ACT I
MORNING
Scene I. A Street before the Mosque of the Carpenters.
(Right and left from the point of view of the actor.)
In the centre, steps lead up to the Mosque, which is on the right. Only the lower part of the minaret is visible. A large stone to the left of the steps forms a rough seat.
It is just before dawn, which rises rapidly, so that it is daylight by the end of the scene.
Asleep, on the stone, wrapped in his beggar’s cloak of a hundred rags and patches, sits Hajj, reclining against the angle of the wall. He is a man of about fifty, still in the full vigour of his manhood. His beard is thin and unkempt; but his face is keen, shrewd and full of humour. At a glance he shows himself to be a man of the people, who lives by his wits, untroubled by what the morrow may bring him. At present he is sleeping the sleep of the just to the tune of a hearty snore.
After a few moments of peace, steps are heard in the alley left, and the Muezzin, an old man of seventy, appears with a lanthorn and a large key. He goes to the door of the Mosque and unlocks it.
Cocks begin to crow far and near.
The “brush” of the dawn appears in the sky.
(Hajj, disturbed by the clatter, turns and yawns prodigiously—stretching himself.)
Hajj. In the name of Allah,—Day?
The Muezzin. (Coming towards him.) Peace be on thee, O Hajj.
Hajj. And on thee, peace and blessing, O my friend. (The Muezzin enters the Mosque.)
(Imam Mahmud, a venerable white bearded sage, appears. Hajj stifles a yawn, sits up, and assumes his beggar’s attitude—the right hand out, the head dejectedly on one side.)
Hajj. (As the Imam comes to him in a whining sing-song.) Alms, for the love of Allah! For the love of Allah, alms!
Mahmud. (Handing Hajj a small round loaf.) Take! The Giver giveth thee this. (He crosses in front of Hajj and goes up the steps.)
Hajj. (Taking the bread.) Verily, thy good deeds shall witness for thee on the day of judgment, O Mahmud.
Mahmud. (Stopping.) The peace upon thee and a full harvest of tears and pity for thy poverty.
Hajj. Nay, sooner pray it be a full hand of silver and gold.
Mahmud. That shall be even as Allah foredooms. Naught befalls us but what His pen hath written.
Hajj. Praise be to Allah, the One, the Omnipotent.
Mahmud. And to Mohammed his Prophet, whom Allah bless and preserve. (He goes into the Mosque.)
(Hajj looks after him, grunts, and then turns and fumbles behind the stone, pulling out a chipped, earthen jug of water. He then mumbles “In the name of Allah,” drinks from the jug and munches his bread, smacking his lips loudly.)
(Meanwhile, from the minaret the voice of the Muezzin is heard calling to prayer, and other distant calls to prayer may be heard from various quarters.)
(Steps resound in the streets. Hajj quickly conceals his bread and jug behind the stone. Men now come at intervals by the two alleys and enter the Mosque. At the threshold they take off their slippers with their left hand, entering with the right foot, ejaculating, “In the name of Allah.”)
Hajj. Alms for a starving brother. Bind a body and soul together!—O master! Thy large brow proclaims an open heart. A danik! A fils! (The Man gives a coin and passes on.) Heaven hath seen this, O my master. In the name of the Compassionating, the Compassionate! A blessing on thy white beard. Thou art nearing thy grave! Buy thy salvation from thy slave. (The Man passes on murmuring “Allah will give it thee.”) Nothing. May’st thou burn for it, O thou dog! (To another.) O brother, mine eyes have failed me! (He rolls up his eyes.) Hast thou a blind father or one dearest to thee groping in darkness? (The Man gives a coin and passes on.) A dirham! The Bestower requite it thee, O my lord. (To another.) O Azir, my master, I see thee well, though it scarce be day. Is he better, thy son, the light of thy house? Be his fever abated? (The Man passes on muttering “Allah will provide.”) Nought? May the Ghuls suck away thy bastard’s breath. (To another.) O stranger! Not so quickly. Haste is from Hell; Heaven will wait for thee. (To a young man.) O fair youth, a trifle. On my knees have I lain here these endless years. (The Man gives him a coin.) The Protector increase thy weal. (To the Mufti, an old man.) O Mufti—a word. Thou knowest the bitterness of a long life and a weary. I am young, alas. All my sad days stretch before me.
The Mufti. Please Allah to-morrow——
Hajj. (Getting between the Mufti and the steps of the Mosque.) Thou dost ever say to-morrow.
The Mufti. (Laughing.) And is not to-morrow ever to-morrow?
Hajj. True. The stench of thy soul lessens not from dawn to dawn.
The Mufti. Out of my way. (He pushes past Hajj into the Mosque.)
Hajj. With joy and gladness—for thy way leads to damnation. (Several men enter singly and by twos as Hajj continues in a sing-song tone.) Glory be to Allah! Upon Allah dependeth daily bread. Thy wealth is not thine own, O rich man. Thou art as poor as the poorest. Allah alone giveth, and what he giveth belongeth not to thee. Thy gold is but a blessing to become a blessing. Then open thy purse and let the afflicted bend to the holy House of Meccah for thee, and every danik out of thy hand will return to thee a thousandfold through the prayers of the poor.
(Men have gone into the Mosque, some giving coin, others passing on. From the street on the left the guide Nasir enters conducting the Sheikh Jawan, an old man, who is leaning on two black slaves and followed by two others. He is clothed completely in white, his face veiled by a “Taylasan,” a scarf hiding his beard. He is over sixty and paralysed in his legs, but his eyes are still full of fire. Two Slaves retire. Slowly the Sheikh mounts the steps supported by the other Two Slaves.)
(Hajj catches hold of the hem of his cloak.)
Hajj. Alms, for the love of Allah! For the love of Allah, alms!
Jawan. (Turning.) O Hajj, thou?
Hajj. (Surprised, rising and following him.) Thou knowest me?
Jawan. Thou still here mumbling for crusts? (He laughs, a nasal laugh, mockingly.) He, he, he!
(Nasir takes off Jawan’s slippers.)
Hajj. (On the Mosque steps.) Who art thou?
Jawan. Who am I? He, he! Who am I? He, he, he!
(He turns with his slaves and goes off into the Mosque followed by the guide Nasir.)
(Hajj looks after him mystified and riveted by a haunting memory; then slowly regains his seat, counting his profits as he does so. “One, two, three—five.”)
(Meanwhile Kasim, a young, ragged, one-eyed beggar, has come and sat down on Hajj’s seat. He is busy tying some strips round one of his legs, quite unconscious of usurping anyone’s rights. Hajj is about to sit, when he turns, and, seeing Kasim, exclaims an amazed “Yehh!” He comes slowly up to the intruder and touches him provokingly on the arm.)
Hajj. (Squatting.) And what may thy business be?
Kasim. Canst thou not see? I am a beggar even as thou.
Hajj. Thou—even as I? Thou? Knowest thou what thou say’st?
Kasim. My ears can hear my tongue.
Hajj. O monstrous piece of impudence! A beggar even as I? ’Tis plain thou art a stranger to Baghdad.
Kasim. Thou hast said it. I come from afar. My name’s Kasim. And thou?
Hajj. I? I? Ha! ha! (Patronisingly.) O thou poor fool. But there, thou art a stranger. I? I am Hajj—Hajj, the beggar.
Kasim. Hajj? A pilgrim? Then thou hast been to Holy Meccah?
Hajj. Not I! Never a foot have I stirred beyond our city walls. My parents called me Hajj at my birth, so that the sacred title might win me added pity from the passer-by. Not a child in the quarter but calleth me thus by name. I have sat upon that stone these fifty summers and winters, drinking the sun, and more oft than not the moon too, scorning the pent-up sleep of a bed.
Kasim. (Sneeringly.) These fifty summers? Say’st thou so?
Hajj. (Excitedly.) Yea! And before me my father sat there, superb in rags, and before him, his; and so on to the beginning without beginning. That stone, O Kasim, is my legacy, my right, my stronghold. Not till this hour hath man dared what thou darest.
Kasim. Then this hour endeth thy kingdom. I am come to conquer.
Hajj. I pray thee, O maggotty head, bandy no words. Go get thee to yon corner (He points to the corner left) if it like thee. Other swine have grovelled there in their time. My vilest enemy sat there once, these many weary years since. Take his place.
Kasim. I’ll not budge from here.
Hajj. How sayst thou? Not budge? A scum like thou? A nail-pairing? A goat’s cheese at noon-tide? Not budge? We shall see, by Allah! We shall see!
(He seizes him and pushes him towards the corner.)
Kasim. Let go! Let go, I say! Ho, Moslems, come ye to my help! Let go!
Hajj. (Holding Kasim at arm’s length and kicking him.) Let go? There! How’s that to thy taste? Swallow that, an thou art an-hungered. A dainty dish of foot, and more to follow. One—two—three! Another mouthful?
(Nasir, the Guide of the Sheikh, has come out of the Mosque and stands on the steps.)
Nasir. O Hajj! By the All-knowing, what’s this?
Hajj. He’d take my seat—this nothing from nowhere.
Kasim. (Rubbing himself.) I want not his seat.
Hajj. Not now,—now that I have made thee feel the value of thine own.
(Kasim crawls down to the stone left, nursing his kicks.)
Hajj. (Sits in his seat.) A joyous day indeed and a well begun! What with this one-eyed dog, and thy miserly stranger—(breaking off.) Allah! Who is he, O Nasir?
Nasir. (Evasively.) A man of the men. I know not.
Hajj. O brother of truth, thou knowest full well. Thou art guiding him, he lodges at thy Khan. He called me by name. Who is he?
Nasir. (After a moment of hesitating.) Harkee, O Hajj. I have a plan to offer thee. An thou wilt fall in with my plotting, ’twill mean money to both of us.
Hajj. Money? No harm in that. Speak.
Nasir. This old man of mine has been a famous highwayman in his hour. The White Sheikh they were used to call him.
Hajj. The White Sheikh—he?
Nasir. Our Caliph deceased set his troops upon him oft and oftener. In one of his attacks, he captured most of the robber’s band—his little son amongst them, a mere stripling at the time.
Hajj. Say on.
Nasir. The boy was spared for his beauty. If he still be of the living, his age must reach nigh on thirty summers. Yet all these endless years whilst the last Caliph ruled, the Sheikh dared not enter Baghdad. Not till now, that the young monarch hath mounted the throne, hath the father ventured at last in search of his son.
Hajj. A touching tale! And how forsooth are we to coin wealth of this?
Nasir. Did’st thou not mark how broken, how stricken, the old man is? Never was there such a repentant sinner. All his moneys are spent in charities; all his hopes in the finding of his beloved son, Yusuf. The smallest word, the faintest promise from priest or soothsayer, and his hand darts into his purse. Now dost thou see dawn?
Hajj. I am to cast myself into his path. What thou hast revealed, is to flow unto me as in a vision.
Nasir. Thou hast it. And it is agreed, whate’er he bestows on thee, we share by halves, like honest Moslems that we are.
Hajj. So it please the Protector. Leave it to me.
Nasir. But harkee, O clever one, thou’lt do it carefully? Draw from all the deepest wells: a father’s longing, a father’s mad despair. Such like and more, if thou canst.
Hajj. If I can? If I can? Did I not too have a son—many years gone to-day,—a babe fair as the moon! Was he not foully murdered? His throat cut across? And my wife, the balm of mine eyes, stolen away by mine enemy? Yea, sat he not where yon dog sits now—the slaughterer of my race? Doth not yon stone make my soul ever cry aloud for blood revenge?
Nasir. So thou, too, hast felt its fire—a father’s love?
Hajj. Felt it? Hearken to this, O Nasir—and Allah pardon me for unveiling the veiled sex. I have a daughter now of fourteen summers, the child of a late spring by another wife, who is dead, alas! The maid is all that is left me on earth; dear to me above the promises of Paradise. Yet the day will come when she will be wed and wived. And she will bear the burden of another’s posterity. But mine own race, the blood of my fathers, once I am called to rest, where will it be? O brother, I am like unto a date-palm that groweth aslant the pool, and whose fruit hath fallen into the waters.
(Men begin to come out of the Mosque and wander off by the two alleys.)
(Dawn is giving place to daylight.)
Nasir. Prayer is over. We must not be found together.
(Nasir retires to the alley left, and beckons to the Two Black Slaves, who join him.)
(Meanwhile, other men are passing Hajj, who begins in a sing-song tone, but has left his seat so as to intercept the Sheikh.)
Hajj. Alms for the love of——
Kasim. (Whining.) Alms for the love of Allah!
Hajj. (To Kasim.) Silence, thou dog!—(continuing) For the love of Allah, alms. The grave is darkness. Charity its lamp. Learn to love poverty. Be good and enter Paradise. Alms, for the love of Allah! For the love of Allah, alms!
(The Sheikh Jawan reappears from the Mosque, pausing on the steps, supported by his Two Slaves. Jawan conceals his face from Hajj with his scarf.)
Hajj. (Rising.) O Sheikh of sheikhs, the Peace upon thee. When thou spokest before, the eyes of my memory were closed. Now they are open and recall thy bounty of other days.
Jawan. Dost thou know me, indeed?
Hajj. I see thy soul clear as in crystal. Thou art come from afar in search of some one long lost. ’Tis him thou seekest, thy son.
Jawan. Yehh! This is strange. Shall I reach my desire?
Hajj. Thou shalt see thy son this day.
Jawan. Even though the curses of my foes stand between me and Allah?
Hajj. Thy prayers have killed their curses.
Jawan. Wilt thou swear to that?
Hajj. By Him, the All-seeing, the All-hearing, the All-knowing I swear it to thee.
Jawan. Will thy ragged saintliness bless me?
Hajj. Allah’s blessing upon thee and thy enterprise. May thy foes be confounded, and thy hopes rounded.
(A slight pause—then Jawan bursts into uncontrollable laughter—“he, he, he, he, he!”)
Jawan. O Hajj! Dost guess what thou hast done? See! (He withdraws the scarf from his face.) Thou hast blest thine enemy. I am he who has sat at yon corner in the long ago.
Hajj. (Hoarsely.) Jawan!
Jawan. Yes, Jawan! He that stole thy wife and stabbed thy squealing brat and fled the city at night.
Hajj. Jawan,—the beggar,—thou?
Jawan. Jawan, the beggar, no longer Jawan the beggar. Nay, look not so amazed. My wild life hath oldened me more than thy tame life thee.
Hajj. Jawan!
Jawan. Dost thou doubt me? Hearken, then, and learn. Thy wife and I, that night of the nights, we rode out into the desert. A band of robbers found us. Time and lot made me their leader. Twenty-five years I was their chief. Twenty-five years the Caliph made war on me as on a king—his equal. And I was his equal in power, in prowess, in all—yea, even though he captured my son, the son of thy wife, thy beautiful Gulnar.
Hajj. O hog, hog-fathered! Allah ruin thee for ever.
Jawan. (Sneeringly.) Thou dost forget thy blessings of a moment since. (He crosses to Nasir and the other slaves.)
Hajj. I blessed thee not. I blessed an unknown.
Jawan. No, no, me by the Most High, the Glorious—me. And ’tis thus through thee, that I shall find my son again. Thou hast recalled thy curses. The spell is broken at last.
Hajj. Thou shalt not live to find him. (He springs towards Jawan.)
(The other Two Slaves draw ugly looking dirks and ward off Hajj.)
(Hajj stands impotent and panting—“Wah!”)
Jawan. Said I not I was King? Allah send thee a long life, Hajj, and a happy.
Hajj. Allah send thee the foul fiend and a thousand fires.
Jawan. Too late, O brother. Thou hast stopped Heaven’s ears with thy blessings! Thy curses fall on deafness.—Behold! A poor return for thy bounty! (He throws a purse at Hajj.) Up and away!
(The Slaves turn with Jawan and move away by the alley left, Nasir preceding them.)
Hajj. (Desperately.) Take back thy blood money. I’ll not swallow my son’s blood! Take it back, O thou grey-beard of hell! Take it!
(Jawan has disappeared; his laughter, “He, he, he!” is heard dying away in the distance. Kasim crawls from his seat toward the purse.)
Hajj. Laugh! Laugh to split thy spleen! But by the Decreer, thy day shall set! For I have found thee! Thou art alive and here,—and I too—I am alive. (Going up to Kasim.) Dost thou hear? Dost thou?—I have found him! He is back in Baghdad, he who sat where thou sittest, the butcher of my race! I shall meet him at last—hold him by the throat, the dog of dogs, and (taking Kasim by the throat.) I shall strangle him with (choking Kasim.) These—two—thumbs of mine.
Kasim. (Choking.) Brother—protection!
Hajj. (Still continuing, in his fury.) What though he be guarded by slaves with swords naked, and I, defenceless——
Kasim. (Gasping.) Awah!
Hajj. I shall find a way to him. Buy it, if need be!—Buy? Yehh. (He throws Kasim aside and turns to the purse.) And with his gold. His! it smelleth of blood. Every coin a crime, every chink a cry for vengeance. Allah, be thou my witness! Only for this do I touch his accursed charity. Only for this!
Kasim. Look!
(Several men come out of the Mosque.)
Hajj. (Quickly thrusting the purse in his bosom, returns to his stone, beginning his sing-song without looking up.) Alms for the love of Allah! For the love of Allah——
Kasim. Alms for the love of Allah! For the love of All——
Hajj. (To Kasim.) Silence, thou louse-trap!
(Nasir re-enters rapidly.)
Nasir. I’ve left him for an instant. He’s praying at a tomb. The purse. How much is mine?
Hajj. The purse?
Nasir. The purse he threw thee.
Hajj. (Innocently.) I saw no purse.
Nasir. Saw no purse? Thou art jesting. Out with it. Share.
Hajj. Share? Purse? Know I what he threw or not? Sit I here to count the droppings of the street? A pretty patron thou didst serve me. Get thee gone! Thou art a rouge, a thief!
Nasir. I, a rogue? I, a thief? (To Kasim.) Thou sawest him take the purse. (Hajj secretly drops the purse into his water-jug.) I call thee to witness.
Kasim. I saw him spit on it and turn from it and curse it.
Nasir. (Catching hold of Kasim.) Thou hast it. Thou hast taken it for him.
Kasim. Alas, O brother, not I.
Nasir. Give it me! Give it me! ’Tis not thine to keep.
Kasim. Strip every rag from me—thou’lt not find it.
Hajj. (Gleefully.) Strip him! Strip him!
Kasim. (Turning with fury to Hajj.) Thou hast it.
Hajj. Aye, strip me too. Both of us, so it give thee pleasure. Thou shalt behold rare sights. Strip us—thy slave entreats thee.
(One of Jawan’s Negroes appears from the alley.)
Negro. O Nasir.
Hajj. (Pointing to the negro.) Thy master calls!
Nasir. O thou villain! I go to take my charge back to the inn. But after, as thou lovest life, look to thyself and thy safety.
(He hurries off after the Negro.)
Hajj. (Shouting after him.) The Peace upon thee! Ha, ha, ha! (He takes the purse out of the water-jug, putting it into his breast.)
Kasim. (Laughing obsequiously.) Ha! Ha! Ha!
(A slight pause.)
Kasim. (Crawling over to Hajj, cringing.) O my master, and what is my share of the spoils?
Hajj. (Imitating Kasim.) “What is my share of the spoils?” By Solomon’s seal ring! This purse—whether it be from Heaven or from Hell,—this hath been sent by Fate to me, and me alone. There is a purpose in this purse. The scroll of destiny unrolleth itself to mine eyes. I see the writing as in flames.
Kasim. The scroll?
Hajj. Lookee, all of us have an allotted hour. This is mine. Here’s the talisman I have prayed for, many a year of waiting. The weapon to my revenge—Gold!
Kasim. What wilt thou do?
Hajj. I shall arise from the seat of dejection. (Rises.) My days of mourning are over. I shall get me to the hammam-bath. (Walking about.) These rags will I rip from me; the waters shall wash away my weariness. Robes of ease and decency shall broaden my breast. No more the whining voice and bent brow, and trembling palm of poverty, but head back as a fighter of the faith, shoulders free, stride bold and commanding as a king’s, yea, as he said, even as a king’s.
(He walks excitedly up and down and throws his beggar’s cloak on his stone.)
(The Imam Mahmud has come out of the Mosque and stands amazed on the steps.)
Mahmud. O Hajj. Are thy wits fled? What means this?
Hajj. I am casting my beggardom from me.
Mahmud. Thou?
Hajj. Allah hath opened the Gate of Action to me. (Chinking his purse.) With a golden key!
Mahmud. O my son, I fear for thee the chances and changes of time.
Hajj. Hath not the Prophet enjoined blood vengeance? I am resolved, O my father. Voyage is victory. Yet ere I go, thou who didst ever remember my misery,—take this voluntary for the poor. (He gives Mahmud some coin.)
Mahmud. May the Protector protect thee against all woe, may He forefend thee ever against thy foe.
Kasim. (Going to Hajj, still on his knees.) And I—am I to have naught?
Hajj. Thou? (Pushing him to the stone.) Take thou my stone, my ancestral throne! Wrapped in my royal robes, hold it thine own! As for me, life calls. The day is mine to joy! And when the night falleth, Allah allowing, I shall hold mine enemy in the hollow of my hand! (He strides off to the left, his purse on high, full daylight upon him.)
[Curtain]
Scene II. The Suk (Bazaar Street) of the Tailors.
A narrow street, arched over, with shops on both sides. Arches left and right. A large centre arch at the back leads off to other parts of the bazaar.
(Note.—Much of the following action and dialogue occurs simultaneously, so as to produce a harmonious picture rather than separate impressions.)
In a shop left sits Zayd, a thin, conceited man of forty; he has with him a tiny little apprentice, who is here, there and everywhere. In the shop right (Amru’s shop), a somewhat older apprentice is unpacking bales of stuff.
It is early morning. The life of the street is awakening to the business of the day. As the curtain rises the shopkeepers are spreading out their wares. A Sweetmeat-seller enters through the centre arch. He bows to a shopkeeper and passes on, squatting in the right corner, his back to the audience. His cry is, “Ho! Ho! Swee-ts.” Fruit-girls enter from the right and settle down in the left corner opposite him. Their cry is “Omani peaches, Osmani quinces! Sultani citrons! Li-mes!”
Two Bedouins appear and walk solemnly down the street. A Chinaman enters, followed by a little boy carrying fowls. The Chinaman goes to the Sweetmeat-seller and points to the sweets with his fan.
Chinaman. (In a squeaky voice.) This! This! This! How much?
Sweetseller. Three daniks.
Chinaman. One! One! One!
Sweetseller. Two.
Chinaman. (Turning away to the left.) One!
Sweetseller. (Rises and goes after him.) One and a half.
(The Chinaman refuses to listen to him.)
Sweetseller. (Sitting down again.) Hell swallow all foreign dogs!
(Jawan enters at the central arch supported by his Two Slaves and passes down the street.)
(The Chinaman goes to Zayd’s shop.)
Zayd’s Apprentice. Allah enlarge thee, O traveller from the land of China.
Chinaman. Silk! Silk! Silk!
Zayd’s Apprentice. Here’s Persian silk, O my master! Rich, soft silk.
Chinaman. (Pulling it about). No! China silk! China silk! This bad! Bad! (He walks away.)
Zayd’s Apprentice. (Shouts after him). Out on thee, thou cat-faced infidel!
(A Boy with flowers comes and squats down near the fruit-girls. His cry is:
(An Old Man with a donkey appears laden with jars of olive oil, stops at Zayd’s shop and turns to the apprentice.)
The Old Man (to the apprentice). Here’s olive oil for thy master.
Boy. Is the jar full?
The Old Man. Full as the number of my years.
Boy. Allah make them a thousand in number.
(The Captain of the Guard struts majestically through the Suk. Nasir, the guide, enters, goes to Zayd’s shop and bargains for a sash; tries it on, rolling himself into it and out of it as Zayd holds one end of it.)
(Two Courtesans appear in flimsy veils and gorgeous draperies. A Youth approaches them with a flower he has bought from the flower-boy.)
The First Courtesan (to the Youth). Fair befall thee, O Youth! Art thou from Baghdad? Art thou a stranger?
The Youth. I am yours from wherever I am; a captive to the moon of your faces.
The other Courtesan. Thy glance is bright as the blade of a sword.
The Youth. And thy tongue sharper, no doubt!
The Porter (with an immense bale on his head, to one of the Courtesans). Must thou trip my heels, thou stinking armful?
The Courtesan. Out of my way, thou son of a burnt father.
An Old Man (to a Young One). Come out of this babel; I am sick from eating too much of the world.
The Young Man. Nay, I have only begun the feast—I am an-hungered. Look at this shop, O my father!
A Merchant. What wilt thou buy, O my brother? Silks? Kerchiefs? Girdles? Here’s all the earth gives birth to.
An Egyptian (with a little girl, to a boy selling beads.) What manner of beads are these, O my son?
The Bead-boy. Beads from Damascus! Beads of polished steel! Glass beads from Rhodes! Beads clear as crystal from the land of China, whiter than sea-pearls!
The Egyptian (to his little girl.) What shall I buy thee, O my Pigeon? These beads? Or those? Speak, O my Lotus!
A Man (to one of the fruit-sellers.) Is thy fruit sweet, O my sister? (He takes up some fruit.)
The Fruit-seller. Pay first and taste after.
A Man. Thy fruit is over-ripe.
The Fruit-seller. ’Tis fresh as the dawn-breeze.
The Man. O my little tulip, how should I believe thee? Dost thou not belong to the universal sisterhood of woman?
The Fruit-seller. All women are not alike; nor are the fingers of the hand alike.
The Sweetmeat-seller (crying.) Swee-ts! Swee-ts! No better sweets in Baghdad. No better sweets in Baghdad. They are made by my cousin. He’s pastry-cook at the palace.
A Buyer. Allah increase thee for a smooth-tongued liar!
The Sweetseller. Taste my wares and ask my pardon!
(And so it goes. Cries and movement everywhere. The shopkeeper’s call to the passer-by is, “What dost thou want? Dost thou lack kerchiefs, shawls?” Greetings are heard such as, “I salute thee with my salaam! Allah increase thee, O my brother! A blessed day! Allah gladden thee with good news! The Bestower increase thee ever!” Porters plough their way through the crowd calling out, “Have patience, o ye people, have patience.” Compliments are heard such as, “Thou art like the moon on a fourteenth night! Thy body sways like a thirsting gazelle! Gifted by the Giver art thou! Thy beauty would make a palace dance!” And words of anger and impatience such as, “Begone and none of thine impudence! Be off! By Allah, this is not allowed! May Allah never bless thee! No friendly welcome to thee! Fie upon thee, ill-omened fellow!” The hubbub reaches its climax as a Water-carrier enters, shouting loudly, “Water! Water, coo-l and clea-r!” He is stopped by two negro slaves, who buy cups of water from him. Then the Water-carrier turns, as Amru, a stout imposing merchant with a huge beard, comes down the street and approaches him. Amru takes a cup. As he does so, Zayd looks up from his shop in surprise and hurries out of it.)
Zayd. (Surprised.) By mine eyes, Amru!
Amru. (Delighted.) By mine eyes, Zayd!