m nothing.

_Joh._ I'll but bring him into the arbour, where a rose-tree and a
myrtle-tree are just falling for want of a prop; if they were bound
together, they would help to keep up one another. He's a raw gardener,
and 'tis but charity to teach him.

_Muf._ No more deeds of charity to-day; come in, or I shall think you
a little better disposed than I could wish you.

_Joh._ Well, go before, I will follow my pastor.

_Muf._ So you may cast a sheep's eye behind you? in before me;--and
you, sauciness, mind your pruning-knife, or I may chance to use it for
you. [_Exeunt Mufti and_ JOHAYMA.

_Ant._ [_Alone._] Thank you for that, but I am in no such haste to be
made a mussulman. For his wedlock, for all her haughtiness, I find her
coming. How far a Christian should resist, I partly know; but how far
a lewd young Christian can resist, is another question. She's
tolerable, and I am a poor stranger, far from better friends, and in a
bodily necessity. Now have I a strange temptation to try what other
females are belonging to this family: I am not far from the women's
apartment, I am sure; and if these birds are within distance, here's
that will chuckle them together. [_Pulls out his Flute._] If there be
variety of Moors' flesh in this holy market, 'twere madness to lay out
all my money upon the first bargain. [_He plays. A Grate opens, and_
MORAYMA, _the Mufti's Daughter, appears at it._]--Ay, there's an
apparition! This is a morsel worthy of a Mufti; this is the relishing
bit in secret; this is the mystery of his Alcoran, that must be
reserved from the knowledge of the prophane vulgar; this is his
holiday devotion.--See, she beckons too. [_She beckons to him._

_Mor._ Come a little nearer, and speak softly.

_Ant._ I come. I come, I warrant thee; the least twinkle had brought
me to thee; such another kind syllable or two would turn me to a
meteor, and draw me up to thee.

_Mor._ I dare not speak, for fear of being overheard; but if you think
my person worth your hazard, and can deserve my love, the rest this
note shall tell you. [_Throws down a Handkerchief._] No more, my heart
goes with you. [_Exit from the Grate._

_Ant._ O thou pretty little heart, art thou flown hither? I'll keep it
warm, I warrant it, and brood upon it in the new nest.--But now for my
treasure trove, that's wrapt up in the handkerchief; no peeping here,
though I long to