The Viziers of Bassora
(A Romantic Comedy)
Act IV
Bagdad.
Scene 1
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 gilliflower 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
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 palmstick 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.
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.
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.
IBRAHIM (aside)
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 accurs`
ed 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.
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.
IBRAHIM (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.
***
Scene 2
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.
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 coolness
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
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.
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 wineshop 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?
NUREDDENE
She is my slavegirl.
IBRAHIM
Ah, ah! thy slavegirl? Ah, ah! a slavegirl! 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.
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)
NUREDDENE (starting up)
Shaikh Ibrahim, thou drinkest?
IBRAHIM
Oh! ah! ’Twas thy slavegirl 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.
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.
IBRAHIM (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 slavegirl, my jewel. (drinks)
NUREDDENE
Drink not so fast, Shaikh Ibrahim, but get up and light the lamps
in the windows.
IBRAHIM (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.
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.
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
***
Scene 3
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
Peacebewiththee,
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
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!
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
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.
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.
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 gaberdine; 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 gaberdine 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,
you may wear worse than an honest fisherman’s gaberdine. ’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.
JAAFAR (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.
***
Scene 4
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.
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.
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
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?
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 lapIwouldset,
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.
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
Iamaman 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.
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.
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;givemewhatIask.
NUREDDENE
Yes, by the Prophet,
Because thou hast a face.
HAROUN
Give me thy slavegirl.
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,
Is it for ransom? I have nothing left
In all the world but her and these few pieces.
HAROUN
She pleases me.
ANICE
Owretch!
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?
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
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 slavegirl?
Verily, I will tug thy beard for her.
He seizes Haroun by the beard.
HAROUN (throwing him off )
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 accurs`ed creature, wine.
IBRAHIM
O Satan, Satan, dost thou come to me in the guise of Jaafar,
the Persian, the Shiah, the accurs`ed 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.
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 slavegirls, 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.
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.
