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.
Isa. Oh, the Insolence of these Turks! do they know who’s aboard? for Heaven’s sake, my Lord, do not expose your noble Person.
Guil. What, not fight?—Not fight! A Lord, and not fight? Shall I submit to Fetters, and see my Mistress ravish’d by any great Turk in Christendom, and not fight?
Isa. I’d rather be ravish’d a thousand times, than you should venture your Person.