Volume Iii Part 49 (1/2)

_Car_. I offer'd much, lov'd much, but all in vain; Husband and Honour still was the reply.

_Fran_. Good lack! that she shou'd have no more Grace before her Eyes.

_Car_. But, Slave, behold these Mutes; that fatal Instrument of Death behold too, and in 'em read thy doom, if this coy Wife of yours be not made flexible to my Addresses.

_Fran_. O Heavens! I make her.

_Car_. No more, thy Fate is fix'd--and, here attend, till he himself deliver his willing Wife into my Arms; _Ba.s.sa_, attend, and see it be perform'd-- [_To his Mutes, then to_ Guz.

[_Ex_. Car.

_Guz_. Go, one of you, and fetch the fair Slave hither.

[_Ex_. Turk.

_Fran_. I pimp for my own Wife! I hold the door to my own Flesh and Blood! _monstrum horrendum_!

_Guz_. Nay, do't, and do't handsomly too, not with a snivelling Countenance, as if you were compell'd to't; but with the face of Authority, and the awful command of a Husband--or thou dyest.

_Enter_ Turk _and_ Julia.

_Fran_. My dear _Julia_, you are a Fool, my Love.

_Jul_. For what, dear Husband?

_Fran_. I say, a silly Fool, to refuse the Love of so great a _Turk_; why, what a Pox makes you so coy? [_Angrily_.

_Jul_. How! this from you, _Francisco_.

_Fran_. Now does my Heart begin to fail me; and yet I shall ne'er endure strangling neither; why, am not I your Lord and Master, hah?

_Jul_. Heavens! Husband, what wou'd you have me do?

_Fran_. Have you do;--why, I wou'd have ye--d'ye see--'twill not out; why, I wou'd have ye lie with the _Sultan_, Huswife; I wonder how the Devil you have the face to refuse him, so handsom, so young a Lover; come, come, let me hear no more of your Coyness, Mistress, for if I do, I shall be hang'd; [_Aside_.

The Great _Turk's_ a most worthy Gentleman, and therefore I advise you to do as he advises you; and the Devil take ye both. [_Aside_.

_Jul_. This from my Husband, old _Francisco_! he advise me to part with my dear Honour.

_Fran_. Rather than part with his dear Life, I thank ye. [_Aside_.

_Jul_. Have you considered the Virtue of a Wife?

_Fran_. No, but I have considered the Neck of a Husband. [_Aside_.

_Jul_. Which Virtue, before I'll lose, I'll die a thousand Deaths.

_Fran_. So will not I one; a Pox of her Virtue,--these Women are always virtuous in a wrong place. [_Aside_.

I say you shall be kind to the sweet _Sultan_.

_Jul_. And rob my Husband of his right!