Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9. Beaumont Francis

flie this desart;

      No airy Fowl dares make his flight over it,

      It is so ominous.

      Serpents, and ugly things, the shames of nature,

      Roots of malignant tasts, foul standing waters;

      Sometimes we find a fulsome Sea-root,

      And that's a delicate: a Rat sometimes,

      And that we hunt like Princes in their pleasure;

      And when we take a Toad, we make a Banquet.

      Amint. For heavens sake let's aboard.

      Alb. D'ye know no farther?

      Nicu. Yes, we have sometimes seen the shadow of a place inhabited;

      And heard the noise of hunters;

      And have attempted [t]o find it, [s]o far as a River,

      Deep, slow, and dangerous, fenced with high Rocks,

      We have gone; but not able to atchieve that hazard,

      Return to our old miseries.

      If this sad story may deserve your pities.

      Alb. Ye shall aboard with us, we will relieve your miseries:

      Sebast. Nor will we be unthankful for this benefit,

      No Gentlemen, we'll pay for our deliverance;

      Look ye that plough the Seas for wealth and pleasures,

      That out-run day and night with your ambitions,

      Look on those heaps, they seem hard ragged quarries;

      Remove 'em, and view 'em fully.

      Mast. Oh heaven, they are Gold and Jewels.

      Sebast. Be not too hasty, here lies another heap.

      Moril. And here another,

      All perfect Gold.

      Alb. Stand farther off, you must not be your own carvers.

      Lam. We have shares, and deep ones.

      Fran. Yes Sir, we'll maintain't: ho fellow Sailors.

      Lam. Stand all to your freedoms;

      I'll have all this.

      Fran. And I this.

      Tib. You shall be hang'd first.

      Lam. My losses shall be made good.

      Fran. So shall mine, or with my sword I'll do't;

      All that will share with us, assist us.

      Tib. Captain, let's set in.

      Alb. This money will undo us, undo us all:

      Sebast. This Gold was the overthrow of my happiness;

      I had command too, when I landed here,

      And lead young, high, and noble spirits under me,

      This cursed Gold enticing 'em, they set upon their Captain,

      On me that own'd this wealth, and this poor Gentleman,

      Gave us no few wounds, forc'd us from our own;

      And then their civil swords, who should be owners,

      And who Lords over all, turn'd against their own lives,

      First in their rage, consum'd the Ship,

      That poor part of the Ship that scap'd the first wrack,

      Next their lives by heaps; Oh be you wise and careful:

      Lam. We'll ha' more: sirrah, come shew it.

      Fran. Or ten times worse afflictions than thou speak'st of.

      Alb. Nay, and ye will be dogs.

[Beats 'em out.

      Tib. Let me come, Captain:

      This Golden age must have an Iron ending.

      Have at the bunch.

[He beats 'em off. Exit.

      Amint. Oh Albert; Oh Gentlemen, Oh Friends.

[Exit.

      Sebast. Come noble Nephew, if we stay here, we dye,

      Here rides their Ship, yet all are gone to th' spoil,

      Let's make a quick use.

      Nicus. Away dear Uncle.

      Sebast. This Gold was our overthrow.

[Exit.

      Nicus. It may now be our happiness.

Enter Tibalt and the rest

      Tib. You shall have Gold: yes, I'll cram it int'ye;

      You shall be your own carvers; yes, I'll carve ye.

      Morill. I am sore, I pray hear reason:

      Tib. I'll hear none.

      Covetous base minds have no reason;

      I am hurt my self; but whilst I have a leg left,

      I will so haunt your gilded souls; how d'ye Captain?

      Ye bleed apace, curse on the causers on't;

      Ye do not faint?

      Alb. No, no; I am not so happy.

      Tib. D'ye howl, nay, ye deserve it:

      Base greedy rogues; come, shall we make an end of 'em?

      Alb. They are our Countrey-men, for heavens sake spare 'em.

      Alas, they are hurt enough, and they relent now.

[Aminta above.

      Aminta. Oh Captain, Captain.

      Alb. Whose voice is that?

      Tib. The Ladies.

      Amint. Look Captain, look; ye are undone: poor Captain,

      We are all undone, all, all: we are all miserable,

      Mad wilful men; ye are undone, your Ship, your Ship.

      Alb. What of her?

      Amint. She's under sail, and floating;

      See where she flies: see to your shames, you wretches:

      These poor starv'd things that shew'd you Gold.

[Lam. and Franvile goes up to see the Ship.

      1 Sail. They have cut the Cables,

      And got her out; the Tide too has befriended 'em.

      Mast. Where are the Sailors that kept her?

      Boats. Here, here [in] the mutiny, to take up money,

      And left no creature, left the Boat ashore too;

      This Gold, this damn'd enticing Gold.

      2 Sail. How the wind drives her,

      As if it vied to force her from our furies!

      Lam. Come back good old men:

      Fran. Good honest men, come back.

      Tib. The wind's against ye, speak louder.

      Lam. Ye shall have all your Gold again: