[Draws, the Women hold him.

_Fran_. Oh, hold, hold, my noble Son-in-law, he shall do any thing;--
dear _Antonio_, consider, I was never Father to a Lord all days of my
Life before:--my Lord, be pacified, my Daughter shall be a Lady.

_Isa_. For my sake spare him, and be Friends with him, as far as you may
deign to be with a little Citizen.

_Guil_. Fellow, I forgive thee,--here's my hand to kiss in sign and
token I am appeased.
[_Gives him his hand to kiss, 'tis all black_.

_Ant_. A Pox of his honourable hand, 't had like to have spoiled all,
--well, since it must be so, I am content.

_Guil_. So, now Peace is concluded on, on all sides, what shall we do
to day besides eating and drinking in abundance; for to morrow I shall
get my self in order for my Marriage.

_Cla_. What thinks your Honour of taking the Air upon the Sea, in a
Galley, a League or two?

_Guil_. With Fiddles, Drums and Trumpets, Westphalia hams and Pidgeons,
and the like: Hey, Rogues, Scoundrels, Dogs.

_Isa_. Ah, how fine is every Action of a great Man!

_Guil_. Command a Galley to attend us presently.
--You shall along, old Boy. [To Fran.

_Fran_. Alas, I must stay at home with my Wife, my Lord.

_Guil_. A Wife! have I a Mother-in-law too?--she must along with us, and
take a frisk,--no denial.

_Enter_ Carlos.

--Oh, are you come? [Aside.

_Car_. Yes, and thank thee for the best moment of my Life--Hast thou
contrived the Voyage then?

_Guil_. Take no care--come, haste on board--our Honour will not lose the
Fresco of the Morning,--Follow me, Pages.

_Page_. At your heels, my Lord--

[_Exeunt_.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Enter, _as aboard the Ship_, Guiliom, Isabella, Francisco, Julia,
Antonio, Clara, Jacinta, Pedro _and his Wife_, Pages.

_Guil_. Ladies and Gentlemen, you are very welcome aboard--Come, put off
to Sea, Rogues, Scoundrels, Tarpaulins, to your Business, and then,
every man his Bottle,--hey, Page, Rogues, where are my Men? Come, spread
the Table--for we are very hungry.

_Isa_. Heav'ns, what a peculiar Grace there is in every word that comes
from the Mouth of a Cavalier.

_Guil_. By _Mars_, the God of Love!

_Page_. By _Cupid_, Sir. [Aside to him.

Guil. _Cupid_, Sirrah! I say, I'll have it _Mars_, there's more Thunder
in the Sound: I say, by _Mars_, these Gallies are pretty neat convenient
Tenements--but a--I see