MUSTAPHA

Would he had been born dumb: The beggars cure, patience is all that's left us. Not of your anger's, But with erected ears I should hear from you The story of your good opinion of me Confirmde by love, and favours. Stay you my Ladies Cabinet key. Stay and stand quietly, or you shall fallen else, Not to firk your belly up flounder Like, but never To rise again. Offer but to unlock These doors that stop your fugitive tongue (observe me) And by my fury, I'll fix there this bolte To bar thy speech for ever. So, be safe now And but resolve me, not of what I doubt But bring assurance to a thing believed, Thou makest thy self a fortune, not depending On the uncertain favours of a Mistress, But art thy self one. I'll not so far question My judgement, and observance, as to ask Why I am slighted, and contemnde, but in Whose favour it is done. I that have read The copious volumes of all women's falsehood, Commented on by the heart breaking groans Of abused lovers, all the doubts washde off With fruitless tears, the Spiders oobweb vail Of arguments, allege in their defence, Blown off with sighs of desperate men, and they Appearing in their full deformity: Know that some other hath displanted me, With her dishonour. Has she given it up? Confirm it in two syllables? Enough, I dare not doubt thee. Oh land Corco diles Made of Egyptian stime, accursed women! But 'tis no time to rail: come my best Manto. I will not dwell upon Much circumstance, yet cannot but profess With the assurance of a loyalty, Equal to yours, the reverence I owe, The Sultan, and all such his blood makes sacred; That there is not a vein of mine which yet is Unemptied in his service, but this moment Should freely open, so it might wash off The stains of her dishonour, could you think? Or though you saw it credit your own eyes? That she, the wonder and amazement of Her sex, the pride, and glory of the empire, That hath disdained you, sleighted me, and boasted A frozen coldness which no appetite, Or height of blood could thaw, should now so far Be hurried with the violence of her lust, As in it burying her high birth and fame, Basely descend to fill a Christians arms And to him yield her Virgin honour up, Nay sue to him to take't. Temper Your admiration: and what Christian think you? No Prince disguised; no man of mark, nor honour, No daring undertaker in our service, But one whose lips her foot should scorn to touch, A poor Mechanicke-Pedler. Nay more, Whom do you think she made her scout, nay bawd, To find him out but me? What place makes choice of To wallow in her foul and loathsome pleasures, But in the palace? Who the instruments Of close conveyance, but the captain of Your guard the Agam, and that man of trust The warden of the inmost port? I'll prove this, And though I fail to show her in the act, Glued Like a neighing Gennet to her Stallion, Your incredulity shall be convinced With proofs I blush to think on. Sir I sought you And must relate a wonder, since I studied And knew what man was, I was never witness Of such invincible fortitude as this Christian Shows in his sufferings, all the torments that We could present him with to fright his constancy Confirmed, not shook it; and those heavy chains That eat into his flesh, appeared to him Like bracelets made of some loved mistress hairs We kiss in the remembrance of her favours. I am strangely taken with it, and have lost Much of my fury. Oh base! Can fear to die make you descend so low From your high birth, and brand the Ottaman line With such a mark of infamy? 'Tis strange that you should use such circumstance To a delinquent of so mean condition. The place is sacred, and I am to Enter The room where she abides, with such devotion As Pilgrim's pay at Macham, when they visit The Tomb of our great Prophet. May those Powers That raised the Ottoman Empire, and still guard it, Reward your Highness for this gracious favour You throw upon your servant. It hath pleased The most invincible, mightiest Amurath (To speak his other titles would take from him) That in himself does comprehend all greatness, To make me the unworthy instrument Of his command. Receive divinest Lady This letter signed by his victorious hand, And made Authentic by the imperial Seal. There when you find me mentioned, far be it from the To think it my ambition to presume At such a happiness, which his powerful will From his great minds magnificence, not my merit Hath showrd upon me. But if your consent Join with his good opinion and allowance To per it what his favors have begun, I shall in my obsequiousness and duty Endeavour to prevent all joust complaints, Which want of will to serve you, may call on me. It is my happiness you dame to command me. Would what's the matter! I will see you When this high wind's blown over. All happiness. This is strange! I know not Madam, what neglect of mine Has called this scorn upon me. I cherish thy confession thus, and thus, And consume both, For 'tis impossible to be put out But with the blood of those that kindle it: And yet one vial of it is so precious, It being borrowed from the Ottoman spring, That better 'tis I think, both we should perish Then prove the desperate means that must restrain it, From spreading further. Truth Asambeg? You then understand Who 'tis I aim at. Hear me. Well take your way. More? Have you done yet? By Mahomet she courts him. The crime committed Our Alcoran calls death. I now could melt; But soft compassion leave me. What will you do? Cheer your spirits Madam, To die is nothing, 'tis but parting with A mountain of vexations. As if he would look through her Do your pleasure, I only offered you a friends advice, But without gall, or envy to the man That is to suffer. But what do you determine Of poor Grimaldi? the disgrace called on him I here has ran him mad. I shall hear And see, sir, without passion, my wrongs arm me. What's the mystery Of this? discover it? A terrible little tyranness. You are to violent In your desires, of which you are yet uncertain Having no more assurance to enjoy they Then a weak woman's promise, on which wisemen Faintly rely. Now note your confidence. Though all torments Really suffered, or in hell imaginde By curious fiction, in one hours delay Are wholly comprehended: I confess That I stand bound in duty, not to check at What ever you command, or please to impose For trial of my patience. A confluence of all nations Are met together? There's variety too Of all that Merchants traffic for. If without a train You dare be seen abroad? I'll dismiss mine. And wait upon you as a common man, And satisfy your wishes. Yes best Madame But you may please to keep your way, here's nothing, But toys, and trifles, not worth your observing. Is it no more? I wait you. I perceive The lightning in his fiery looks, the cloud Is broke already. I'will exact your private ear, And when you have receiude it, you will think Too many know it. If you doubt him, To be a man built up for great employments, And as a cunning spy sent to explore The Cities strength, or weakness, you by torture May force him to discover it. You seem mou'de. If any Language of these Christian dogs Have called your anger on, in a frown show it And they are dead already. The fire Will rather reach you. It but intemperance of speech, excuse him