ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Enter, _as aboard the Ship_, Guiliom, Isabella, Francisco, Julia, Antonio, Clara, Jacinta, Pedro _and his Wife_, Pages.
_Guil_. Ladies and Gentlemen, you are very welcome aboard--Come, put off to Sea, Rogues, Scoundrels, Tarpaulins, to your Business, and then, every man his Bottle,--hey, Page, Rogues, where are my Men? Come, spread the Table--for we are very hungry.
_Isa_. Heav'ns, what a peculiar Grace there is in every word that comes from the Mouth of a Cavalier.
_Guil_. By _Mars_, the God of Love!
_Page_. By _Cupid_, Sir. [Aside to him.
Guil. _Cupid_, Sirrah! I say, I'll have it _Mars_, there's more Thunder in the Sound: I say, by _Mars_, these Gallies are pretty neat convenient Tenements--but a--I see ne'er a Chimney in 'em:--Pox on't, what have I to do with a Chimney now?
_Isa_. He is a delicate fine Person, _Jacinta_; but, methinks he does not make Love enough to me.
_Jac_. Oh, Madam, Persons of his Quality never make Love in Words, the greatness of their Actions show their Passion.
_Jac_. Ay, 'tis true all the little Fellows talk of Love.
_Guil_. Come, Ladies, set; Come, _Isabella_, you are melancholy,--Page --Fill my Lady a Beer-glass.
_Isa_. Ah, Heav'ns, a Beer-glass.
_Guil_. O, your Viscountess never drinks under your Beer-glass, your Citizens Wives simper and sip, and will be drunk without doing Credit to the Treater; but in their Closets, they swinge it away, whole Slashes, i'faith, and egad, when a Woman drinks by her self, Glasses come thick about: your Gentlewoman, or your little Lady, drinks half way, and thinks in point of good manners, she must leave some at the bottom; but your true bred Woman of Honour drinks all, _Supernaculum_, by _Jove_.
_Isa_. What a misfortune it was, that I should not know this before, but shou'd discover my want of so necessary a piece of Grandeur.
_Jac_. And nothing, but being fuddled, will redeem her Credit.
_Guil_. Come--fall to, old Boy,--thou art not merry; what, have we none that can give us a Song?
_Ant_. Oh Sir, we have an Artist aboard I'll assure you; Signior _Cashier_, shall I beg the favour of you to shew your Skill?
_Pet_. Sir, my Wife and I'm at your service.
_Guil_. Friend, what Language can you sing?
_Pet_. Oh, Sir, your Singers speak all Languages.
_Guil_. Say'st thou so, prithee then let's have a touch of Heathen _Greek_.
_Pet_. That you shall, Sir, Sol la me fa sol, &c.
_Fran_. Hum, I think this is indeed Heathen _Greek_, I'm sure 'tis so to me.
_Guil_. Ay, that may be, but I understand every word on't.
_Fran_. Good lack, these Lords are very learned Men.
_Pet_. Now, Sir, you shall hear one of another Language from my Wife and I. [_Sing a Dialogue_ in French.
_Enter the_ Captain.
_Capt_. Well, Gentlemen, though the news be something unpleasant that I bring, yet to noble minds 'tis sport and pastime.
_Guil_. Hah, Fellow! What's that that's sport and pastime to noble minds.
_Fran_. Oh Lord, no goodness, I'll warrant.
_Capt_. But, Gentlemen, pluck up your Spirits, be bold and resolute.
_Fran_. Oh Lord, bold and resolute! why, what's the matter, Captain?
_Capt_. You are old, Signior, and we expect no good from you but Prayers to Heaven?
_Fran_. Oh Lord, Prayers to Heaven! Why, I hope, Captain, we have no need to think of Heaven.
_Capt_. At your own Peril be it then, Signior, for the _Turks_ are coming upon us.
_Fran_. Oh Lord, Turks, Turks!
[_Ex_. Cap.
_Guil_. Turks, oh, is that all? [_Falls to eating_.
_Fran_. All--why, they'll make Eunuchs of us, my Lord, Eunuchs of us poor men, and lie with all our Wives.
_Guil_. Shaw, that's nothing, 'tis good for the Voice.--how sweetly we shall sing, ta, la, ta la la, ta la, &c.
_Fran_. Ay, 'twill make you sing another note, I'll warrant you.
_Enter a Seaman_.
_Sea_. For Heaven's sake, Sirs, do not stand idle here; Gentlemen, if you wou'd save your lives,--draw and defend 'em.
[_Exit_.
_Fran_. Draw! I never drew any thing in my Life, but my Purse, and that most damnably against my will; oh, what shall I do?
_Enter_ Captain.
_Capt_. Ah, my Lord, they bear up briskly to us, with a fresh Gale and full Sails.
_Fran_. Oh, dear Captain, let us tack about and go home again.