_Guil_. I am confirm’d-- _’.is no respect of Honour makes her weep_; _Her Loves the same shou’d I cry--Chimney Sweep. [_Ex_. ACT V. SCENE I. _A Garden_. _Enter_ Francisco _alone_. _Fran_. Now am I afraid to walk in this Garden, lest I shou’d spy my own natural Wife lying with the Great _Turk_ in Fresco, upon some of these fine fiowry Banks, and learning how to make Cuckolds in _Turkey_. _Enter_ Guzman _and_ Jacinta. _Guz_. Nay, dear _Jacinta_, cast an eye of pity on me.--What, deny the _Vizier Bassa_? _Jac_. When you are honest _Guzman_ again, I’ll tell you a piece of my mind. _Guz_. But opportunity will not be kind to _Guzman_, as to the Grand _Bassa_; therefore, dear Rogue, let’s retire into these kind shades, or, if foolish Virtue be so squeamish, and needless Reputation so nice, that Mr. _Vicar_ must say _Amen_ to the bargain, there is an old lousy Frier, belonging to this _Villa_, that will give us a cast of his Office; for I am a little impatient about this business, Greatness having infus’d a certain itch in my Blood, which I felt not whilst a common Man. _Fran_. Um, why, what have we here, pert Mrs. _Jacinta_ and the _Bassa_? I hope the Jade will be Turkefied with a vengeance, and have Circumcision in abundance; and the Devil shall ransom her for old _Francisco_. _Jac_. Hah, the old Gentleman! _Fran_. What, the Frolick is to go round, I see, you Women have a happy time on’t. _Guz_. Men that have kind Wives may be as happy; you’ll have the honour of being made a Cuckold, Heaven be prais’d. _Fran_. Ay, Sir, I thank ye,--pray, under the Rose, how does my Wife please his Grace the Great _Turk_? _Guz_. Murmuring again, thou Slave. _Fran. Who_, I? O Lord, Sir! not I, why, what hurt is there in being a Cuckold? _Guz_. Hurt, Sirrah, you shall be swinged into a belief, that it is an honour for the Great _Turk_ to borrow your Wife. _Fran_. But for the Lender to pay Use-money, is somewhat severe;--but, see, he comes,--bless me, how grim he looks! _Enter_ Carlos, _and Mutes attending_. _Car_. Come hither, Slave,--why, was it that I gave you Life? dismiss’d the Fetters from your aged Limbs? _Fran_. For love of my Wife, and’t please your Barbarousness. _Car_. Gave you free leave to range the Palace round, excepting my Apartment only? _Fran_. Still for my Wife’s sake, I say, and’t like your Hideousness. _Car_. And yet this Wife, this most ungrateful Wife of yours, again wou’d put your Chains on, expose your Life to Dangers and new Torments, by a too stubborn Virtue, she does refuse my Courtship, and foolishly is chaste. _Fran_. Alas! what pity’s that! _Car_. I offer’d much, lov’d much, but all in vain; Husband and Honour still was the reply. _Fran_. Good lack! that she shou’d have no more Grace before her Eyes.