_Cro._ We esteem our selves most happy in you. _Hip._ And bless fortune that brought you hither. _Cla._ Hark in your ear; I love you as a friend already, Ere long you shall call me by a nearer name, I wish your brother well: I know you apprehend me. _Amin._ I, to my grief I do; Alas good Ladies, there is nothing left me, But thanks, to pay ye with. _Clar._ That's more, Than yet you stand ingag'd for. _Enter_ Albert, Tibalt, _and the rest with treasure_. _Ros._ So soon return'd! _Alb._ Here: see the Idol of the Lapidary. _Ti._ These Pearls, for which the slavish _Negro_ Dives to the bottom of the Sea. _Lam._ To get which the industrious Merchant Touches at either pole. _Fran._ The never-fayling purchase Of Lordships, and of honors. _Mor._ The Worlds Mistriss, That can give every thing to the possessors. _Ma._ For which the Saylors scorn tempestuous Winds. And spit defiance in the Sea. _Ti._ Speak Lady: Look we not lovely now? _Ros._ Yes, yes, O my Stars, Be now for ever blest, that have brought To my revenge these Robbers; take your arrowes, And nayl these Monsters to the earth. _Alb._ What mean ye Lady? In what have we offended? _Ros._ O my daughter! And you companions with me in all fortunes, Look on these Caskets, and these Jewels, These were our own, when first we put to Sea With good _Sebastian_: and these the Pyrats That not alone depriv'd him of this treasure, But also took his life. _Cro._ Part of my present I will remember was mine own. _Hip._ And these were mine. _Ju._ Sure, I have worn this Jewel. _Ros._ Wherefore do ye stay then, And not perform my command? _Al._ O Heaven! What cruel fate pursues us. _Ti._ I am well enough serv'd, That must be off'ring Joyntures, Jewels, And precious stones, more than I brought with me. _Ros._ Why shoot ye not? _Cla._ Hear me dear Mother; And when the greatest cruelty, is Justice, Do not shew mercy: death to these starv'd wretches Is a reward, not punishment: let 'em live To undergoe the full weight of your displeasure. And that they may have sence to feel the torments They have deserv'd: allow 'em some small pittance, To linger out their tortures. _Ros._ 'Tis well counsell'd. _All._ And wee'll follow it. _Alb._ Hear us speak. _Ros._ Peace dogs. Bind 'em fast: when fury hath given way to reason, I will determine of their sufferings, Which shall be horrid. Vengeance, though slow pac'd, At length o'rtakes the guilty; and the wrath Of the incensed powers, will fall most sure On wicked men, when they are most secure. [_Exeunt._ _Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima._ _Enter_ Raymond, Sebastian, Nicusa, Saylors.