The main story of _The Captives_ is borrowed from Plautus's _Rudens_, many passages being translated almost word for word. It will be remembered that in the _English Traveller_ Heywood was indebted to another of Plautus's plays--the _Mostellaria_. I have not been able to discover the source of the very curious underplot of _The Captives_. The MS. from which the play is printed bears every appearance of being a play-house copy. Numerous passages have been cancelled, seemingly (for the most part) by the hand of some reviser. In most instances I have restored the cancelled passages to the text--though the task of deciphering them has been cruelly difficult. THE CAPTIVES; OR, THE LOST RECOVERED. A Comedy by THOMAS HEYWOOD. Licensed by Sir Henry Herbert in 1624, and now first printed from Egerton MS. 1994. _Actus primus_. SCENA PR. _Enter Mr. Raphael a younge marchaunt, Mr. Treadway his companione and frend_. _Raphael_. You talke to one thats deaf; I am resolv'd. _Treadway_. I knwe [_sic_] you are not of that stupid sence But you will lyst to reason. _Raphael_. Alls but vayne. _Treadway_. You saye shees fayre. _Raphael_. And there-fore to bee lov'd. _Treadway_.[46] No consequent To trust to collour. Are not the bewtyous lyllyes, The gardens pryde and glorye of the feilds, Thoughe to the eye fayre and delectable, Yet ranke in smell? the stayneles swanne With all the Oceans water cannot wash The blacknes from her feete, tis borne with her. Oft painted vessayles bringe in poysond cates, And the blackest serpents weare the goldenst scales; And woman, made mans helper at the fyrst, Dothe oft proove his destroyer. _Raphael_. Saye perhapps Some frend of yours miscarried in his choyse, Will you condeme all women for that one? Bycause we reade one _Lais_ was unchast, Are all Corinthian Ladyes cortesans? Shall I, bycause my neighbours house was burnt, Condeme the necessary use of fyre? One surfeitts, and shall I refuse to eate? That marchant man by shipwreck lost his goodds; Shall I, bycause hee perisht in the sea, Abiure the gainfull trade of merchandyse, Despoyle my shipps, and unbecom [?] the deepes Of theire fayre Sayles and tackles? _Treadway_. Not so, frend.[47] Althoughe her person may perhapps content, Consider but the place. _Raphael_. I knwe it badd, Nay woorst of Ills. _Treadway_. A howse of prostitution And common brothellrie. _Raphael_. Which coold not stand But that her vertue guards it and protects it From blastinges and heavens thunders. There shee lyves Lyke to a ritche and pretious Jewell lost, Fownd shyninge on a doonge-hill, yet the gemme No wyse disparadged of his former worthe Nor bated of his glory; out of this fyre Of lust and black temptation sheis [_sic_] returned Lyke gold repur'd and tryde. _Treadway_. Of what byrthe is shee?