Volume Iii Part 44 (2/2)

_Guz_. My Lord, you must retire, they're just bringing the Old Gentleman ash.o.r.e.

_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 c.o.xcomb, 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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