The other, that allows us to eat flesh
In Lent, though it be rotten, rather than be
Thought superstitious; as your zealous cobler,
And learned botcher, preach at Amsterdam,
Over a hotchpotch. I would not be confined
In my belief: when all your sects and sectaries
Are grown of one opinion, if I like it,

I will profess myself,-in the mean time,

Live I in England, Spain, France, Rome, Geneva, I'm of that country's faith.

Vitel. And what in Tunis?

Will you turn Turk here?

Gaz. No: so I should lose

A collop of that part my Doll enjoin'd me

To bring home as she left it: 'tis her venture,
Nor dare I barter that commodity,

Without her special warrant.

Vitel. You are a knave, sir:

Leaving your roguery, think upon my business,
It is no time to fool now

Remember where you are too: though this marttime

We are allow'd free trading, and with safety, Temper your tongue, and meddle not with the Their manners, nor religion.

Gaz. Take you heed, sir, What colours you wear.

there landed

[Turks,

Not two hours since,

O welcome, sir! stay of my steps in this life,
And guide to all my blessed hopes hereafter.
What comforts, sir? Have your endeavours pros-
per'd?

Have we tired Fortune's malice with our sufferings?
Is she at length, after so many frowns,
Pleased to vouchsafe one cheerful look upon us?
Fran. You give too much to fortune and your
passions,

O'er which a wise man, if religious, triumphs.
That name fools worship; and those tyrants, which
We arm against our better part, our reason,
May add, but never take from our afflictions.

Vitel. Sir, as I am a sinful man, I cannot
But like one suffer.

Fran. I exact not from you

A fortitude insensible of calamity,

To which the saints themselves have bow'd and shown

They are made of flesh and blood; all that I challenge,

Is manly patience. Will you, that were train'd up
In a religious school, where divine maxims,
Scorning comparison with moral precepts,
Were daily taught you, bear your constancy's trial,
Not like Vitelli, but a village nurse,

With curses in your mouth, tears in your eyes?—
How poorly it shows in you.

Vitel. I am school'd, sir,

And will hereafter, to my utmost strength,
Study to be myself.

Fran. So shall you find me

Most ready to assist you; neither have I
Slept in your great occasions: since I left you
I have been at the viceroy's court, and press'd,
As far as they allow, a Christian entrance;
And something I have learn'd, that may concern
The purpose of this journey.

Vitel. Dear sir, what is it?

Fran. By the command of Asambeg, the viceroy,
The city swells with barbarous pomp and pride,
For the entertainment of stout Mustapha,
The basha of Aleppo, who in person

Comes to receive the niece of Amurath,
The fair Donusa, for his bride.

Vitel. I find not
How this may profit us.

Fran. Pray you give me leave.

Among the rest that wait upon the viceroy,
Such as have, under him, command in Tunis,
Who, as you've often heard, are all false pirates,
I saw the shame of Venice, and the scorn
Of all good men, the perjured RENEGADO,
Antonio Grimaldi.

Vitel. Ha! his name

Is poison to me.

Fran. Yet again?

Vitel. I have done, sir.

Fran. This debauch'd villain, whom we ever thought

(After his impious scorn done, in St. Mark's, To me, as I stood at the holy altar)

The thief that ravish'd your fair sister from you, The virtuous Paulina, not long since,

As I am truly given to understand,

Sold to the viceroy a fair Christian virgin

On whom, maugre his fierce and cruel nature,
Asambeg dotes extremely.

Vitel. 'Tis my sister:

It must be she, my better angel tells me
'Tis poor Paulina. Farewell all disguises!
I'll show, in my revenge, that I am noble.
Fran. You are not mad?

Vitel. No, sir; my virtuous anger
Makes every vein an artery; I feel in me
The strength of twenty men; and, being arm'd
With my good cause, to wreak wrong'd innocence,
I dare alone run to the viceroy's court,
And with this poniard, before his face,
Dig out Grimaldi's heart.

Fran. Is this religious?

Vitel. Would you have me tame now? Can I know my sister

Mew'd up in his seraglio, and in danger
Not alone to lose her honour, but her soul;
The hell-bred villain by too, that has sold both
To black destruction, and not haste to send him
To the devil, his tutor? To be patient now,
Were, in another name, to play the pander
To the viceroy's loose embraces, and cry aim!
While he, by force or flattery, compels her

To yield her fair name up to his foul lust,
And, after, turn apostata to the faith
That she was bred in.

Fran. Do but give me hearing,
And you shall soon grant how ridiculous
This childish fury is. A wise man never
Attempts impossibilities; 'tis as easy
For any single arm to quell an army,
As to effect your wishes. We come hither
To learn Paulina's fate, and to redeem her:
Leave your revenge to heaven. I oft have told you
Of a relic that I gave her, which has power,
If we may credit holy men's traditions,
To keep the owner free from violence :

This on her breast she wears, and does preserve
The virtue of it, by her daily prayers.
So, if she fall not by her own consent,
Which it were sin to think, I fear no force.

Be, therefore, patient; keep this borrow'd shape,
Till time and opportunity present us

With some fit means to see her; which perform'd,
I'll join with you in any desperate course
For her delivery.

Vitel. You have charm'd me, sir,

And I obey in all things: pray you, pardon
The weakness of my passion.

Fran. And excuse it.

Be cheerful, man; for know that good intents Are, in the end, crown'd with as fair events.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-A Room in DONUSA's Palace. Enter DONUSA, MANTO, and Carazie. Don. Have you seen the Christian captive, The great basha is so enamour'd of?

Mant. Yes, an it please your excellency, I took a full view of her, when she was Presented to him.

Don. And is she such a wonder,

As 'tis reported?

Mant. She was drown'd in tears then, Which took much from her beauty; yet, in spite Of sorrow, she appear'd the mistress of Most rare perfections; and, though low of stature, Her well-proportion'd limbs invite affection: And, when she speaks, each syllable is music That does enchant the hearers: but your highness, That are not to be parallel'd, I yet never Beheld her equal.

Don. Come, you flatter me;

But I forgive it. We, that are born great,
Seldom distaste our servants, though they give us
More than we can pretend to. I have heard
That Christian ladies live with much more freedom
Than such as are born here. Our jealous Turks
Never permit their fair wives to be seen,
But at the public bagnios, or the mosques,
And, even then, veil'd and guarded. Thou, Ca-
razie,

Wert born in England; what's the custom there,
Among your women? Come, be free and merry:
I am no severe mistress; nor hast thou met with
A heavy bondage.

Car. Heavy! I was made lighter

By two stone weight, at least, to be fit to serve you. But to your question, madam; women in England, For the most part, live like queens. Your country

ladies

Have liberty to hawk, to hunt, to feast,

To give free entertainment to all comers.

To talk, to kiss ; there's no such thing known there
As an Italian girdle. Your city dame,
Without leave, wears the breeches, has her husband
At as much command as her prentice; and, if
need be,

Can make him cuckold by her father's copy.
Don. But your court lady?

Car. She, I assure you, madam,
Knows nothing but her will; must be allow'd
Her footmen, her caroch, her ushers, pages,
Her doctor, chaplains; and, as I have heard,
They're grown of late so learn'd, that they main-

tain

[MANTO goes to the door, and returns.
Mant. 'Tis the basha of Aleppo,
Who humbly makes request he may present
His service to you.

Don. Reach a chair. We must
Receive him like ourself, and not depart with
One piece of ceremony, state, and greatness,
That may beget respect and reverence

In one that's born our vassal. Now admit him.
Enter MUSTAPHA; he puts off his yellow pantofles.
Musta. The place is sacred; and I am to enter
The room where she abides, with such devotion
As pilgrims pay at Mecca, when they visit
The tomb of our great prophet.

[Kneels.

This letter, sign'd by his victorious hand,
And made authentic by the imperial seal.
There, when you find me mention'd, far be it from
To think it my ambition to presume
[you
At such a happiness, which his powerful will,
From his great mind's magnificence, not my merit,
Hath shower'd upon me. But, if your consent
Join with his good opinion and allowance,
To perfect what his favours have begun,
I shall, in my obsequiousness and duty,
Endeavour to prevent all just complaints,
Which want of will to serve you may call on me.
Don. His sacred majesty writes here, that your
valour

Against the Persian hath so won upon him,
That there's no grace or honour in his gift,
Of which he can imagine you unworthy;
And, what's the greatest you can hope, or aim at,
It is his pleasure you should be received
Into his royal family-provided,
For so far I am unconfined, that I
Affect and like your person. I expect not
The ceremony which he uses in

Bestowing of his daughters and his nieces:
As that he should present you for my slave,
To love you, if you pleased me; or deliver
A poniard, on my least dislike, to kill you.
Such tyranny and pride agree not with
My softer disposition. Let it suffice,
For my first answer, that thus far I grace you :
[Gives him her hand to kiss.
Hereafter, some time spent to make enquiry
Of the good parts and faculties of your mind,
You shall hear further from me.

Musta. Though all torments
Really suffer'd, or in hell imagined
By curious fiction, in one hour's delay
Are wholly comprehended; I confess

That I stand bound in duty, not to check at
Whatever you command. or please to impose,
For trial of my patience.

Gaz. What do you lack? Your choice China dishes, your pure Venetian crystal of all sorts, of all neat and new fashions, from the mirror of the madam, to the private utensil of her chambermaid; and curious pictures of the rarest beauties of Europe: What do you lack, gentlemen?

Fran. Take heed, I say; howe'er it may appear Impertinent, I must express my love,

My advice, and counsel. You are young, Vitelli,
And may be tempted; and these Turkish dames,
(Like English mastiffs, that increase their fierceness
By being chain'd up,) from the restraint of free-
dom.

If lust once fire their blood from a fair object,
Will run a course the fiends themselves would
To enjoy their wanton ends.
Vitel. Sir, you mistake me:

[shake at,

A pudding-wife, or a witch with a thrum cap,
That sells ale underground to such as come

To know their fortunes in a dead vacation,

Have, ten to one, more stirring.

Vitel. We must be patient.

Gaz. Your seller by retail ought to be angry, But when he's fingering money.

Enter GRIMALDI, Master, Boatswain, Sailors, and Turks. Vitel. Here are company.

Defend me, my good angel, [seeing GRIMALDI.] I A basilisk! [behold

Gaz. What do you ack? what do you lack? pure China dishes, clear crystal glasses, a dumb mistress to make love to? What do you lack, gentlemen ?

Grim. Thy mother for a bawd; or, if thou hast A handsome one, thy sister for a whore; Without these, do not tell me of your trash, Or I shall spoil your market.

Vitel. Old Grimaldi!

Grim. 'Zounds, wherefore do we put to sea. or
The raging winds, aloft, or p— upon [stand
The foamy waves, when they rage most; deride
The thunder of the enemy's shot, board boldly
A merchant's ship for prize, though we behold
The desperate gunner ready to give fire,
And blow the deck up? wherefore shake we off
Those scrupulous rags of charity and conscience,
Invented only to keep churchmen warm,

Or feed the hungry mouths of famish'd beggars ;
But, when we touch the shore, to wallow in
All sensual pleasures?

Mast. Ay, but, noble captain,
To spare a little for an after-clap,
Were not improvidence.

Grim. Hang consideration!

When this is spent, is not our ship the same,
Our courage too the same, to fetch in more?
The earth, where it is fertilest, returns not
More than three harvests, while the glorious sun
Posts through the zodiac, and makes up the year:
But the sea. which is our mother, (that embraces
Both the rich Indies in her outstretch'd arms,)
Yields every day a crop, if we dare reap it.
No, no, my mates, let tradesmen think of thrift,
And usurers hoard up; let our expense
Be, as our comings in are, without bounds.
We are the Neptunes of the ocean.
And such as traffic shall pay sacrifice

Of their best lading; I will have this canvass
Your boy wears, lined with tissue, and the cates
You taste, serv'd up in gold :-Though we carouse
The tears of orphans in our Greekish wines.