Pet.  Sir, my Wife and I’m at your service.

Guil.  Friend, what Language can you sing?

Pet.  Oh, Sir, your Singers speak all Languages.

Guil.  Say’st thou so, prithee then let’s have a touch of Heathen Greek.

Pet.  That you shall, Sir, Sol la me fa sol, &c.

Fran.  Hum, I think this is indeed Heathen Greek, I’m sure ’tis so to me.

Guil.  Ay, that may be, but I understand every word on’t.

Fran.  Good lack, these Lords are very learned Men.

Pet.  Now, Sir, you shall hear one of another Language from my Wife and I. [Sing a Dialogue in French.

    Enter the Captain.

Capt.  Well, Gentlemen, though the news be something unpleasant that I bring, yet to noble minds ’tis sport and pastime.

Guil.  Hah, Fellow!  What’s that that’s sport and pastime to noble minds.

Fran.  Oh Lord, no goodness, I’ll warrant.

Capt.  But, Gentlemen, pluck up your Spirits, be bold and resolute.

Fran.  Oh Lord, bold and resolute! why, what’s the matter, Captain?

Capt.  You are old, Signior, and we expect no good from you but Prayers to Heaven?

Fran.  Oh Lord, Prayers to Heaven!  Why, I hope, Captain, we have no need to think of Heaven.

Capt.  At your own Peril be it then, Signior, for the Turks are coming upon us.

Fran.  Oh Lord, Turks, Turks!

[Ex.  Cap.

Guil.  Turks, oh, is that all? [Falls to eating.

Fran.  All—­why, they’ll make Eunuchs of us, my Lord, Eunuchs of us poor men, and lie with all our Wives.

Guil.  Shaw, that’s nothing, ’tis good for the Voice.—­how sweetly we shall sing, ta, la, ta la la, ta la, &c.

Fran.  Ay, ’twill make you sing another note, I’ll warrant you.

Enter a Seaman.

Sea.  For Heaven’s sake, Sirs, do not stand idle here; Gentlemen, if you wou’d save your lives,—­draw and defend ’em.
          
                                          [Exit.

Fran.  Draw!  I never drew any thing in my Life, but my Purse, and that most damnably against my will; oh, what shall I do?

Enter Captain.

Capt.  Ah, my Lord, they bear up briskly to us, with a fresh Gale and full Sails.

Fran.  Oh, dear Captain, let us tack about and go home again.

Capt.  ’Tis impossible to scape, we must fight it out.

Fran.  Fight it out! oh, I’m not able to indure it,—­why, what the Devil made me a ship-board?

[Ex.  Cap.

Guil.  Why, where be these Turks? set me to ’em, I’ll make ’em smoke, Dogs, to dare attack a man of Quality.