my time comes, I can't help myself; but I'll venture
nothing before-hand, upon a blind bargain.

_M. Mol._ Where are those slaves? produce them.

_Muf._ They are not what he says.

_M. Mol._ No more excuses. [_One goes out to fetch them._
Know, thou may'st better dally
With a dead prophet, than a living king.

_Muf._ I but reserved them to present thy greatness
An offering worthy thee.

_Must._ By the same token there was a dainty virgin, (virgin, said I!
but I wont be too positive of that, neither) with a roguish leering
eye! he paid me down for her upon the nail a thousand golden
sultanins, or he had never had her, I can tell him that; now, is it
very likely he would pay so dear for such a delicious morsel, and give
it away out of his own mouth, when it had such a farewell with it too?

_Enter_ SEBASTIAN, _conducted in mean Habit, with_ ALVAREZ, ANTONIO,
_and_ ALMEYDA, _her Face veiled with a Barnus._

_M. Mol._ Ay; these look like the workmanship of heaven;
This is the porcelain clay of human kind,
And therefore cast into these noble moulds.

_Dor._ By all my wrongs,
[_Aside, while the Emperor whispers Benducar._
'Tis he! damnation seize me, but 'tis he!
My heart heaves up and swells; he's poison to me;
My injured honour, and my ravished love,
Bleed at their murderer's sight.

_Ben._ [_Aside to Dor._]
The emperor would learn these prisoners' names;
You know them?

_Dor._ Tell him, no;
And trouble me no more--I will not know them.
Shall I trust heaven, that heaven which I renounced,
With my revenge? Then, where's my satisfaction?
No; It must be my own, I scorn a proxy. [_Aside._

_M. Mol._ 'Tis decreed;
These of a better aspect, with the rest,
Shall share one common doom, and lots decide it.
For every numbered captive, put a ball
Into an urn; three only black be there,
The rest, all white, are safe.

_Muf._ Hold, sir; the woman must not draw.

_M. Mol_ O Mufti,
We know your reason; let her share the danger.

_Muf._ Our law says plainly, women have no souls.

_M, Mol._ 'Tis true; their souls are mortal, set her by;
Yet, were Almeyda here, though fame reports her
The fairest of her sex, so much, unseen,
I hate the sister of our rival-house,
Ten thousand such dry notions of our Alcoran
Should not protect her life, if not immortal;
Die as she could, all of a piece, the better
That none of her remain. [_Here an Urn is brought in;