Isa. We must e’en have patience, Madam, and be ravisht.
Cla. Ravisht! Heavens forbid.
Jac. An please the Lord, I’ll let my nails grow against that direful day.
Isa. And so will I, for I’m resolv’d none should ravish me but the great Turk.
Guz. Come, Ladies, you are Dishes to be serv’d up to the board of the Grand Seignior.
Isa. Why, will he eat us all?
Guz. A slice of each, perhaps, as he finds his Appetite inclin’d.
Isa. A slice, uncivil Fellow,—as if this Beauty were for a bit and away;—Sir, a word,—if you will do me the favour, to recommend me to be first served up to the Grand Seignior, I shall remember the Civility when I am great.
Guz. Lady, he is his own Carver, a good word by the bye, or so, will do well, and I am—a Favorite—
Isa. Are you so? here, take this Jewel,—in earnest of greater Favours— [Gives him a Jewel.