_Tib._ Where are their Wardrobes? Look ye _Franvile_, here are a couple of Courtiers. _Amint._ They kneel, alas poor souls. _Alb._ What are ye? speak; are ye alive, Or wandring shadows, that find no peace on earth, Till ye reveal some hidden secret? _Sebast._ We are men as you are; Only our miseries make us seem monsters, If ever pitty dwelt in noble hearts. _Alb._ We understand 'em too: pray mark ['em] Gentlemen. _Sebast._ Or that heaven is pleas'd with humane charity; If ever ye have heard the name of friendship, Or suffered in your selves, the least afflictions, Have gentle Fathers that have bred ye tenderly, And Mothers that have wept for your misfortunes, Have mercy on our miseries. _Alb._ Stand up wretches; Speak boldly, and have release. _Nicus._ If ye be Christians, And by that blessed name, bound to relieve us, Convey us from this Island. _Alb._ Speak; what are ye? _Seb._ As you are, Gentle born; to tell ye more, Were but to number up our own calamities, And turn your eyes wild with perpetual weepings; These many years in this most wretched Island We two have liv'd: the scorn and game of fortune; Bless your selves from it Noble Gentlemen; The greatest plagues that humane nature suffers, Are seated here, wildness, and wants innumerable. _Alb._ How came ye hither? _Nicus._ In a ship as you do, and [as] you might have been. Had not Heaven preserv'd ye for some more noble use; Wrackt desperately; our men, and all consum'd, But we two; that still live, and spin out The thin and ragged threds of our misfortunes. _Alb._ Is there no meat above? _Sebast._ Nor meat nor quiet; No summer here, to promise any thing; Nor Autumn, to make full the reapers hands; The earth obdurate to the tears of heaven, Lets nothing shoot but poison'd weeds. No Rivers, nor no pleasant Groves, no Beasts; All that were made for man's use, flie this desart; No airy Fowl dares make his flight over it, It is so ominous. Serpents, and ugly things, the shames of nature, Roots of malignant tasts, foul standing waters; Sometimes we find a fulsome Sea-root, And that's a delicate: a Rat sometimes, And that we hunt like Princes in their pleasure; And when we take a Toad, we make a Banquet. _Amint._ For heavens sake let's aboard. _Alb._ D'ye know no farther? _Nicu._ Yes, we have sometimes seen the shadow of a place inhabited; And heard the noise of hunters; And have attempted [t]o find it, [s]o far as a River, Deep, slow, and dangerous, fenced with high Rocks, We have gone; but not able to atchieve that hazard, Return to our old miseries. If this sad story may deserve your pities. _Alb._ Ye shall aboard with us, we will relieve your miseries: