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?