Part 5

Let them consent, and but once transfer the rule to me, I’d show them how they their work should go about; A ticket-of-leave man himself would be a fool to me; Garotters confess that I beat ’em out and out. Robbing, attacking all--plundering, whacking all-- I get the lion’s share, of course, of all the dibs; If they’ll fall in with it, now I’ll begin with it, Sticking at nothing except our leader’s ribs. [Exit R.

Enter a number of female SLAVES, followed by YUSSUF, L.

Yussuf. Now then, you tarnal critters, look alive. I have had many lots of slaves to drive, Of all sorts and complexions--black, white, and red; You whip them all--from Uncle Tom to Dred! Come, look alive, I tell you. Take your places, None of your airs--but plenty of your graces. Be careful of your smiles, and mind your eyes; It’s market-day, remember. Come, who buys?

March.--Enter PASHA, SYNG SMAUL, and GUARDS, R.

Pasha. Halt! curs!

Syng. Halt, curs--d’ye hear?

Pasha. Of course they hear.

Syng. [L.] Great Pasha!

Pasha. Slave, who bid you interfere?

Syng. I’m dumb.

Yussuf. [R.] Great Brother of the Sun and Moon, How do you find yourself, this afternoon?

Pasha. [C.] We thank thee, dog, we’re pretty well.

Syng. Rejoice! Let all the earth raise high its joyful voice; All care and grief from every heart abolish, Our mighty Pasha, feels himself tol-lol-ish. Shout all of you. [All shout.

Pasha. [Striking him.] Be quiet--

Syn. [Striking another.] Slaves, be dumb. How dare you make this row--

Pasha. But business--come-- What hast thou got to sell, dog?

Yussuf. Sire, I deem These here Circassians, the Circassian cream Of excellence, in all points--figures--faces-- Trot out, you critters, come, and show your paces.

Music.--The SLAVES dance out one by one, and pass before the PASHA.

Pasha. [Looking at them one by one.] Too dark! too fair! too red! too short! too tall! Too lean! too fat! pooh! pooh! won’t do at all. Hast thou no others, pig?

Yussuf. No, sire; you see My wholesale merchant disappointed me; I’ve ordered in some beauties.

Pasha. Reptile, peace! Who’s this?

Yussuf. That, sire? Medora, my young niece.

Enter MEDORA, dancing, L.

There, that’ll do--just cut these capers--stop! Must I for ever catch you on the hop?

Medora. Nay, be not angry, uncle--

Yussuf. Then stand still!

Medora. With pleasure, if it pleases you, I will; But I’m so happy--feel my heart so light; The air’s so balmy, and the sun so bright. The gladness that’s inspired by all around, Finds vent in jumps, because it knows no bound.

Pasha. She’ll do! Come hither, dog, a word with you. [YUSSUF approaches, they whisper, L. C.