Part 15

Pasha. Nay, sweet Medora. [Kneels.

Zuli. Sir, what are you at? Kneeling before a little minx like that.

Pasha. Silence!

Gul. To me can you forget your vow?

Pasha. Somebody stop these women’s tongues.

Enter SYNG SMAUL, L.

How now?

Syng. A wandering dervise, by fatigue oppressed, Begs you’ll allow him to come in and rest.

Pasha. Admit him.

SYNG SMAUL goes off, and returns with CONRAD, L., disguised as a dervise; he bows to PASHA.

Sir, come in, your boon we grant.

An ATTENDANT brings wine.

Drink, sir; this maid will dance meanwhile.

Medora. I shan’t.

Pasha. No sulks, young woman; we’ve an ugly knack Of giving ladies who rebel--the sack.

Syng. Into the river, tied in bags, they’re shied.

Medora. Tied in a bag? I care not what betide.

Conrad. [Aside to her.] Fear naught.

Medora. That voice!

Conrad. Take heed--don’t shout like that out.

Medora. [Aside.] Talking of bags, I’d nearly let the cat out.

Pasha. Once for all--will you dance at my command?

Conrad. Stay, you’ve no music; let me call my band. [Blows horn.] My followers, ho!

Pasha. What mean these rude alarms?

Medora. The trumpet calls, and thus we fly to arms. [They embrace.

Pasha. Tear them asunder!

Ho! the Corsair! murder!

Conrad. [Blows horn.] My followers, ho!