Looks not a lie. Thou saidst thou wert a captive—
Turn not away; we are not all like him.
Theod. My story's brief. My mother, and myself,
(I then an infant) in my father's absence,
Were on our frontiers seiz'd by Saracens.
Count. A likely tale! a well-devis'd imposture!
Who will believe thee?
Aust. Go on, say all.
Theod. To the fierce bashaw, Hamet,
That scourge and terror of the Christian coasts,