_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.
_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.
_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. [_Exit._
_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.
_Alb._ No Lady, but my Sister ('tis now dangerous To speak truth) To her I deeply vow'd Not to tast food, or rest, if fortune brought it me, Till I bless'd her with my return: now if you please To afford me an easie passage to her, And some meat for her recovery, I shall live your slave: and thankfully She shall ever acknowledge her life at your service.
_Cla._ You plead so well, I can deny ye nothing; I my self will see you furnisht; And with the next Sun visit and relieve thee.
_Enter severally_, Lamure, Franvile, Morillat.
_Lam._ Oh! What a tempest have I in my stomach! How my empty guts cry out! my wounds ake, Would they would bleed again, that I might get Something to quench my thirst.