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SCENE II
The Pavilion of Pleasure.
Anice-Aljalice, Nureddene, Shaikh Ibrahim on couches, by a table
These kabobs are indeed good, and the conserves look sweet and the fruit very glossy. But will you sit and eat nothing?
Verily, my son, I have eaten at midday. Allah forbid me from gluttony!
Old father, you discourage our stomachs. You shall eat a morsel from my fingers or I will say you use me hardly.
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.
What, old father, you grow young?
Oh, now, now, now! 'Twas a foolish jest unworthy of my grey hairs. I take refuge with Allah! A foolish jest.
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.
I take refuge with Allah. Wine! for sixteen years I have not Page – 677 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.
Who are these learned doctors you speak of, old father? I have read all the books, but never heard of them.
Oh, thou hast read? These are very distant and mystic Sufis, very rare doctors. Their books are known only to the adepts.
What a learned old man art thou, Shaikh Ibrahim! Now Allah save the soul of the great Alhashhash!
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.
Hast thou not even one old ass among all thy belongings ? And if an old ass is cursed, is it thou who art cursed ?
Hm! My son, what is thy parable?
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 Page – 678 the old ass bring it here. So art thou neither grower nor presser, seller nor buyer, carrier or drinker, and if any be damned, it is an old ass that is damned. What saith the great Alhashhash?
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.
He is the very gem of hypocrites.
The fitter to laugh at. Dear my lord, be merry
You are happy, 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!
It was a breathless voyage up the river:
I think a price is on my head. Perhaps
But you are safe, my joy, She goes to him and kisses and clings about him.
Anice, your eyes are full of tears! Page – 679 You are quite overwrought.
Let only you be safe
She again embraces and kisses him
Allah! Allah! Allah!
Where's that old sober learning?
What a quick ass was this. Shaikh 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.
Dost thou ever lie. Shaikh 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 the young lady to thee, my son?
She is my slave-girl. Page – 680
Ah, ah! thy slave-girl? Ah, ah! a slave-girl! ah!
Drink, my lord.
By the Lord, but I am sleepy. I will even rest my head in thy sweet lap for a moment. He lies down.
Allah! Allah! What, he sleeps?
Fast. That is the trick he always serves me. After the first cup he dozes off and leaves me quite sad and lonely.
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-ALJALICE
Fie, fie, fie!
By my head and eyes!
Well, well, well! Alas, 'tis a sin, 'tis a sin, 'tis a sin. (drinks) Verily, verily.
Another. Page – 681
No, no, no.
By my head and eyes!
Well, well, well, well! Tis a grievous sin, Allah forgive me! (drinks)
Just one more.
Does he sleep ? Now if it were the wine of thy lips, little one.
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 biforked with an evil bifurcation. Woe's me for the great Alhashhash!
No, no, no.
Art thou such a hypocrite? Shaikh Ibrahim! Shaikh Ibrahim!
No, no, no! A fatherly jest! a little little jest! (drinks)
Shaikh Ibrahim, thou drinkest?
Oh, ah! 'Twas thy slave-girl forced me. Verily, verily! Page – 682
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.
To you, my dear one.
You have drunk half your cup only; so, again; to Shaikh Ibrahim and his learned sobriety!
To the shade of the great Alhashhash!
Fie on you! What cursed unneighbourly manners are these, to drink in my face and never pass the bowl?
Shaikh Ibrahim! Shaikh Ibrahim! Shaikh 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.
Embrace not. Shaikh Ibrahim, neither kiss, for thy mouth smelleth evilly of that accursed thing, wine. I am woeful for the mystic Alhashhash.
Art thou transmogrified, O Sufi, O adept, O disciple of Ibn Batata? Page – 683
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)
Come now, I will sing to you, if you will give me a lute. I am a rare singer, Shaikh Ibrahim.
There is a lute in yonder corner. Sing, sing, and it may be I will answer thee. (drinks)
But wait, wait. To sing in this meagreness of light! Candles, candles. She lights the eighty candles of the great candelabrum.
Allah! it lights thee up, my slave-girl, my jewel, (drinks)
Drink not so fast. Shaikh Ibrahim, but get up and light the lamps in the windows.
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
Allah! hast thou lit them all?
Shaikh Ibrahim, drunkenness sees but double, and dost thou Page – 684 see eighty-four? Thou art far gone in thy cups, O adept, O Ibn Batatist.
I am not yet so drunk as that. You are bold youths to light them all.
Whom fearest thou? Is not the pavilion thine?
Surely mine; but the Caliph dwells near and he will be angry at the glare of so much light.
Truly, he is a great Caliph.
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 turned into gardeners. (drinks)
I have found a lute.
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.
Fie! What cobbler's poetry is this? But thou hast a touch. Let me hear thee rather. Page – 685
I have a song for you. (Sings)
White as winter is my beard, Yet I drink.
Hell-fire? judgment? who's afraid? As soon as think.
Allah! Allah! Nightingale! Nightingale! Page – 686 |
