Page:Miscellaneous Plays 1.pdf/388

And see, thro' the wan night, those buildings gleam
With the last christian fires that e'er shall burn
Within those circling walls.

SECOND TURK.

Ay, there the Prophet has prepar'd our rest.

There soon, midst heap'd-up spoils, and the wild wailings
Of fetter'd beauty, in our new-won homes,
We'll cast our red-flesh'd scimitars aside,
And lay us down in soft and lordly sloth.
Comrades, it is an animating sight.
But quickly let us gain our tents.—Hush! hush!
What Turk comes prowling, this way, and alone?
It looks like Mahomet.

FIRST TURK.

It is the sultan on his nightly rounds,

Disguis'd; let us avoid him.

THIRD TURK.

I'd rather cross a tiger on my way;

For, as the humour hits, it may be fatal
To know or not to know him. At the best
We shall be deem'd but lawless stragglers here:
Let us all separate and gain our tents.
(Exeunt hastily, all different ways.