_Fran_. Oh, hold, most mighty _Turk_. [_Kneeling_.
_Guz_. Slave, darest thou interrupt 'em,--die, Dog.
_Fran_. Hold, hold, I'm silent.
_Car_. I love you, fair one, and design to make you--
_Fran_. A most notorious Strumpet. A Pox of his Courtesy.
_Car_. What Eyes you have like Heaven blue and charming, a pretty Mouth, Neck round and white as polisht Alabaster, and a Complexion beauteous as an Angel, a Hair fit to make Bonds to insnare the God of Love,--a sprightly Air,--a Hand like Lillies white, and Lips, no Roses opening in a Morning are half so sweet and soft.
_Fran_. Oh, damn'd circumcised _Turk_.
_Car_. You shall be call'd the beautiful _Sultana_, And rule in my Seraglio drest with Jewels.
_Fran_. Sure, I shall burst with Vengeance.
_Jul_. Sir, let your Virtue regulate your Passions; For I can ne'er love any but my Husband.
_Fran_. Ah, dissembling Witch!
_Jul_. And wou'd not break my Marriage Vows to him, For all the honour you can heap upon me.
_Fran_. Say, and hold; but _Sultana_ and precious Stones are damnable Temptations,--besides, the Rogue's young and handsome,--What a scornful look she casts at me; wou'd they were both handsomely at the Devil together.
_Guz_. Dog, do you mutter?
_Fran_. Oh! nothing, nothing, but the Palsy shook my Lips a little.
_Guz_. Slave, go, and on your knees resign your Wife.
_Fran_. She's of years of discretion, and may dispose of her self; but I can hold no longer: and is this your _Mahometan_ Conscience, to take other Mens Wives, as if there were not single Harlots enough in the World? [_In rage_.
_Guz_. Peace, thou diminutive Christian.
_Fran_. I say, Peace thou over-grown _Turk_.
_Guz_. Thou _Spanish_ Cur.
_Fran_. Why, you're a _Mahometan_ Bitch, and you go to that.
_Guz_. Death, I'll dissect the bald-pated Slave.
_Fran_. I defy thee, thou foul filthy Cabbage-head, for I am mad, and will be valiant.
[Guz. _throws his Turbant at him_.
_Car_. What Insolence is this!--Mutes--strangle him.--
[_They put a Bow-string about his neck_.
_Jul_. Mercy, dread Sir, I beg my Husband's life.
_Car_. No more,--this fair one bids you live,--henceforth, _Francisco_, I pronounce you a Widower, and shall regard you, for the time to come, as the deceased Husband of the Great _Sultana_, murmur not upon pain of being made an Eunuch--take him away.
_Jul_. Go, and be satisfied, I'll die before I'll yield.
_Fran_. Is this my going to Sea?--the Plague of losing Battels light on thee.
_When ill success shall make thee idle lie, Mayst thou in bed be impotent as I_.
_Car_. Command our Slaves to give us some diversion; Dismiss his Chains, and use him with respect, because he was the Husband of our beloved _Sultana_.
_Fran_. I see your Cuckold might have a life good enough if he cou'd be contented.
[_They pull off his Chains_.
[Carlos _and_ Julia _sit under an Umbrella_.
The SONG.
_How strangely does my Passion grow, Divided equally twixt two_?
Damon _had ne'er subdued my Heart, Had not_ Alexis _took his part: Nor cou'd_ Alexis_ powerful prove, Without my_ Damon's _aid, to gain my Love.
When my_ Alexis _present is, Then I for_ Damon _sigh and mourn; But when_ Alexis _I do miss_, Damon _gains nothing but my Scorn: And, if it chance they both are by, For both, alas! I languish, sigh, and die.
Cure then, thou mighty winged God, This raging Fever in my Blood.
One golden-pointed Dart take back; But which, O_ Cupid, _wilt thou take?
if_ Damon's, _all my hopes are crost: Or, that of my_ Alexis, _I am lost_.
_Enter Dancers, which dance an Antick_.
_Car_. Come, my dear _Julia_, let's retire to shades. [_Aside to her_.
Where only thou and I can find an entrance; These dull, these necessary delays of ours Have drawn my Love to an impatient height.
--Attend these Captives, at a respectful distance.
[_Ex. all but _Isa_. who stays_ Guil.
_Guil_. What wou'd the Great _Sultana_?
_Isa_. Ah! do not pierce my Heart with this unkindness.
_Guil_. Ha, ha, ha,--Pages,--give order, I have Letters writ to _Sevil_, to my Merchant,--I will be ransomed instantly.
_Isa_. Ah, cruel Count!
_Guil_. Meaning me, Lady! ah, fy! no, I am a Scoundrel; I a Count, no, not I, a Dog, a very Chim--hum,--a Son of a Whore, I, not worthy your notice.