Car. I’ll retire then, and fit me for my part of this Farce.
Guz. My Lord, you must retire, they’re just bringing the Old Gentleman ashore.
Car. Prithee how does he take his Captivity?
Guz. Take it, Sir! he has cast himself into a Fit, and has lain like one in a Trance this half hour; ‘tis impossible for him to speak Sense this fortnight; I’ll secure his Reason a play-day for so long at least; your Servants, in Turkish habits, are now his Guards, who will keep him safe enough from hindering your designs with Julia.
Car. Whatever you do, have a care you do not overfright the Coxcomb, and make a Tragedy of our Comedy.
Guz. I’ll warrant you, Sir, mind your Love-affairs,—he’s coming in,—retire, Sir.—
[Ex. Car. and Page and Lop.
_Enter some _Turks _with the body of _Francisco in chains, and lay him down on a Bank.
1st Turk. Christian, so ho ho, Slave, awake.— [Rubbing and calling him.
Fran. Hah! where am I?—my Wife,—my Wife—where am I?—hah! what are you?—Ghosts,—Devils,—Mutes,—no answer?—hah, bound in chains, —Slaves, where am I?