Jul.  To me, Sir? do you mock me?

Fran.  Mock thee! no; I know thy Virtue, and will no more be jealous, believe me, Chicken, I was an old Fool.

Car.  Your Wife is chaste—­she overcame my unruly Passion with her Prayers and Tears.

    Enter Isabella at one door; Clara, Antonio, Jacinta,
    at another; Isabella’s Train carried up.

Fran.  Rare News,—­we are all free and ransom’d!  All’s well, and the Man has his Mare again.

Isa.  You still forget your Duty and your Distance.

Fran.  A pox of your troublesom Honour; a man can’t be overjoy’d in quiet for’t.

    Enter Baltazer and Sebastian.

Seb.  Sure, I am not mistaken, this is the House of my Son Antonio.

Bal.  Let it be whose house ’twill, I think the Devil’s broke loose in’t.

Seb.—­Or the Turks; for I have yet met with ne’er a Christian thing in’t.

Fran.  Hah,—­do I dream, or is that my Father-in-law, and Signior Sebastian?

Ant.  My Father here?

Car. Baltazer! [Aside.

Bal.  Son Francisco, why do you gaze on me so?

Fran.  Bless me, Sir, are you taken by the Great Turk too?

Bal.  Taken,—­Great Turk,—­what do mean?

Fran.  Mean, Sir! why, how the Devil came you into Turkey?

Bal.  Sure, Jealousy has crack’d his brains.

Fran.  Crack me no Cracks, good Father mine;—­am not I a Slave in Turkey? and is not this the Grand Seignior’s Palace?

Car.  So,—­all will come out, there’s no prevention. [Aside.

Seb.  Some that are wiser answer us:  You, Son,—­are you infected too?—­was not yesterday to have been your Wedding-day?

Ant.  To day has done as well, Sir, I have only chang’d Isabella for Clara.

Seb.  How, Francisco, have you juggled with me?

Fran.  My Daughter’s a Lady, Sir.

Bal.  And you, Mistress, you have married Antonio, and left the Governor.

Cla.  I thought him the fitter Match, Sir, and hope your Pardon.

Jul.  We cannot scape.

Fran.  But how came you hither, Gentlemen, how durst you venture?

Seb.  Whither, Sir, to my own Son’s house; is there such danger in coming a mile or two out of Cadiz?

Fran.  Is the Devil in you, or me, or both?  Am not I in the Possession of Turks and Infidels?

Bal.  No, Sir; safe in Antonio Villa, within a League of Cadiz.

Fran.  Why, what a Pox, is not this the Great Turk himself?