Nicu. What may that be

      That moves upon the Lake?

      Sebast. Still it draws nearer,

      And now I plainly can discern it.

      'Tis the French Ship.

      Nicu. In it a woman,

      Who seems to invite us to her.

      Sebast. Still she calls with signs of Love to hasten to her;

      So lovely hope doth still appear:

      I feel nor age, nor weakness.

      Nicu. Though it bring death,

      To us 'tis comfort: and deserves a meeting.

      Or else fortune tyr'd with what we have suffer'd,

      And in it overcome, as it may be,

      Now sets a period to our misery.

      Ray. What dreadful sounds are these?

      Amint. Infernal Musick,

      Fit for a bloody Feast.

      Alb. It seems prepar'd

      To kill our courages e'r they divorce

      Our souls and bodies.

      Ray. But they that fearless fall,

      Deprive them of their triumph.

      Amin. See the furies,

      In their full trym of cruelty.

      Ros. 'Tis the last

      Duty that I can pay to my dead Lord,

      Set out the Altar, I my self will be

      The Priest, and boldly do those horrid Rites

      You shake to think on, lead these Captains nearer,

      For they shall have the honor to fall first

      To my Sebastian's ashes: and now wretches,

      As I am taught already, that you are,

      And lately by your free confession,

      French Pirats, and the sons of those I hate,

      Even equal with the devil; hear with horror,

      What 'tis invites me to this cruel course,

      And what you are to suffer, no Amazons we,

      But women of Portugal that must have from you

      Sebastian and Nicusa; we are they

      That groan'd beneath your fathers wrongs:

      We are those wretched women,

      Their injuries pursu'd, and overtook;

      And from the sad remembrance of our losses

      We are taught to be cruel; when we were forc'd

      From that sweet air we breathed in, by their rapine,

      And sought a place of being; as the Seas

      And Winds conspir'd with their ill purposes,

      To load us with afflictions in a storm

      That fell upon us; the two ships that brought us,

      To seek new fortunes in an unknown world

      Were severed: the one bore all the able men,

      Our Treasure and our Jewels: in the other,

      We Women were embarqu'd: and fell upon,

      After long tossing in the troubled main,

      This pleasant Island: but in few months,

      The men that did conduct us hither, died,

      We long before had given our Husbands lost:

      Remembring what we had suff'red by the French

      We took a solemn Oath, never to admit

      The curs'd society of men: necessity

      Taught us those Arts, not usual to our Sex,

      And the fertile Earth yielding abundance to us,

      We did resolve, thus shap'd like Amazons

      To end our lives; but when you arriv'd here,

      And brought as presents to us, our own Jewels;

      Those which were boorn in the other Ship,

      How can ye hope to scape our vengeance?

      Amint. It boots not then to swear our innocence?

      Alb. Or that we never forc'd it from the owners?

      Ray. Or that there are a remnant of that wrack,

      And not far off?

      Ros. All you affirm, I know,

      Is but to win time; therefore prepare your throats,

      The world shall not redeem ye: and that your cries

      May find no entrance to our ears,

      To move pity in any: bid loud Musick sound

      Their fatal knells; if ye have prayers use 'em quickly,

      To any power will own ye; but ha!

      Who are these? what spectacles of misfortune?

      Why are their looks

      So full of Joy and Wonder?

      Cro. Oh! lay by

      These instruments of death, and welcome

      To your arms, what you durst never hope to imbrace:

      This is Sebastian, this Nicusa, Madam:

      Preserv'd by miracle: look up dear Sir,

      And know your own Rossella: be not lost

      In wonder and amazement; or if nature

      Can by instinct, instruct you what it is,

      To be blessed with the name of Father,

      Freely enjoy it in this fair Virgin.

      Seb. Though my miseries,

      And many years of wants I have endur'd,

      May well deprive me of the memory

      Of all joys past; yet looking on this building,

      This ruin'd building of a heavenly form

      In my Rosilla; I must remember, I am Sebastian.

      Ros. Oh my joyes!

      Seb. And here,

      I see a perfect model of thy self,

      As thou wert when thy choice first made thee mine:

      These cheeks and fronts, though wrinkled now with time

      Which Art cannot restore: had equal pureness,

      Of natural white and red, and as much ravishing:

      Which by fair order and succession,

      I see descend on her: and may thy virtues

      Wind into her form,