“How, by the Pagoda Pongo Sabiam,” cried Husseim, “my wife’s Toy speaks, and what can it say?”

“We are going to hear,” answered the Sultan.

“Prince, you will permit me not to be of the number of its auditors,” replied Husseim; “for if anything ridiculous drop’d from it, do you think?”

“I think you are a fool,” said the Sultan, “to alarm yourself at the prattle of a Toy: do we not know a good part of what it can say, and may we not guess the rest? Sit down, then, and endeavour to divert yourself.”

Husseim sat down, and his wife’s Toy began to prate like a magpie. “Shall I eternally have this huge Flandrian Valanto? I have seen some who have made an end; but this man⁠—” At these words Husseim arose in a fury, snatch’d up a knife, sprang to the other side of the table; and would have pierced his wife’s breast, if his neighbours had not prevented him.