_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. _Fran_. An Eunuch! oh, Lord! _Turk_. Ay, Sir, to guard his Mistresses, ‘tis an honour. _Fran_. Oh! Mercy, Sir, that honour you may spare, Age has done my business already. _Guz_. Fellow, what art? _Fran_. An’t please your Worship, I cannot tell. _Guz_. How, not tell? _Fran_. An’t please your Lordship, my Fears have so transform’d me, I cannot tell whether I’m any thing or nothing. _Guz_. Thy name, dull Mortal, know’st thou not that? _Fran_. An’t please your Grace, now I remember me, methinks I do. _Guz_. Dog, how art thou call’d? _Fran_. An’t like your Excellence, Men call’d me Signior Don _Francisco_, but now they will call me Coxcomb. _Guz_. Of what Trade?