brave Man, I am glad to find you are of ſo good an Humour, and ſo Complaiſant to bear with my little Capricio’s; your Humour is exactly like mine. Madam, reply’d
Backbarah, who was charm’d with this Diſcourſe, I am no more my own Man, I am wholly yours, you may diſpoſe of me as you pleaſe. O! how you oblige me, ſays the Lady, by ſo much Submiſſion: I am very well ſatisfy’d with you, and will have you to be ſo with me; bring him Perfume, ſays ſhe, and Roſe-water. Upon this, two Slaves went out and returned ſpeedily; one with a Silver Perfume-Box, with the beſt Wood of Aloes, with which ſhe perfum’d him; and the other with Roſe-water, which ſhe threw on his Hands and Face. My Brother was quite beſide himſelf at this honourable Treatment. After this Ceremony, the young Lady commanded the Slaves, who had already play’d on their Inſtruments, and ſung, to renew their Concerts. They obey’d, and in the mean time the Lady call’d another Slave, and order’d her to carry my Brother with her, and do what ſhe knew, and bring him back to her again.
Backbarah, who heard this Order, got up quickly, and going to the old Woman, who alſo roſe up to go along with him and the Slave, pray’d her to tell him what they were to do with him. My Miſtreſs is only curious, reply’d the old Woman ſoffly; ſhe has a Mind to ſee how you look in a Woman’s Dreſs, and this Slave who has Orders to paint your Eye-brows, to cut off your Whiskers, and to dreſs you like a Woman. You may paint my Brows as much as you pleaſe, ſays my Brother, I agree to that, becauſe I can waſh it off again; but to ſhave me, you know I muſt not allow that. How can I appear abroad again without Muſtacho’s. Beware of refuſing what’s ask’d of you, ſays the old Woman: You will ſpoil your Affairs, which go on new as well as Heart can wiſh. The Lady loves you, and has a Mind to make you happy; and will you, for a naſty Whisker, renounce the moſt delicious Favour that Man can obtain?
Backbarah liſten’d to the old Woman, and without ſaying one Word, went to a Chamber with the Slave, where they painted his Eye-brows with Red, cut off his Whiskers, and went to do the like with his Beard. My Brother’s Patience then began to wear out: O! ſays he, I will never part with my Beard. The Slave told him, that it was to no purpoſe to have parted with his
