with booty.
Sur.
Here they come sir:
But would you would be drest.
Nor.
Pox: dresse thy selfe first,
Thou faintst a great deale faster; what's all this?
1 Sould.
The money and the merchandize ye took sir.
Nor.
A goodly purchase: Is it for this we venture
Our liberties and lives? what can all this doe?
Get me some dozen surfeits, some seven fresh whores,
And twenty pot-alleys and to: and then I am vertuous.
Lay the Knights part by, and that to pay the Souldier:
This is mine own, I think I have deserv'd it:
Come, now looke to me, and grope me like a chambermaid,
Ile neither start, nor speake; what's that i'th trusse there?
2 Soul.
Tis cloth of Tissew sir, and this is Scarlet.
Nor.
I shall looke redder shortly then, I feare me,
And as a Captaine ought, a great deale prowder.
Can ye cure me of that crack, Surgeon?
Sur.
Yes, when your Suit's at pawn, sir.
Nor.
There's for your playster.
A very learned Surgeon: what's in that pack there?
1 Soul.
Tis English Cloth.
Nor.
That's a good weare indeed,
Both strong, and rich: but it has a vertue
A twang of the own Country, that spoiles all:
A man shall nere be sober in't: Where are the Gentlemen
That ventur'd with me, both their lives and fortunes?
Come forward my faire spirits; Norandine
Forgets his worth, when he forgets your valours.
You have lost an eye, I saw ye face all hazards:
You have one left yet, to choose your Mistris.
You have your leg broke with a shot; yet sitting,
I saw you make the place good with your Pike still.
And your hand's gone; a good heart wants no instruments;
Share that amongst ye: there's an eye, an arme,
And that wil beare you up, when your legs cannot.
Oh where's the honest Saylor? that poore fellow,
Indeed that bold brave fellow, that with his Musket
Taught them new waies how to put their caps off;
That stood the fire of all the fight, twice blowne,
And twice I gave him drownd: welcome ashore knave;
Give me thy hand, if they be not both lost: faith thou art welcome,
My tough knave welcom: thou wilt not shrink ith' washing.
Hold, there's a piece of Scarlet, get thee hansome.
And this to buy thee Buttons.
Sayl.
Thank ye Captaine,
Command my life at all houres.
Nor.
Thou durst give it.
You have deserv'd too.
3 Soul.
We have seen the fight sir.
Nor.
Yes: coyld up in a Cable, like salt Eeles;
Or buried low ith' ballasse: do you call that fighting?
Where be your wounds? your knocks? your want of limbs rogues?
Art not thou he that ask'd the Master-gunner
Where thou mightst lie safest? and he strait answered,
Put thy head in that hole new bor'd with a Cannon,
For twas a hundred to one, another shot would not hit there:
Your wages you shall have, but for rewards
Take your owne waies: and get ye to the Tavernes;
There, when ye are hot with Wine 'mongst your admirers,
Take Ships, and Towns, and Castles at your pleasures,
And make the great Turk shake at your valours.
Bring in the prisoners now my brave Musulmans,
Enter Prisoners, and Luscinda.
You that are Lords oth' Sea, and scorn us Christians,
Which of your mangy lives is worth this hurt here?
Away to prison with 'em, see 'em safe;
You shall finde we have Gallies too, and slaves too.
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What shall be done with this woman sir?
Nor.
Pox take her,
Twas she that set me on to fight with these rogues,
That Ring worme rot it: what can you doe now
With all your paintings, and your pouncings Lady,
To restore my blood again? you, and your Cupid
That have made a Carbinado of me; plague take ye,
Ye are too deep ye rogue, this is thy worke woman,
Thou lousie woman; 'death, you go too deep still.
The seeing of your simpring sweetnesse:—ye Filly,
Ye Tit, ye Tomboy, what can one nights gingling
Or two, or ten, sweet heart, and oh, my deare chicken,
Scratching my head, or fumbling with my fore-mast,
Doe me good now? ye have powder'd me for one yeere,
I am in sowce I thank ye; thanke your beauty,
Your most sweet beauty: pox upon those goggles.
We cannot fight like honest men, for honour,
And quietly kill one another as we ought,
But in steps one of you; the devils holinesse
And you must have a daunce: away with her,
She stinks to me now.
1 Soul.
Shall I have her Captaine?
2 Soul.
Or I?
3 Soul.
Ile marry her.
4 Soul.
Good Captaine, I.
3 Soul.
And make her a good Christian; lay hands on her;
I know she's mine.
2 Soul.
Ile give my full share for her: have ye no manners
To thrust the woman so?
Nor.
Share her among ye;
And may she give ye as many hurts as I have,
And twice as many aches.
Lusc.
Noble Captaine,
Be pleas'd to free me from these Souldiers wildnesse,
Till I but speake two words.
Nor.
Now for your maidenhead,
You have your booke, proceed.
Lusc.
Victorious sir,
Tis seldome seen in men so valiant,
Minds so devoyd of vertue: he that can conquer,
Should ever know how to preserve his conquest,
Tis but a base theft else. Valour's a vertue,
Crown of mens actions here; yours as you make it.
And can you put so rough a foyle as violence,
As wronging of weake woman to your triumph?
Nor.
Let her alone.
Lusc.
I have lost my husband, sir;
You feel not that: him that I love; you care not:
When fortune fals on you thus, you may grieve too;
My liberty, I kneele not for; mine honour,
(if ever vertuous honour toucht your heart yet)
Make deere, and precious, sir: you had a mother.
Nor.
The rougy thing speaks finely, neat: who took ye?
For he must be your guard.
Lusc.
I wish no better,
A Noble Gentleman, and Nobly us'd me,
They cal'd his name Miranda.
Nor.
You are his then:
Ye have light upon a young man worth your service,
I free ye from all the rest: and from all violence;
He that doth offer't, by my head he hangs for't:
Go see her safe kept, till the Noble Gentleman
Be ready to dispose her: thank your tongue,
You have a good one, and preserve it good still:
Souldiers, come wait on me, Ile see ye paid all.
Exeunt.
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