Eng.  Wom. Dead with grief; with these two hands I scratched him out a grave, on which I placed a cross, and every day wept o’er the ground where all my joys lay buried.  The manner of my life, who can express! the fountain-water was my only drink; the crabbed juice and rhind of half-ripe lemons almost my only food, except some roots; my house, the widowed cave of some wild beast.  In this sad state, I stood upon the shore, when this brave captain with his ship approached, whence holding up and waving both my hands, I stood, and by my actions begged their mercy; yet, when they nearer came, I would have fled, had I been able, lest they should have proved those murderous Dutch, I more than hunger feared.

Har.  Sen. What say you to this accusation, Van Herring?

Van Her. ’Tis as you said, sir, false and scandalous.

Har.  Sen. I told you so; all false and scandalous.

Isab. On my soul it is not; her heart speaks in her tongue, and were she silent, her habit and her face speak for her.

Beam. Sir, you have heard the proofs.

Fisc. Mere allegations, and no proofs.  Seem not to believe it, sir.

Har.  Sen. Well, well, we’ll hear it another time.

Mid. You seem not to believe her testimony, but my whole crew can witness it.

Van Her. Ay, they are all Englishmen.

Tow. That’s a nation too generous to do bad actions, and too sincere to justify them done; I wish their neighbours were of the same temper.

Har.  Sen. Nay, now you kindle, captain; this must not be, we are your friends and servants.

Mid. ’Tis well you are by land, at sea you would be masters:  there I myself have met with some affronts, which, though I wanted power then to return, I hailed the captain of the Holland ship, and told him he should dearly answer it, if e’er I met him in the narrow seas.  His answer was, (mark but the insolence) If I should hang thee, Middleton, up at thy main yard, and sink thy ship, here’s that about my neck (pointing to his gold chain) would answer it when I came into Holland.

Har.  Jan. Yes, this is like the other.

Tow. I find we must complain at home; there’s no redress to be had here.

Isab. Come, countrywoman,—­I must call you so, since he who owns my heart is English born,—­be not dejected at your wretched fortune; my house is yours, my clothes shall habit you, even these I wear, rather than see you thus.

Har.  Sen. Come, come, no more complaints; let us go in; I have ten rummers ready to the bride; as many times shall our guns discharge, to speak the general gladness of this day.  I’ll lead you, lady.
                                       [Takes the Bride by the hand.

Tow. A heavy omen to my nuptials! 
  My countrymen oppressed by sea and land,
  And I not able to redress the wrong,
  So weak are we, our enemies so strong. [Exeunt.