( 74 )
Oh unfortunate Prince, ſays the Sultan, you can never be enough bewail’d! No body can be more ſenſibly touch’d with your Condition than I am; never did ſuch an extraordinary Misfortune beſal any Man, and thoſe who write your Hiſtory will have the Advantage to relate a Paſſage that ſurpaſſes all that has ever yet been writ. There’s nothing wanting but one thing, the Revenge which is due to you, and I will omit nothing that can be done to procure it.
While the Sultan diſcours’d upon this Subject with the young Prince, he told him who he was, and for what end he entred the Caſtle, and thought on a way to revenge him, which he communicated to him. They agreed upon the Meaſures they were to take for effecting their Deſign, but deferr’d the Execution of it till the next Day. In the mean time, the Night being ſar ſpent, the Sultan took ſome Reſt, but the poor young Prince paſs’d the Night without Sleep, as uſual, having never ſlept ſince he was enchanted, but he conceiv’d ſome Hopes of being ſpeedily delivered from his Miſery.
Next Morning the Sultam got up before Day, and, in order to execute his Deſign, he hid in a Corner his upper Garment that would have been cumberſome to him, and went to the Palace of Tears. He found it enlightned with an infinite Number of Flambeaus of white Wax, and a delicious Scent iſſued from ſeveral Boxes of fine Gold of admirable Workmanſhip, all ranged in excellent Order: As ſoon as he ſaw the Bed where the Black lay, he drew his Scimiter, kill’d the Wretch without Refiſtance, dragg’d his Corps into the Court of the Caftle, and threw it into a Well. After this he went and lay down-in the Black’s Bed, and took his Scimiter with him under the Counterpane, and lay there to execute what he had deſign’d. The Magician arriv’d in a little time: She firſt went into the Chamber where her Husband the King of the Black-Iſlands was, ſtripp’d him and beat him with Bulls Pizzles in a moſt barbarous manner. The poor Prince fill’d the Palace with his Lamentations to no purpoſe, and conjur’d her in the moſt affecting manner that could be, to take pity on him, but the cruel Woman would not give over, till ſhe had given him an hundred Blows. You had no Campaſſionon
