[5] THE SULTAN.

ACT 1.

TELL me, what right have you to be diſcontent⯑ed?

When firſt I came within theſe walls, I found myſelf a ſlave; and the thoughts of being ſhut up for ever here, terrified me to death: my tears flowed in⯑ceſſantly: Solyman was moved with them, and ſolemnly promiſed to reſtore me to my liberty, my parents, and my country.

And yet when the Sultan agreed to ſend you back to Georgia, you did not avail yourſelf of his generoſi⯑ty.

True; but his muniſicence, and above all the tenderneſs and love he expreſſed to me ſince, have re⯑concil'd [6] me to this place, and I vainly thought my charms could have attach'd him to me.

Why then complain? You ſtill poſſeſs his heart. Already you have been twice honour'd with the im⯑perial handkerchief.

His heart! does not this place contain a hundred beauties who equally ſhare his love? Tell the Sultan I'm determin'd, and ready to accept the firſt opportunity of returning to my friends and country.

I ſhall procure you an anſwer this morning—But, hark! the Sultan approaches.

Oſmyn.

The humbleſt of your ſlaves attends.

My friend, quit this ſtyle of ſervitude; I am weary of it.

And of the ſeraglio too, Sir?

It even is ſo—and yet, upon reflection, I can⯑not tell why, unleſs that, having been accuſtom'd to the noiſe of camps and the buſineſs of war, I know not how to reliſh pleaſures, which, though varied, appear inſipid, thro' the eaſe and tranquillity with which they are attained.—Your voice uſed to charm me.

I have often told you I am not touch'd with mere careſſing machines, who are taught to love or fear by intereſt.

And yet your highneſs muſt confeſs, your ſer⯑vant has neglected nothing perfectly to content, parti⯑cularly in one object he procur'd you.

Who is that?

The Circaffian beauty—the Sultana Elmira.

And truly ſhe poſſeſſes all the charms that can adorn her Sex.

You thought ſo once.

Once! I think ſo ſtill.

Indeed!

Poſitively—why ſhould you doubt it?

Your word is my law. But, Sir, there is mat⯑ter I muſt acquaint you with: I cannot manage the ſe⯑raglio; and, by the beard of Heli, I would rather quit the helm I can no longer guide. That Engliſh ſlave lately brought here is quite ungovernable; ſhe is ſure to do every thing ſhe is forbid; ſhe makes a joke of our threats, and anſwers our moſt ſerious admonitions with a laugh: beſides, ſhe is at variance with the reſt of the women, and ſhows them ſuch an example, that I can⯑not longer rule them.

That is your buſineſs—I will have them all agree—How do you call her?

Since ſhe has been here, we have called her Roxa⯑lana.

Well—You muſt endeavour to bring her to rea⯑ſon.

Shall the Sultana Elmira throw herſelf at your highneſs's feet then?

Let her come—And, do you hear, Oſmyn, go to the apartment of that Perſian ſlave you ſpoke of yeſter⯑day, ſhe that ſings ſo well, and ſend her hither.

I will moſt ſublime Sultan.

I know before-hand that you come to upbraid me—We have not met ſo often lately as our mutual inclinations wou'd have made agreeable; but don't at⯑tribute that to coldneſs which has been the unavoidable conſequence of affairs—the buſineſs of the Divan has taken up ſo much of my time.

I don't preſume to complain; for your image is ſo imprinted on my heart, that you are always preſent to my mind.

Nay, dear Elmira, I have not the leaſt doubt.

How does my ſovereign like this robe which I have put on, on purpoſe to pleaſe him?

Oh,

Elmira, you love muſic—I have ſent for the Perſian ſlave, who I am told ſings ſo well;—if ſhe anſwers the deſcription, ſhe will afford you entertainment.

I want none when you are preſent; your com⯑pany ſuffices for every thing.

Yonder comes our ſinger.

Your ſlave attends your pleaſure.

This is an honour I did not expect.

Beautiful Iſmena, methought that ſong did not ſo well expreſs the effects of love—Madam,

we will hear her again—I never heard any thing ſo charming—her voice is exquiſite—What do you think of her?

If ſhe hears all this, 'twill make her vain—I can⯑not bear all this—I am ready to burſt with indignation and anger.

There is ſomething in this ſlave that intereſts me in her favour; ſhe ſhall be received among the Sultana's attendants, and by that means we ſhall have an oppor⯑tunity of hearing her often—

—But where's the Sultana? I did not perceive ſhe had leſt us—Follow her, Iſmena, and endeavour to amuſe her.

I come to tell your Highneſs, there is no bearing that Engliſh ſlave; ſhe ſays ſuch things, and does ſuch things, that—

Why, what is't ſhe does?

She mimics me—nay, and mimics you too.

Pho, pho.

Advice is loſt upon her—When I attempt to give it, ſhe falls a ſinging and dancing—There is no en⯑during it, if you do not permit me to correct her.

You take theſe things in too ſerious a light—She ſeems indeed a ſingular character.

She has the impudence of the devil: but juſt now I threatened to complain to you of her, ſhe ſaid ſhe would complain of me; and here ſhe comes.

How now!

Well, heaven be prais'd, at leaſt here is ſome⯑thing like a human figure. You are, Sir, I ſuppoſe the ſublime Sultan, whoſe ſlave I have the honour to be: if ſo, pray oblige me ſo far as to drive from your preſence that horrid ugly creature there: for he ſhocks my ſight.—

—Do you hear? Go.

They complain, Roxalana, of your irreverent behaviour; you muſt learn to treat the officers of our Seraglio, whom we have ſet over you, with more deference—All in this place honour their ſuperi⯑ors, and obey in ſilence.

In ſilence!—and obey! is this a ſample of your Turkiſh gallantry—You muſt be vaſtly lov'd indeed, if you addreſs women in that ſtrain

Conſider you are not now in your own country.

No indeed; you make me feel the difference ſe⯑verely—There reigns eaſe, content, and liberty; every citizen is himſelf a king, where the king is himſelf a citizen.

Have a humour more gentle and pliable; I adviſe you to alter your behaviour for very good reaſons; and it is for your good: there are very rigorous laws in the Seraglio for ſuch as are refractory.

Upon my word, you have made a very delicate ſpeech, and I admire the gravity with which it was ut⯑tered.

Roxalana, I am ſerious.

What does your Highneſs think now? Did I tell you the truth.

Oh, whiſpering—What is it that monſter ſays?—that what-do-you-call-him, that good-for-nothing amphibious animal, who follows us like ſheep here, and is for ever watching us with his frightful glaring eyes, as if he would devour us—Is this the confidante of your pleaſures—the guardian of our chaſtity?—I muſt do him the juſtice to confeſs that if you give him money for making himſelf hated, he certainly does not ſteal his wages. We can't ſtep one ſtep but he is after us; by and by, I ſuppoſe, he will weigh out air and meaſure light to us; he won't let us walk in the gardens, leſt it ſhould rain men upon us; and if it did, 'tis a bleſſing we've been long wiſhing for.

There now; don't ſhe go on at a fine rate?

Don't mind that ugly creature, but liſten to me.—If you follow my counſel I ſhall make you an accom⯑pliſh'd prince—I wiſh to make you belov'd—Let your window-bars be taken down—let the doors of the Sera⯑glio be thrown open—let inclination alone keep your women within it; and inſtead of that ugly odious crea⯑ture there, ſend a handſome ſmart young officer to us every morning; one that will treat us like ladies, and lay out the pleaſure of the day.

Did you ever ſee ſo expreſſive a coun⯑tenance—

Have you any more to ſay?

Yes, Sir, this—To deſire you will not mind him, but attend to me—Men were not born to ad⯑viſe—the thing is expreſſly the contrary—We women have certainly ten thouſand times more ſenſe—Men, in⯑deed!—Men were born for no other purpoſe under heaven, but to amuſe us; and he who ſucceeds beſt, perfectly anſwers the end of his creation—Now, Sir, farewell. If I find you profit by my firſt leſſon, I may perhaps be tempted to give you another.

Did you ever hear the like, Sir?—Her inſolence is not to be borne.

I think it amuſing.

I ſhall certainly loſe all my authority in the Sera⯑glio, if ſhe is not corrected.

'Tis a girl—a ſool of a diſpoſition, that chaſtiſe⯑ment would make worſe—Go after her, Oſmyn, bid her come back and drink therbet with me.

Sherbet with you, Sir?

I have ſaid it—

Well, for my life, I can't get the better of my aſto⯑niſhment, at hearing a ſlave talk in ſo extraordinary a manner—

—And the more I think of it, my a⯑ſtoniſhment is the greater—She's not handſome, that is, what is call'd a beauty; yet her little noſe, cock'd in the air, her laughing eyes, and the play of her features, have an effect all together—Elmira has ſomething more ſoft and more majeſtic—yet, methinks, I have a mind to ſift Roxalana's character; mere curioſity, and nothing elſe—It is the firſt time we have ſeen in this place a ſpirit of caprice and independence—I'll try at leaſt what ſhe'll ſay to me farther—There can be no harm to divert myſelf with her extravagance.

I have delivered your meſſage.

Deliver'd my meſſage! Where's Roxalana?

In her chamber, where ſhe has lock'd herſelf in.

No matter for her being in her chamber—What did ſhe ſay?

Treaſure of Light, ſaid I—through the key-hole,—I come from the Sublime Sultan to kiſs the duſt be⯑neath your feet, and deſire you will come and drink ſherbet with him. She anſwer'd through the key-hole, Go tell your maſter, I have no duſt on my feet, and I don't like ſherbet.

In effect, Oſmyn, the fault is yours;—you took your time ill, as you commonly do—You ſhould have waited ſome time—don't you owe her reſpect?

And after this, wou'd you have her come again?

Perhaps I would.

Shall I fetch the Sultana Elmira too?

What's the meaning of this, Oſmyn? I tell you once more, go and bring me Roxalana.

Who is it that meddles with the great curtain?

Who is it lifts that portal there?

'Tis I.

You! and how dare you take that liberty?

Ay, how dare you?—Don't you know 'tis death for any to enter there but the Sultan, without being conducted?

Come, come; ſhe's not acquainted with the cuſtoms of the Seraglio; ſo let it paſs. Roxalana, I beg your pardon—I am afraid he has diſturb'd you now.

Oh, it is only what I expected—You Turks are not reckoned very polite—In my country, a gal⯑lant waits upon a lady; but the cuſtom is quite different here I find—

What, do you think I ſmoke?

How's this!—Does your inſolence go ſo far?

What do you command, Sir?

Silence!

What! angry before a woman!—I'm quite aſham'd of you.

This is not to be ſuffer'd—and yet there's ſome⯑thing ſo fooliſh in it too—Come hither, Roxalana, I want to ſpeak to you.

No, I thank you; I am very well where I am.

Tell me then, is it in this light manner women behave in England?

Pretty near it.

And ſuppoſe I wou'd for once forget your na⯑tional vivacity, would it make you more cautious for the future?—Come, give me your hand; and you may imagine I have forgot all you have ſaid to me.

So much the worſe for you. I told you a great many good things;—I ſee my frankneſs is diſagreeable; but you muſt grow us'd to it. Don't you think your⯑ſelf very happy to find a friend in a ſlave? one that will teach you how to love too; for 'tis in my country love is in its element. It is there all life and tenderneſs, becauſe it is free; and yet even there, a huſband be⯑lov'd is next to a prodigy.—If it be then ſo difficult to love a huſband, what muſt it be to love a maſter? I am your friend; I tell you truth:—and do you know why you diſlike to hear it?—becauſe it is a language your ears are unaccuſtom'd to—But I don't mind that; I ſhall make you well acquainted with it—Happy would it be for every prince, had they a friend near them to tell them the truth.

But you muſt treat me with reſpect.

I treat you with reſpect!—that would be worſe ſtill.

Indeed!

Oh, your notions are horrid—I ſhall correct you.

Correct me!—In what, pray?

In what concerns you.

She is the ſtrangeſt mortal, ſure!—But let's have no more of this.

Nay, though you don't take my leſſons as patiently as I could wiſh, I hope you are not diſpleas'd with me.—I ſhould be ſorry to offend you.

You may eaſily avoid it then.

It will be nothing in time.

Why, won't you conſider who I am, and who you are?

Who I am, and who you are! Yes, Sir, I do conſider very well that you are the Grand Sultan; I am your ſlave; but I am alſo a free-born woman, prouder of that than all the pomp and ſplendour eaſtern monarchs can beſtow.

As far as I can perceive then, you would be very glad to get away from me.

You never were more right in your life.

Well, but if I endeavour to render the Seraglio agreeable to you—if I ſtudy to make you happy, might you not in your turn try to deſerve my favour.

No.

Do you ſpeak that ſincerely?

As I think it.

And yet there is ſomething that whiſpers me—

Don't believe it—I tell you it deceives you.

And muſt I never expect—

Never—caprice and fancy decide all.

In caprice and fancy then I reſt my hopes; and in the mean time you ſhall ſup with me.

No—I beg to be excus'd—I'd rather not.

Why ſo?—'tis an honour that you ought—

An honour that I ought!—Sir, you ought to lay aſide thoſe humiliating phraſes; for while they teach us your ſuperior greatneſs, they rob you of the pleaſure of being agreeable—But to be in good humour, Sir, I ought not to accept your propoſals; for I know that ſuppers here tend to certain—things that I can't—in⯑deed, Sir.

Well, as you pleaſe.

That is very well ſaid; you are my pupil, you know, and ſhould give up every point to me; and ſince that is the caſe, inſtead of my ſupping with you, you ſhall dine with me.

With all my heart—be it ſo—Oſmyn!

Oſmyn—

Oſmyn, I ſay, hear my directions—You know I am to ſpeak—Go to the clerk of the kitchen, and deſire him to provide a handſome entertainment in my apartment, as the Sultan dines with me.

Did you Highneſs order—

What do you ſtand for? Do as ſhe bids you.

Are there not ſome females here that would enliven the converſation; for example, the beautiful Sultana Elmira, that accompliſh'd favourite you love ſo well; her company muſt be agreeable; and the Perſian ſlave Iſmena, who I am told ſings enchantingly—and whom you love a little.

Yes—but—

I underſtand you—you will have her too.

It is not neceſſary—we'll be alone.

Alone—a tête-a-tête would be a great pleaſure, to be ſure!—oh no.

I promiſe you I expect it.

Madam, your orders are obey'd.

Go to Elmira's apartment, and tell her I ſhall ſee her this evening. This evening, do you hear?

I don't like that whiſpering there—What's that you ſay?—you know I have often told you of that ugly trick.

Nothing—I'll come to her—go.

Stay, I ſay; I have ſome buſineſs with you.

Stay!—Certainly there never was any thing half [...]o pleaſant as this creature.

Go, Oſmyn, to the apartments of the Sultana Elmira, and to the chamber of the ſlave Iſmena, and tell [15] them to come and dine with the Sultan—If you neglect obeying my orders, your head ſhall anſwer for it—And, do you hear, don't let them know you came from me with this invitation.—Take care of your head.

ACT II.

AY, let me alone, now I have got the reins in my own hands, there ſhall ſoon be a re⯑formation in this place, I warrant. Hey-day! what have we got here?—Cuſhions! what, do they think we are going to prayers? Let me die but I believe it is their dinner. What, do they mean to make me ſit ſquat like a baboon, and tear my meat with my fingers?—Take away all this trumpery, and let us have tables and chairs, knives and forks, and diſhes and plates, like Chriſtians.—And, d'ye hear, leſt the beſt part of the entertainment ſhould be wanting, get us ſome wine.

Mercy on us, what a won⯑der! I tell you, wine muſt be had.—If there is none here, go to the Mufty; he is a good fellow, and has ſome good wine, I warrant him: let the church alone to take care of themſelves; they are too good judges of more ſolid things, not to be provided with them.

Oh, here come ſome of my gueſts—I'll hide.

It is impoſſible—A pretty thing, truly, ſhe is to diſpute the Sultan's heart with me!

I tell you, her aſcendency over him is ſuch, that [...] requires the greateſt art and caution to counteract it.

Well, Oſmyn, be my friend: and here take this [...], Oſmyn; and be ſure ſpeak ill of all my rivals, [...] all the good you poſſibly can of me.

Death and hell! we are deceived.

Take this locket, Oſmyn, and be ſure you ſpeak ill of all my rivals. Ha, ha, ha!

Inſipid pleaſantry! Know this, however, Madam, I was the firſt poſſeſſor of the Sultan's heart; and as ſuch will maintain my rights, and employ my power to keep it.

By a locket.—Holloa! who waits there?

Go tell the Grand Signior to come here.

I will, Madam—I'll be your friend, you may depend on me.

Go.

Elmira, I don't intend to diſpute the Sultan's heart with you; and, to prove it, you muſt know that it was I invited you to dine with him here; therefore make the beſt uſe you can of the opportunity.

Is it poſſible!

Slaves, bring the dinner.

What do I ſee? Iſmena and Elmira too!

What is the matter, Sir?

I thought you wou'd have been alone.

Not when good company is to be had.—Come, ſalute the ladies—

A little lower,

There now. Ladies, my gueſt is a little aukward; but he'll improve.

Indeed, Roxalana, you go great lengths.

Let her alone, ſhe knows it diverts me.

Well, let's be ſeated—I am to do the honours.

But what is all this? I never ſaw any thing like it before.

Where ſhould you?—Come—

Who is that? what does that horrid fellow want?

It is the grand carver:

The grand carver! I thought he came to cut off our heads—Pray, Mr. Carver, be ſo good as to carve yourſelf away. Come, Iſmena, cut up that, and help the Sultan. The ladies of my country always carve.

Why, I think this cuſtom is much better than ours.—

We ſhall have no occaſion for you.

Come, ſome wine.

Wine!—

Dinner is nothing without wine. Bring it here, Oſmyn.

Muſt I touch the horrible potion!

There it is.

Well, Oſmyn, as a reward for your ſervices, you ſhall have the firſt of the bottle.—Here, drink.

I drink the helliſh beverage!—I who am a true believer, a rigid Muſſulman!

Sir, he diſobeys me.

Drink as you are ordered.

I muſt obey, and taſte the horrible liquor—Oh! Mahomet, ſhut thy eyes—'Tis done—I have obey'd.

Iſmena, hold your glaſs there.—Elmira, fill yours and the Sultan's glaſs.

Nay, pray diſpenſe with me.

Diſpenſe with you, Sir? why ſhou'd we diſ⯑penſe with you? Oh, I underſtand you—perhaps you don't chooſe thoſe gentlemen ſhould ſee you—I will ſoon turn them off.—Gentlemen, you may go; we ſhall have no occaſion for you, I believe. Come, ladies, talk a little—if you don't talk, you muſt ſing.—Iſmena, oblige us with a ſong.—

Come, Sir, I inſiſt upon your drinking.

I muſt do as you bid me.

That's clever.

How extraordinary is the conduct of this creature, endeavouring thus to diſplay the accom⯑pliſhments of her rivals! but in every thing ſhe is my ſuperior.—I can reſt no longer.

To me! Oh, no—Iſmena, 'tis yours; the Sultan gives it as a reward for the pleaſure you have given him with your charming ſong.

Oh!

Elmira! 'tis your's—look up, Elmira.

Oh, Sir!

For you, out of my ſight, au⯑dacious! Let her be taken away immediately, and de⯑graded to the rank of the loweſt ſlave.

But ſhe ſhall be puniſhed, Madam, and you ſufficiently reveng'd.

I do not wiſh it; in your love all my deſires are accompliſh'd.

If we chaſtiſe her, it muſt be ſeverely. Go, or⯑der her to be brought hither.

What is your deſign, Sir?

I would, before her face, repair the injuſtice I was going to do you; excite her envy; and, rendering her puniſhment complete, leave her in everlaſting jea⯑louſy.

I beſeech you, think no more of her.

Pardon me, I think differently.—Let her be brought hither, I ſay.

Sir, they have not had time to put on her ſlave's habit yet.

No matter—fetch her as ſhe is; and now, El⯑mira, let our endearments be redoubled in her ſight.

Is that neceſſary, Sir?

Oh, it will gall her—I know it will gall her.—We feel our misfortunes with tenfold anguiſh, when we compare what we are with what we might have been.

It will have no effect; ſhe is a giddy creature—her gaiety is her all.

No, no, the contrary; that's the thing that ſtrikes me in Roxalana's character. Through what you call her frivolous gaiety, candour and good ſenſe ſhine ſo apparent—

There's an end on't,—if you juſtify her.—

I juſtify her! far from it; and you ſhall preſently be convinc'd I mean to make her feel the utmoſt rigour of my reſentment.

Here ſhe comes—ſhe's in affliction; and her left-hand, there, endeavours to hide a humiliated countenance.

Approach—Elmira, have you determin'd how you will diſpoſe of her?

I ſhall not add to what ſhe ſuffers.

How that ſentiment charms me! Indeed, El⯑mira, I bluſh to think that ſo unworthy an object ſhou'd have been able for a moment to ſurpriſe me to a degree, even to make me forget your ſuperior merit; but I am now yours for ever and ever.

Ha, ha, ha!

Death and hell! ſhe laughs.

Ha, ha, ha! 'Tis involuntary, I aſſure you; therefore, pray forgive me: I beg your pardon.

'Tis impudence beyond bearing; but I want to know the meaning of all this?

The meaning is plain, and anybody may ſee with half an eye you don't love Elmira.

Whom do I love then?

Me

You are the object of my anger,

That don't ſignify, love and anger often go to⯑gether; I am the object of your anger, becauſe I treat you with the ſincerity of a friend: but, with your High⯑neſs's permiſſion, I ſhall take myſelf away this moment for ever.

Go then, and prefer infamy to grandeur.

I will inſtantly get out of your ſublime preſence.

No, you ſhan't go—Elmira, do you withdraw—

Were I to give way to my tranſports, I ſhould make you feel the weight of my diſpleaſure; but I frame excuſes for you that you ſcorn to make for yourſelf—What, deſpiſe my favours, inſult my conde⯑ſcenſion!—Sure, you can't be ſenſible of your own folly!—Proceed, go on, continue to enrage your too indul⯑gent maſter.

You are my maſter, it is true; but could the robber, that ſold me to you for a thouſand chequins, transfer my mind and inclinations to you along with my perſon?—No, Sir, let it never be ſaid that the great Solyman meanly triumphed over the perſon of the ſlave whoſe mind he could not ſubdue.

Tell me who you are; what ſpecies of incon⯑ſiſtent being, at once ſo trifling and reſpectable, that you ſeduce my heart while you teach me my duty?

I am nothing but a poor ſlave, who is your friend.

Be ſtill my friend, my miſtreſs; for hitherto I have known only flatterers. I here devote myſelf to you, and the whole empire ſhall pay you homage.

But, pray, tell me then, by what title am I to govern here?

By what title? I don't underſtand you—Come, come, no more of this affected coyneſs and diſſembling. I ſee, I know you love me.

As Solyman I do, but not as emperor of the Turks—nor will I ever conſent to aſcend his bed at night, at whoſe feet I muſt fall in the morning.

If it depended upon nie, Roxalana, I ſwear by our holy prophet, that I ſhould be happy in calling you my queen.

That's a poor excuſe.—Had the man I lov'd but a cottage, I would gladly partake it with him; would ſooth his vexations, and ſoften his cares: but, were he maſter of a throne, I ſhould expect to ſhare it with him, or he has no love for me.

Or if you will wait, perhaps time will bring it about.

Wait, indeed! No, Sir!—Your wife, or humble ſervant—My reſolution is fix'd—fix yours.

But an emperor of the Turks—

May do as he pleaſes, and ſhould be deſpotic ſometimes on the ſide of reaſon and virtue.

Then there is our law—

Which is monſtrous and abſurd.

The mufti, the vizirs, and the agas—

Are your ſlaves—Set them a good example.

Beſides, what would the people ſay?

The people!—are they to govern you? Make the people happy, and they will not prevent your being ſo. They would be pleaſed to ſee you raiſe to the throne one that you love, and would love you, and be beloved by your people. Should ſhe interpoſe in behalf of the un⯑fortunate, relieve the diſtreſſed by her munificence and diffuſe happineſs through the palace, ſhe would be ad⯑mir'd—ſhe would be ador'd—ſhe'd be like the queen of the country from where I came.

It is enough—my ſcruples are at an end—my pre⯑judices, like clouds before the riſing ſun, vaniſh before the lights of your ſuperior reaſon—My love is no lon⯑ger a ſoible—you are worthy of empire.

Moſt Sublime Sultan—the Sultana Elmira claims your promiſe for liberty to depart.

Is that the caſe?—Let then the firſt inſtance of my exaltation be to give her liberty—let the gates of the Seraglio be thrown open.

And as for Elmira, ſhe ſhall go in a manner ſuit⯑able to her rank.

Sir, the dwarfs and botanges, your Highneſs had ordered, attend.

Let them come in—This day is devoted to feſtivity; and you who announce my decree, proclaim to the world, that the Sultana Roxalana reigns the un⯑rival'd partner of our diadem.

There's an end of my office—Who would have thought, that a little cock'd-up noſe would have over⯑turn'd the cuſtoms of a mighty empire!

Now, my Roxalana, let the world obſerve by thy exaltation the wonderful diſpenſation of Providence, which evinces, that