[9]MARINA.

SCENE I. A Grove, with a Proſpect of a calm Sea, near the City of Tharſus.

I'm determin'd.

I hope you're not offended.

Fear not, ſhe ne'er ſhall vex your quiet more.

That ſhe's nor well, nor gentle.

I'm ſorry for't. Is the wind weſterly?

South-weſt.

When I was born the wind was north.

And when was this?

Never. Come, ſay your prayers.

What do you mean?

Why will you kill me, Sir?

T' obey the Queen.

I'm not to reaſon of the deed, but do it.

Hold villain. Fear not, fair one, I'll de⯑fend thee.

A man, fool. Alexander the Great was no more. You are a poltron, a coward, and a raſcal, to draw cold iron on a woman.

A prize! A prize!

Half part, Mate, half part.

Hands off. I found her firſt.

That's no claim amongſt us.

No, none at all. Every man is to have his ſhare of all the prizes we take.

Nay, if you come to that, ſhe belongs to the whole ſhip's company.

Who denies that? But I will not quit my part in her to the Captain himſelf: ſink me if I do.

Nor I, by Neptune.

This is no place to diſpute in. We ſhall have the city riſe upon us: therefore we muſt have her aboard ſuddenly.

Ay; bear a hand, bear a hand.

Come, ſweet Lady.

None ſhall hurt you.

We'll loſe our lives before we'll ſee you wrong'd.

A rare prize, if a man cou'd have her to himſelf. A pox of all ill fortune, ſay I.

SCENE II. A Houſe in Epheſus.

Sad times, Bolt.

Ay, very ſad times, Miſtreſs.

This new order, ſo much talk'd of, for ſuppreſſing publick lewdneſs, will be the ruin of us. All our buſineſs will fall into private hands. I muſt ſhut up my doors, I muſt quit my houſe, unleſs we can find ſome way to evade it.

Whip Bawds and Panders! fine doings! rare Magiſtrates! Let 'em whip their own lubberly Sons and dough-bak'd Daughters for their idleneſs, and not puniſh people for their induſtry and ſervice to the publick.

Nay, nay, if they will turn iniquity out of the high-ways, they muſt expect to find it in their families. Let them keep their Wives and Daughters honeſt if they can. The neceſſities of Gentlemen muſt be ſupply'd.

There are abundance of foreign Merchants and Travellers here in Epheſus, that us'd to be our cuſtomers.

And old Batchelors.

And younger Brothers.

And diſconſolate Widowers.

And Huſbands that have old Wives.

And Philoſophers, Lawyers, and Soldiers that have none at all; and all theſe muſt be ſerv'd.

And will, while Women are to be had for money, love, or importunity.

Ay, let the Citizens, who ſpirited up this proſecution againſt our uſeful vocation, think of the conſequence, and tremble.

Yet, after all, theſe threats may come to nothing. You have weather'd many ſuch a ſtorm, Mother Coupler.

Ay, Bolt, I have had my ups and my downs— no Woman more— But I will not be diſ⯑courag'd, I will not neglect buſineſs for a rumour neither. The mart will fill the town, and we are but meanly furniſh'd.

Never worſe. Three poor wenches are all our ſtore, and they can do no more than they can.

Thou ſay'ſt true. And thoſe ſo ſtale, ſo ſunk, and ſo diſeas'd, that a ſtrong wind would blow 'em all to pieces. I muſt have others, whatever they coſt me.

Shall I ſearch the ſlave market?

Thoſe we buy there, are moſtly half worn out before we have them. There was the little Tranſilvanian you bought laſt, did not live above three months, and never brought in half the money ſhe coſt.

Ay, ſhe was quickly made meat for worms. But there are loſſes in all trades, and ours not being honeſt —

Marry come up; I pray, what trades are honeſt, as they are us'd? We are no worſe than others.

Where's Mother Coupler? Where are you, Bawd?

Why, how now, Roiſter? How now, Captain Thief? Uſe your Tarpaulin language to thy own natural Mother; do, Brawn and Briſtle, do, Iron face.

Let any one be judge, whether my chin, ſomewhat black and rough I muſt confeſs, or thine, that's cover'd with grey down, like a gooſe's rump, be the more comely. Thy face is a memento mori for thy own ſex, and to ours an antidote againſt the ſin you live by. But, ſee what we have brought you: Here's a Paragon.

Mark the colour of her hair, complection, ſhape and age.

I have noted them all. When Nature form'd this piece, ſhe meant me a good turn.

Here's that will repair your decay'd arras, and ſet you up for a Bawd of condition.

I was juſt ſaying, what ſtale, worn out creatures are daily brought to market; and thoſe who buy of Pirates, muſt expect as bad, or worſe: And then I have choice enough, and thoſe not blown on.

Nay, nay, uſe your pleaſure: You have the firſt proffer of her. If ſhe's not for your turn, there's no harm done: She's any one's money.

You don't conſider the dulneſs of the times. If men were as they have been —

A virgin too.

A likely matter, coming from the hands of ſuch a lawleſs crew!

You are deceived. We have laws amongſt our ſelves, or I would not have parted with her. However we are diſtinguiſh'd by titles and office, each man hath a right to his proportion of every prize we take; which all claiming on the ſight of her, and refuſing to compound with, or give place to any other, there enſued ſuch jealouſy, ſuch fury and contention, that we were obliged, by com⯑mon conſent, to leave her untouch'd, and diſpoſe of her, as ſoon as poſſible, to prevent the cutting of one anothers throats.

Well, what's your price?

What do you mean ready rigg'd? She has excellent cloaths you ſee.

If I deal for her, I take her altogether.

I won't bate one doit of a thouſand pieces.

What ſhall I give you for your conſcience, Valdes?

Your honeſty, Mother Coupler: We won't differ for a trifle.

Five hundred pieces, Sir!

Four times told, Madam.

Why, what the Devil, you ſaid but a thouſand e'en now.

I thought you cou'dn't hear but by halves, and was willing to come up to your underſtanding.

You'll ſtand haggling till you loſe her.

Look you, I am at a word. But for the reaſon I juſt now ſpoke of, you ſhou'd not have had her for twice the ſum.

Follow me, and you ſhall have your mo⯑ney. Bolt, take care of my purchaſe.

Never fear, Miſtreſs, never fear.

Immortal Gods! to what am I reſerv'd?

Come hither, child. You are but young, and may want ſome inſtructions. Tho' ſhe who has bought you, your Miſtreſs and mine, knows as much as a woman can know; yet there's nothing like a man to teach you the practical part of buſi⯑neſs, take my word for it.

What are you, Sir?

A middle aged perſon, as you ſee; and in perfect health, that you may depend upon.

Is your mind ſound?

She's mighty ſimple. Ay, ay, as ſound as my body.

The Gods preſerve it ſo. Yet you talk ſtrangely.

I thank you heartily for your good wiſhes. Nay, I am the principal perſon in this family, after our Miſtreſs: It may be well worth your while to make a friend of me.

I know not, but am ſure I want a friend. I am of maids moſt wretched.

I'll quickly eaſe you of the wretchedneſs of being a maid. Yet you muſt paſs for one, and often.

I underſtand you not.

Such things are common here. But of that, and other needful arts in our profeſſion, my Miſtreſs will inform you.

Not to be touch'd! Ha, ha, in troth a pret⯑ty jeſt, and will do rarely with ſome young gulls. To ſeem moſt fearful when you are moſt willing, and weep as you do now, will move the pity of your Inamoratos, and ſtrain their purſes to ſhower down gold upon you. Your ſtriving will not ſave you: This is no place for ſqueamiſh modeſty: We live by lewdneſs here, and you were bought to car⯑ry on the trade.

Hence, thou deteſted ſlave, thou ſhame⯑leſs villain.

You powers that favour chaſtity, defend me.

Why how now? what's the matter here? what have you been doing with her?

Nothing, Miſtreſs, and I am afraid there is nothing to be done with her. She fights like a ſhe Tyger.

Out, you raſcal. Is this a morſel for your chaps?

Why not? Do you think I'll ſerve up a delicate diſh without taſting it?

In your turn, ſirrah, in your turn. Let your betters be ſerv'd before you.

Ay, but a bit of the ſpit, you know—

About your buſineſs, and let Gentlemen know how we are provided for their entertainment.

Don't cry, pretty one: He ſhall be made to know his diſtance, and his time. While [21] you behave diſcreetly, child, you ſhall be reſerv'd for the better ſort of men only. You are fallen into good hands, depend upon it.

Come, come, my roſe-bud, my ſprig of Jeſſamin, you are all beauty and ſweetneſs— you have no cauſe to grieve— Heaven has done its part by you.

I accuſe not Heaven.

Here you may live, and ſhall.

And live with pleaſure.

No.

You ſhall not want variety: you ſhall have men, and men of all complexions.

Are you a woman?

A woman! pray, what do you take me for, Madam? I have been thought a woman, and an handſome woman in my time.

O the Devil!

And modeſt, and religious.

You're a ſapling to talk ſo to one of my experience. Honeſt, modeſt, and religious, with a pox to you! I'll make you know, before I've done [22] with you, that I won't have any ſuch thing menti⯑on'd in my houſe.

The gracious Gods defend me.

What, do you offer to ſay your prayers in my hearing! Is this a place to pray in? Don't provoke me, don't. I find I ſhall have ſomething to do with you. But you ſhall bend or break, I can tell you that for your comfort.

Miſtreſs, here's the lean French Knight, he that cowers in the hams, and the fat German Count.

In good time. Here, take this ſtubborn fool, and carry her to them.

To which of them?

To him that will give moſt firſt, and to the other afterwards. She coſt me a round ſum, but don't refuſe money. Her bluſhes muſt be quench'd with preſent practice: She's good for nothing as ſhe is.

Diana, aid my purpoſe.

Come your ways. What have we to do with Diana?

Ay, troop, follow your Leader. We'll teach you honeſty, modeſty, and religion with a vengeance.

SCENE I. An Apartment adjoining to a Temple at the Court of Tharſus.

I deſerve them both.

What! wed a murtherer!

O woful, woful hour! Where ſhall we go?

Hah!

You come too late: The ſlave has pierc'd my heart.

Tear out his tongue, let not the traytor ſpeak.

It need not, Madam; he has ſpoke his laſt.

SCENE II. A Houſe in Epheſus.

Where are the Gentlemen?

Gone.

Gone!

Ay, gone away, and left her untouch'd. With her holy ſpeeches, kneeling, prayers, and tears, ſhe has converted 'em to chaſtity.

The Devil ſhe has!

They vow never to enter a bawdy-houſe again, but turn religious, and frequent the Tem⯑ples: They are gone to hear the Veſtals ſing al⯑ready.

What will become of me? O the wicked jade, to ſtudy the ruin of a poor Gentlewoman!

I'd rather than twice the worth of her ſhe had never come here.

She's enough to undo all the Panders and Bawds in Epheſus.

Pox of her green ſickneſs.

Ay, if ſhe wou'd but change one for the other, there were ſome hopes of her. But I have good intelligence that the Lord Lyſimachus will be here preſently.

The Governor?

Ay, but he's a great perſecutor of perſons of our profeſſion.

Pho, thoſe are our beſt cuſtomers and ſu⯑reſt friends in private. If the peeviſh baggage wou'd but hear reaſon now, we were made for ever. Fetch her. We'll try once more.

She muſt be marble if ſhe don't melt at the ſight of [33] ſo great, ſo rich, ſo young and handſome a man as the Lord Lyſimachus.

I'm proud to ſee your Lordſhip here, and glad your honour is ſo chearfully diſpos'd. Venus forbid a Gentleman ſhou'd receive an injury in my houſe. No, Sir, we defy the Surgeons. And for temptation, I have ſuch an one, if ſhe would but—

Prythee, what?

Your Honour knows what I mean well enough.

Well, let me ſee her.

Such fleſh and blood, Sir!— For red and white— Well, you ſhall ſee a flower, and a flower ſhe were indeed, had ſhe but—

Why doſt not ſpeak? What is there want⯑ing in her?

O, Sir, I can be modeſt.

I pray your Honour let me have a word with her: I'll have done preſently.

Do, I beſeech you.

Firſt I wou'd have you take notice that this is a man of Honour.

Grant, Heav'n, I find him ſo!

And next, that he's a great man and Gover⯑nor of this country; and laſtly, one I'm bound to.

Pray uſe him kindly, or—

Have you yet done?

I'm afraid your Lordſhip muſt take ſome pains with her, but there's nothing to be done with theſe unexperienc'd things without it. Come, we'll leave his Honour and her together.

What courſe d'ye mean, my Lord?

I cannot be offended at the truth.

How long have you been what you now pro⯑feſs?

E'er ſince I can remember.

I ne'er was other—if I am ſo now.

Dare not come near me.

Then view my laſt defence.

What doſt thou mean!

I beſeech your Honour, one piece for me.

I ſee we muſt take another courſe with you; or your peeviſh chaſtity, which is not worth a break⯑faſt in the cheapeſt country in the univerſe, will un⯑do a whole family. Come your ways.

How now! what's the matter?

Worſe and worſe, Miſtreſs. She has been talking religion to my Lord Lyſimachus.

O abominable!

She makes our profeſſion ſtink, as it were, in the noſtrels of all who come near her.

Marry hang her.

My Lord wou'd have us'd her as a Lord ſhou'd uſe a gentlewoman, for I over heard 'em; but ſhe ſent him away as cold as a ſnow-ball; ſaying his Prayers too.

Take her away: uſe her at your pleaſure.

Hark, hark, you Gods!

Come, miſtreſs, you ſhall along with me.

O wither wou'd you have me?

Into the next room, to take from you by force the jewel you are ſo unwilling to part with.

Pray tell me one thing firſt.

Propoſe your Queſtion.

What wou'd you wiſh to your worſt enemies?

Why I wou'd wiſh 'em as infamous as my miſtreſs.

What wou'd you have me do? Go to the wars! Where a man may ſerve ſeven years for the loſs of a leg, and not have money enough in the end to buy him a wooden one.

Nay, I don't ſee why a man mayn't as well do a good deed as a bad one, eſpecially when he's paid for it. And to ſay the truth, I think you wou'd freeze the blood of a Satyr, and make a Pu⯑ritan of the Devil, if they were to cheapen a kiſs of thee. Come, give me the money.

No, firſt conduct me to ſome place of ſafety.

But ſhall I have it then?

Well, I'll truſt you. I'll ſee you plac'd—

But among honeſt women.

Troth, I've but little acquaintance amongſt them. But there is one who is known to all Epheſus by fame, the holy prieſteſs of Diana's temple: She will be proud of ſuch a chaſte companion, and has beſides the power to protect you.

O the good Gods direct me how to find her!

But, hark, I hear my miſtreſs. We muſt be gone: This way we may avoid her.

Bolt, Bolt, Where are you? Secure Ma⯑rina. The Governor's officers are ſearching the [41] houſe for her: we ſhall have her forc'd away. Why Bolt—O the Devil! the back door is open: The villain is run away with my ſlave, and all the mo⯑ney I paid for her will be loſt.

She's no where to be found.

No, no, ſhe's gone. My man had ſtole her away before you came, a pox confound him and you too: I am likely to be brought to a fine paſs betwixt you.

Then we muſt execute our other orders, which are to turn this Beldame out of doors, and then ſhut up the houſe.

Turn me out of doors! how muſt I live?

Do you take care of that. It is a favour, and a great one too, that you are not ſent to priſon.

Such Governors are enough to make a woman do what ſhe never thought of.

Ay, do— work— that's what I dare be ſworn you never thought of.

No, nor ever will. A Gentlewoman, and work! I'll ſee you all hang'd firſt.

Chuſe, and be hang'd your ſelf: You have long deſerv'd it.

Have I ſo, ſcoundrel? And yet you have been glad of a caſt of my office before now. While ſuch as you are truſted with authority, as ſure as thieves are honeſt, ſtrumpets chaſte,

SCENE I. A Street in Epheſus.

IF I could but recover Marina, and make her pliable, I ſhou'd do very well ſtill: I cou'd make an handſome living of her in any ground in Aſia.

Hah, Mother Coupler! How is it with thee, old fleſh-monger? thou quondam retailer of ſtale carrion, and propagator of diſeaſes. What, quite broke! no private practice!— I know you hate to be idle— Though your houſe is ſhut up, you have ſome properties, I hope. Why, you'll make a good ſtroling bawd ſtill. What never a new vamped up wench, juſt come out of an hoſpital, to accommodate a friend with?

Villain, traitor, thief, runaway, how dare you look me in the face?

I am too well acquainted with your face to be afraid of it— ugly as it is.

You have the impudence of old Nick.

Then I did not converſe with you ſo long without learning ſomething.

You ſeduced my ſlave.

That's a lye; for ſhe ſeduced me.

You deſerve to be hang'd for robbing me of my property. What have you done with her?

If I had done with her what you wou'd have had me, we ſhou'd both have been hang'd: So take the matter right, and you are oblig'd to me.

Not at all: For though it happen'd as you ſay, you intended me no good.

And pray whom did you ever intend any good to?

Where have you put Marina?

No where: She was taken from me before we had gone the length of the ſtreet by the Gover⯑nor's ſervants.

This is your praying Lord, plague rot him for a cheating hypocrite. And ſo after all my coſt and pains about her to no manner of purpoſe, he has her for nothing.

No, he has n't her neither.

That's ſome comfort yet: Then perhaps I may have her again.

When ſhe turns ſtrumpet, and you repent.

Where is ſhe?

Where the air is as diſagreeable to a bawd, as the air of a bawdy-houſe is to her— in the Tem⯑ple of Diana.

I'm a ruin'd woman.

You can never be long at a loſs for a living: It is but removing your quarters, and beginning your trade again where you are n't known— if you can find ſuch a place.

You're a ſneering raſcal. But I hope you did not let Marina go off with the money the Go⯑vernor gave her?

No, no, I took care to lighten her of that burthen.

And where is it?

Very ſafe, very ſafe.

Why, you don't intend to cheat me of that too?

I don't well underſtand what you mean by cheating, but am ſure I ſhou'd deceive you moſt egregiouſly if I were to part with a ſingle ſtiver. No, no, I ſhall take care of my ſelf: I ſhall keep what I have got, depend upon it.

But what a conſcience muſt you have in the mean time!

Don't you and I know one another, Mo⯑ther Coupler? Meaſure my conſcience exactly by your own, and you'll find its dimenſions to the breadth of a hair.

If I ben't reveng'd, may I die of the pip without the comfort of an hoſpital to hide my ſhame and miſery from the world.

Or the pleaſure of deſerving it.

SCENE II. The Temple of Diana, with her ſtatue and altar. Near them Thaiſa is diſcover'd, ſleeping; two Prieſteſſes attending, who come forward.

Sleeps the high Prieſteſs yet?

You muſt have known her long?

'Tis ſtrange none e'er diſcover'd who ſhe is.

O Pericles!

Did ſhe not ſpeak? Attend.

Madam, How fare you?

Cou'd our beſt ſervice help you, we were happy.

The Gods forbid.

'Twas wond'rous ſtrange.

He's ever welcome.

I wiſh I knew.

That he have his: I pray you greet him fairly.

Hail, reverend Sir: The gracious Gods pre⯑ſerve you.

You greet me well.

And may ſhe prove propitious.

Upon what ground is his diſtemperance?

Good Sir, all hail: The Gods preſerve you, hail.

Say, we wiſh to ſee her.

She's a gallant Lady.

Mark, ſhe will try the force of muſick firſt.

[51]

Mark'd he your muſick?

No, nor look'd upon me.

She'll ſpeak to him.

I am what I appear, a ſimple Maid.

My name, Sir, is Marina.

I will, I will have patience.

That name was giv'n me by a King and Father.

How! a King's daughter too! and call'd Marina!

'Twere beſt I did give o'er.

But one thing more: Tell me, who was thy mother?

She was the daughter of the King of Cyprus.

O let me hear the reſt.

My royal Father!—

What! ho! help here: The holy Prieſteſs dies.

The heav'nly pow'rs forbid.

I pray who is this Lady?

Hark, what muſick's that?

Where, O where's my Lord?

Thaiſa's voice!

But dare we truſt?—

Hail, royal maſter.

Happy monarch, hail.