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.

Car.  But, Slave, behold these Mutes; that fatal Instrument of Death behold too, and in ’em read thy doom, if this coy Wife of yours be not made flexible to my Addresses.

Fran.  O Heavens!  I make her.

Car.  No more, thy Fate is fix’d—­and, here attend, till he himself deliver his willing Wife into my Arms; Bassa, attend, and see it be perform’d—­ [To his Mutes, then to Guz.
                                        [Ex.  Car.

Guz.  Go, one of you, and fetch the fair Slave hither.

[Ex.  Turk.

Fran.  I pimp for my own Wife!  I hold the door to my own Flesh and Blood! monstrum horrendum!

Guz.  Nay, do’t, and do’t handsomly too, not with a snivelling Countenance, as if you were compell’d to’t; but with the face of Authority, and the awful command of a Husband—­or thou dyest.

Enter Turk and Julia.

Fran.  My dear Julia, you are a Fool, my Love.

Jul.  For what, dear Husband?

Fran.  I say, a silly Fool, to refuse the Love of so great a Turk; why, what a Pox makes you so coy? [Angrily.

Jul.  How! this from you, Francisco.

Fran.  Now does my Heart begin to fail me; and yet I shall ne’er endure strangling neither; why, am not I your Lord and Master, hah?

Jul.  Heavens!  Husband, what wou’d you have me do?

Fran.  Have you do;—­why, I wou’d have ye—­d’ye see—­’twill not out; why, I wou’d have ye lie with the Sultan, Huswife; I wonder how the Devil you have the face to refuse him, so handsom, so young a Lover; come, come, let me hear no more of your Coyness, Mistress, for if I do, I shall be hang’d; [Aside.  The Great Turk’s a most worthy Gentleman, and therefore I advise you to do as he advises you; and the Devil take ye both. [Aside.

Jul.  This from my Husband, old Francisco! he advise me to part with my dear Honour.

Fran.  Rather than part with his dear Life, I thank ye. [Aside.

Jul.  Have you considered the Virtue of a Wife?

Fran.  No, but I have considered the Neck of a Husband. [Aside.

Jul.  Which Virtue, before I’ll lose, I’ll die a thousand Deaths.

Fran.  So will not I one; a Pox of her Virtue,—­these Women are always virtuous in a wrong place. [Aside.  I say you shall be kind to the sweet Sultan.

Jul.  And rob my Husband of his right!

Fran.  Shaw, Exchange is no Robbery.