 | The Successful Pyrate |  |
ACT II.
SCENE I.
SCENE the Hall of a Palace.Enter Boreal and Chicane.
Chi.
'Tis contrary to Law: Draw Lots for Wives!
Bor.
How now, Lawyer? What, a worthless Fellow,
and afraid to trust Fortune—Look round thee, and
behold her Darlings.
Chi.
Ay, but things are not done in Form, not Legally, Admiral—
There shou'd have issu'd out a Writ de Uxore Capiendâ,
with a Precept to the Sheriff, and a Fi. Fa. annex'd, to have
levy'd the Bodies of the several beautiful Women, &c. and have
brought 'em before us such a Day apud le Guild-Hall in le Pall'
Royal'.
Bor.
Pox o'your Gibberish. Lawyers Tongues have made
more Beggars than Luxury or Dice. Nature produces nothing
that is immortal but a Chancery-Suit. How many noble Estates
have I known ground to Death between the Milstones of the
Law, while an old Dunce in a Coif pores thro' his false Eyes,
to discover whether the good or bad Success of the poor Subject's
Cause depends upon the doubtful Tittle of an i, or a deficient
Top to an l.
Chi.
Ay, ay, I know with you now all our Pleadings are despis'd,
and our Reports laugh'd at, and Cook, Dyer, Lennard,
Croke, and the rest of the voluminous Historians of contentious
Mortals, are Fellows of Form, without Fire—But to the
Point, Sir; The Prince here ought first per Attorn' suum to declare;
then we have time to plead; he replies, we rejoin; he
surrejoins, we join Issue; then comes a Demurrer, then a Writ
of Error, then 'tis argu'd, then an Appeal, then—
Bor.
Oh, don't make me giddy with thy Nonsense, dear Insipid—
Chi.
Look ye, in the Case of Marriage—
Bor.
Ay, in the Case of Marriage—a Man's Understanding
is so often bubbled by his Eyes, that our wise Prince, to prevent
the whole Matter—But see, they are here; and for all this,
thou unrighteous Judge, thou must be content with the Wife
thy Chance shall give thee.
Chi.
Quo Warranto, Sir—'tis contrary to Magna Charta.
Enter Jollyboy, Piracquo, Tulip; and on the other side, several Women, Lydia and Lesbia; a Laurentian Boy, in the native Habit, with a Jar fill'd with Balls of Wax for Lots.
Joll.
Hah, my Golden Hearts, my merry Boys, Children
of Joy and Pleasure, a gracious Prince, a bounteous Sovereign,
he has chosen out the finest Women in the Island for you; and
Heaven and you know 'tis but thinly peopled with Petticoats—
yet further, he has order'd me to pay 2000 Gold Ducats a Head
for every Wife drawn by Lot amongst you.
Pir.
Pox, who wou'd drink Poison for the Honour of kissing
a Gold Cup?
Tul
He has taken the only Dish from the Table I cou'd fancy,
and advises me to sit down, and feed very heartily for Life,
upon whatever is casually set before me.
Pir.
'Tis an Imposition upon the free Subject.
Joll.
What, Man? We must mend the Breed, we must provide
for Posterity; wou'd you have him leave a whole Nation
of Sons of Whores behind him?
Tul.
Look ye, I'll breed for ne'er a King in Christendom—
he may marry me, that is, I may have a Wife de facto, but Zaida
is the Sovereign Mistress of my Soul de jure—Gad, she is a
fine Woman, Piracquo—He has cull'd the Top o'the Basket,
and left us nothing but what is Worm eaten and Wind-fall'n—
But let it go, I shall have an Intreague with her; I have already
squeez'd her Hand, and fathom'd her Heart by her Eye—
I shall mend his Breed, if he goes to that.
Chi.
You confound the whole Matter with your de facto and
de jure, Sir Gaudy—We are to obey the King in all that is
lawful; now 'tis lawful to marry, but things are not done in
Form, and therefore may be superseded per curiam.
Bor.
I wou'd have no Lawyers marry here—Heav'n bless
us! if a Pettifogger shou'd be join'd to a Scold—what wou'd
Such a Conjunction must produce either a Casuist or a Rebel,
and be the Parent of Faction in future Times—Now Treason
is the Child of Faction, which, like Sophistry, makes Knots in
Truth, and cuts what it can't untie—Come, come, prepare
for your several Lots; let the Boy go round.
Tul.
Adieu my Liberty, my Peace, indolent Joys, and sweet
Repose—Ye happy Hours of Love and soft Desire—Adieu.
Come, Boy, I am ready for Execution.
Lyd.
May Fortune give me to him again, Lesbia, if that is
not my Husband.
Lesb.
And as I live there stands my very old Winter Tulip.
Lyd.
Have we ran 3000 Miles from each other to meet in this
Centre?
Lesb.
I find I am born to break that Beau's Heart—It
vexes me tho'; I thought we shou'd have been wholly unknown
here.
Lyd.
The Sight of that Fellow has given me an incurable
Spleen—Oh Lesbia, I am Husband-sick to Death.
[The Men draw several Balls, in which are enclos'd the Names of their Wives—Piracquo draws Lydia, Tulip Lesbia, Jolliboy Morulla, Boreal Mariana, and Chicane an old Woman.
Pir.
Ay, here she is in neat Italick—Lydia, my very Identical,
Numerical London Wife—Why, this is giving a new
Bond for an old Debt.
Tul.
Hah, what have we here? Lesbia, as I hope to be happy
—Fortune is an unmannerly Huswife—Is this weaving your
True-Lover's Knot, to give one up to the Arms of an old Acquaintance,
and make one Tenant for Life to a Goal?
Pir.
I never lov'd Chance; but Fortune unravels all the
Plots I work up, and makes me, whether I please or no, drag
her Chain—Now she has made me a Present of a Wife—
So, Madam,
[To Lydia]
What malignant Star threw you upon
Laurentia?
Lyd.
What evil Genius brought us two together?
Pir.
I abandon'd my native Soil to fly you.
I banish'd my self, that I might not breathe the same
Air.
Pir.
You are the only Woman I wou'd have shunn'd.
Lyd.
You are the only Man I wou'd have avoided.
Pir.
Fortune shan't join us.
Lyd.
I'll die to break the Knot: Have we not sworn everlasting
mutual Hatred?
Pir.
Cursed be he or she who first is perjur'd.
Lyd.
When I break it, may I be as common as a Bed in an
Inn.
Pir.
When I don't observe it punctually, may I lie in the
same Bed.
Lyd.
May I be as ugly as a Death's Head, may my Desires
outlive my Charms, and may I sue to thee for Mercy.
Pir.
May I pity thee.
Lyd.
Your Hand on't.
Pir.
Agreed.
Lyd.
To disagree.
Pir.
Eternally.
Lyd.
For ever.
Tul
Very elegant truly; a happy Couple, a perfect Copy
of conjugal Affection—really you have said abundance of civil
things to one another, and now the Heat of your first Courtship
seems to be a little over I wou'd treat with you, Piracquo,
will you change?
Pir.
For a Fool's Laugh or a Strumpet's Smile, I'd give thee
my Life to boot rather than keep this Bargain
Tul.
No Passion, my dear Piracquo—look ye, I believe it may
be prov'd I have as many Obligations to that Lady as you owe
there; I had the most delightful Dream with her for twenty
Years together—sure never was Man so agreeably deceiv'd—Oh
how I curs'd the Hour when first I wak'd, and found her Grace
the Dutchess de Bellchose to be a plain Plebeian, vulgarly call'd
or known by the Name of Cecily Ogle.
Lesb.
My Dear, we have already explain'd upon one another.
Tul.
My Love, I am easie, I know 'tis not in the Power of
blind Fate to shuffle us together again—You have had my
Estate.
You the Dutchess—You were in love with my Quality,
not my Person.
Tul.
Therefore 'twas natural to drop the Passion with the
Character.
Lesb.
We were both Actors, 'twou'd be ridiculous to wear
the Habit when the Farce is done.
Tul.
Yet for a while, like old Bed-fellows, we turn'd our Affections
the seamy Side outward, and were awkardly kind to
one another, 'till we cou'd not endure our own Hypocrisie.
Lesb.
We liv'd together 'till Indifference had extinguish'd
Jealousie, 'till Anger gave Place to Neglect, and Pity quitted
to Contempt.
Tul.
This was the Process—first Love kick'd Reason out
of Doors, where Reason like a cool Privy-Counsellor waited
patiently 'till after Possession, and then summoning the Posse
Com. of my Senses to his Aid resum'd his Seat. Madam, is it
your Pleasure that we play booty with Fortune, put a Trick
upon our Stars, and be happy in spite of one another?
Lesb.
Sir, I play all the Game—I have from my Youth upwards
been the Workwoman of my own Happiness—You see
this Gentleman and I are not like to hit it.
Tul.
A Bargain—one hearty Wish, my Dear, and so we
part,—first may our Friendship still continue like a Vine round
a dead Oak, tho' our Love is expir'd.
Lesb.
May that Lady give you as much real Joy, as I have
Imaginary, may no rude Wind uncurl your Wig, no stormy
Days nor Time it self plow up your Features.
Tul.
May you flourish like a Medlar, be delicious in decay.
Lesb.
May you like gen'rous Wine get Strength by Age.
Tul.
Piracquo, observe, this 'tis to be well-bred, this is parting
politely—Gad I am mighty well off tho'—I was in a
Sweat when I saw her come up—Ho! Admiral, what luck have
you had in this Lottery?
Bor.
Why I have drawn a Prize, Tulip, the Sun sees not
many such in all his Circuit—I have ask'd her several Questions,
and either she has no Tongue, or she holds it—take it
which way you will she is a very valuable Woman.
Tul.
Ha! Then she'll keep a Secret.
Bor.
Mighty well, if she can't speak.
How do you like our Wives? we have barter'd, Piracquo
and I have chang'd Hands, what think you of these Fillies?
Bor.
Tho' I am not much skill'd in Phisiognomy, I can read
in both their Faces, separate Maintenance, Alimony, Divorce,
Adultery, Doctors Commons, Curtain Lectures, and Cuckoldom
—That Leer cou'd be learnt in no part of the habitable Globe
but Covent-Garden.
Chi.
I have a Woman here too Gentlemen, if any Man wants
a Wife and brings his Action of Trouver against me, I'll plead
guilty, or he shall snap Judgement by Default—For toss me over
the Bar, if I don't think she is the most execrable Creature
I ever saw.
Bor.
Poor Chicane, she is indeed a plain Woman—What sort
of Mate is thine, Jollyboy?
Joll.
Ha, ha, ha, faith she is pert and small like Lambeth
Ale—tho' I am mighty well pleas'd in troth my merry Boys,
she has given me two or three biting Repartees—If your
Wife wants a Tip to her Tongue, we can spare it.
Bor.
No more, the King appears.
Enter Arviragus, De Sale, and Attendants.
Arv.
The laughing God now plumes his purple Wings,
He lights his Torch, and smiles on lawful Love,
The Libertine may boast various Delight,
The Slave of every Lust may talk of Freedom,
He feels it not, his Joys are false and short,
He wants within his home; true Happiness
Is found alone in chaste unsully'd Sheets:
We hold our self indebted to each Man
Who gives the Common-wealth a Legal Heir,
For Marriage is the Bond of Government,
That Cement fixes us by Natural Ties,
By joining our Affections to our Interest.
Each Monarch Husband in his private Realm,
While he with virtuous Order rules his House,
Pursues the general Good—obedient Children
Make faithful Subjects—therefore we ordain'd
This Lottery of Love you all must win,
Than we our selves.
Tul.
Ah sweet, how he gilds this bitter Pill?
Pir.
Now he has clapt on the Clog, he perswades us to play
with it—This Fellow wou'd talk a Nation out of their Senses,
and their Liberty too.
Arv.
My Fellow-soldiers, we resolve to follow
Your good Example, and with holy Vows
Inchace our Love; high Heav'n has deign'd to smile,
And with a Star t'enrich our Diadem.
Imperial Aurengezebe's Illustrious Race
Shall govern your Posterity—Away,
Each with his several Bride, and may this Day
Be ever markt with White to latest Years.
Pir.
I am horribly vext, but there's no Remedy yet.
[Exeunt all but Arvi. and De Sale.
Arv.
I sent by thee to ask bright Zaida's leave
To visit her; say, did you see the Princess?
De Sale.
I found her all devoted to her Sorrows,
The silken Lids, those Curtains of the Sight,
Half vail'd, gave way for the warm Tears to flow,
The precious drops hasten'd to kiss her Cheeks,
And bathe her rising Bosom; where her Sighs,
Sweeter than bloomy Nature, or the Breath
Of wanton Zephyrs, did indulge her Grief:
I spoke your Message, Sir; she rais'd her Head,
Reclin'd upon her lilly Hand; her Hand,
Softer and whiter than the Cycnets Down.
She said, and then another Sigh broke way,
She hop'd she might have leave to mourn; if not,
She was your Captive, and she must obey.
Arv.
I think thou art her Lover by thy words,
This warm Description fires my amorous Breast,
I see her charming in her Sorrows dress.
Oh my De Sale, this sudden change of Life
Shakes her soft Frame,
As every change of Air stains the pure Chrystal,
I'll wait upon her, sooth her gentle Grief,
And by most constant Service gain her Love.
Must with the fickle Fair one laugh and mourn;
His Passions all must her Commands obey,
For Love's a Lord of Arbitrary Sway.
[Exeunt.
Enter Aranes and Zaida.
Aran.
The joyous Light glads our extended Eye,
And feeds with various Paintings the gay Sense;
The Balmy Air breathes his redundant Odours
Till the Brain akes with too luxuriant Pleasure,
Sweet Musick tunes and lulls the wanton Spirits
In most Extatick Raptures—Thou art all,
The Light, the Breath, the Musick of my Soul,
Thou Abstract of all Nature's Charm's in one.
Zai.
And yet ev'n now my Love,
A pointed Sword hangs by a Hair above us.
Arviragus, malevolently kind,
Beholds they hapless Zaida with Desire.
In awkward Pomp he woes me, and has sent
By his Lieutenant to intreat a Visit;
It is not fit he see us thus, that Sight
May raise a fatal Storm, and wreck us both;
Think whose we are, and where.—
Aran.
I idly talk,
And only beat and flutter in my Cage,
When I shou'd Act; redeem thee with my Sword,
But Time must fashion it.
I know it is not fit he see us thus,
My Love, I will retire: oh Death to part!
May those unbody'd Spirits who enjoy
Uninterrupted Bliss, look down with Pity,
When they behold a Soul like theirs distrest,
And guard thee with Ætherial Wings from Danger.
Zai.
Gallant Youth,
May all the Gods preserve thee, may each Maid
Who truly loves in all succeeding Times,
Be bless'd as I in thee—And may thy Name
Of faithful Love.
Enter Arviragus.
Arv.
Hold, hold, my Heart! there, there's the Cause of Sorrow,
The Reason of those Tears;
Let me controul my Temper, and be calm.—
If your Sorrows, Madam,
Admit the Wretche's Comfort, a Companion,
I humbly beg my Share; when Beauty droops,
The Sun shou'd mourn behind a sable Cloud,
The Southern Winds drive down the Tears of Heav'n,
The Flow'rs and Plants shake off their dewy Grief
On the damp Earth, and sympathizing Nature
Sigh with her fairest Work—
Zai.
Blame me not, if I'm covetous of what
I only now can call my own; these Tears,
They will admit no Fellowship, and ask
For Solitude; Grudge not your Slave her Sighs.
Arv.
You have a Gracious Princess, Sir, she deigns
To let you share her Melancholly Hours,
And gives you what a Monarch begs in vain.
Aran.
As I have felt the Sunshine of her Fortune,
My Gratitude, as well as Duty, Sir,
For ever binds me to my Royal Mistress,
And asks a Subject Tear for her Distress.
Arv.
No more of this; why do you meanly thus
Disguise your Loves? Hypocrisie is base.
I see those Tears are shed for your Aranes,
And does not your Aranes weep for Zaida?
Aran.
Then you see
Two Minds in one, a grateful Harmony
Which you wou'd turn to Discord; but remember,
'Tis not in Seas, or Prisons, or lawless Power,
To break this happy Union—Rigid Fate
Will but a while divide us; after Death
My separated Soul shall hover round her,
Her Genius here, and Guide to Paradice.
Fair Zaida is the Gift of Providence,
As such I take her—no Tyrannick Wish
Shall urge my Power to violate her Will.
Aran.
This, Sir, is generous, and truly great,
'Tis God-like to bestow unbounded Bliss,
And we have no Ambition left but Love.
Give us some Corner of your Earth to breathe in,
Disturb not the clear Stream you cannot drink,
Let us possess our Lives in Peace together.
Zaid.
Oh, Sir, renounce this Flame; my Lord and I
Have mingled Souls like meeting Streams:
Can you divide the Waters Drop by Drop,
And reunite 'em to their former Currents?
Can you command the glorious Light to stay,
When the Sun leaves us?—Our two blended Hearts
Are riveted by Fortune, Time and Fate.
Arv.
Fortune has made you mine, and changing Time
May rzae that darling Image from your Soul,
And place me there—Aranes is my Captive,
The Creature of my Smile—whom my good Sword
By just Invasion holds.
Aran.
Invader's but a Royal Term for Tyrant.
Arv.
That I am no Tyrant
Let this declare, that you dare call me so
Unpunish'd—Yet my Subjects general Voice
Proclaims that Falsehood faithful in all Dangers—
But know, fond Youth, I here am Absolute,
The Founder of Laurentia's mighty Empire,
And greater thus than if I claim'd my Right
From a long Line of lazy Ancestors:
Look round the World, search the Records of Empire,
What were their Titles first? First, Power form'd Laws,
When gracious Victors did descend to rule
By equal Justice—The same Power gave Place,
And fixt me here on fair Laurentia's Isle,
I gave 'em Laws, and dropt the Conqueror's Sword
To rule by Civil Right.
Aran.
Then wherefore do you break your own Commands,
And thus invade another's Right, my Zaida?
Know thou that all are Tyrants in their Love,
There each wou'd Monarch be, and rule alone,
There I dispence with Law; ev'n thou, my Slave,
Claim'st a superior Right to love above thee;
Still love, but do not to my Ear avow it,
Stifle thy haughty Passion, and be safe,
Tis Death to own it here.
Aran.
Not own my Love! (Now wert thou King of Hell,
As thou art but his Deputy, and rul'st
His Subiects here) thus wou'd I loudly claim her.
She is by Faith, by Inclination mine,
By all the Ties of sacred Love and Duty,
Nor shall thy Power disjoin us, bloody Pyrate.
Zaid.
This Rage, Aranes, will destroy us both.
Stifle your fatal Passion in its Birth,
Or all is lost.
Arv.
Your idle Passion, like an angry Infant,
Beats its own Parent; with your feeble Breath,
You might the Ocean's Bosom blow to rage,
And curl the Face of Neptune, but ne'er hope
To stir my Mind.
Zaid.
Be calm—Inflame him not, you blow a Fire
That will consume us both—Oh think betimes,
If Power unbounded meets remorseless Rage—
Aran.
Yes, Zaida, all the Passion of my Soul
Shall melt into my Eyes—relent in Dew,
To beg a gracious Boon of my good Master.
I am his Slave, his Creature.
You gave me Liberty, you gave me Life!
[To Arv.
Oh! What is Life or Liberty to Love?
Cou'd you command the Globe, and at my Feet
Throw all Mankind my Slaves, I shou'd with Scorn
Behold the Tributary World beneath,
And only then look up to Heav'n and Zaida:
Extended Empire, Freedom, Life and Love,
Live all within the Circle of her Arms!
What shall I say—thus bending to the Earth—
[Kneels.
I humbly ask more than my Life or Freedom;
Oh give her yet—yet give her to my Arms,
With me demand my Love.
Arv.
No more in idle Transports wreck your Spirits;
But know, presumptuous Boy, no Power on Earth
Shall ravish from my Heart this God-like Maid—
Be gone, aspiring Fool—
Claim not a Right to Heav'n, and call it Justice;
Here she shall blaze like our warm Eastern Sun,
The Royal Partner of my Bed and Throne.
Aran.
Imperial Thief, Despair and mighty Love
Know no Command or Equal; guard thy Life—
Zaid.
Ruin, Distraction! whither will it lead you?
Aran.
I'll conquer, or I'll bravely die her Martyr.
Lay by your borrow'd Robes of Royalty,
And meet me with your good Sword Hand to Hand,
Or by the Gods I'll speed the Rod of Justice,
And dash this horrid Meteor into nothing,
This Child of Earth and Vapour.
Arv.
A Guard there—Seize this hot-brain'd foolish Boy,
Enter De Sale and Guards.
Do him no Violence—Convey him hence.
This I forgive—but never more appear
Within my Palace Walls, on Pain of Death,
Immediate Death—The next fair Cruise we have,
Our Admiral shall set you safe on Shore,
On the first Land he makes—Absence, fond Youth,
May cool this boiling Fever in the Blood,
Absence the Death or Cure of wounded Love.
[Exeunt Guards with Aranes.
Zaid.
Oh, Sir, if ever you did Pity feel,
If now you know the Pangs of jealous Love,
If e'er your Heart glow'd with the honest Flame
Of chaste Desires, and mutual Faith exchang'd;
Wou'd you erect a Monument to last,
Beyond all Æra's of succeeding Time,
To break the Teeth of Envy and Detraction,
Exert the Hero, and forgive your Rival,
Be greatly virtuous, and command your Passion.
Madam, I do forgive him, but his Rage
With sudden Execution blows up all
Who dare oppose him—Since he can't obey,
I banish him—Here I will rule alone.
Yet, Zaida, that is but a feeble Boast,
For your Tyrannick Eyes are absolute.
Zaid.
I cannot feign a Falshood to my Love,
To save us both; he must be mine for ever,
There is no Cruelty but parting us.
Arv.
O talk not thus, sooth me with flatt'ring Hope,
Or I shall lose my self in black Despair,
And be a Tyrant to thee.
Zaid.
Embark us in a Vessel all unmann'd,
Without a Pilot, me and my Aranes,
Commit us to the raging Winds and Waves;
The Winds and Waves, in pity to our Loves,
Wou'd waft us to some hospitable Shore;
Or we shou'd both be bless'd, and die together.
Arv.
Why do you stab me thus, too cruel Zaida!
By Love, by Fate, by Fortune, thou art mine.
I burnt beneath the fierce Æquator's Heat,
Then steer'd to rougher Seas, where the wild North
Rides furious on the mighty Ax of Heav'n;
There twenty Years endur'd the warring Æther.
Ambition urg'd new Toils—When Fortune smil'd,
And crown'd me here, my Labour's fair Reward,
Thee too she gave me, sprung from Regal Loins,
To fix her Empire long—No, Madam, no,
I owe this Justice to my self and you;
Unerring Destiny has made you mine.
Obey your Fate; 'tis Cowardice not Courage
To struggle with the just Decrees of Heav'n.
Oh plead not for him, and be fafe—Thy Words,
Like subtle Lightning, blast my distant Wishes.
Zaid.
You say you value me; 'tis in your Power
To give me Freedom, Life and Happiness,
Yet you inexorable all deny.
[Exit.
O my De Sale, this Indian Maid undoes me,
Laurentia's Sceptre strikes to Love's proud Boy;
All the large Honours, Glory, Power, Fame,
And countless Wealth, which I a private Man
Snatch'd from the lazy Hand of Chance, to deck
My Brows with ever-living Lawrels, fade,
They fall—Oh Shame to Arms! A Woman's Martyr!
She is Aranes Right—There Justice bleeds,
And Reason flies the Field—my burning Blood
Governs without a Rein.
De Sale.
She's yours by Conquest, make your lawful Claim
By Heav'n and by your Sword.
Arv.
Th'impassive Mind can never be subdu'd
By human Force—However, yet I'll strive.
Women are changeable, and what to Day
They hate to Death, to Morrow they approve.
Time is the Nurse of Hope—Secure the Palace,
That no Attempt succeed for her Escape;
Then wait me in my Closet, your Advice
May guard against this Rebel in my Heart.
Extinguish Thought, or quench this burning Fire;
For when our Lusts against our Judgments rise,
The purple Tide within to wild Disorder flies;
The mighty Monarch's govern'd by the Croud,
And sacred Reason's rul'd by the licentious Blood.
[Exit.
De Sale.
I hate this Renegade, this Scepter'd Rogue:
And why? Because he is but half himself.
His Virtues share his Faults; ay, therefore 'tis,
Therefore my Eyes abhor him—Oh pale Envy,
Thou Vulture of the Liver, aid my Plot;
I have debauch'd Piracquo to my Interest,
And he some of his Favourite Knaves; the Mob
Are stirr'd with diligent and monstrous Lies,
Of Rapine and Injustice, Bugbear Laws
While stupidly he dreams thus sunk in Love,
He hears not of their Clamours.
Well, I shall taste of Sovereign Rule and Beauty,
For Zaida and his Throne shall both be mine.
Why, but he loves and trusts me—Therefore 'tis
I have the Means to ruin him—your trusted Friend
Holds in his Palm your Life—Besides, this Beauty
Employs him all; and therefore now I'll strike;
In this Lethargick Love-Fit steal his Crown,
And hurl the nodding Lumber from his Throne.
[Exit.
| The Successful Pyrate | |