We will have learned luxury; our lean faith
Gives scandal to the christians; they feed high:
Then look for shoals of converts, when thou hast
Reformed us into feasting.
_Muf._ Fasting is but the letter of the law,
Yet it shews well to preach it to the vulgar;
Wine is against our law; that's literal too,
But not denied to kings and to their guides;
Wine is a holy liquor for the great.
_Dor._ [_Aside._] This Mufti, in my conscience, is some English
renegado, he talks so savourily of toping.
_M. Mol._ Bring forth the unhappy relicks of the war.
_Enter_ MUSTAPHA, _Captain of the Rabble, with his followers of the
Black Guard, &c. and other Moors; With them a Company of Portuguese
Slaves, without any of the chief Persons._
_M. Mol._ These are not fit to pay an emperor's vow;
Our bulls and rams had been more noble victims:
These are but garbage, not a sacrifice.
_Muf._ The prophet must not pick and chuse his offerings;
Now he has given the day, 'tis past recalling,
And he must be content with such as these.
_M. Mol._ But are these all? Speak you, that are their masters.
_Must._ All, upon my honour; if you will take them as their fathers
got them, so; if not, you must stay till they get a better generation.
These christians are mere bunglers; they procreate nothing but out of
their own wives, and these have all the looks of eldest sons.
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