University of Virginia Library

Street.
Noureddin.
Yes, yes! 'Tis to the lamp he owes it all!
The palace is its work, and its alone.
And it lies yonder; 'tis not at the chase
With its possessor; 'tis in the great hall,
Thrust heedlessly behind a marble pillar.
This much I have deciphered by my art.
Success, I hope, will crown the plan I've framed;
Fails it, I'll straight essay some new device.
Here dwells a coppersmith—I need his aid.

(Knocks.)
Coppersmith
(enters from the house).
A stranger! Ho! Good day! Your servant, sir.
Pray, is your visit kindly meant for me?

Noureddin.
Master, it is.

Coppersmith.
Well, that is truly kind.
Will you allow me just one question? Are you
Come to the friend, or to the coppersmith?

Noureddin.
The coppersmith.

Coppersmith.
Oh excellent! In sooth,
That is more pleasant far to me, than if
You'd said the friend. Your calls of courtesy,
Too well I know them. They imply a breakfast,
Coffee, tobacco, loss of time and temper.
No, sir, he is the man for me, who wants
The coppersmith; he forages for me,
Not I for him. Now, dear, good, worthy sir,
Don't be alarmed, I will not run you hard!
But who,—forgive my asking,—could have told you,
The harumscarum smith lived in this street?
I've not yet hung my sign above my door;
The new, I mean, for there the old one hangs,
As it has hung these dozen years and more;
But shower and shine have licked his face as clean,
As my cat licks the platter. (Laughs.)
Ha, ha, ha!
You see, sir, I have fancies; I'm a poet,
And can make similes with cat and platter.
Ha, ha, ha, ha! But make your mind quite easy,
I've higher genius still for smithy work.
Who was it, now, directed you to me?

Noureddin.
No one! The people in this street of yours
Can't hear one speak, and so they answer not.
From one end of the street unto the other,
There's not the drum of even one ear unbroke,
You've taken care of that, my worthy friend!
But as I come from the barbarian waste,
Where only panthers, tigers, lions roar,
And have not altogether lost my hearing,
I could detect your presence six streets off.
I only had to follow up the din.

Coppersmith
(aside).
A cunning dog! (Aloud.)
My very worthy sir,
It is not I,—I am as mum's a mouse,—
But the infernal copper's always shrieking,
As though it felt a clasp-knife at its throat.
And I may thump at it from dawn till dark,
Yet never can I make it hold its peace.

Noureddin.
You really should try, by reason's force,
To bring it into ways more orderly,
And let it go unthumped.

Coppersmith.
Such treatment, sir,
We Asiatics do not understand!
I'll wager now, were I to take your counsel,
It would bewray itself with verdant gall,
And, ten to one, go fair to poison folks,
Who chanced to finger it. No, my dear sir,
Copper and woman-kind must both have blows,
As polish'd boots must daily be well black'd!
If you'd have leather pliant, curry it well.
But now to business! Wherein can I serve you?
You'd marry, and are furnishing a house?
Only step in, sir! You'll find coffee-pots,
Tea-urns, and kettles, admirably tinned.
A soldier, eh! Helmets I forge, and greaves,
As well as pots and kettles, worthy sir!
Who makes the one, can make the other too.

Noureddin.
I wish to have a dozen copper lamps.

Coppersmith.
St! St! Speak low, sir, an' you love me, pray!
My neighbour is a tallow-chandler, sir,
And hates a lamp worse than the pestilence.
But if 'tis lamps you want, step in with me,
And I will shew you lamps, give better light,
Ay, than the planets and the stars in heaven.

Noureddin.
Is this the way?

Coppersmith.
All right! Straight forward, sir!
But mind the step there—so! And do not soil
Your kaftan with the wall. Smithies will smoke.
Now, this way! Mind you do not bump your head
Against the beam. And now, sir, straight along.

[Exeunt.