_Fran_. As the Devil take me if I desire.

1st _Turk_. And then you may in triumph laugh at all the rest of your Brother Cuckolds.

_Fran_. Hum, and has the Devil serv"d me thus?--but no matter, I must be gadding, like an old c.o.xcomb, to _Cadiz_,--and then, jaunting to Sea, with a Pox, to take pains to be a Cuckold, to bring my Wife into a strange Land, amongst Unbelievers, with a vengeance, as if we had not honest Christian Cuckold-makers enough at home; Sot that I was, not to consider how many Merchants have been undone by trusting their Commodities out at Sea; why, what a d.a.m.n"d ransom will the Rogues exact from me, and more for my Wife, because she"s handsome; and then, "tis ten to one, I have her turned upon my hands the worse for wearing; oh, d.a.m.n"d Infidels! no, "tis resolv"d, I"ll live a Slave here, rather than enrich them.

1st _Turk_. Friend, you"ll know your Destiny presently; for "tis the custom of the Great _Turk_ to view the Captives, and consider of their Ransoms and Liberties, according to his pleasure. See, he is coming forth with the _Vizier Ba.s.sa_.

_Enter_ Carlos _and_ Guzman _as_ Turks _with Followers_.



Most mighty Emperor, behold your Captive.

_Fran_. Is this the Great _Turk_?

1st _Turk_. Peace.

_Fran_. Bless me! as we at home describe him, I thought the Great _Turk_ had been twice as big; but I shall find him Tyrant big enough, I"ll warrant him.

_Guz_. Of what Nation art thou, Slave? speak to the Emperor, he understands thee, though he deign not to hold discourse with Christian Dogs.

_Fran_. Oh fearful!--_Spain_, so please you, Sir.

_Guz_. By _Mahomet_, he"ll make a reverend Eunuch.

_Fran_. An Eunuch! oh, Lord!

_Turk_. Ay, Sir, to guard his Mistresses, "tis an honour.

_Fran_. Oh! Mercy, Sir, that honour you may spare, Age has done my business already.

_Guz_. Fellow, what art?

_Fran_. An"t please your Worship, I cannot tell.

_Guz_. How, not tell?

_Fran_. An"t please your Lordship, my Fears have so transform"d me, I cannot tell whether I"m any thing or nothing.

_Guz_. Thy name, dull Mortal, know"st thou not that?

_Fran_. An"t please your Grace, now I remember me, methinks I do.

_Guz_. Dog, how art thou call"d?

_Fran_. An"t like your Excellence, Men call"d me Signior Don _Francisco_, but now they will call me c.o.xcomb.

_Guz_. Of what Trade?

_Fran_. An"t please your Highness, a Gentleman.

_Guz_. How much dost thou get a day by that Trade? Hah!

_Fran_. An"t like your Majesty, our Gentlemen never get but twice in all their lives; that is, when Fathers die, they get good Estates; and when they marry, they get rich Wives: but I know what your Mightiness wou"d get by going into my Country and asking the Question.

_Guz_. What, Fool?

_Fran_. A good Cudgelling, an"t please your Ill.u.s.triousness.

_Guz_. Slave! To my Face!--Take him away, and let him have the Strapado.

_Car_. _Baridama, Dermack_.

_Fran_. Heavens, what says he?

_I Turk_. He means to have you castrated.

_Fran_. Castrated! Oh, that"s some dreadful thing, I"ll warrant,-- Gracious Great Turk, for Mahomet"s sake, excuse me; alas, I"ve lost my wits.

_Car_. _Galero Gardines_?

_Guz_. The Emperor asks if thou art married, Fellow.

_Fran_. Hah--Married--I was, an"t like your Monsterousness, but, I doubt, your People have spoiled my Property.

_Guz_. His Wife, with other Ladies, in a Pavillion in the Garden, attend your Royal pleasure.

_Car_. Go, fetch her hither presently.

[_Ex_. Guz.

1st _Turk_. This is no common Honour, that the Great Turk deigns to speak your Language; "tis to sign you"ll rise.

_Fran_. Yes, by the height of a pair of Horns.

_Car_. Is she handsom?

_Fran_. Oh, what an Ague shakes my Heart,--handsom! alas, no, dread Sir; what shou"d such a deform"d Polecat as I do with a handsom Wife?

_Car_. Is she young?

_Fran_. Young, what shou"d such an old doting c.o.xcomb as I do with a young Wife? Pox on him for a Heathen Wh.o.r.emaster.

_Car_. Old is she then?

_Fran_. Ay, very old, an"t please your Gloriousness.

_Car_. Is she not capable of Love?

_Fran_. Hum, so, so,--like Fire conceal"d in a Tinderbox,--I shall run mad.

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