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

      My pious work. Now if this juyce hath power,

      Let it appear; his eyelids ope: Prodigious!

      Two Suns break from these Orbes.

      Alb. Ha, Where am I? What new vision's this?

      To what Goddess do I owe this second life?

      Sure thou art more than mortal:

      And any Sacrifice of thanks or duty

      In poor and wretched man to pay, comes short

      Of your immortal bounty: but to shew

      I am not unthankful, th[u]s in humility

      I kiss the happy ground you have made sacred,

      By bearing of your weight.

      Cla. No Goddess, friend: but made

      Of that same brittle mould as you are;

      One too acquainted with calamities,

      And from that apt to pity. Charity ever

      Finds in the act reward, and needs no Trumpet

      In the receiver. O forbear this duty;

      I have a hand to meet with yours,

      And lips to bid yours welcome.

      Cro. I see, that by instinct,

      Though a young Maid hath never seen a Man,

      Touches have titillations, and inform her.

      But here's our Governess;

      Now I expect a storme.

      Ros. Child of my flesh,

      And not of my fair unspotted mind,

      Un-hand this Monster.

      Cla. Monster, Mother?

      Ros. Yes; and every word he speaks, a Syrens note,

      To drown the careless hearer. Have I not taught thee

      The falshood and the perjuries of Men?

      On whom, but for a woman to shew pity,

      Is to be cruel to her self; the Soveraignty

      Proud and imperious men usurp upon us,

      We conferr on our selves, and love those fetters

      We fasten to our freedomes. Have we, Clarinda,

      Since thy fathers wrack, sought liberty,

      To lose it un-compel'd? Did fortune guide,

      Or rather destiny, our Barke, to which

      We could appoint no Port, to this blest place,

      Inhabited heretofore by warlike women,

      That kept men in subjection? Did we then,

      By their example, after we had lost

      All we could love in man, here plant our selves,

      With execrable oaths never to look

      On man, but as a Monster? and, Wilt thou

      Be the first president to infringe those vows

      We made to Heaven?

      Cla. Hear me; and hear me with justice.

      And as ye are delighted in the name

      Of Mother, hear a daughter that would be like you.

      Should all Women use this obstinate abstinence,

      You would force upon us; in a few years

      The whole World would be peopled

      Onely with Beasts.

      Hip. We must, and will have Men.

      Cro. I, or wee'll shake off all obedience.

      Ros. Are ye mad?

      Can no perswasion alter ye? suppose

      You had my suffrage to your sute;

      Can this Shipwrackt wretch supply them all?

      Alb. Hear me great Lady!

      I have fellowes in my misery, not far hence,

      Divided only by this hellish River,

      There live a company of wretched Men,

      Such as your charity may make your slaves;

      Imagine all the miseries mankind

      May suffer under: and they groan beneath 'em.

      Cla. But are they like to you?

      Jul. Speak they your Language?

      Cro. Are they able, lusty men?

      Alb. They were good, Ladies;

      And in their May of youth of gentle blood,

      And such as may deserve ye; now cold and hunger

      Hath lessen'd their perfection: but restor'd

      To what they were, I doubt not they'll appear

      Worthy your favors.

      Jul. This is a blessing

      We durst not hope for.

      Cla. Dear Mother, be not obdurate.

      Ros. Hear then my resolution: and labor not

      To add to what I'll grant, for 'twill be fruitless,

      You shall appear as good Angels to these wretched Men;

      In a small Boat wee'll pass o'er to 'em;

      And bring 'em comfort: if you like their persons,

      And they approve of yours: for wee'll force nothing;

      And since we want ceremonies,

      Each one shall choose a husband, and injoy

      His company a Month, but that expir'd,

      You shall no more come near 'em; if you prove fruitful,

      The Males ye shall return to them, the Females

      We will reserve our selves: this is the utmost,

      Ye shall e'er obtain: as ye think fit;

      Ye may dismiss this stranger,

      And prepare to morrow for the journey.

      Cla. Come, Sir, Will ye walk?

      We will shew ye our pleasant Bowers,

      And something ye shall find to cheer your heart.

      Alb. Excellent Lady;

      Though 'twill appear a wonder one near starv'd

      Should refuse rest and meat, I must not take

      Your noble offer: I left in yonder desart

      A Virgin almost pin'd.

      Cla. Shee's not your Wife?

      Alb.