"Three things for ever hinder her to visit us, for fear Of the
intriguing spy and eke the rancorous envier;
Her forehead's lustre and the sound of all her ornaments And the
sweet scent her creases hold of ambergris and myrrh.
Grant with the border of her sleeve she hide her brow and doff
Her ornaments, how shall she do her scent away from her?"
She was like the moon when at fullest on its fourteenth night,
and was clad in a garment of blue, with a veil of green,
over brow flower-white that all wits amazed and those of
understanding amated.--And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day
and ceased saying her permitted say.
When it was the Eight Hundred and Sixty-seventh Night,
She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the
gardener brought a girl whom we have described possessed of the
utmost beauty and loveliness and fine stature and symmetrical
grace as it were she the poet signified when he said,[FN#427]
"She came apparelled in a vest of blue,
That mocked the skies and shamed their azure hue;
I thought thus clad she burst upon my sight,
Like summer moonshine on a wintry night."
And how goodly is the saying of another and how excellent,
"She came thick veiled, and cried I, 'O display * That face like
full moon bright with pure-white ray.'
Quoth she, 'I fear disgrace,' quoth I, 'Cut short * This talk, no
shift of days thy thoughts affray.'
Whereat she raised her veil from fairest face * And crystal spray
on gems began to stray:
And I forsooth was fain to kiss her cheek, * Lest she complain of
me on Judgment-Day.
And at such tide before the Lord on High * We first of lovers
were redress to pray:
So 'Lord, prolong this reckoning and review' * (Prayed I) 'that
longer I may sight my may.'"
Then said the young gardener to her, "Know thou, O lady of the
fair, brighter than any constellation which illumineth air we
sought, in bringing thee hither naught but that thou shouldst
entertain with converse this comely youth, my lord Nur al-Din,
for he hath come to this place only this day." And the girl
replied, "Would thou hadst told me, that I might have brought
what I have with me!" Rejoined the gardener, "O my lady, I will
go and fetch it to thee." "As thou wilt," said she: and he, "Give
me a token." So she gave him a kerchief and he fared forth in
haste and returned after awhile, bearing a green satin bag with
slings of gold. The girl took the bag from him and opening it
shook it, whereupon there fell thereout two-and-thirty pieces of
wood, which she fitted one into other, male into female and
female into male[FN#428] till they became a polished lute of
Indian workmanship. Then she uncovered her wrists and laying the
lute in her lap, bent over it with the bending of mother over
babe, and swept the strings with her finger-tips; whereupon it
moaned and resounded and after its olden home yearned; and it
remembered the waters that gave it drink and the earth whence it
sprang and wherein it grew and it minded the carpenters who
cut it and the polishers who polished it and the merchants who
made
it their merchandise and the ships that shipped it; and it cried
and called aloud and moaned and groaned; and it was as if she
asked it of all these things and it answered her with the tongue
of the case, reciting these couplets,[FN#429]
"A tree whilere was I the Bulbul's home * To whom for love I
bowed my grass-green head:
They moaned on me, and I their moaning learnt * And in that moan
my secret all men read:
The woodman felled me falling sans offence, * And slender lute of
me (as view ye) made:
But, when the fingers smite my strings, they tell * How man
despite my patience did me dead;
Hence boon-companions when they hear my moan * Distracted wax as
though by wine misled:
And the Lord softens every heart to me, * And I am hurried to the
highmost stead:
All who in charms excel fain clasp my waist; * Gazelles of
languid eyne and Houri maid:
Allah ne'er part fond lover from his joy * Nor live the loved one
who unkindly fled."
Then the girl was silent awhile, but presently taking the lute in
lap, again bent over it, as mother bendeth over child, and
preluded in many different modes; then, returning to the first,
she sang these couplets,
"Would they [FN#430] the lover seek without ado, * He to his
heavy grief had bid adieu:
With him had vied the Nightingale[FN#431] on bough * As one far
parted from his lover's view:
Rouse thee! awake! The Moon lights Union-night * As tho' such
Union woke the Morn anew.
This day the blamers take of us no heed * And lute-strings bid us
all our joys ensue.
Seest not how four-fold things conjoin in one * Rose, myrtle,
scents and blooms of golden hue.[FN#432]
Yea, here this day the four chief joys unite * Drink and dinars,
beloved and lover true:
So win thy worldly joy, for joys go past * And naught but storied
tales and legends last."
When Nur al-Din heard the girl sing these lines he looked on her
with eyes of love and could scarce contain himself for the
violence of his inclination to her; and on like wise was it with
her, because she glanced at the company who were present of the
sons of the merchants and she saw that Nur al-Din was amongst the
rest as moon among stars; for that he was sweet of speech and
replete with amorous grace, perfect in stature and symmetry,
brightness and loveliness, pure of all defect, than the breeze of
morn softer, than Tasnim blander, as saith of him the
poet,[FN#433]
"By his cheeks' unfading damask and his smiling teeth I swear, By
the arrows that he feathers with the witchery of his air,
By his sides so soft and tender and his glances bright and keen,
By the whiteness of his forehead and the blackness of his
hair,
By his arched imperious eyebrows, chasing slumber from my lids
With their yeas and noes that hold me 'twixt rejoicing and
despair,
By the Scorpions that he launches from his ringlet-clustered
brows, Seeking still to slay his lovers with his rigours
unaware,
By the myrtle of his whiskers and the roses of his cheek, By his
lips' incarnate rubies and his teeth's fine pearls and rare,
By the straight and tender sapling of his shape, which for its
fruit Doth the twin pomegranates, shining in his snowy
bosom, wear,
By his heavy hips that tremble, both in motion and repose, And
the slender waist above them, all too slight their weight to
bear,
By the silk of his apparel and his quick and sprightly wit, By
all attributes of beauty that are fallen to his share;
Lo, the musk exhales its fragrance from his breath, and eke the
breeze From his scent the perfume borrows, that it scatters
everywhere.
Yea, the sun in all his splendour cannot with his brightness vie
And the crescent moon's a fragment that he from his nails
doth pare."
--And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her
permitted say.
When it was the Eight Hundred and Sixty-eighth Night,
She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Nur
al-Din was delighted with the girl's verses and he swayed from
side to side for drunkenness and fell a-praising her and saying,
"A lutanist to us inclined * And stole our wits bemused with
wine:
And said to us her lute, 'The Lord * Bade us discourse by voice
divine.'"
When she heard him thus improvise the girl gazed at him with
loving eyes and redoubled in passion and desire for him increased
upon her, and indeed she marvelled at his beauty and loveliness,
symmetry and grace, so that she could not contain herself, but
took the lute in lap again and sang these couplets,
"He blames me for casting on him my sight * And parts fro' me
bearing my life and sprite:
He repels me but kens what my heart endures * As though Allah
himself had inspired the wight:
I portrayed his portrait in palm of hand * And cried to mine
eyes, 'Weep your doleful plight.'
For neither shall eyes of me spy his like * Nor my heart have
patience to bear its blight:
Wherefore, will I tear thee from breast, O Heart * As one who
regards him with jealous spite.
And when say I, 'O heart be consoled for pine,' * 'Tis that heart
to none other shall e'er incline:"
Nur al-Din wondered at the charms of her verse and the elegance
of her expression and the sweetness of her voice and the
eloquence of her speech and his wit fled for stress of love and
longing, and ecstasy and distraction, so that he could not
refrain from her a single moment, but bent to her and strained
her to his bosom: and she in like manner bowed her form over his
and abandoned herself to his embrace and bussed him between the
eyes. Then he kissed her on the mouth and played with her at
kisses, after the manner of the billing of doves; and she met him
with like warmth and did with him as she was done by till the
others were distracted and rose to their feet; whereupon Nur
al-Din was ashamed and held his hand from her. Then she took her
lute and, preluding thereon in manifold modes, lastly returned to
the first and sang these couplets,
"A Moon, when he bends him those eyes lay bare * A brand that
gars gazing gazelle despair:
A King, rarest charms are the host of him * And his lance-like
shape men with cane compare:
Were his softness of sides to his heart transferred * His friend
had not suffered such cark and care:
Ah for hardest heart and for softest sides! * Why not that to
these alter, make here go there?
O thou who accusest my love excuse: * Take eternal and leave me
the transient share."[FN#434]
When Nur al-Din heard the sweetness of her voice and the rareness
of her verse, he inclined to her for delight and could not
contain himself for excess of wonderment; so he recited these
couplets,
"Methought she was the forenoon sun until she donned the veil *
But lit she fire in vitals mine still flaring fierce and
high,
How had it hurt her an she deigned return my poor salám * With
fingertips or e'en vouchsafed one little wink of eye?
The cavalier who spied her face was wholly stupefied * By charms
that glorify the place and every charm outvie.
'Be this the Fair who makes thee pine and long for love liesse? *
Indeed thou art excused!' 'This is my fairest she;'(quoth I)
Who shot me with the shaft of looks nor deigns to rue my woes *
Of strangerhood and broken heart and love I must aby:
I rose a-morn with vanquished heart, to longing love a prey * And
weep I through the live long day and all the night I cry."
The girl marvelled at his eloquence and elegance and taking her
lute, smote thereon with the goodliest of performance, repeating
all the melodies, and sang these couplets,
"By the life o' thy face, O thou life o' my sprite! * I'll ne'er
leave thy love for despair or delight:
When art cruel thy vision stands hard by my side * And the
thought of thee haunts me when far from sight:
O who saddenest my glance albe weeting that I * No love but thy
love will for ever requite?
Thy cheeks are of Rose and thy lips-dews are wine; * Say, wilt
grudge them to us in this charming site?"
Hereat Nur al-Din was gladdened with extreme gladness and
wondered with the utmost wonder, so he answered her verse with
these couplets,
"The sun yellowed not in the murk gloom li'en * But lay pearl
enveiled 'neath horizon-chine;
Nor showed its crest to the eyes of Morn * But took refuge from
parting with Morning-shine.[FN#435]
Take my tear-drops that trickle as chain on chain * And they'll
tell my case with the clearest sign.
An my tears be likened to Nile-flood, like * Malak's[FN#436]
flooded flat be this love o'mine.
Quoth she, 'Bring thy riches!' Quoth I, 'Come, take!' * 'And thy
sleep?' 'Yes, take it from lids of eyne!'"
When the girl heard Nur al-Din's words and noted the beauty of
his eloquence her senses fled and her wit was dazed and love of
him gat hold upon her whole heart. So she pressed him to her
bosom and fell to kissing him like the billing of doves, whilst
he returned her caresses with successive kisses; but preeminence
appertaineth to precedence.[FN#437] When she had made an end of
kissing, she took the lute and recited these couplets,
"Alas, alack and well-away for blamer's calumny! * Whether or not
I make my moan or plead or show no plea:
O spurner of my love I ne'er of thee so hard would deem * That I
of thee should be despised, of thee my property.
I wont at lovers' love to rail and for their passion chide, * But
now I fain debase myself to all who rail at thee:
Yea, only yesterday I wont all amourists to blame * But now I
pardon hearts that pine for passion's ecstasy;
And of my stress of parting-stowre on me so heavy weighs * At
morning prayer to Him I'll cry, 'In thy name, O Ali!'"
And also these two couplets,
"His lovers said, 'Unless he deign to give us all a drink * Of
wine, of fine old wine his lips deal in their purity;
We to the Lord of Threefold Worlds will pray to grant our prayer'
* And all exclaim with single cry 'In thy name, O Ali!'"
Nur al-Din, hearing these lines and their rhyme, marvelled at the
fluency of her tongue and thanked her, praising her grace and
passing seductiveness; and the damsel, delighted at his praise,
arose without stay or delay and doffing that was upon her of
outer dress and trinkets till she was free of all encumbrance sat
down on his knees and kissed him between the eyes and on his
cheek-mole. Then she gave him all she had put off.--And Shahrazad
perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.
When it was the Eight Hundred and Sixty-ninth Night,
She pursued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the girl
gave to Nur al-Din all she had doffed, saying, "O beloved of my
heart, in very sooth the gift is after the measure of the giver."
So he accepted this from her and gave it back to her and kissed
her on the mouth and cheeks and eyes. When this was ended and
done, for naught is durable save the Living, the Eternal,
Provider of the peacock and the owl,[FN#438] Nur al-Din rose from
the séance and stood upon his feet, because the darkness was now
fallen and the stars shone out; whereupon quoth the damsel to
him, "Whither away, O my lord?"; and quoth he, "To my father's
home." Then the sons of the merchants conjured him to night with
them, but he refused and mounting his shemule, rode, without
stopping, till he reached his parent's house, where his mother
met him and said to him, "O my son, what hath kept thee away till
this hour? By Allah, thou hast troubled myself and thy sire by
thine absence from us, and our hearts have been occupied with
thee." Then she came up to him, to kiss him on his mouth, and
smelling the fumes of the wine, said, "O my son, how is it that, after prayer and worship thou hast become a wine-bibber and a
rebel against Him to whom belong creation and commandment?" But
Nur al-Din threw himself down on the bed and lay there. Presently
in came his sire and said, "What aileth Nur al-Din to lie thus?";
and his mother answered, "'Twould seem his head acheth for the
air of the garden." So Taj al-Din went up to his son, to ask him
of his ailment, and salute him, and smelt the reek of
wine.[FN#439] Now the merchant loved not wine-drinkers; so he
said to Nur al-Din, "Woe to thee, O my son! Is folly come to such
a pass with thee, that thou drinkest wine?" When Nur al-Din heard
his sire say this, he raised his hand, being yet in his
drunkenness, and dealt him a buffet, when by decree of the
Decreer the blow lit on his father's right eye which rolled down
on his cheek; whereupon he fell a-swoon and lay therein awhile.
They sprinkled rose-water on him till he recovered, when he would
have beaten his son; but the mother withheld him, and he swore,
by the oath of divorce from his wife that, as soon as morning
morrowed, he would assuredly cut off his son's right
hand.[FN#440] When she heard her husband's words, her breast was
straitened and she feared for her son and ceased not to soothe and
appease his sire, till sleep overcame him. Then she waited till
moon-rise, when she went in to her son, whose drunkenness had now
departed from him, and said to him, "O Nur al-Din, what is this
foul deed thou diddest with thy sire?" He asked, "And what did I
with him?"; and answered she, "Thou dealtest him a buffet on the
right eye and struckest it out so that it rolled down his cheek;
and he hath sworn by the divorce-oath that, as soon as morning
shall morrow he will without fail cut off thy right hand." Nur
al-Din repented him of that he had done, whenas repentance
profited him naught, and his mother said to him, "O my son, this
penitence will not profit thee; nor will aught avail thee but
that thou arise forthwith and seek safety in flight: go forth the
house privily and take refuge with one of thy friends and there
what Allah shall do await, for he changeth case after case and
state upon state." Then she opened a chest and taking out a purse
of an hundred dinars said, "O my son, take these dinars and
provide thy wants therewith, and when they are at an end, O my
son, send and let me know thereof, that I may send thee other
than these, and at the same time covey to me news of thyself
privily: haply Allah will decree thee relief and thou shalt
return to thy home." And she farewelled him and wept passing sore,
nought could be more. Thereupon Nur al-Din took the purse of gold
and was about to go forth, when he espied a great purse
containing a thousand dinars, which his mother had forgotten by
the side of the chest. So he took this also and binding the two
purses about his middle,[FN#441] set out before dawn threading
the streets in the direction of Búlák, where he arrived when day
broke and all creatures arose, attesting the unity of Allah the
Opener and went forth each of them upon his several business, to
win that which Allah had unto him allotted. Reaching Bulak he
walked on along the riverbank till he sighted a ship with her
gangway out and her four anchors made fast to the land. The folk
were going up into her and coming down from her, and Nur al-Din,
seeing some sailors there standing, asked them whither they were
bound, and they answered, "To Rosetta-city." Quoth he, "Take me
with you;" and quoth they, "Well come, and welcome to thee, to
thee, O goodly one!" So he betook himself forthright to the
market and buying what he needed of vivers and bedding and
covering, returned to the port and went on board the ship, which
was ready to sail and tarried with him but a little while before
she weighed anchor and fared on, without stopping, till she
reached Rosetta,[FN#442] where Nur al-Din saw a small boat going
to Alexandria. So he embarked in it and traversing the sea-arm of
Rosetta fared on till he came to a bridge called Al-Jámí, where
he landed and entered Alexandria by the gate called the Gate of
the Lote-tree. Allah protected him, so that none of those who
stood on guard at the gate saw him, and he walked on till he
entered the city.--And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and
ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Eight Hundred and Seventieth Night,
She resumed, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when Nur
al-Din entered Alexandria he found it a city goodly of
pleasaunces, delightful to its inhabitants and inviting to
inhabit therein. Winter had fared from it with his cold and Prime
was come to it with his roses: its flowers were kindly ripe and
welled forth its rills. Indeed, it was a city goodly of ordinance
and disposition; its folk were of the best of men, and when the
gates thereof were shut, its folk were safe.[FN#443] And it was
even as is said of it in these couplets,
"Quoth I to a comrade one day, * A man of good speech and rare,
'Describe Alexandria.' * Quoth he, 'Tis a march-town fair.'
Quoth I, 'Is there living therein?' * And he, 'An the wind blow
there.'"
Or as saith one of the poets,
"Alexandria's a frontier;[FN#444] Whose dews of lips are sweet
and clear;
How fair the coming to it is, * So one therein no raven speer!"
Nur al-Din walked about the city and ceased not walking till he
came to the merchants' bazar, whence he passed on to the mart of
the money-changers and so on in turn to the markets of the
confectioners and fruiterers and druggists, marvelling, as he
went, at the city, for that the nature of its qualities accorded
with its name.[FN#445] As he walked in the druggists' bazar,
behold, an old man came down from his shop and saluting him, took
him by the hand and carried him to his home. And Nur al-Din saw a
fair bystreet, swept and sprinkled, whereon the zephyr blew and
made pleasantness pervade it and the leaves of the trees
overshaded it. Therein stood three houses and at the upper end a
mansion, whose foundations were firm sunk in the water and its
walls towered to the confines of the sky. They had swept the
space before it and they had sprinkled it freshly; so it exhaled
the fragrance of flowers, borne on the zephyr which breathed upon
the place; and the scent met there who approached it on such wise
as it were one of the gardens of Paradise. And, as they had
cleaned and cooled the by-street's head, so was the end of it with
marble spread. The Shaykh carried Nur al-Din into the house and
setting somewhat of food before him ate with his guest. When they
had made an end of eating, the druggist said to him, "When camest
thou hither from Cairo?"; and Nur al-Din replied, "This very
night, O my father." Quoth the old man, "What is thy name?"; and
quoth he, "Ali Nur al-Din." Said the druggist, "O my son, O Nur
al-Din, be the triple divorce incumbent on me, an thou leave me
so long as thou abidest in this city; and I will set thee apart a
place wherein thou mayst dwell." Nur al-Din asked, "O my lord the
Shaykh, let me know more of thee"; and the other answered, "Know,
O my son, that some years ago I went to Cairo with merchandise,
which I sold there and bought other, and I had occasion for a
thousand dinars. So thy sire Taj al-Din weighed them out[FN#446]
for me, all unknowing me, and would take no written word of me,
but had patience with me till I returned hither and sent him the
amount by one of my servants, together with a gift. I saw thee,
whilst thou wast little; and, if it please Allah the Most High, I
will repay thee somewhat of the kindness thy father did me." When
Nur al-Din heard the old man's story, he showed joy and pulling
out with a smile the purse of a thousand dinars, gave it to his
host the Shaykh and said to him, "Take charge of this deposit for
me, against I buy me somewhat of merchandise whereon to trade."
Then he abode some time in Alexandria city taking his pleasure
every day in its thoroughfares, eating and drinking ad indulging
himself with mirth and merriment till he had made an end of the
hundred dinars he had kept by way of spending-money; whereupon he
repaired to the old druggist, to take of him somewhat of the
thousand dinars to spend, but found him not in his shop and took
a seat therein to await his return. He sat there gazing right and
left and amusing himself with watching the merchants and
passers-by, and as he was thus engaged behold, there came into
the bazar a Persian riding on a she-mule and carrying behind him
a damsel; as she were argent of alloy free or a fish
Balti[FN#447] in mimic sea or a doe-gazelle on desert lea. Her
face outshone the sun in shine and she had witching eyne and
breasts of ivory white, teeth of marguerite, slender waist and
sides dimpled deep and calves like tails of fat sheep;[FN#448]
and indeed she was perfect in beauty and loveliness, elegant
stature and symmetrical grace, even as saith one, describing
her,[FN#449]
"'Twas as by will of her she was create * Nor short nor long, but
Beauty's mould and mate:
Rose blushes reddest when she sees those cheeks * And fruits the
bough those marvel charms amate:
Moon is her favour, Musk the scent of her * Branch is her shape:–
she passeth man's estate:
'Tis e'en as were she cast in freshest pearl * And every limblet
shows a moon innate."
Presently the Persian lighted down from his she-mule and making
the damsel also dismount loudly summoned the broker and said to
him as soon as he came, "Take this damsel and cry her for sale in
the market." So he took her and leading her to the middlemost of
the bazar disappeared for a while and presently he returned with
a stool of ebony, inlaid with ivory, and setting it upon the
ground, seated her thereon. Then he raised her veil and
discovered a face as it were a Median targe[FN#450] or a cluster
of pearls:[FN#451] and indeed she was like the full moon, when it
filleth on its fourteenth night, accomplished in brilliant
beauty. As saith the poet,
"Vied the full moon for folly with her face, * But was
eclipsed[FN#452] and split for rage full sore;
And if the spiring Bán with her contend * Perish her hands who
load of fuel bore!"[FN#453]
And how well saith another,
"Say to the fair in the wroughten veil * How hast made that
monk-like worshipper ail?
Light of veil and light of face under it * Made the hosts of
darkness to fly from bale;
And, when came my glance to steal look at cheek. * With a
meteor-shaft the Guard made me quail."[FN#454]
Then said the broker to the merchants,[FN#455] "How much do ye
bid for the union-pearl of the diver and prize-quarry of the
fowler?" Quoth one, "She is mine for an hundred dinars." And
another said, "Two hundred," and a third, "Three hundred"; and
they ceased not to bid, one against other, till they made her
price nine hundred and fifty dinars, and there the biddings
stopped awaiting acceptance and consent.[FN#456]--And Shahrazad
perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.
When it was the Eight Hundred and Seventy-first Night,
She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the
merchants bid one against other till they made the price of the
girl nine hundred and fifty dinars. Then the broker went up to
her Persian master and said to him, "The biddings for this thy
slave-girl have reached nine hundred and fifty dinars: so say me,
wilt thou sell her at that price and take the money?" Asked the
Persian, "Doth she consent to this? I desire to fall in with her
wishes, for I sickened on my journey hither and this handmaid
tended me with all possible tenderness, wherefore I sware not to
sell her but to him whom she should like and approve, and I have
put her sale in her own hand. So do thou consult her and if she
say, 'I consent,' sell her to whom thou wilt: but an she say,
'No,' sell her not." So the broker went up to her and asked her,
"O Princess of fair ones, know that thy master putteth thy sale
in thine own hands, and thy price hath reached nine hundred and
fifty dinars; dost thou give me leave to sell thee?" She
answered, "Show me him who is minded to buy me before clinching
the bargain." So he brought her up to one of the merchants a man
stricken with years and decrepit; and she looked at him a long
while, then turned to the broker and said to him, "O broker, art
thou Jinn-mad or afflicted in thy wit?" Replied he, "Why dost
thou ask me this, O Princess of fair ones?"; and said she, "Is it
permitted thee of Allah to sell the like of me to yonder decrepit
old man, who saith of his wife's case these couplets,
'Quoth she to me,--and sore enraged for wounded pride was she, *
For she in sooth had bidden me to that which might not be,--
'An if thou swive me not forthright, as one should swive his
wife, * Thou be made a cuckold straight, reproach it not to
me.
Meseems thy yard is made of wax, for very flaccidness; * For when
I rub it with my hand, it softens instantly.'[FN#457]
And said he likewise of his yard,
'I have a yard that sleeps in base and shameful way * When grants
my lover boon for which I sue and pray:
But when I wake o' mornings[FN#458] all alone in bed, * 'Tis fain
o' foin and fence and fierce for futter-play.'
And again quoth he thereof of his yard,
'I have a froward yard of temper ill * Dishonoring him who shows
it most regard:
It stands when sleep I, when I stand it sleeps * Heaven pity not
who pitieth that yard!'"
When the old merchant heard this ill flouting from the damsel, he
was wroth with wrath exceeding beyond which was no proceeding and
said to the broker, "O most ill-omened of brokers, thou hast not
brought into the market this ill-conditioned wench but to gibe me
and make mock of me before the merchants." Then the broker took
her aside and said to her, "O my lady, be not wanting in
self-respect. The Shaykh at whom thou didst mock is the Syndic of
the bazar and Inspector[FN#459] thereof and a committee-man of
the council of the merchants." But she laughed and improvised
these two couplets,
"It behoveth folk who rule in our time, * And 'tis one of the
duties of magistrateship,
To hand up the Wali above his door * And beat with a whip the
Mohtasib!"
Adding, "By Allah, O my lord, I will not be sold to yonder old
man; so sell me to other than him, for haply he will be abashed
at me and vend me again and I shall become a mere servant[FN#460]
and it beseemeth not that I sully myself with menial service; and
indeed thou knowest that the matter of my sale is committed to
myself." He replied, "I hear and I obey," and carried her to a
man which was one of the chief merchants. And when standing hard
by him the broker asked, "How sayst thou, O my lady? Shall I sell
thee to my lord Sharíf al-Dín here for nine hundred and fifty
gold pieces?" She looked at him and, seeing him to be an old man
with a dyed beard, said to the broker, "Art thou silly, that thou
wouldst sell me to this worn out Father Antic? Am I cotton refuse
or threadbare rags that thou marchest me about from greybeard to
greybeard, each like a wall ready to fall or an Ifrit smitten
down of a fire-ball? As for the first, the poet had him in mind
when he said,[FN#461]
'I sought of a fair maid to kiss her lips of coral red, But, 'No,
by Him who fashioned things from nothingness!' she said.
Unto the white of hoary hairs I never had a mind, And shall my
mouth be stuffed, forsooth, with cotton, ere I'm dead?'
And how goodly is the saying of the poet,
'The wise have said that white of hair is light that shines and
robes * The face of man with majesty and light that awes the
sight;
Yet until hoary seal shall stamp my parting-place of hair * I
hope and pray that same may be black as the blackest night.
Albe Time-whitened beard of man be like the book he bears[FN#462]
* When to his Lord he must return, I'd rather 'twere not
white,'
And yet goodlier is the saying of another,
'A guest hath stolen on my head and honour may he lack! * The
sword a milder deed hath done that dared these locks to
hack.
Avaunt, O Whiteness,[FN#463] wherein naught of brightness
gladdens sight * Thou 'rt blacker in the eyes of me than
very blackest black!'
As for the other, he is a model of wantonness and scurrilousness
and a blackener of the face of hoariness; his dye acteth the
foulest of lies: and the tongue of his case reciteth these
lines,[FN#464]
'Quoth she to me, 'I see thou dy'st thy hoariness;' and I, 'I do
but hide it from thy sight, O thou mine ear and eye!'
She laughed out mockingly and said, 'A wonder 'tis indeed! Thou
so aboundest in deceit that even thy hair's a lie.'
And how excellent is the saying of the poet,
'O thou who dyest hoariness with black, * That youth wi' thee
abide, at least in show;
Look ye, my lot was dyèd black whilome * And (take my word!) none
other hue 'twill grow.'"
When the old man with dyed beard heard such words from the
slave-girl, he raged with exceeding rage in fury's last stage and
said to the broker, "O most ill-omened of brokers, this day thou
hast brought to our market naught save this gibing baggage to
flout at all who are therein, one after other, and fleer at them
with flyting verse and idle jest?" And he came down from his shop
and smote on the face the broker who took her an angered and
carried her away saying to her, "By Allah, never in my life saw
I a more shameless wench than thyself![FN#465] Thou hast cut off
my daily bread and thine own this day and all the merchants will
bear me a grudge on thine account." Then they saw on the way a
merchant called Shihab al-Dín who bid ten dinars more for her,
and the broker asked her leave to sell her to him. Quoth she,
"Trot him out that I may see him and question him of a certain
thing, which if he have in his house, I will be sold to him; and
if not, then not." So the broker left her standing there and
going up to Shihab al-Din, said to him, "O my lord, know that
yonder damsel tells me she hath a mind to ask thee somewhat,
which an thou have, she will be sold to thee. Now thou hast heard
what she said to thy fellows, the merchants,"--And Shahrazad
perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Eight Hundred and Seventy-second Night,
She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the
broker said to the merchant, "Thou hast heard what this handmaid
said to thy fellows, the traders, and by Allah, I fear to bring
her to thee, lest she do with thee like as she did with thy
neighbours and so I fall into disgrace with thee: but, an thou
bid me bring her to thee, I will bring her." Quoth the merchant,
"Hither with her to me." "Hearing and obeying," answered the
broker and fetched for the purchaser the damsel, who looked at
him and said, "O my lord, Shihab al-Din, hast thou in thy house
round cushions stuffed with ermine strips?" Replied Shihab
al-Din, "Yes, O Princess of fair ones, I have at home half a
score such cushions; but I conjure thee by Allah, tell me, what
will thou do with them?" Quoth she, "I will bear with thee till
thou be asleep, when I will lay them on thy mouth and nose and
press them down till thou die." Then she turned to the broker and
said to him, "O thou refuse of brokers, meseemeth thou art mad,
in that thou showest me this hour past, first to a pair of
greybeards, in each of whom are two faults, and then thou
proferrest me to my lord Shihab al-Din wherein be three defects;
firstly, he is dwarfish, secondly, he hath a nose which is
big, and thirdly, he hath a beard which is long. Of him quoth one
of the poets,
'We never heard of wight nor yet espied * Who amid men three
gifts hath unified:
To wit, a beard one cubit long, a snout * Span-long and figure
tall a finger wide:'
And quoth another poet,
'From the plain of his face springs a minaret * Like a bezel of
ring on his finger set:
Did creation enter that vasty nose * No created thing would
elsewhere be met.'"
When Shihab al-Din heard this, he came down from his shop and
seized the broker by the collar, saying, "O scurviest of brokers,
what aileth thee to bring us a damsel to flout and make mock of
us, one after other, with her verses and talk that a curse is?"
So the broker took her and carried her away from before him and
fared, saying, "By Allah, all my life long, since I have plied
this profession never set I eyes on the like of thee for
unmannerliness nor aught more curst to me than thy star, for thou
hast cut off my livelihood this day and I have gained no profit
by thee save cuffs on the neck-nape and catching by the collar!"
Then he brought her to the shop of another merchant, owner of
negro slaves and white servants, and stationing her before him,
said to her, "Wilt thou be sold to this my lord 'Alá al-Dín?" She
looked at him and seeing him hump-backed, said, "This is a Gobbo,"
and quoth the poet of him,
'Drawn in thy shoulders are and spine thrust out, * As seeking
star which Satan gave the lout;[FN#466]
Or as he tasted had first smack of scourge * And looked in marvel
for a second bout.'
And saith another on the same theme,
'As one of you who mounted mule, * A sight for me to ridicule:
Is 't not a farce? Who feels surprise * An start and bolt with
him the mule?'
And another on a similar subject,
'Oft hunchback addeth to his bunchy back * Faults which gar folk
upon his front look black:
Like branch distort and dried by length of days * With citrons
hanging from it loose and slack.'"
With this the broker hurried up to her and, carrying her to
another merchant, said to her, "Wilt thou be sold to this one?"
She looked at him and said, "In very sooth this man is
blue-eyed;[FN#467] how wilt thou sell me to him?" Quoth one of
the poets,
'His eyelids sore and bleared * Weakness of frame denote:
Arise, ye folk and see * Within his eyes the mote!'"
Then the broker carried her to another and she looked at him and
seeing that he had a long beard, said to the broker, "Fie upon
thee! This is a ram, whose tail hath sprouted from his gullet.
Wilt thou sell me to him, O unluckiest of brokers? Hast thou not
heard say: 'All long of beard are little of wits? Indeed, after
the measure of the length of the beard is the lack of sense; and
this is a well-known thing among men of understanding.' As saith
one of the poets,
'Ne'er was a man with beard grown overlong, * Tho' be he therefor
reverenced and fear'd,
But who the shortness noted in his wits * Added to longness noted
in his beard.'