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_Guz_. Come, come, we can't attend your amorous Parleys.

[_Parts 'em_.

_Jul_. Alas, what shall we poor Women do?

[_Ex. Men_.

_Isa_. We must e'en have patience, Madam, and be ravisht.

_Cla_. Ravisht! Heavens forbid.

_Jac_. An please the Lord, I'll let my nails grow against that direful day.

_Isa_. And so will I, for I'm resolv'd none should ravish me but the great _Turk_.

_Guz_. Come, Ladies, you are Dishes to be serv'd up to the board of the _Grand Seignior_.

_Isa_. Why, will he eat us all?

_Guz_. A slice of each, perhaps, as he finds his Appetite inclin'd.

_Isa_. A slice, uncivil Fellow,--as if this Beauty were for a bit and away;--Sir, a word,--if you will do me the favour, to recommend me to be first served up to the _Grand Seignior_, I shall remember the Civility when I am great.

_Guz_. Lady, he is his own Carver, a good word by the bye, or so, will do well, and I am--a Favorite--

_Isa_. Are you so? here, take this Jewel,--in earnest of greater Favours-- [_Gives him a Jewel_.

[Exeunt all.

SCENE II. _A Garden_.

_Enter Don Carlos and_ Lopez.

_Car_. But, why so near the Land? by Heaven, I saw each action of the Fight, from yonder grove of Jessamine; and doubtless all beheld it from the Town.

_Lop_. The Captain, Sir, design'd it so, and at the Harbour gave it out those two Galleys were purposely prepared to entertain the Count and the Ladies with the representation of a Sea-fight; lest the noise of the Guns should alarm the Town, and, taking it for a real fight, shou'd have sent out Supplies, and so have ruin'd our Designs.

_Car_. Well, have we all things in readiness?

_Lop_. All, Sir, all.

_Enter_ Page.

_Page_. My Lord, a Barge from the Galley is just arriv'd at the Garden-Stairs.

_Enter_ Guzman.

_Car_. I'll retire then, and fit me for my part of this Farce.

_Guz_. My Lord, you must retire, they're just bringing the Old Gentleman ashore.

_Car_. Prithee how does he take his Captivity?

_Guz_. Take it, Sir! he has cast himself into a Fit, and has lain like one in a Trance this half hour; 'tis impossible for him to speak Sense this fortnight; I'll secure his Reason a play-day for so long at least; your Servants, in _Turkish_ habits, are now his Guards, who will keep him safe enough from hindering your designs with _Julia_.

_Car_. Whatever you do, have a care you do not overfright the Coxcomb, and make a Tragedy of our Comedy.

_Guz_. I'll warrant you, Sir, mind your Love-affairs,--he's coming in,--retire, Sir.--

[_Ex_. Car. _and_ Page _and_ Lop.

_Enter some _Turks _with the body of _Francisco _in chains, and lay him down on a Bank_.

1st _Turk_. Christian, so ho ho, Slave, awake.-- [_Rubbing and calling him_.

_Fran_. Hah! where am I?--my Wife,--my Wife--where am I?--hah! what are you?--Ghosts,--Devils,--Mutes,--no answer?--hah, bound in chains, --Slaves, where am I?

1st _Turk_. They understand not your Language; but I, who am a _Renegade Spaniard_, understand you when you speak civilly, which I advise you to do.

_Fran_. Do you know me, Friend?

1st _Turk_. I know you to be a Slave, and the Great _Turk's_ Slave too.

_Fran_. The Great Turk,--the Great Devil, why, where am I, Friend?

1st _Turk_. Within the Territories of the _Grand Seignior_, and this a Palace of Pleasure, where he recreates himself with his Mistresses.

_Fran_. And how far is that from _Cadiz_?--but what care I? my Wife, Friend, my own Wife.

1st _Turk_. Your own,--a true Musselman cou'd have said no more; but take no care for her, she's provided for.

_Fran_. Is she dead? That wou'd be some comfort.

1st _Turk_. No, she's alive, and in good hands.

_Fran_. And in good hands! oh, my head! and, oh, my heart! ten thousand tempests burst the belly of this day, wherein old _Francisco_ ventur'd Life and Limbs, Liberty and Wife to the mercy of these Heathen _Turks_.

1st _Turk_. Friend, you need not thus complain; a good round Ransom redeems ye.

_Fran_. A round Ransom! I'll rot in my chains first, before I'll part with a round ransom.

1st _Turk_. You have a fair Wife, and need not fear good usage, if she knows how to be kind. You apprehend me.

_Fran_. Patience, good Lord.

1st _Turk_. Perhaps the _Grand Seignior_ may like her, and to be favour'd by him in such a Glory--

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