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Act IV
Bagdad.
The gardens of the Caliph’s Palace outside the Pavilion of Pleasure. Anice, Nureddene.
ANICE This is Bagdad!
NUREDDENE Bagdad the beautiful, The city of delight. How green these gardens! What a sweet clamour pipes among the trees.
ANICE And flowers! the flowers! Look at those violets Dark-blue like burning sulphur! Oh, rose and myrtle And gillyflower and lavender; anemones As red as blood! All Spring walks here in blossoms And strews the pictured ground.
NUREDDENE Do you see the fruit, Anice? camphor and almond-apricots, Green, white and purple figs and these huge grapes, Round rubies or quite purple-black, that ramp O’er wall and terrace; plums almost as smooth As your own damask cheek. These balls of gold
Page – 117 Are lemons, Anice, do you think? Look, cherries, And mid these fair pink-budded orange-blossoms Rare glints of fruit.
ANICE That was a blackbird whistled. How the doves moan! It’s full of cooing turtles. Oh see, the tawny bulbuls calling sweetly And winging! What a flutter of scarlet tails! If it were dark, a thousand nightingales Would surely sing together. How glad I am That we were driven out of Bassora!
NUREDDENE And this pavilion with its crowd of windows? Are there not quite a hundred?
ANICE Do you see The candelabrum pendent from the ceiling? A blaze of gold!
NUREDDENE Each window has a lamp. Night in these gardens must be bright as day. To find the master now! Here we could rest And ask our way to the great Caliph, Anice. Enter Shaikh Ibrahim from behind.
IBRAHIM So, so! so, so! Cavalier servente with your bona roba! You do not know then of the Caliph’s order forbidding entry into his gardens? No? I will proclaim it, then, with a palm-stick about your pretty back quarters. Will I not? Hoh! He advances stealthily with stick raised. Nureddene and Anice turn towards him; he drops the stick and remains with arm lifted.
Page – 119
NUREDDENE
Here is a Shaikh of the gardens. Whose garden is this, friend?
ANICE
Is the poor man out of the use of his wits? He stares open-mouthed.
IBRAHIM
Glory to Allah who made you! Glory to the angel who brought
you down on earth! Glory to myself who am permitted to look
upon you! I give glory to Allah for your beauty, O people of
Paradise!
NUREDDENE (smiling)
Rather give glory to Him because he has given thee a fine old age
and this long silvery beard. But are we permitted in this garden?
The gate was not bolted.
IBRAHIM
This garden? My garden? Yes, my son; yes, my daughter. It is the
fairer for your feet; never before did such flowers bloom there.
NUREDDENE
What, is it thine? And this pavilion?
IBRAHIM
All mine, my son. By the grace of Allah to a poor sinful old
man. ‘Tis by His election, my son, and divine ordination and
sanctification, and a little by the power of my prostrations and
lustrations which I neglect not, neither morning nor noon nor
evening nor at any of the intervals by the law commanded.
NUREDDENE
When did you buy or lay it out, old father?
IBRAHIM
A grand-aunt left it to me. Wonder not, for she was indeed aunt’s
grandmother to a cousin of the sister-in-law of the Caliph.
Page – 119
NUREDDENE
Oh then indeed! she had the right divine to be wealthy. But I
trust thou hast good doctrinal justification for inheriting after
her?
IBRAHIM
I would not accept the Caliphate by any other. O my son, hanker
not unlawfully after perishable earthly goods; for, verily, they are
a snare and verily, verily, they entrap the feet of the soul as it
toileth over the straight rough road to Heaven.
ANICE
But, old father, are you rich and go so poorly robed? Were I
mistress of such a garden, I would float about it in damask
and crimson and velvet; silk and satin should be my meanest
apparel.
I She has a voice like a blackbird’s! O angel Gabriel, increase this unto me. I will not quarrel with thee though all Houridom break loose on my garden; for their gates thou hast a little opened. (aloud) Fie, my daughter! I take refuge with Allah. I am a poor sinful old man on the brink of the grave, what should I do with robes and coloured raiment? But they would hang well on thee. Praise the Lord who has given thee hips like the moon and a waist indeed! a small, seizable waist, Allah forgive me!
ANICE We are weary, old father; we hunger and thirst.
IBRAHIM Oh, my son! Oh, my daughter! you put me to shame. Come in, come in; this my pavilion is yours and there is within it plenty of food and drink, — such innocent things now as sherbet and pure ` kind water. But as for wine, that accursed thing, it is forbidden by the Prophet, whose name is a benediction. Come in, come in. Allah curse him that giveth not to the guest and the stranger.
Page – 120 NUREDDENE It is indeed thine? we may enter?
IBRAHIM Allah! Allah! its floor yearns for thy beauty and for the fair feet of thy sister. If there were youth now instead of poor venerable me, would one not kiss the marble wherever her fair small feet will touch it? But I praise Allah that I am an old man with my thoughts turned to chastity and holiness.
NUREDDENE Come, Anice.
I BRAHIM (walking behind them)Allah! Allah! she is a gazelle that springeth. Allah! Allah! the swan in my lake waddleth less perfectly. She is as a willow when the wind swayeth it. Allah! Allah! Exeunt to the pavilion.
Page – 121
The Pavilion of Pleasure. Anice, Nureddene, Shaikh Ibrahim on couches, by a table set with dishes.
NUREDDENE These kabobs are indeed good, and the conserves look sweet and the fruit very glossy. But will you sit and eat nothing?
IBRAHIM Verily, my son, I have eaten at midday. Allah forbid me from gluttony!
ANICE Old father, you discourage our stomachs. You shall eat a morsel from my fingers or I will say you use me hardly.
IBRAHIM No, no, no, no. Ah well, from your fingers, from your small slim rosy fingers. Allah! Only a bit, only a morsel; verily, verily! Allah! surely thy fingers are sweeter than honey. I could eat them with kisses.
ANICE What, old father, you grow young?
IBRAHIM Oh, now, now, now! ‘Twas a foolish jest unworthy of my grey hairs. I take refuge with Allah! A foolish jest.
NUREDDENE But, my aged host, it is dry eating without wine. Have you never a flagon in all this palace? It is a blot, a blot on its fair perfection.
Page – 122 IBRAHIM I take refuge with Allah. Wine! for sixteen years I have not touched the evil thing. When I was young indeed! ah well, when I was young. But ’tis forbidden. What saith Ibn Batata? That wine worketh transmogrification. And Ibrahim Alhashhash bin Fuzfuz bin Bierbiloon al Sandilani of Bassora, he rateth wine sorely and averreth that the red glint of it is the shine of the red fires of Hell, its sweetness kisseth damnation and the cool- ness of it in the throat causeth bifurcation. Ay, verily, the great Alhashhash.
ANICE Who are these learned doctors you speak of, old father? I have read all the books, but never heard of them.
IBRAHIM Oh, thou hast read? These are very distant and mystic Sufis, very rare doctors. Their books are known only to the adepts.
ANICE What a learned old man art thou, Shaikh Ibrahim! Now Allah save the soul of the great Alhashhash!
IBRAHIM Hm! ‘Tis so. Wine! Verily, the Prophet hath cursed grower and presser, buyer and seller, carrier and drinker. I take refuge with Allah from the curse of the Prophet.
NUREDDENE Hast thou not even one old ass among all thy belongings? And if an old ass is cursed, is it thou who art cursed?
IBRAHIM Hm! My son, what is thy parable?
NUREDDENE I will show you a trick to cheat the devil. Give three denars of mine to a neighbour’s servant with a dirham or two for his
Page – 123 trouble, let him buy the wine and clap it on an old ass, and let the old ass bring it here. So art thou neither grower nor presser, seller nor buyer, carrier nor drinker, and if any be damned, it is an old ass that is damned. What saith the great Alhashhash?
IBRAHIM Hm! Well, I will do it. (aside) Now I need not let them know that there is wine galore in my cupboards, Allah forgive me! Exit. NUREDDENE He is the very gem of hypocrites.
ANICE The fitter to laugh at. Dear my lord, be merry Tonight, if only for tonight. Let care Expect tomorrow.
NUREDDENE You are happy, Anice?
ANICE I feel as if I could do nothing else But laugh through life’s remainder. You’re safe, safe And that grim devil baffled. Oh, you’re safe!
NUREDDENE It was a breathless voyage up the river. I think a price is on my head. Perhaps Our helpers suffer.
ANICE But you are safe, my joy, My darling. She goes to him and kisses and clings about him.
Page – 124 NUREDDENE Anice, your eyes are full of tears! You are quite overwrought.
ANICE Let only you be safe And all the world beside entirely perish. My love! my master! She again embraces and kisses him repeatedly. Shaikh Ibrahim returns with the wine and glasses in a tray. IBRAHIM Allah! Allah! Allah!
ANICE Where’s that old sober learning? I want to dance, to laugh, to outriot riot. Oh, here he is.
NUREDDENE What a quick ass was this, Shaikh Ibrahim!
IBRAHIM No, no, the wine-shop is near, very near. Allah forgive us, ours is an evil city, this Bagdad; it is full of winebibbers and gluttons and liars.
NUREDDENE Dost thou ever lie, Shaikh Ibrahim?
IBRAHIM Allah forbid! Above all sins I abhor lying and liars. O my son, keep thy young lips from vain babbling and unnecessary lying. It is of the unpardonable sins, it is the way to Jahannam. But I pray thee what is this young lady to thee, my son?
Page – 125 NUREDDENE She is my slave-girl.
IBRAHIM Ah, ah! thy slave-girl? Ah, ah! a slave-girl! ah!
ANICE Drink, my lord.
NUREDDENE (drinking) By the Lord, but I am sleepy. I will even rest my head in thy sweet lap for a moment. He lies down. IBRAHIM Allah! Allah! What, he sleeps?
ANICE Fast. That is the trick he always serves me. After the first cup he dozes off and leaves me quite sad and lonely.
IBRAHIM Why, why, why, little one! Thou art not alone and why shouldst thou be sad? I am here, — old Shaikh Ibrahim; I am here.
ANICE I will not be sad, if you will drink with me.
IBRAHIM Fie, fie, fie!
ANICE By my head and eyes!
IBRAHIM Well, well, well! Alas, ’tis a sin, ’tis a sin, ’tis a sin. (drinks) Verily, verily.
Page – 126 ANICE Another.
IBRAHIM No, no, no.
ANICE By my head and eyes!
IBRAHIM Well, well, well, well! ‘Tis a grievous sin, Allah forgive me! (drinks)
ANICE Just one more.
IBRAHIM Does he sleep? Now if it were the wine of thy lips, little one!
ANICE Old father, old father! Is this thy sanctity and the chastity of thee and thy averseness to frivolity? To flirt with light-minded young hussies like me! Where is thy sanctification? Where is thy justification? Where is thy predestination? O mystic, thou art bifurked with an evil bifurcation. Woe’s me for the great Alhashhash!
IBRAHIM No, no, no.
ANICE Art thou such a hypocrite? Shaikh Ibrahim! Shaikh Ibrahim!
IBRAHIM No, no, no! A fatherly jest! a little little jest! (drinks)
Page – 127 NUREDDENE (starting up) Shaikh Ibrahim, thou drinkest?
IBRAHIM Oh! ah! ‘Twas thy slave-girl forced me. Verily, verily!
NUREDDENE Anice! Anice! Why wilt thou pester him? Wilt thou pluck down his old soul from heaven? Fie! draw the wine this side of the table. I pledge you, my heart.
ANICE To you, my dear one.
NUREDDENE You have drunk half your cup only; so, again; to Shaikh Ibrahim and his learned sobriety!
ANICE To the shade of the great Alhashhash!
IBRAHIM Fie on you! What cursed unneighbourly manners are these, to drink in my face and never pass the bowl?
ANICE AND NUREDDENE (together) Shaikh Ibrahim! Shaikh Ibrahim! Shaikh Ibrahim!
IBRAHIM Never cry out at me. You are a Hour and she is a Houri come down from Heaven to ensnare my soul. Let it be ensnared! ‘Tis not worth one beam from under your eyelids. Hour, I will embrace thee; I will kiss thee, Houri.
NUREDDENE Embrace not, Shaikh Ibrahim, neither kiss, for thy mouth smelleth evilly of that accursed thing, wine. I am woeful for the mystic Alhashhash.
Page – 128 ANICE Art thou transmogrified, O Sufi, O adept, O disciple of Ibn Batata?
IBRAHIM Laugh, laugh! laughter is on your beauty like the sunlight on the fair minarets of Mazinderan the beautiful. Give me a cup. (drinks) You are sinners and I will sin with you. I will sin hard, my beauties. (drinks)
ANICE Come now, I will sing to you, if you will give me a lute. I am a rare singer, Shaikh Ibrahim.
I BRAHIM (drinks)There is a lute in yonder corner. Sing, sing, and it may be I will answer thee. (drinks)
ANICE But wait, wait. To sing in this meagreness of light! Candles, candles! She lights the eighty candles of the great candelabrum. IBRAHIM (drinks) Allah! it lights thee up, my slave-girl, my jewel. (drinks)
NUREDDENE Drink not so fast, Shaikh Ibrahim, but get up and light the lamps in the windows.
I BRAHIM (drinks)Sin not thou by troubling the coolness of wine in my throat. Light them, light them but not more than two. Nureddene goes out lighting the lamps one by one and returns in the same way. Meanwhile Shaikh Ibrahim drinks.
Page – 129 IBRAHIM Allah! hast thou lit them all?
ANICE Shaikh Ibrahim, drunkenness sees but double, and dost thou see eighty-four? Thou art far gone in thy cups, O adept, O Ibn Batatist.
IBRAHIM I am not yet so drunk as that. You are bold youths to light them all.
NUREDDENE Whom fearest thou? Is not the pavilion thine?
IBRAHIM Surely mine; but the Caliph dwells near and he will be angry at the glare of so much light.
NUREDDENE Truly, he is a great Caliph.
IBRAHIM Great enough, great enough. There might have been greater, if Fate had willed it. But ’tis the decree of Allah. Some He raiseth to be Caliphs and some He turneth into gardeners. (drinks)
ANICE I have found a lute.
NUREDDENE Give it me. Hear me improvise, Old Sobriety. (sings)
Saw you Shaikh Ibrahim, the grave old man? Allah! Allah! I saw him drunk and drinking. What was he doing when the dance began? He was winking; verily, verily, he was winking.
Page – 130 IBRAHIM Fie! what cobbler’s poetry is this? But thou hast a touch. Let me hear thee rather.
ANICE I have a song for you. (sings)
White as winter is my beard, All my face with wrinkles weird, Yet I drink. Hell-fire? judgment? who’s afraid? Ibrahim would kiss a maid As soon as think.
IBRAHIM Allah! Allah! Nightingale! nightingale! Curtain Page – 131
The Gardens, outside the Pavilion. Haroun, Mesrour.
HAROUN See, Mesrour, the Pavilion’s all alight. ‘Tis as I said. Where is the Barmeky?
MESROUR The Vizier comes, my lord. Enter Jaafar. JAAFAR Peace be with thee, Commander of the Faithful.
HAROUN Where is peace, Thou faithless and usurping Vizier? Hast thou Filched my Bagdad out of my hands, thou rebel, And told me nothing?
JAAFAR What words are these, O Caliph?
HAROUN What mean these lights then? Does another Caliph Hold revel in my Palace of all Pleasure, While Haroun lives and holds the sword?
JAAFAR (to himself ) What Djinn Page – 132 Plays me this antic?
HAROUN I am waiting, Vizier.
JAAFAR Shaikh Ibrahim, my lord, petitioned me, On circumcision of his child, for use Of the pavilion. Lord, it had escaped My memory; I now remember it.
HAROUN Doubly thou erredst, Jaafar; for thou gavest him No money, which was the significance Of his request, neither wouldst suffer me To help my servant. We will enter, Vizier, And hear the grave Faqeers discoursing there Of venerable things. The Shaikh’s devout And much affects their reverend company. We too shall profit by that holy talk Which arms us against sin and helps to heaven.
JAAFAR (to himself ) Helps to the plague! (aloud) Commander of the Faithful, Your mighty presence will disturb their peace With awe or quell their free unhampered spirits.
HAROUN At least I’ld see them.
MESROUR From this tower, my lord, We can look straight into the whole pavilion.
HAROUN Mesrour, well thought of! Page – 133 JAAFAR (aside, to Mesrour) A blister spoil thy tongue!
MESROUR (aside, to Jaafar) I’ll head you, Jaafar.
HAROUN (listening) Is not that a lute? A lute at such a grave and reverend meeting! Shaikh Ibrahim sings within. Chink-a-chunk-a-chink! We will kiss and drink, And be merry, O very very merry. For your eyes are bright Even by candle light And your lips as red as the red round cherry.
HAROUN Now by the Prophet! by my great forefathers! He rushes into the tower followed by Mesrour. JAAFAR May the devil fly away with Shaikh Ibrahim and drop him upon a hill of burning brimstone! He follows the Caliph, who now appears with Mesrour on the platform of the tower. HAROUN Ho, Jaafar, see this godly ceremony Thou gav’st permission for, and these fair Faqeers.
JAAFAR Shaikh Ibrahim has utterly deceived me.
HAROUN The aged hypocrite! Who are this pair Page – 134 Of heavenly faces? Was there then such beauty In my Bagdad, yet Haroun’s eyes defrauded Of seeing it?
JAAFAR The girl takes up the lute.
HAROUN Now if she play and sing divinely, Jaafar, You shall be hanged alone for your offence, If badly, all you four shall swing together.
JAAFAR I hope she will play vilely.
HAROUN Wherefore, Jaafar?
JAAFAR I ever loved good company, my lord, And would not tread my final road alone.
HAROUN No, when thou goest that road, my faithful servant, Well do I hope that we shall walk together.
ANICE (within)
Song King of my heart, wilt thou adore me, Call me goddess, call me thine? I too will bow myself before thee As in a shrine. Till we with mutual adoration And holy earth-defeating passion Do really grow divine.
Page – 135 HAROUN The mighty Artist shows his delicate cunning Utterly in this fair creature. I will talk With the rare couple.
JAAFAR Not in your own dread person, Or fear will make them dumb.
HAROUN I’ll go disguised. Are there not voices by the river, Jaafar? Fishermen, I would wager. My commands Are well obeyed in my Bagdad, O Vizier! But I have seen too much beauty and cannot now Remember to be angry. Come, descend. As they descend, enter Kareem. KAREEM Here’s a fine fat haul! O my jumpers! my little beauties! O your fine white bellies! What a joke, to catch the Caliph’s own fish and sell them to him at thrice their value!
HAROUN Who art thou?
KAREEM O Lord, ’tis the Caliph himself! I am a dead fisherman. (falling flat) O Commander of the Faithful! Alas, I am an honest fisherman.
HAROUN Dost thou lament thy honesty? What fish hast thou?
KAREEM Only a few whitebait and one or two minnows. Poor thin rogues, all of them! They are not fit for the Caliph’s honourable stomach.
Page – 136 HAROUN Show me thy basket, man. Are these thy whitebait and thy two thin minnows?
KAREEM Alas, sir, ’tis because I am honest.
HAROUN Give me thy fish.
KAREEM Here they are, here they are, my lord!
HAROUN Out! the whole basket, fellow. Do I eat live fish, you thrust them in my face? And now exchange thy outer dress with me.
KAREEM My dress? Well, you may have it; I am liberal as well as honest. But ’tis a good gabardine; I pray you, be careful of it.
HAROUN Woe to thee, fellow! What’s this filthiness Thou callst a garment?
KAREEM O sir, when you have worn it ten days, the filth will come easy to you and, as one may say, natural. And ’tis honest filth; it will keep you warm in winter.
HAROUN What, shall I wear thy gabardine so long?
KAREEM Commander of the Faithful! since you are about to leave kingcraft and follow an honest living for the good of your soul,
Page – 137 you may wear worse than an honest fisherman’s gabardine. ‘Tis a good craft and an honourable.
HAROUN Off with thee. In my dress thou’lt find a purse Crammed full of golden pieces. It is thine.
KAREEM Glory to Allah! This comes of being honest. Exit. J AAFAR (coming up)Who’s this? Ho, Kareem! wherefore here tonight? The Caliph’s in the garden. You’ll be thrashed And very soundly, fisher.
HAROUN Jaafar, ’tis I.
JAAFAR The Caliph!
HAROUN Now to fry these fish and enter.
JAAFAR Give them to me. I am a wondrous cook.
HAROUN No, by the Prophet! My two lovely friends Shall eat a Caliph’s cookery tonight. Exeunt.
Page – 138
Inside the Pavilion. Nureddene, Anice, Shaikh Ibrahim.
NUREDDENE Shaikh Ibrahim, verily, thou art drunk.
IBRAHIM Alas, alas, my dear son, my own young friend! I am damned, verily, verily, I am damned. Ah, my sweet lovely young father! Ah, my pious learned white-bearded mother! That they could see their son now, their pretty little son! But they are in their graves; they are in their cold, cold, cold graves.
NUREDDENE Oh, thou art most pathetically drunk. Sing, Anice.
OUTSIDE Fish! fish! sweet fried fish!
ANICE Fish! Shaikh Ibrahim, Shaikh Ibrahim! hearest thou? We have a craving for fish.
IBRAHIM ‘Tis Satan in thy little stomach who calleth hungrily for sweet fried fish. Silence, thou preposterous devil!
ANICE Fie, Shaikh, is my stomach outside me, under the window? Call him in.
Page – 139 IBRAHIM Ho! ho! come in, Satan! come in, thou brimstone fisherman. Let us see thy long tail. Enter Haroun. ANICE What fish have you, good fisherman?
HAROUN I have very honest good fish, my sweet lady, and I have fried them for you with my own hand. These fish, — why, all I can say of them is, they are fish. But they are well fried.
NUREDDENE Set them on a plate. What wilt thou have for them?
HAROUN Why, for such faces as you have, I will honestly ask nothing.
NUREDDENE Then wilt thou dishonestly ask for a trifle more than they are worth. Swallow me these denars.
HAROUN Now Allah give thee a beard! for thou art a generous youth.
ANICE Fie, fisherman, what a losing blessing is this, to kill the thing for which thou blessest him! If Allah give him a beard, he will be no longer a youth, and for the generosity, it will be Allah’s.
HAROUN Art thou as witty as beautiful?
ANICE By Allah, that am I. I tell thee very modestly that there is not my equal from China to Frangistan.
Page – 140 HAROUN Thou sayest no more than truth.
NUREDDENE What is your name, fisherman?
HAROUN I call myself Kareem and, in all honesty, when I fish, ’tis for the Caliph.
IBRAHIM Who talks of the Caliph? Dost thou speak of the Caliph Haroun or the Caliph Ibrahim?
HAROUN I speak of the Caliph, Haroun the Just, the great and only Caliph.
IBRAHIM Oh, Haroun? He is fit only to be a gardener, a poor witless fellow without brains to dress himself with, yet Allah hath made him Caliph. While there are others — but ’tis no use talking. A very profligate tyrant, this Haroun! He has debauched half the women in Bagdad and will debauch the other half, if they let him live. Besides, he cuts off a man’s head when the nose on it does not please him. A very pestilence of a tyrant!
HAROUN Now Allah save him!
IBRAHIM Nay, let Allah save his soul if He will and if ’tis worth saving; but I fear me ’twill be a tough job for Allah. If it were not for my constant rebukes and admonitions and predications and pestrigiddi — prestigidgidi — what the plague! pestidigitations; and some slaps and cuffs, of which I pray you speak very low, he
Page – 141 would be worse even than he is. Well, well, even Allah blunders; verily, verily!
ANICE Wilt thou be Caliph, Shaikh Ibrahim?
IBRAHIM Yes, my jewel, and thou shalt be my Zobeidah. And we will tipple, beauty, we will tipple.
HAROUN And Haroun?
IBRAHIM I will be generous and make him my under-kitchen-gardener’s second vice-sub-under-assistant. I would gladly give him a higher post, but, verily, he is not fit.
HAROUN (laughing) What an old treasonous rogue art thou, Shaikh Ibrahim!
IBRAHIM What? who? Thou art not Satan, but Kareem the fisherman? Didst thou say I was drunk, thou supplier of naughty houses? Verily, I will tug thee by the beard, for thou liest. Verily, verily!
NUREDDENE Shaikh Ibrahim! Shaikh Ibrahim!
IBRAHIM Nay, if thou art the angel Gabriel and forbiddest me, let be; but I hate lying and liars.
NUREDDENE Fisherman, is thy need here over?
Page – 142 HAROUN I pray you, let me hear this young lady sing; for indeed ’twas the sweet voice of her made me fry fish for you.
NUREDDENE Oblige the good fellow, Anice; he has a royal face for his fishing.
IBRAHIM Sing! ’tis I will sing: there is no voice like mine in Bagdad. (sings)
When I was a young man, I’d a very good plan; Every maid that I met, In my lap I would set, What mattered her age or her colour? But now I am old And the girls, they grow cold And my heartstrings, they ache At the faces they make, And my dancing is turned into dolour.
A very sweet song! a very sad song! Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. ‘Tis just, ’tis just. Ah me! well-a-day! Verily, verily!
ANICE I pray you, Shaikh Ibrahim, be quiet. I would sing.
IBRAHIM Sing, my jewel, sing, my gazelle, sing, my lady of kisses. Verily, I would rise up and buss thee, could I but find my legs. I know not why they have taken them from me.
ANICE (sings) Song Heart of mine, O heart impatient, Thou must learn to wait and weep.
Page – 143 Wherefore wouldst thou go on beating When I bade thee hush and sleep? Thou who wert of life so fain, Didst thou know not, life was pain?
HAROUN O voice of angels! Who art thou, young man, And who this sweet-voiced wonder? Let me hear; Tell me thy story.
NUREDDENE I am a man chastised For my own errors, yet unjustly. Justice I seek from the great Caliph. Leave us, fisherman.
HAROUN Tell me thy story. Walk apart with me. It may be I can help thee.
NUREDDENE Leave us, I pray thee. Thou, a poor fisherman!
HAROUN I vow I’ll help thee.
NUREDDENE Art thou the Caliph?
HAROUN If I were, by chance?
NUREDDENE If thou art as pressing with the fish as me, There’s a good angler. Exit with Haroun.
Page – 144 ANICE Will you not have some of this fish, Shaikh Ibrahim? ‘Tis a sweet fish.
IBRAHIM Indeed thou art a sweet fish, but somewhat overdone. Thou hast four lovely eyes and two noses wonderfully fine with just the right little curve at the end; ’tis a hook to hang my heart upon. But, verily, there are two of them and I know not what to do with the other; I have only one heart, beauty. O Allah, Thou hast darkened my brain with wine, and wilt Thou damn me afterwards?
ANICE Nay, if thou wilt misuse my nose for a peg, I have done with thee. My heart misgives me strangely. Enter Nureddene. NUREDDENE He’s writing out a letter.
ANICE Surely, my lord, This is no ordinary fisherman. If ’twere the Caliph?
NUREDDENE The old drunkard knew him For Kareem and a fisherman. Dear Anice, Let not our dreams delude us. Life is harsh, Dull-tinted, not so kindly as our wishes, Nor half so beautiful. Enter Haroun. HAROUN He is not fit To be a King.
Page – 145 NUREDDENE Nor ever was. ‘Tis late.
HAROUN Giv’st thou no gift at parting?
NUREDDENE
You’re a fisher! (opens his purse)
HAROUN
Nothing more valuable?
ANICE
Wilt take this ring?
HAROUN
No; give me what I ask.
NUREDDENE
Yes, by the Prophet,
Because thou hast a face.
HAROUN
Give me thy slave-girl.
There is a silence.
NUREDDENE
Thou hast entrapped me, fisherman.
ANICE
Is it a jest?
HAROUN
Thou sworest by the Prophet, youth.
NUREDDENE
Tell me,
Page – 146
Is it for ransom? I have nothing left
In all the world but her and these few pieces.
HAROUN
She pleases me.
ANICE
O wretch!
NUREDDENE
Another time
I would have slain thee. But now I feel ’tis God
Has snared my feet with dire calamities,
And have no courage.
HAROUN
Dost thou give her to me?
NUREDDENE
Take her, if Heaven will let thee. Angel of God,
Avenging angel, wert thou lying in wait for me
In Bagdad?
ANICE
Leave me not, O leave me not.
It is a jest, it must, it shall be a jest.
God will not suffer it.
HAROUN
I mean thee well.
ANICE
Thy doing’s damnable. O man, O man,
Art thou a devil straight from Hell, or art thou
A tool of Almuene’s to torture us?
Will you leave me, my lord, and never kiss?
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NUREDDENE
Thou art his; I cannot touch thee.
HAROUN
Kiss her once.
NUREDDENE
Tempt me not; if my lips grow near to hers,
Thou canst not live. Farewell.
HAROUN
Where art thou bound?
NUREDDENE
To Bassora.
HAROUN
That is, to death?
NUREDDENE
Even so.
HAROUN
Yet take this letter with thee to the Sultan.
NUREDDENE
Man, what have I to do with thee or letters?
HAROUN
Hear me, fair youth. Thy love is sacred to me
And will be safe as in her father’s house.
Take thou this letter. Though I seem a fisherman,
I was the Caliph’s friend and schoolfellow,
His cousin of Bassora’s too, and it may help thee.
NUREDDENE
I know not who thou art, nor if this scrap
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Of paper has the power thou babblest of,
And do not greatly care. Life without her
Is not to be thought of. Yet thou giv’st me something
I’ld once have dared call hope. She will be safe?
HAROUN
As my own child, or as the Caliph’s.
NUREDDENE
I’ll go play
At pitch and toss with death in Bassora.
Exit.
IBRAHIM
Kareem, thou evil fisherman, thou unjust seller, thou dishonest
dicer, thou beastly womanizer! hast thou given me stinking fish
not worth a dirham and thinkest to take away my slave-girl?
Verily, I will tug thy beard for her.
He seizes Haroun by the beard.
H Out! Hither to me, Vizier Jaafar. (Enter Jaafar.) Hast thou my robe? He changes his dress. JAAFAR How dost thou, Shaikh Ibrahim? Fie, thou smellest of that evil thing, even the accursed creature, wine.
IBRAHIM O Satan, Satan, dost thou come to me in the guise of Jaafar, the Persian, the Shiah, the accursed favourer of Gnosticism and heresies, the evil and bibulous Vizier? Avaunt, and return not save with a less damnable face. O thou inconsiderate fiend!
HAROUN Damsel, lift up thy head. I am the Caliph.
Page – 149 ANICE What does it matter who you are? My heart, my heart!
HAROUN Thou art bewildered. Rise! I am the Caliph Men call the Just. Thou art as safe with me As my own daughter. I have sent thy lord To be a king in Bassora, and thee I will send after him with precious robes, Fair slave-girls, noble gifts. Possess thy heart Once more, be glad.
ANICE O just and mighty Caliph!
HAROUN Shaikh Ibrahim.
IBRAHIM Verily, I think thou art the Caliph, and, verily, I think I am drunk.
HAROUN Verily, thou hast told the truth twice, and it is a wonder. But verily, verily, thou shalt be punished. Thou hast been kind to the boy and his sweetheart, therefore I will not take from thee thy life or thy post in the gardens, and I will forgive thee for tugging the beard of the Lord’s anointed. But thy hypocrisies and blasphemies are too rank to be forgiven. Jaafar, have a man with him constantly and wine before his eyes; but if he drink so much as a thimbleful, let it be poured by gallons into his stomach. Have in beautiful women constantly before him and if he once raise his eyes above their anklets, shave him clean and sell him into the most severe and Puritan house in Bagdad. Nay, I will reform thee, old sinner.
Page – 150 IBRAHIM Oh, her lips! her sweet lips!
JAAFAR You speak to a drunken man, my lord.
HAROUN Tomorrow bring him before me when he’s sober. Exeunt. Page – 151 |