_Joh._ He's young and handsome--
_Ant._ Yes, well enough, I thank nature. [_Aside._
_Joh._ And I am yet neither old nor ugly: Sure he will not refuse me.
_Ant._ No; thou may'st pawn thy maidenhead upon't, he wont. [_Aside._
_Joh._ The Mufti would feast himself upon other women, and keep me
fasting.
_Ant._ O, the holy curmudgeon! [_Aside._
_Joh._ Would preach abstinence, and practise luxury! but, I thank my
stars, I have edified more by his example than his precept.
_Ant._ [_Aside._] Most divinely argued; she's the best casuist in all
Africk. [_He rushes out, and embraces her._] I can hold no longer from
embracing thee, my dear Morayma; the old unconscionable whoreson, thy
father, could he expect cold chastity from a child of his begetting?
_Joh._ What nonsense do you talk? do you take me for the Mufti's
daughter?
_Ant._ Why, are you not, madam? [_Throwing off her barnus._
_Joh._ I find you had an appointment with Morayma.
_Ant._ By all that's good, the nauseous wife! [_Aside._
_Joh._ What! you are confounded, and stand mute?
_Ant._ Somewhat nonplust, I confess, to hear you deny your name so
positively. Why, are not you Morayma, the Mufti's daughter? Did not I
see you with him: did not he present me to you? were you not so
charitable as to give me money? ay, and to tread upon my foot, and
squeeze my hand too, if I may be so bold to remember you of past
favours?
_Joh.
Pages:
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424