_Tib._ Well, ye may hang, or starve us; But your commanding impudence shall never fear us. Had ye by blushing signs, soft cunings, crept into us, And shew'd us your necessities: we had met your purposes, Supply'd your wants. We are no Saints Ladies; I love a good wench, as I love my life, And with my life I will maintain my love: But such a sordid impudence I'll spit at. Let's to our dens again. Come noble Master. You know our minds, Ladies: This is the faith in which we'll die. [_Exit_ Tib. _and Mast_. _Cro._ I do admire 'em. _Jul._ They are noble fellows, And they shall not want, for this. _Cro._ But see, _Clarinda_ comes. Farewel, I'll to my charge. _Enter_ Clarinda. _Cla._ Bring out those prisoners now, And let me see 'em, and hear their business. _Jul._ I will, Madam. [_Exit._ _Cla._ I hope she hath prevail'd upon her brother. She has a sweet tongue, and can describe the happiness My love is ready to fling on him. And sure he must be glad, [and certain] wonder, And bless the hour that brought him to this Island. I long to hear the full joy that he labours with. _Enter_ Juletta, Morillat, Franvile, Lamure. _Mor._ Bless thy Divine Beauty. _Fran._ Mirror of sweetness. _Lam._ Ever-springing brightness. _Cla._ Nay, Stand up Gentlemen, and leave your flatteries. _Mor._ She calls us Gentlemen, sure we shall have some meat now. _Cla._ I am a mortal creature, Worship Heaven, and give these attributes To their Divinities. Methinks ye look but thin. _Mor._ Oh we are starv'd, immortal beauty. _Lam._ We are all poor starv'd knaves. _Fran._ Neither liberty nor meat, Lady. _Mor._ We were handsome men, and Gentlemen, and sweet men, And were once gracious in the eyes of beauties, But now we look like Rogues; Like poor starv'd rogues. _Cla._ What would ye do if ye were to die now? _Fran._ Alas, we were prepar'd. If you will hang us, Let's have a good meal or two to die with, To put's in heart. _Mor._ Or if you'll drown us, Let's be drunk first, that we may die merrily, And bless the founders. _Cla._ Ye shall not die so hastily. What dare ye do to deserve my favour? _Lam._ Put us to any service. _Fran._ Any bondage, Let's but live. _Mar._ We'll get a world of children, For we know ye are hainously unprovided that way; And ye shall beat us when we offend ye; Beat us abundantly, and take our meat from us. _Cla._ These are weak abject things, that shew ye poor ones. What's the great service ye so oft have threatned, If ye might see me, and win my favour? _Jul._ That business of discovery. _Mor._ Oh, I'll tell ye Lady. _Lam._ And so will I. _Fran._ And I, Pray let me speak first.