Enter Carlos, and Mutes attending.
Car. Come hither, Slave,—why, was it that I gave you Life? dismiss’d the Fetters from your aged Limbs?
Fran. For love of my Wife, and’t please your Barbarousness.
Car. Gave you free leave to range the Palace round, excepting my Apartment only?
Fran. Still for my Wife’s sake, I say, and’t like your Hideousness.
Car. And yet this Wife, this most ungrateful Wife of yours, again wou’d put your Chains on, expose your Life to Dangers and new Torments, by a too stubborn Virtue, she does refuse my Courtship, and foolishly is chaste.
Fran. Alas! what pity’s that!
Car. I offer’d much, lov’d much, but all in vain; Husband and Honour still was the reply.
Fran. Good lack! that she shou’d have no more Grace before her Eyes.
Car. But, Slave, behold these Mutes; that fatal Instrument of Death behold too, and in ‘em read thy doom, if this coy Wife of yours be not made flexible to my Addresses.