Volume Iii Part 43 (2/2)

_Guz_. What's here--one dead-- [_Looking on_ Francisco.

_Fran_. Oh, Lord!

_Guz_. Or, if he be not, he's old, and past service, we'll kill the Christian Dog out of the way.

_Fran_. Oh, hold, hold, I'm no Christian, Gentlemen; but as errant a Heathen as your selves.

_Guz_. Bind him strait, neck and heels, and clap him under hatches.

_Jul_. Oh, spare him, Sir, look on his Reverend Age.

_Guz_. For your sake, Lady, much may be done, we've need of handsom Women.

[_Gives her to some Turks that are by_.

_Fran_. Hah,--my Wife! My Wife ravish'd--oh, I'm dead.

_Jul_. Fear not, my dear, I'll rather die than do thee wrong.

_Fran_. Wou'd she wou'd, quickly,--then there's her Honour sav'd, and her Ransom, which is better.

_Guz_. Down with the muttering Dog; [_He descends_.

--And takes the Ladies to several Cabins.

[_The Turks take hold of the Men_.

_Isa_. Must we be parted then?--ah, cruel Destiny! [_Weeps_.

_Guil_. Alas! this Separation's worse than Death.

_Isa_. You possibly may see some _Turkish_ Ladies, that may insnare your Heart, and make you faithless;--but I, ah Heavens! if ever I change my Love, may I become deformed, and lose all hopes of t.i.tle or of Grandure.

_Guil_. But should the _Grand Seignior_ behold thy Beauty, thou wou'dst despise thine own dear hony Viscount to be a _Sultana_.

_Isa_. A _Sultana_, what's that?

_Guil_. Why, 'tis the great _Turk_, a Queen of _Turkey_.

_Isa_. These dear expressions go to my Heart. [_Weeps_.

And yet a _Sultana_ is a tempting thing-- [_Aside smiling_.

--And you shall find your Isabella true,--though the _Grand Seignior_ wou'd lay his Crown at my feet,--wou'd he wou'd try me though--Heavens!

to be Queen of _Turkey_. [_Aside_.

_Guil_. May I believe thee,--but when thou seest the difference, alas, I am but a Chimney--hum, nothing to a great _Turk_.

_Isa_. Is he so rare a thing?--Oh, that I were a she great _Turk_.

[_Aside_.

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