r Grace, now I remember me, methinks I do.

_Guz_. Dog, how art thou call'd?

_Fran_. An't like your Excellence, Men call'd me Signior Don _Francisco_,
but now they will call me Coxcomb.

_Guz_. Of what Trade?

_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 yo