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—

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 Coxcomb, 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 damn’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, damn’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 Bassa.

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 Coxcomb.

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 Illustriousness.

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 Coxcomb as I do with a young Wife? Pox on him for a Heathen Whoremaster.

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.

Car. Is she witty?

Fran. I’m no competent Judge, an’t like your Holiness, —This Catechism was certainly of the Devil’s own making. [Aside.

Enter Guzman, bringing in Julia, Clara, Isabella, Jacinta, Guiliom, Antonio, &c. Women veil’d.

Car. These, Sir, are all the Slaves of Note are taken.

Isa. Dost think, Jacinta, he’ll chuse me?

Jac. I’ll warrant you, Madam, if he looks with my Eyes.

Guz. Stand forth. [To the Men.

Guil. Stand forth, Sir! why, so I can, Sir, I dare show my Face, Sir, before any Great Turk in Christendom.

Car. What are you, Sir?

Guil. What am I, Sir? Why, I’m a Lord, a Lord.

Fran. What, are you mad to own your Quality, he’ll ask the Devil and all of a ransom.

Guil. No matter for that, I’ll not lose an Inch of my Quality for a King’s ransom; disgrace my self before my fair Mistress!

Isa. That’s as the Great Turk and I shall agree. [Scornfully.

Car. What are you, Sir?

Ant. A Citizen of Cadiz.

Car. Set ‘em by, we’ll consider of their ransoms—now unveil the Ladies. [Guzman unveils Jacinta.

Fran. Oh, dear Wife, now or never show thy Love, make a damnable face upon the filthy Ravisher,—glout thy Eyes thus—and thrust out thy upper lip, thus.— [Guzman presents Jacinta.

Guil. Oh, dear Isabella, do thee look like a Dog too.

Isa. No, Sir, I’m resolv’d I’ll not lose an Inch of my Beauty, to save so trifling a thing as a Maiden head.

Car. Very agreeable, pretty and chearful—

[She is veil’d and set by: Then Clara is unveil’d.

A most divine bud of Beauty—all Nature’s Excellence—drawn to the life in little,—what are you, fair one?

Cla. Sir, I’m a Maid.

Fran. So, I hope he will pitch upon her.

Cla. Only, by promise, Sir, I’ve given my self away.

Car. What happy Man cou’d claim a title in thee, And trust thee to such danger?

Isa. Heavens, shall I be defeated by this little Creature? What pity ’.was he saw me not first?

Cla. I dare not name him, Sir, lest this small Beauty which you say adorns me, shou’d gain him your displeasure; he’s in your presence, Sir, and is your Slave.

Car. Such Innocence this plain Confession shows, name me the man, and I’ll resign thee back to him.

Fran. A Pox of his Civility.

Ant. This Mercy makes me bold to claim my right. [Kneels.

Car. Take her, young Man, and with it both your Ransoms.

Guil. Hum—hum—very noble, i’faith, we’ll e’en confess our loves too, Isabella.

Isa. S’life, he’ll spoil all,—hold—pray let your Betters be serv’d before you.

Guil. How! Is the Honour of my Love despised?—wer’t not i’th presence of the Great Turk, for whom I have a reverence because he’s a man of quality—by Jove, I’d draw upon you.

Isa. Because you were my Lover once, when I’m Queen I’ll pardon you.

[Guzman unveils her, and leads her to Carlos, she making ridiculous actions of Civility.

Car. What aukard, fond, conceited thing art thou? Veil her, and take the taudry Creature hence.

Guil. Hum—your Majesty’s humble Servant. [Putting off his Hat ridiculously.

Fran. How! refuse my Daughter too! I see the Lot of a Cuckold will fall to my share.

Guz. This is the Wife, Great Sir, of this old Slave. [Unveils Julia.

Car. Hah! what do I see, by Mahomet, she’s fair.

Fran. So, so, she’s condemn’d; oh, damn’d Mahometan Cannibal! will nothing but raw flesh serve his turn.

Car. I’ll see no more,—here I have fix’d my heart.

Fran. Oh, Monster of a Grand Seignior!

Guz. Have you a mind to be flead, Sir?

Car. Receive my Handkerchief. [Throws it to her.

Fran. His Handkerchief! bless me, what does he mean?

Guz. To do her the honour to lie with her to night.

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.

Isa. Oh, Heavens! must I lose you then? no, I’ll die first.

Guil. Die, die, then; for your Betters must be served before you.

Isa. Oh! I shall rave; false and lovely as you are, did you not swear to marry me, and make me a Viscountess.

Guil. Ay, that was once when I was a Lover; but, now you are a Queen, you’re too high i’th’ mouth for me.

Isa. Ah! name it not; will you be still hard-hearted?

Guil. As a Flint, by Jove.

Isa. Have you forgot your Love?

Guil. I’ve a bad memory.

Isa. And will you let me die?

Guil. I know nothing of the matter.

Isa. Oh Heavens! and shall I be no Viscountess?

Guil. Not for me, fair Lady, by Jupiter,—no, no,—Queen’s much better,—Death, affront a man of Honour, a Viscount that wou’d have took you to his Bed,—after half the Town had blown upon you,—without examining either Portion or Honesty, and wou’d have took you for better for worse—Death, I’ll untile Houses, and demolish Chimneys, but I’ll be revenged. [Draws and is going out.

Isa. Ah, hold! your Anger’s just, I must confess: yet pardon the frailty of my Sex’s vanity; behold my Tears that sue for pity to you.

[She weeps, he stands looking on her.

Guil. My rage dissolves.

Isa. I ask but Death, or Pity. [He weeps.

Guil. I cannot hold;—but if I shou’d forgive, and marry you, you wou’d be gadding after honour still, longing to be a she Great Turk again.

Isa. Break not my heart with such suspicions of me.

Gull. And is it pure and tender Love for my Person, And not for my glorious Titles?

Isa. Name not your Titles, ‘tis your self I love, Your amiable, sweet and charming self, And I cou’d almost wish you were not great, To let you see my Love.

Guil. I am confirm’d—

’.is no respect of Honour makes her weep; _Her Loves the same shou’d I cry—Chimney Sweep.

[Ex.