_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. _Fran_. Say, and hold; but _Sultana_ and precious Stones are damnable Temptations,--besides, the Rogue’s young and handsome,--What a scornful look she casts at me; wou’d they were both handsomely at the Devil together. _Guz_. Dog, do you mutter? _Fran_. Oh! nothing, nothing, but the Palsy shook my Lips a little. _Guz_. Slave, go, and on your knees resign your Wife. _Fran_. She’s of years of discretion, and may dispose of her self; but I can hold no longer: and is this your _Mahometan_ Conscience, to take other Mens Wives, as if there were not single Harlots enough in the World? [_In rage_. _Guz_. Peace, thou diminutive Christian. _Fran_. I say, Peace thou over-grown _Turk_. _Guz_. Thou _Spanish_ Cur. _Fran_. Why, you’re a _Mahometan_ Bitch, and you go to that. _Guz_. Death, I’ll dissect the bald-pated Slave. _Fran_. I defy thee, thou foul filthy Cabbage-head, for I am mad, and will be valiant. [Guz. _throws his Turbant at him_. _Car_. What Insolence is this!--Mutes--strangle him.-- [_They put a Bow-string about his neck_. _Jul_. Mercy, dread Sir, I beg my Husband’s life. _Car_. No more,--this fair one bids you live,--henceforth, _Francisco_, I pronounce you a Widower, and shall regard you, for the time to come, as the deceased Husband of the Great _Sultana_, murmur not upon pain of being made an Eunuch--take him away. _Jul_. Go, and be satisfied, I’ll die before I’ll yield. _Fran_. Is this my going to Sea?--the Plague of losing Battels light on thee. _When ill success shall make thee idle lie, Mayst thou in bed be impotent as I_. _Car_. Command our Slaves to give us some diversion; Dismiss his Chains, and use him with respect, because he was the Husband of our beloved _Sultana_. _Fran_. I see your Cuckold might have a life good enough if he cou’d be contented. [_They pull off his Chains_. [Carlos _and_ Julia _sit under an Umbrella_. The SONG. _How strangely does my Passion grow, Divided equally twixt two_? Damon _had ne’er subdued my Heart, Had not_ Alexis _took his part: Nor cou’d_ Alexis_ powerful prove, Without my_ Damon’s _aid, to gain my Love.