Part 6
_Har._ You will grow a corpulent gentleman like me; I shall love you the better for it; now you are but a spare rib.
_Fisc._ These things are only offered to your choice; you may avoid your tortures, and confess.
_Col._ Kill us first; for that we know is your design at last, and 'tis more mercy now.
_Beam._ Be kind, and execute us while we bear the shapes of men, ere fire and water have destroyed our figures; let me go whole out of the world, I care not, and find my body when I rise again, so as I need not be ashamed of it.
_Har._ 'Tis well you are merry; will you yet confess?
_Beam._ Never.
_Har._ Bear them away to torture.
_Van. Her._ We will try your constancy.
_Beam._ We will shame your cruelty; if we deserve our tortures, 'tis first for freeing such an infamous nation, that ought to have been slaves, and then for trusting them as partners, who had cast off the yoke of their lawful sovereign.
_Har._ Away, I'll hear no more.--Now who comes the next? [_Exeunt the English with a Guard._
_Fisc._ Towerson's page, a ship-boy, and a woman.
_Har._ Call them in. [_Exit a Messenger._
_Van Her._ We shall have easy work with them.
_Fisc._ Not so easy as you imagine, they have endured the beverage already; all masters of their pain, no one confessing.
_Har._ The devil's in these English! those brave boys would prove stout topers if they lived.
_Enter Page, a Boy, and a Woman, led as from torture._
Come hither, ye perverse imps; they say you have endured the water torment, we will try what fire will do with you: You, sirrah, confess; were not you knowing of Towerson's plot, against this fort and island?
_Page._ I have told your hangman no, twelve times within this hour, when I was at the last gasp; and that is a time, I think, when a man should not dissemble.
_Har._ A man! mark you that now; you English boys have learnt a trick of late, of growing men betimes; and doing men's work, too, before you come to twenty.
_Van Her._ Sirrah, I will try if you are a salamander and can live in the fire.
_Page._ Sure you think my father got me of some Dutchwoman, and that I am but of a half-strain courage; but you shall find that I am all over English as well in fire as water.
_Boy._ Well, of all religions, I do not like your Dutch.
_Fisc._ No? and why, young stripling?
_Boy._ Because your penance comes before confession.
_Har._ Do you mock us, sirrah? To the fire with him.
_Boy._ Do so; all you shall get by it is this; before I answered no; now I'll be sullen and will talk no more.
_Har._ Best cutting off these little rogues betime; if they grow men, they will have the spirit of revenge in them.
_Page._ Yes, as your children have that of rebellion. Oh that I could but live to be governor here, to make your fat guts pledge me in that beverage I drunk, you Sir John Falstaff of Amsterdam!
_Boy._ I have a little brother in England, that I intend to appear to when you have killed me; and if he does not promise me the death of ten Dutchmen in the next war, I'll haunt him instead of you.
_Har._ What say you, woman? Have compassion of yourself, and confess; you are of a softer sex.
_Wom._ But of a courage full as manly; there is no sex in souls; would you have English wives shew less of bravery than their children do? To lie by an Englishman's side, is enough to give a woman resolution.
_Fisc._ Here is a hen of the game too, but we shall tame you in the fire.
_Wom._ My innocence shall there be tried like gold, till it come out the purer. When you have burnt me all into one wound, cram gunpowder into it, and blow me up, I'll not confess one word to shame my country.
_Har._ I think we have got here the mother of the Maccabees; away with them all three. [_Exeunt the English guarded._] I'll take the pains myself to see these tortured. [_Exeunt_ HARMAN, VAN HERRING, _and the two Dutchmen with the English: Manet_ FISCAL.
_Enter_ JULIA _to the_ FISCAL.
_Jul._ Oh you have ruined me! you have undone me, in the person of my husband!
_Fisc._ If he will needs forfeit his life to the laws, by joining with the English in a plot, it is not in me to save him; but, dearest Julia, be satisfied, you shall not want a husband.
_Jul._ Do you think I'll ever come into a bed with him, who robbed me of my dear sweet man?
_Fisc._ Dry up your tears; I am in earnest; I will marry you; i'faith I will; it is your destiny.
_Jul._ Nay if it be my destiny--but I vow I'll never be yours but upon one condition.
_Fisc._ Name your desire, and take it.
_Jul._ Then save poor Beamont's life.
_Fisc._ This is the most unkind request you could have made; it shews you love him better: therefore, in prudence, I should haste his death.
_Jul._ Come, I'll not be denied; you shall give me his life, or I'll not love you; by this kiss you shall, child.
_Fisc._ Pray ask some other thing.
_Jul._ I have your word for this, and if you break it, how shall I trust you for your marrying me?
_Fisc._ Well, I will do it to oblige you. But to prevent her new designs with him, I'll see him shipped away for England strait. [_Aside._
_Jul._ I may build upon your promise, then?
_Fisc._ Most firmly: I hear company.
_Enter_ HARMAN, VAN HERRING, _and the two Dutchmen, with_ TOWERSON _prisoner._
_Har._ Now, captain Towerson, you have had the privilege to be examined last; this on the score of my old friendship with you, though you have ill deserved it. But here you stand accused of no less crimes than robbery first, then murder, and last, treason: What can you say to clear yourself?
_Tow._ You're interested in all, and therefore partial: I have considered on it, and will not plead, Because I know you have no right to judge me; For the last treaty betwixt our king and you Expressly said, that causes criminal Were first to be examined, and then judged, Not here, but by the Council of Defence; To whom I make appeal.
_Fisc._ This court conceives that it has power to judge you, derived from the most high and mighty states, who in this island are supreme, and that as well in criminal as civil causes.
_1 Dutch._ You are not to question the authority of the court, which is to judge you.
_Tow._ Sir, by your favour, I both must, and will: I'll not so far betray my nation's right; We are not here your subjects, but your partners: And that supremacy of power, you claim, Extends but to the natives, not to us: Dare you, who in the British seas strike sail, Nay more, whose lives and freedom are our alms, Presume to sit and judge your benefactors? Your base new upstart commonwealth should blush, To doom the subjects of an English king, The meanest of whose merchants would disdain The narrow life, and the domestic baseness, Of one of those you call your Mighty States.
_Fisc._ You spend your breath in railing; speak to the purpose.
_Har._ Hold yet: Because you shall not call us cruel, Or plead I would be judge in my own cause, I shall accept of that appeal you make, Concerning my son's death; provided first, You clear yourself from what concerns the public; For that relating to our general safety, The judgment of it cannot be deferred, But with our common danger.
_Tow._ Let me first Be bold to question you: What circumstance Can make this, your pretended plot, seem likely? The natives, first, you tortured; their confession, Extorted so, can prove no crime in us. Consider, next, the strength of this your castle; Its garrison above two hundred men, Besides as many of your city burghers, All ready on the least alarm, or summons, To reinforce the others; for ten English, And merchants they, not soldiers, with the aid Of ten Japanners, all of them unarmed, Except five swords, and not so many muskets,-- The attempt had only been for fools or madmen.
_Fisc._ We cannot help your want of wit; proceed.
_Tow._ Grant then we had been desperate enough To hazard this; we must at least forecast, How to secure possession when we had it. We had no ship nor pinnace in the harbour, Nor could have aid from any factory: The nearest to us forty leagues from hence, And they but few in number: You, besides This fort, have yet three castles in this isle, Amply provided for, and eight tall ships Riding at anchor near; consider this, And think what all the world will judge of it.
_Har._ Nothing but falsehood is to be expected From such a tongue, whose heart is fouled with treason. Give him the beverage.
_Fisc._ 'Tis ready, sir.
_Har._ Hold; I have some reluctance to proceed To that extremity: He was my friend, And I would have him frankly to confess: Push open that prison door, and set before him The image of his pains in other men.
_The_ SCENE _opens, and discovers the English tortured, and the Dutch tormenting them._
_Fisc._ Now, sir, how does the object like you?
_Tow._ Are you men or devils! D'Alva, whom you Condemn for cruelty, did ne'er the like; He knew original villany was in your blood. Your fathers all are damned for their rebellion; When they rebelled, they were well used to this. These tortures ne'er were hatched in human breasts; But as your country lies confined on hell, Just on its marches, your black neighbours taught ye; And just such pains as you invent on earth, Hell has reserved for you.
_Har._ Are you yet moved?
_Tow._ But not as you would have me. I could weep tears of blood to view this usage; But you, as if not made of the same mould, See, with dry eyes, the miseries of men, As they were creatures of another kind, Not Christians, nor allies, nor partners with you, But as if beasts, transfixed on theatres, To make you cruel sport.
_Har._ These are but vulgar objects; bring his friend, Let him behold his tortures; shut that door. [_The Scene closed._
_Enter_ BEAMONT, _led with matches tied to his hands._
_Tow._ [_Embracing him._] Oh my dear friend, now I am truly wretched! Even in that part which is most sensible, My friendship: How have we lived to see the English name The scorn of these, the vilest of mankind!
_Beam._ Courage, my friend, and rather praise we heaven, That it has chose two, such as you and me, Who will not shame our country with our pains, But stand, like marble statues, in their fires, Scorched and defaced, perhaps, not melted down. So let them burn this tenement of earth; They can but burn me naked to my soul; That's of a nobler frame, and will stand firm, Upright, and unconsumed.
_Fisc._ Confess; if you have kindness, save your friend.
_Tow._ Yes, by my death I would, not my confession: He is so brave, he would not so be saved; But would renounce a friendship built on shame.
_Har._ Bring more candles, and burn him from the wrists up to the elbows.
_Beam._ Do; I'll enjoy the flames like Scævola; And, when one's roasted, give the other hand.
_Tow._ Let me embrace you while you are a man. Now you must lose that form; be parched and rivelled, Like a dried mummy, or dead malefactor, Exposed in chains, and blown about by winds.
_Beam._ Yet this I can endure. Go on, and weary out two elements; Vex fire and water with the experiments Of pains far worse than death.
_Tow._ Oh, let me take my turn! You will have double pleasure; I'm ashamed To be the only Englishman untortured.
_Van. Her._ You soon should have your wish, but that we know In him you suffer more.
_Har._ Fill me a brim-full glass: Now, captain, here's to all your countrymen; I wish your whole East India company Were in this room, that we might use them thus.
_Fisc._ They should have fires of cloves and cinnamon; We would cut down whole groves to honour them, And be at cost to burn them nobly.
_Beam._ Barbarous villains! now you show yourselves
_Har._ Boy, take that candle thence, and bring it hither; I am exalted, and would light my pipe Just where the wick is fed with English fat.
_Van Her._ So would I; oh, the tobacco tastes divinely after it.
_Tow._ We have friends in England, who would weep to see This acted on a theatre, which here You make your pastime.
_Beam._ Oh, that this flesh were turned a cake of ice, That I might in an instant melt away, And become nothing, to escape this torment! There is not cold enough in all the north To quench my burning blood. [FISCAL _whispers_ HARMAN.
_Har._ Do with Beamont as you please, so Towerson die.
_Fisc._ You'll not confess yet, captain?
_Tow._ Hangman, no; I would have don't before, if e'er I would: To do it when my friend has suffered this, Were to be less than he.
_Fisc._ Free him. [_They free_ BEAMONT. Beamont, I have not sworn you should not suffer. But that you should not die; thank Julia for it. But on your life do not delay this hour To post from hence! so to your next plantation; I cannot suffer a loved rival near me.
_Beam._ I almost question if I will receive My life from thee: 'Tis like a cure from witches; 'Twill leave a sin behind it.
_Fisc._ Nay, I'm not lavish of my courtesy; I can on easy terms resume my gift.
_Har._ Captain, you're a dead man; I'll spare your torture for your quality; prepare for execution instantly.
_Tow._ I am prepared.
_Fisc._ You die in charity, I hope?
_Tow._ I can forgive even thee: My innocence I need not name, you know it. One farewell kiss of my dear Isabinda, And all my business here on earth is done.
_Har._ Call her; she's at the door. [_Exit_ FISC.
_Tow._ [_To_ BEAM. _embracing._] A long and last farewell! I take my death With the more cheerfulness, because thou liv'st Behind me: Tell my friends, I died so as Became a Christian and a man; give to my brave Employers of the East India company, The last remembrance of my faithful service; Tell them, I seal that service with my blood; And, dying, wish to all their factories, And all the famous merchants of our isle, That wealth their generous industry deserves; But dare not hope it with Dutch partnership. Last, there's my heart, I give it in this kiss: [_Kisses him._ Do not answer me; friendship's a tender thing, And it would ill become me now to weep.
_Beam._ Adieu! if I would speak, I cannot-- [_Exit._
_Enter_ ISABINDA.
_Isab._ Is it permitted me to see your eyes Once more, before eternal night shall close them?
_Tow._ I summoned all I had of man to see you; 'Twas well the time allowed for it was short; I could not bear it long: 'Tis dangerous, And would divide my love 'twixt heaven and you. I therefore part in haste; think I am going A sudden journey, and have not the leisure To take a ceremonious long farewell.
_Isab._ Do you still love me?
_Tow._ Do not suppose I do; 'Tis for your ease, since you must stay behind me, To think I was unkind; you'll grieve the less.
_Har._ Though I suspect you joined in my son's murder, Yet, since it is not proved, you have your life.
_Isab._ I thank you for't, I'll make the noblest use Of your sad gift; that is, to die unforced: I'll make a present of my life to Towerson, To let you see, though worthless of his love, I would not live without him.
_Tow._ I charge you, love my memory, but live.
_Har._ She shall be strictly guarded from that violence She means against herself.
_Isab._ Vain men! there are so many paths to death, You cannot stop them all: o'er the green turf, Where my love's laid, there will I mourning sit, And draw no air but from the damps that rise Out of that hallowed earth; and for my diet, I mean my eyes alone shall feed my mouth. Thus will I live, till he in pity rise, And the pale shade take me in his cold arms, And lay me kindly by him in his grave.
_Enter_ COLLINS, _and then_ PEREZ, JULIA _following him._
_Har._ No more; your time's now come, you must away.
_Col._ Now, devils, you have done your worst with tortures; death's a privation of pain, but they were a continual dying.
_Jul._ Farewell, my dearest! I may have many husbands, But never one like thee.
_Per._ As you love my soul, take hence that woman.-- My English friends, I'm not ashamed of death, While I have you for partners; I know you innocent, And so am I, of this pretended plot; But I am guilty of a greater crime; For, being married in another country, The governor's persuasions, and my love To that ill woman, made me leave the first, And make this fatal choice. I'm justly punished; for her sake I die: The Fiscal, to enjoy her, has accused me. There is another cause; By his procurement I should have killed--
_Fisc._ Away with him, and stop his mouth. [_He is led off._
_Tow._ I leave thee, life, with no regret at parting; Full of whatever thou could'st give, I rise From thy neglected feast, and go to sleep: Yet, on this brink of death, my eyes are opened, And heaven has bid me prophecy to you, The unjust contrivers of this tragic scene:-- _An age is coming, when an English monarch With blood shall pay that blood which you have shed: To save your cities from victorious arms, You shall invite the waves to hide your earth[1], And, trembling, to the, tops of houses fly, While deluges invade your lower rooms: Then, as with waters you have swelled our bodies, With damps of waters shall your heads be swoln: Till, at the last, your sapped foundations fall, And universal ruin swallows all._ [_He is led out with the English; the Dutch remain._
_Van. Her._ Ay, ay, we'll venture both ourselves and children for such another pull.
_1 Dutch._ Let him prophecy when his head's off.
_2 Dutch._ There's ne'er a Nostradamus of them all shall fright us from our gain.
_Fisc._ Now for a smooth apology, and then a fawning letter to the king of England; and our work's done.
_Har._ 'Tis done as I would wish it: Now, brethren, at my proper cost and charges, Three days you are my guests; in which good time We will divide their greatest wealth by lots, While wantonly we raffle for the rest: Then, in full rummers, and with joyful hearts, We'll drink confusion to all English starts. [_Exeunt._
Footnote: 1. During the French invasion of 1672, the Dutch were obliged to adopt the desperate defence of cutting their dykes, and inundating the country.
EPILOGUE
A poet once the Spartans led to fight, And made them conquer in the muse's right; So would our poet lead you on this day, Showing your tortured fathers in his play. To one well-born the affront is worse, and more, When he's abused, and baffled by a boor: With an ill grace the Dutch their mischiefs do, They've both ill-nature and ill-manners too. Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation, For they were bred ere manners were in fashion; And their new commonwealth has set them free, Only from honour and civility. Venetians do not more uncouthly ride[1], Than did their lubber state mankind bestride; Their sway became them with as ill a mien, As their own paunches swell above their chin: Yet is their empire no true growth, but humour, And only two kings' touch can cure the tumour[2]. As Cato did his Afric fruits display, So we before your eyes their Indies lay: All loyal English will, like him, conclude, Let Cæsar live, and Carthage be subdued[3]!
Footnotes: 1. The situation of Venice renders it impossible to bring horses into the town; accordingly, the Venetians are proverbially bad riders.
2. The poet alludes to the king's evil, and to the joint war of France and England against Holland.
3. Allusions to Cato,--who presented to the Roman Senate the rich figs of Africa, and reminded them it was but three days sail to the country which produced such excellent fruit,--were fashionable during the Dutch war. The Lord Chancellor Shaftesbury had set the example, by applying to Holland the favourite maxim of the Roman philosopher, _Delenda est Carthago._ When that versatile statesman afterwards fled to Holland, he petitioned to be created a burgess of Amsterdam, to ensure him against being delivered up to England. The magistrates conferred on him the freedom desired, with the memorable words, "_Ab nostra Carthagine nondum deleta, salutem accipe._"
* * * * *
THE
STATE OF INNOCENCE,
AND
FALL OF MAN.
AN
OPERA.
--_Utinam modò dicere possem Carmina digna deâ: Certe est dea carmine digna._ OVID. MET.
THE STATE OF INNOCENCE, &c.
The "Paradise Lost" of Milton is a work so extraordinary in conception and execution, that it required a lapse of many years to reconcile the herd of readers, and of critics, to what was almost too sublime for ordinary understandings. The poets, in particular, seemed to have gazed on its excellencies, like the inferior animals on Dryden's immortal Hind; and, incapable of fully estimating a merit, which, in some degree, they could not help feeling, many were their absurd experiments to lower it to the standard of their own comprehension. One author, deeming the "Paradise Lost" deficient in harmony, was pleased painfully to turn it into rhyme; and more than one, conceiving the subject too serious to be treated in verse of any kind, employed their leisure in humbling it into prose. The names of these well-judging and considerate persons are preserved by Mr Todd in his edition of Milton's Poetical Works.