Joh. I find you had an appointment with Morayma.
Ant. By all that's good, the nauseous wife![Aside.
Joh. What! you are confounded, and stand mute?
Ant. Somewhat nonplust, I confess, to hear you deny your name so positively. Why, are not you Morayma, the Mufti's daughter? Did not I see you with him: did not he present me to you? were you not so charitable as to give me money? ay, and to 372 tread upon my foot, and squeeze my hand too, if I may be so bold to remember you of past favours?
Joh. And you see I am come to make them good; but I am neither Morayma, nor the Mufti's daughter.
Ant. Nay, I know not that: but I am sure he is old enough to be your father; and either father, or reverend father, I heard you call him.
Joh. Once again, how came you to name Morayma?
Ant. Another damned mistake of mine: for, asking one of my fellow-slaves, who were the chief ladies about the house, he answered me, Morayma and Johayma; but she, it seems, is his daughter, with a pox to her, and you are his beloved wife.
Joh. Say your beloved mistress, if you please; for that's the title I desire. This moonshine grows offensive to my eyes; come, shall we walk into the arbour? there we may rectify all mistakes.
Ant. That's close and dark.