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—­

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 Coxcomb, 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 damn’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, damn’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 Bassa.

    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.