In her introduction to the Arden edition of this play, Clare McManus observes that twenty-first century readers and audiences might well be surprised to discover "that such a location was even available for dramatization by a Jacobean writer". I count myself amongst them: despite having read a fair number of early modern plays (most of them a very long time ago), I can't think of many with anything resembling such a setting, and The Island Princess itself is wholly new to me. The critical consensus links Fletcher's play to The Tempest. but to my eyes it has more affinity with All's Well That Ends Well or The Merchant of Venice (both in its Portia and its Shylock plots): as much as a tragicomedy, it feels like a semi-anti-romance, or perhaps a parodic romance, although the degree of semi-/anti-/parody could probably only really be appreciated in performance—or, more accurately, this degree could vary according to the production. On the page, it's not entirely clear whether we are meant to stand with the characters or cast a more critical eye on them: for example, in the Portuguese settlers' scoffing at the pursuits of Malukan noblemen in 1.1, or Quisara's discomforture at the failure of Rui Dias to perform the task (quest) set up for him in 2.6. I'm not if this is subtlety or fence-sitting, but it continues right to the end of the play: it's not hard to imagine that the reaction of a Jacobean audience to the juxtaposition of Quisara's and Armusia's attitudes to religious conversion might have been quite different to our own, but what would they made of the King of Tidore's professed "half" persuasion in favour of Christianity in the final scene, and what are we to make of it? It's either deliberately ambiguous or a fudge; given that Fletcher ducks some potential edginess by making the "Moor priest" just the Governor of Ternate in a false beard, I'm inclined to think the latter. All of this makes The Island Princess an interesting play, but not a neglected masterpiece.