_Fran_. An’t please your Highness, a Gentleman. _Guz_. How much dost thou get a day by that Trade? Hah! _Fran_. An’t like your Majesty, our Gentlemen never get but twice in all their lives; that is, when Fathers die, they get good Estates; and when they marry, they get rich Wives: but I know what your Mightiness wou’d get by going into my Country and asking the Question. _Guz_. What, Fool? _Fran_. A good Cudgelling, an’t please your Illustriousness. _Guz_. Slave! To my Face!--Take him away, and let him have the Strapado. _Car_. _Baridama, Dermack_. _Fran_. Heavens, what says he? _I Turk_. He means to have you castrated. _Fran_. Castrated! Oh, that’s some dreadful thing, I’ll warrant,-- Gracious Great Turk, for Mahomet’s sake, excuse me; alas, I’ve lost my wits. _Car_. _Galero Gardines_? _Guz_. The Emperor asks if thou art married, Fellow. _Fran_. Hah--Married--I was, an’t like your Monsterousness, but, I doubt, your People have spoiled my Property. _Guz_. His Wife, with other Ladies, in a Pavillion in the Garden, attend your Royal pleasure. _Car_. Go, fetch her hither presently. [_Ex_. Guz. 1st _Turk_. This is no common Honour, that the Great Turk deigns to speak your Language; ‘tis to sign you’ll rise. _Fran_. Yes, by the height of a pair of Horns. _Car_. Is she handsom? _Fran_. Oh, what an Ague shakes my Heart,--handsom! alas, no, dread Sir; what shou’d such a deform’d Polecat as I do with a handsom Wife? _Car_. Is she young? _Fran_. Young, what shou’d such an old doting Coxcomb as I do with a young Wife? Pox on him for a Heathen Whoremaster. _Car_. Old is she then? _Fran_. Ay, very old, an’t please your Gloriousness. _Car_. Is she not capable of Love? _Fran_. Hum, so, so,--like Fire conceal’d in a Tinderbox,--I shall run mad. _Car_. Is she witty? _Fran_. I’m no competent Judge, an’t like your Holiness, --This Catechism was certainly of the Devil’s own making. [Aside. _Enter_ Guzman, _bringing in_ Julia, Clara, Isabella, Jacinta, Guiliom, Antonio, &c. _Women veil’d_. _Car_. These, Sir, are all the Slaves of Note are taken. _Isa_. Dost think, _Jacinta_, he’ll chuse me? _Jac_. I’ll warrant you, Madam, if he looks with my Eyes. _Guz_. Stand forth. [_To the Men_. _Guil_. Stand forth, Sir! why, so I can, Sir, I dare show my Face, Sir, before any Great _Turk_ in Christendom. _Car_. What are you, Sir? _Guil_. What am I, Sir? Why, I’m a Lord, a Lord. _Fran_. What, are you mad to own your Quality, he’ll ask the Devil and all of a ransom. _Guil_. No matter for that, I’ll not lose an Inch of my Quality for a King’s ransom; disgrace my self before my fair Mistress! _Isa_. That’s as the _Great Turk_ and I shall agree. [_Scornfully_. _Car_. What are you, Sir? _Ant_. A Citizen of _Cadiz_. _Car_. Set ‘em by, we’ll consider of their ransoms--now unveil the Ladies. [Guzman _unveils_ Jacinta.