Volume Iii Part 45 (1/2)

_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 c.o.xcomb, 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 d.a.m.n'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, d.a.m.n'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 Ba.s.sa_.

_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 Wors.h.i.+p, I cannot tell.

_Guz_. How, not tell?

_Fran_. An't please your Lords.h.i.+p, 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 c.o.xcomb.

_Guz_. Of what Trade?

_Fran_. An't please your Highness, a Gentleman.

_Guz_. How much dost thou get a day by that Trade? Hah!