Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9. Beaumont Francis
True, we were bound ye all know,
For happy places, and most fertile Islands,
Where we had constant promises of all things,
She turn'd the Captains mind,
And must have him go in search, I know not of who,
Nor to what end: of such a fool her brother,
And such a coxcomb her kinsman, and we must put in every where,
She has put us in now yfaith.
Lam. Why should we consume thus, and starve,
Have nothing to relieve us;
And she live there that bred all our miseries,
Unrosted, or unsod?
Mor. I have read in stories.
Lam. Of such restoring meates,
We have examples;
Thousand examples, and allow'd for excellent;
Women that have eate their Children,
Men their slaves, nay their brothers: but these are nothing;
Husbands devoured their Wives: (th[ey] are their Chattels,)
And of a Schoolmaster, that in a time of famine,
Powdered up all his Scholars.
Mor. Shee's young and tydie,
In my conscience she'll eat delicately;
Just like young Pork a little lean,
Your opinion Surgeon.
Sur. I think she may be made good meat,
But look we shall want Salt.
Fran. Tush, she needs no powdering.
Sur. I grant ye;
But to suck out the humorous parts: by all means,
Lets kill her in a chafe, she'll eat the sweeter.
Lam. Let's kill her any way: and kill her quickly,
That we might be at our meat.
Sur. How if the Captain?
Mor. Talk not of him, he's dead, and the rest famish'd.
Wake her Surgeon, and cut her throat,
And then divide her, every Man his share.
Fran. She wakes her self.
Amin. Holy and good things keep me!
What cruel dreams have I had! Who are these?
O they are my friends; for heavens sake Gentlemen
Give me some food to save my life: if ye have ought to spare;
A little to relieve me: I may bless ye;
For weak and wretched, ready to perish,
Even now I die.
Mor. You'll save a labor then,
You bred these miseries, and you shall pay for't;
We have no meat, nor where to have we know not,
Nor how to pull our selves from these afflictions,
We are starv'd too, famisht, all our hopes deluded;
Yet ere we die thus, wee'll have one dainty meal.
Amin. Shall I be with ye Gentlemen?
Lam. Yes mary shall ye: in our bellies Lady.
We love you well —
Amin. What said you Sir?
Lam. Mary wee'll eat your Ladiship.
Fran. You that have buried us in this base Island,
Wee'll bury ye in a more noble Monument.
Sur. Will ye say your prayers, that I may perform Lady?
We are wondrous sharp set; come Gentlemen,
Who are for the hinder parts?
Mor. I.
Fran. I.
Lam. And I.
Sur. Be patient;
They will not fall to every Man's share.
Amin. O hear me;
Hear me ye barbarous men.
Mor. Be short and pithy,
Our stomachs cannot stay a long discourse.
Sur. And be not fearful,
For I'll kill ye daintily.
Amin. Are ye not Christians?
Lam. Why, do not Christians eat Women?
Amin. Eat one another? 'tis most impious.
Sur. Come, come.
Amin. Oh, help, help, help.
Tib. The Ladies voice! stand off slaves,
What do you intend villains?
I have strength enough left me, if you abuse this soul,
To —
Ma. They would have ravisht her upon my life,
Speak, how was it Lady?
Amin. Forgive 'em, 'twas their hungers.
Tib. Ha, their hungers!
Ma. They would have eaten her.
Tib. O dam'd villains; speak, Is it true?
Sur. I confess an appetite.
Tib. An appetite, I'll fit ye for an appetite.
Are ye so sharp set, that her flesh must serve you?
Murther's a main good service with your Worships;
Since ye would be such Devils,
Why did you not begin with one another handsomly,
And spare the Woman to beget more food on?
Amin. Good Sir.
Tib. You shall grow mummy rascals;
I'll make you fall to your brawns, and your buttocks,
And worry one another like keen bandogs.
Amin. Good Sir be merciful.
Tib. You shall know what 'tis to be damn'd, Canibals.
Amin. O my best friend!
Al. Alas poor heart! here,
Here's some meat and sovereign drink to ease you,
Sit down gentle Sweet.
Amin. I am blest to see you.
Tib. Stir not within forty foot of this food,
If you do dogs!
All. Oh, Captain, Captain, Captain.
Alb. Ye shall have meat all of you.
Tib. Captain, hear me first: hark,
'Tis