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Rh

With envious worship—must we from our meals And quiet couches, like your rude barbarians, Be fear'd and roused still with horrid bellowing Of curst artillery? it is a shame!

It is a crying, an insulting shame. Ev'n Mahomet regards our polish'd race And rare acquirements; but for Constantine

Ay, ay! let him come forth with his base crew Of savage strangers; and should they refuse us, Ev'n with good teeth and nails, fail other means, We will do vultures' work upon them all. Holla! holla! we say to you again; Emperor! Constantine! come forth to us! Audience, if that your sov'reign may command it,