Car.  Take her, young Man, and with it both your Ransoms.

Guil.  Hum—­hum—­very noble, i’faith, we’ll e’en confess our loves too, Isabella.

Isa.  S’life, he’ll spoil all,—­hold—­pray let your Betters be serv’d before you.

Guil.  How!  Is the Honour of my Love despised?—­wer’t not i’th presence of the Great Turk, for whom I have a reverence because he’s a man of quality—­by Jove, I’d draw upon you.

Isa.  Because you were my Lover once, when I’m Queen I’ll pardon you.

    [Guzman unveils her, and leads her to Carlos, she making
    ridiculous actions of Civility.

Car.  What aukard, fond, conceited thing art thou?  Veil her, and take the taudry Creature hence.

Guil.  Hum—­your Majesty’s humble Servant.
                              [Putting off his Hat ridiculously.

Fran.  How! refuse my Daughter too!  I see the Lot of a Cuckold will fall to my share.

Guz.  This is the Wife, Great Sir, of this old Slave.
          
                                    [Unveils Julia.

Car.  Hah! what do I see, by Mahomet, she’s fair.

Fran.  So, so, she’s condemn’d; oh, damn’d Mahometan Cannibal! will nothing but raw flesh serve his turn.

Car.  I’ll see no more,—­here I have fix’d my heart.

Fran.  Oh, Monster of a Grand Seignior!

Guz.  Have you a mind to be flead, Sir?

Car.  Receive my Handkerchief. [Throws it to her.

Fran.  His Handkerchief! bless me, what does he mean?

Guz.  To do her the honour to lie with her to night.

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 God 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, damn’d circumcised 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 Passions; 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.