_Yussuf._ Back her! stop her! ease her! [_Runs out, L._ _Pasha._ Halloa! It seems your dagger you are quick at! _Medora._ Yes, for great wrongs I never trifles stick at. _Pasha._ But he’s your uncle. _Medora._ [L.] Kindred’s no protection. I raised this knife to cut my own connexion. _Pasha._ Nay, sweet Medora. [_Kneels._ _Zuli._ Sir, what are you at? Kneeling before a little minx like that. _Pasha._ Silence! _Gul._ To me can you forget your vow? _Pasha._ Somebody stop these women’s tongues. _Enter SYNG SMAUL, L._ How now? _Syng._ A wandering dervise, by fatigue oppressed, Begs you’ll allow him to come in and rest. _Pasha._ Admit him. SYNG SMAUL goes off, and returns with CONRAD, L., disguised as a dervise; he bows to PASHA. Sir, come in, your boon we grant. _An ATTENDANT brings wine._ Drink, sir; this maid will dance meanwhile. _Medora._ I shan’t. _Pasha._ No sulks, young woman; we’ve an ugly knack Of giving ladies who rebel--the sack. _Syng._ Into the river, tied in bags, they’re shied. _Medora._ Tied in a bag? I care not what _betide_. _Conrad._ [_Aside to her._] Fear naught. _Medora._ That voice! _Conrad._ Take heed--don’t shout like that out. _Medora._ [_Aside._] Talking of bags, I’d nearly let the cat out. _Pasha._ Once for all--will you dance at my command? _Conrad._ Stay, you’ve no music; let me call my band. [_Blows horn._] My followers, ho! _Pasha._ What mean these rude alarms? _Medora._ The trumpet calls, and thus we fly to arms. [_They embrace._ _Pasha._ Tear them asunder! [_Music._--_SYNG SMAUL seizes MEDORA_--_struggle, in which_ CONRAD’S _cloak falls off._ Ho! the Corsair! murder! [_LADIES scream_--_all rush off, carrying MEDORA, struggling, R._ _Conrad._ [_Blows horn._] My followers, ho! _Enter BIRBANTO, L._ _Birb._ They’ll follow you no furder! _Conrad._ You have not dared to tamper with them, slave? _Birb._ Well, if you ask the question then--I _have_. _Conrad._ Traitor! [_Draws sword._ _Birb._ I scorn your threats and you alike! _Conrad._ This to decide between us then.