John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  [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.

  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,

  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.

  Dutch. Let him prophecy when his head’s off.

  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.

  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,

  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.

  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!

  AURENG-ZEBE

  A TRAGEDY.

  — Sed, cum fregit subsellia versu,

  Esurit, intactam Paridi nisi vendat Agaven.

  Juv.

  “Aureng-Zebe,” or the Ornament of the Throne, for such is the interpretation of his name, was the last descendant of Timur, who enjoyed the plenitude of authority originally vested in the Emperor of India. His father, Sha-Jehan, had four sons, to each of whom he delegated the command of a province. Dara-Sha, the eldest, superintended the district of Delhi, and remained near his father’s person; Sultan-Sujah was governor of Bengal, Aureng-Zebe of the Decan, and Morat Bakshi of Guzerat. It happened, that Sha-Jehan being exhausted by the excesses of the Haram, a report of his death became current in the provinces, and proved the signal for insurrection and discord among his children. Morat Bakshi possessed himself of Surat, after a long siege, and Sultan-Sujah, having declared himself independent in Bengal, advanced as far as Lahor, with a large army. Dara-Sha, the legitimate successor of the crown, was the only son of Sha-Jehan, who preferred filial duty to the prospect of aggrandisement. He dispatched an army against Sultan-Sujah, checked his progress, and compelled him to retreat. But Aureng-Zebe, the third and most wily of the brethren, had united his forces to those of Morat Bakshi, and advancing against Dara-Sha, totally defeated him, and dissipated his army. Aureng-Zebe availed himself of the military reputation and treasures, acquired by his success, to seduce the forces of Morat Bakshi, whom he had pretended to assist, and, seizing upon his person at a banquet, imprisoned him in a strong fortress. Meanwhile, he advanced towards Agra, where his father had sought refuge, still affecting to believe that the old emperor was dead. The more pains Sha-Jehan took to contradict this report, the more obstinate was Aureng-Zebe in refusing to believe that he was still alive. And, although the emperor dispatched his most confidential servants to assure his dutiful son that he was yet in being, the incredulity of Aureng-Zebe could only be removed by a personal interview, the issue of which was Sha-Jehan’s imprisonment and speedy death. During these transactions Dara-Sha, who, after his defeat, had fled with his treasures to Lahor, again assembled an army, and advanced against the conqueror; but, being deserted by his allies, defeated by Aureng-Zebe, and betrayed by an Omrah, whom he trusted in his flight, he was delivered up to his brother, and by his command assassinated. Aureng-Zebe now assumed the throne, and advanced against Sultan-Sujah, his sole remaining brother; he seduced his chief commanders, routed the forces who remained faithful, and drove him out of Bengal into the Pagan countries adjacent, where, after several adventures, he perished miserably in the mountains. Aureng-Zebe also murdered one or two nephews, and a few other near relations; but, in expiation of his complicated crimes, renounced the use of flesh, fish, and wine, living only upon barley-bread vegetables, and confections, although scrupling no excesses by which he could extend and strengthen his usurped power.