Volume Iii Part 47 (1/2)

_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 G.o.d 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, d.a.m.n'd circ.u.mcised _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 Pa.s.sions; 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 d.a.m.nable 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_ b.i.t.c.h, 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.