University of Virginia Library

ACT THIRD.

A Street.
Aladdin
(enters with the large silver salver).
Of my great salver I will now dispose,
The last that's left me of my costly plate;
And when the price of that is spent and gone,
I'll rub my wondrous lamp again. And then—
Perhaps—perhaps—he is a spirit—and—
Oh, heaven! what am I mad enough to hope?
And wherefore not? All men are free to hope,
And he that has a spell to conjure spirits
Hopes not too much, even when he hopes for all.

[An old Christian goldsmith comes out of his booth, and accosts Aladdin.
Goldsmith.
Young master, by your leave, I've often seen you
Do business with the Jew here in the street.
Good honest men there are among the Jews,
Precisely as there are 'mongst other sects,
And knaves amongst them as amongst their neighbours.
But he, the Jew, who deals with you at times,
Is an arch knave.

Aladdin.
I've found that to my cost.

Goldsmith.
What did he give you for a plate like those
You used to sell him?

Aladdin.
Only a zecchin.

Goldsmith.
What! A zecchin? Oh, gentle God of Peace!
Five hundred will I give you, money down,
For this same salver. If another goldsmith
Should be disposed to give a trifle more,
Why, so will I, as well as he.

Aladdin.
You are
An honest man. (aside.)
Who'd e'er have thought to find
A conscience even amongst Christian men?
(Aloud.)
Come, sir, I will go with you to your shop.

The Jew
(rushes in out of breath).
Hey! Stop! You there! Ha, scoundrel, Christian dog!
And so you'd rob me of my customer?

Goldsmith.
Peace, or I'll tweak that rusty beard of thine,
Thou livid Judas, and so roughly too,
Thou'lt cheat no more unto thy dying day!

The Jew.
How,—Judas? Cheat? Can I believe my ears,
Or is it fancy? What I will, I will;
And that which I do buy, why that I buy;
And that which I do sell, why that I sell;
And if I have said A, I must say B,
Which is, in other words, I have the dish,
And so the salver also is my due.
But he that whisks my customers away
Is nothing but a thief.

Aladdin.
Dog of a Jew!
Are you deranged?

The Jew.
If I don't get that salver,
I'll go deranged, I will. Have it I must.
I reckoned on that salver long ago.

Aladdin
(beats him).
There, get thee gone, thou pale, and hungry knave!
Thou'dst cheat a Moslem, wouldst thou? Take thou that!

The Jew.
Moslem! Who talks of Moslem or of Jew?
And, as for cheating, I cheat all mankind,
And would the devil, for that matter, too.

Goldsmith.
Come, sir! We will go in. The man is crazed.
He's often subject to attacks like this
Of avaricious madness. Let us go.

Aladdin.
Since crazed thou art, thou shalt not lack for what
Thou richly hast deserved this many a day.
These unbelieving soles of thine shall taste
The Cadi's bastinado till thou roar'st.

[Exit with the Goldsmith.
The Jew.
Abraham! Isaac! Jacob! (Spits.)
Scoundrels all!
Call you this helping of your children's children?
I will go hang myself! Yes, that I will!
I had made sure of the pure, lovely silver,
As sure as though I had it in my chest.
What's life without gold and silver? Money, money!
That is our nation's true Messias, who
From all our troubles frees us. Oh lovely silver!
If I were laid upon my dying bed,
Sight fading from my eyes, and one should hold
A salver such as that before my view,
My life would straight come back to me again;
Back to my livid finger-tips the blood
Would flow; my fingers gain their strength anew,
And at the silver clutch with ecstasy.
Now I am ill. I shiver to the bones.
This salver, it was worth a goodly sum.
I will go hang myself; for how to live
After so great a loss I do not know.
I'll hang myself! But let me first away,
And steal the platter from the Christian dog!

[Exit.
A Chamber.
Morgiana
(at her wheel, spinning).
I can't think what's the matter with my son:
He is not ill;—no, no,—it can't be that.
He sits for hours together in a corner,
And never says a word, but stares, and sighs;
And if by any accident he speaks,
It is mere rambling incoherent stuff,
And no more has he of philosophy—
Yes, that's the name they call it!—than my cat.
I was so happy, for he had of late
Grown quite a prudent, careful, steady lad,
He earned his living with that lamp of his,
And in a kind of way it might be said,
To be the boy's vocation. So far, well!
But since the last few days he's quite upset!
Can he have fallen into consumption, eh?
Or caught the dropsy, measles, or the gout?
Here comes the boy! Allah, how ill he looks!

Aladdin
(sighs).
God bless you, mother! Here is money,—plenty!

[Throws a bag upon the table.
Morgiana.
How ever did you come by all that gold?
You never, never were so rich before.

Aladdin
(sighs).
Ah me! I never was so poor before.

Morgiana.
Of what then is the bag there full?

Aladdin.
Of gold.

Morgiana.
Gold, boy?

Aladdin.
Dear mother, let me have to drink.

Morgiana.
You are too hot; it is not well to drink,
Hot as you are.

Aladdin.
But one is thirstiest then.

Morgiana.
There, that was spoken sensibly for once!
Dear me, dear me! I am so glad to hear
Some words of sense come from you any how;
For, look ye, boy! the last ten days or so,
I've been quite puzzled to make head or tail
Of all the rambling nonsense you have talked.

Aladdin.
Have you no notion, mother, of the cause?

Morgiana.
I tell you, it quite beats my comprehension.
I am a plain, straightforward, simple woman.
What other folks may think, I do not know;
But what I think myself, I'm free to speak.

Aladdin.
What do you think? Tell me your thoughts, dear mother.

Morgiana.
Well, what I think, young man, is, that I think,
That what you think is thinking to no good.

Aladdin.
Well, then, what do I think?

Morgiana.
Heaven only knows!
Small trouble do I give myself about it.
I spin my cotton;—that I understand,
And do not plague my head with fancies, sir,
That shoot beyond the moon.

Aladdin.
That's very right.
So every man should spin his proper wheel.
And if, as it may be, the flax I spin
Is much too fine for you, and for your hand
My spindle is too high, and if your sight
Too feeble is to follow up the thread,
And so it snaps between your fingers,—then,
'Tis meet you stick to your old spinning-wheel,
And spin at that from morning until night.
Grease it at times with oil of modesty,
To keep its whirr from waxing over loud;
Call not its everlasting buzzing wisdom,
And scorn not what demands a higher skill.

Morgiana.
I should be glad to know, boy, which requires
Most toil and sweat,—to spin, or rub a lamp?

Aladdin.
He that is strong is slow to feel fatigue.
Whilst in the wood the insect bores its hole,
Allah swings round the sphere the circling sun:
Which, do you think, puts forth the greatest power?

Morgiana.
Whoever works with all his might and main
Deserves at least the most respect, young man.

Aladdin.
Then is the insect worthier than God.

Morgiana.
How you do mix up things; lamps, spinning-wheels,
Philosophy and skill, Allah and insects!
Boy, boy, your wits have gone wool-gathering,
Since you took up with these new-fangled books.
Just try, for once, and read the old ones too,
And they will bring them home to roost again.
But now I'll talk to you of something else.
What is the matter? Why are you so pale?
And why do you sit sighing all day long,
And staring straight before you? What's amiss?

Aladdin.
Mother, I am in love, heart-deep in love.
And therefore is it that I draw my breath
As deep as you do water from a well,
At summer tide, when all the streams run dry.

Morgiana.
In love, God bless the boy! With whom, with whom?

Aladdin.
Alas! our Sultan's daughter.

Morgiana.
What? Gulnare?

Aladdin.
Yes, mother, yes.

Morgiana.
The Princess?

Aladdin.
Even so.
[Morgiana weeps.
Why do you weep?

Morgiana.
I am so sad to think,
You are so clean forsaken by your wits.

Aladdin.
Hark, mother! Ah, I know not how it is,—
I can no longer chatter as I used,
And prattle freely what comes uppermost.
I have almost to force myself to speak.
Now my chief pleasure is to roam alone
Through wild woods, where the fluting of the birds
Chimes with the brook's sweet mellow under-song.
There all is vocal with Gulnara's name.
Now, mark my words; and if you would not see
Your son pine off and wither like a flower,
Go hence and do what I desire of you.

Morgiana.
What would you have me do?

Aladdin.
Go woo for me
With Sultan Soliman, and that at once.

Morgiana.
With Sultan Solomon? What should I say?
With Soliman? Yet Soli—Solomon,
It all comes to the same thing; one is not
More possible or proper than the other.

Aladdin.
Unless you'd see me at your feet a corpse,
You'll promise to do this for me, you will.

Morgiana.
Aladdin! Son! What freak of fancy's this?
A tailor's son!

Aladdin.
That any tailor's needle
Had any share in my begetting, I
Will ne'er believe. Al Sefi was my father.

Morgiana.
Is this the way, you knave, you speak to me?
To make the colour rush into my cheeks,
As rush it has not for this many a day.

Aladdin.
Mother, on this there needs no more be said.
I am the Emir's son—I know the fact.
You are a cooper's daughter; well, the mother
Of Sultan Soliman was but a slave.
He has an empire, and I have the lamp;
And so the scales are even.

Morgiana.
Oh no, no!
The Sultan sinks and makes you kick the beam.
To weigh the Persian empire 'gainst the lamp,
Is just as rational as if I were
To set a joint-stool 'gainst a velvet couch,
A sweet cake 'gainst a loaf of musty rye.

Aladdin.
And have you then forgotten, that the lamp
Possesses this slight virtue, that it can
Conjure up giants ready at a word
Our every wish and order to fulfil?

Morgiana.
No doubt, they bring us many a famous dinner;
But dinners are not princesses, my son.
I have a parlous fear our jug will go
So often to the spring, 'twill break at last,—
That some day, when the spirit's out of humour—
And why, pray, should he not, like other folks?—
He'll twist your neck, and make an end of you.

Aladdin.
Of that I've not the very smallest fear.
Enough! What I have asked you, you must do,
If you'd not have my death upon your conscience.

Morgiana.
Well then, suppose me there, what should I say?
“Lord Sultan, will you be so very good
As give your daughter to my son for wife?”
“Who are you, dame?” “Who, I? A tailor's wife!”
“And who may be your son?” “He is my son.”
“Nought else?” “No, please your Majesty; nought else.”
“And he desires to have my daughter?” “Yes,
He's over head and ears in love with her,
And wants to wed her.” What a fool I'd look!
And I should make him, too, so mad with rage,
He'd order his attendants instantly
To drive me forth with blows from the divan.

Aladdin.
You need not fear for that; he is not cruel.

Morgiana.
What's more,—oh, what an arrant goose you are!—
There is a re—script,—that's a sort of law,
By which it is enjoined, that no one dare
Approach his Majesty in the divan,
Unless he brings some valuable gift.

Aladdin.
Now, then, you reach the point I want to come to.
You've not forgot the fruit so large and fine,
That's lying in the lumber-room upstairs?

Morgiana.
You mean the painted glass? Is that your gift?
That, what you'd offer to the Sultan, boy?
A body then may say with perfect truth,
That as the donkey is, so is the bridle. (weeps)


Aladdin.
Mother! The things which you call painted glass
Are diamonds of the purest water,—ay,
Rubies, and sapphires, and choice emeralds,
Of rare, yea, priceless value; such as these
The Sultan cannot boast of in his crown.
This I discovered only recently.
So you shall take him these same precious stones,
And tell him they are sent by him that woos.
Trust me, his wrath will very quickly cool,
And you at least—this much I'll answer for—
Will not incur his Majesty's displeasure.

Morgiana.
How? Is this true? Bless me, and are they all
Diamonds and sapphires, then, these pebble stones?

Aladdin.
As certainly as that you are my mother,
And that I am Aladdin, your own son.
Now go at once, and get the business over,
But not a word, remember, of the lamp!

Morgiana.
Ah, well-a-day, what plagues one's children are!
I must obey your bidding, I suppose,
If they be precious stones, as you maintain.
But first I'll run a stitch, before I go,
Through the old lining of my Sunday cloak;
It's come undone;—and wash my hands with soap,
To take the strong smell of the yarn away.
A veil, too, I should buy myself, a bargain,
If I had but the money.

Aladdin.
Money, mother?
In yonder purse is more than you can want.
You never bear my copper lamp in mind.

Morgiana.
Would it had never come inside the house!

Aladdin.
I'm going out. I'll sit till sunset near
The fountain in the grove, outside the gates;
There you may bring me tidings how you speed,
And tell me if I am to live or die.

Morgiana.
I'll dress myself a bit, and go at once.

[Exit Aladdin.
The Divan.
Soliman upon the throne. The Grand Vizir, and the Council. Spectators. Business is over, and the crowd are dispersing.
Vizir.
Will't please your Majesty to give command,
Forthwith to shut the doors of the divan?

Soliman.
Nay, wait a little longer! That old woman
There at the door, who looks so very poor,
Has been here thrice already, and each time
Planted herself direct before the throne.
She bears two bundles; doubtless she is come
To seek for justice at our royal hands.
Perhaps some baker in the town has given her
Some half an ounce too little in her loaf;
And, simple soul, she'd have me weigh her loaves,
Instead of taking them before the Cadi.
Well, be it so! Go, fetch her here to me.

[The Vizir fetches Morgiana. She throws herself on her knees before the throne.
Soliman.
I have observed you here repeatedly;
And every time you looked at me, as though
You hoped that I would call you nearer. Well,
I have done so; now tell me what you want!
What have you in these napkins? Is it bread,
Your rascal baker knavishly hath clipped,
As avaricious Jews clip our zecchins?
Or has the butcher in the market cut
Your bit of beef too close upon the bone?
Or the greengrocer, with unblushing face,
Given you stale cabbage for your money's worth?

Morgiana.
Most mighty and most wonderful Lord King!
Sultan, I mean! Pray, take it not amiss,
If I shall happen to cut short your titles!
It's precious little that I know of rank,—
I am a poor tailor's widow, nothing more,
Called Morgiana;—lack-a-day! that's all.
My husband—he's dead now; but when he lived,
He was called Mustapha. What he's called now,
The blessed God in heaven alone can tell.
My son, too, he is not, as one may say,
Of any wonderful or great ascent—
His name—if I remember rightly—is—
But, bless my soul! my wits are quite confused
In this immense assembly; and, besides,
This kneeling's rather more than I can bear,
For my poor bones are old. But if, my Lord,
You'll only send these people from the hall,
And let me get upon my feet again,
And will come straight ere long, I fain would hope.

[Soliman gives a sign; all retire, except the Grand Vizir.
Soliman.
Rise up, my good old woman; do not fear,
And if you're tired, sit down upon the carpet.

Morgiana
(rises).
No, most substantial and grand Sultan! No!
You must not think, for all I am so poor,
That I am so unmannerly as that.

Soliman.
Say, then, what hast thou in the bundles there?
Is't bread or beef? Speak, dame! Or rotten fruit?

Morgiana.
The last, so please your gracious Majesty!
Sure, fruit it is; but rotten it is not.
Why, you may send it to Siberia,
And I will answer for it, it will keep.
It is a lot of lovely winter apples,
That no amount of frost will ever spoil.
But all things have their season, as your Grace's
Great, great-grandfather, Solomon the Wise,
Said once upon a time. As I was saying,
I have a son, Aladdin is his name,
A little over seventeen years—seventeen
Is all I own to—tall, and slim, and smart,
And glorious white and red, like milk and blood,
Clever, and ready at his lessons, too,
When he's disposed, though that's not often; hot
And passionate, but all right stuff at core.
I'll wager now, Lord Sultan, you and he
Would get along together famously.

Soliman.
I understand your wish. You fain would see
The lad hold some appointment at our court
Among the eunuchs.

Morgiana.
No! The heavens forefend!
Wide of the mark, your most Imperious Highness.
Oh—far, far wide! As touching that, your Grace,
He much prefers remaining as he is.

Soliman.
What wants he, then?

Morgiana.
What only he can want,
Who's knock'd a hole, and does not know it, sir,
In his brain-pan—right through the bottom, too—
Where, bit by bit, his wits keep tumbling out.
He is my son. They say, the apple falls
Close by the tree;—that any one may tell
The cow that once has had a calf; but then
Another proverb runs clean contrary;—
That brothers are one kind, but not one mind!
That all trees are not crooked in the wood,
Because one is. According to this saw,
You must not think, oh most stupendous monarch,
That in this fancy I had any part.

Soliman.
What is the fancy which your son has formed?
Out with it, and as briefly as you can!

Morgiana.
And so I will; but you must promise first,
Not to fly out into a passion, most
Illustrious Sultan, on my son's account.

Soliman.
Well, a boy's fancy cannot anger me.
What does he want?

Morgiana.
What does he want? (Aside.)
Now comes
The pinch! (Aloud.)
So please you, oh most gracious Sultan,
He'd fain contract a marriage out of hand,
If to the match you don't object.

Soliman.
With whom?

Morgiana.
Your daughter.

Soliman.
With Gulnare?

Morgiana.
Just so!

Soliman
(smiling).
Why, this
Comes on me rather unexpectedly;
The step is one of some importance, too.

Morgiana.
A truer word than that you never spoke.
There's nothing dearer than our flesh and blood,
And marriage surely either makes or mars.

Soliman.
Then, prithee, madam, leave this point awhile,
And say, what have you in the napkins there?

Morgiana.
It is the usage of the country here,
When seeking audience of your Majesty,
To come with a good handsome gift in hand.
In other countries, I have heard it said,
The servants pocket such gratuities;
You take them for yourself;—a better way,
For who is half so near us as ourselves?
As then I had a word to speak with you,
My son Aladdin gave me these two bundles
To offer you, by way of morning-gift.

Soliman.
Now, that is well; and as you said before,
They are fine, hardy winter apples, hey?

Morgiana.
They are, most gracious Sultan. But look here,
You'll find they're mixed with other sorts of fruits,
So please your Highness.

Soliman
(to the Vizir).
Take them all away!
And let them be delivered to the cook.

Vizir.
How? They are hard as stone, and smooth as glass:
They are glass!

Soliman.
Glass! Here! Hand them up to me;
Some skilful imitations, 'tis most like.
[The Vizir opens the napkins; the Sultan looks at them, and starts back in amazement.
What do I see? Pearls, rubies, diamonds,
As big as eggs, and sapphires large as plums,
And many other glorious gems besides!
A treasure quite immense. And this from you?

Morgiana
(boldly).
No, not from me, but from my son, great sir!

Soliman.
A treasure of incalculable worth.
Ha! weigh'd against these gems, my royal crown
Is but a mummer's cap of paste and tinsel.
Who is your son?

Morgiana.
A poor young tailor lad.

Soliman.
Oh, what a treasure! Look at the fine colours!
As the fresh radiance of the morning sun,
Breaking in myriad sparkles on the dew,
So shines the lustre of these glorious gems.
In them hath Nature blended all the pomp
And bloom and gorgeous beauty of the East.
Ha! darling gems, how ye rejoice my heart!
Go woman, go, and tell your son from me,
The man, whose gifts are treasures such as these,
May hope to marry with a prince's daughter.

Vizir
(aside to Morgiana).
Go home in peace, and wait in patience there,
Until you're summoned to the Court again.

[Morgiana drops a curtsey, and exit.
Soliman.
What say'st thou, Nuschirwan, my friend, to this
Great treasure?

Vizir
(coldly).
Certainly, the stones are fine.

Soliman.
And is this all?

Vizir.
I think the treasure is
Of most rare price.

Soliman.
Incalculably great!

Vizir.
Yet do I think, that my great Lord and Sultan
Himself possesses one far costlier gem,
Than all these put together.

Soliman.
I? A gem?
Art dreaming, Nuschirwan? What may it be?

Vizir.
Here, in your palace, mighty Soliman,
A diamond, and of the rarest water,
Which none but the pure gem of innocence
Is fit to hold.

Soliman.
Ha, now I comprehend you!
You mean Gulnare.

Vizir.
A gem, whose beauty shows
Not in the garish glitter of an hour.
Dead as a stone? No! full of sweet warm life.
A gem immaculate, of twofold price,
Whose inner worth its outer far outvies;
A gem, wherein all qualities are met.
The paler ruby is her crimson cheek,
The darker ruby is her cherry mouth,
Her eye a bright and glistening garnet is,
That in its tears of bliss drops diamonds;
Her radiant teeth are pearls in order strung;
All in a frame of alabaster set,
White as the snow, warm as the springtide sun.
And this fair flower, with living sweetness brimmed,
Shoot of a noble soil, and nobly grown,
Nourished and tended by imperial hands,
You would not barter for a lifeless stone?

Soliman.
Ha! Nuschirwan, thou speakest wisely.

Vizir.
Barter
To a presumptuous boy, who by some chance
Hath found this treasure here in your own realm;
Which, therefore, is not his to give, but yours!

Soliman.
Peace, Nuschirwan! The splendour of the stones
For the first moment so absorbed my soul,
It turned a heedless ear to what my lips
Were whispering to my memory the while.
Long since I gave my promise to your son;
And this first promise should alone prevent me,
Although there were no other obstacle,
From carrying out the second, rashly given.

Vizir.
When shall the rites be solemnized, my Lord?

Soliman.
This very night, that you may see how little
This recent folly has affected me.
Yet, 'twas not well these words escaped my lips
In the old woman's presence.

Vizir.
Ah, my Lord!
Along with many other properties,
Which words are known to have, they have this, too,
That they are words, which means they are but sounds,
Which pass away as lightly as they come.
If there be hands so rash and indiscreet
As try to catch at words upon the wing,
Why, in the world there's something else than words,
Things we call satellites, right sturdy knaves,
Who stand with pikes and halberds in their hands,
And from the palace drive such headstrong guests,
As come there when their presence is unwelcome.
Deny this free discretion to the Sultan,
Make every word he drops a bond to him,
And wherein does he differ from his slaves?

Soliman.
Marry, well said. A very pattern thou
For grand vizirs! Come, follow me within!
I must show Zulima this sumptuous gift.

[Exeunt.
A Street.
Evening. Noise in the street, most of the houses illuminated. Enter Morgiana. She knocks at a grocer's door.
Grocer
(puts his head out of the window).
Who's there? Leave off this knocking at my door!
I've told you, nothing will I sell to-night!
Can you not read? Look at my window there,
At my magnificent transparency,
An angel with a trumpet and a palm,
And an inscription with two lines of rhyme!
A grocer's not a dog, tied by the leg,
And bound to dip his fists into the soap
Or resin box at everybody's call.
This evening all the town enjoys itself;
And I too will enjoy myself for once.

Morgiana.
Sir Neighbour, in God's name, enjoy yourself,
As much as e'er you like; I don't object,
So you let me enjoy myself as well,
With oil enough to keep my lamp alight.
Else shall I sit, i' faith, the whole long night
In the dull dark, while all the city else
Has such a superfluity of light,
It looks as some eruption had broke out,
And all the streets glow, just for all the world
As if they'd caught a furious scarlet fever.

Grocer.
Aha, dame Morgiana! is it you?
Just wait a bit! I'm dazzled with this blaze,
And cannot see for sheer excess of light.

Morgiana.
And I can't see for sheer excess of darkness.

Grocer.
Ay, ay,—just so, just so! They dazzle both.
Too much, too little,—both are good for nought.
I will not, neighbour, go so close to work
With an old customer like you. So, come!
You want some oil—the best, eh?

Morgiana.
Bless you, no!
Some of the commonest will do for me;
But, mind, be sure to let me have it good.

Grocer.
You're economical.

Morgiana.
Ay, neighbour dear,
Else it would fare but ill with me. But tell me,
What does this lighting and rejoicing mean?
Hark! I hear music in the distance, too!

Grocer.
Are you the only soul in Ispahan,
Who does not know, our Sultan Soliman
This evening celebrates his daughter's marriage
With Saladin, the son of the Grand Vizir?

Morgiana.
What's that you say? What, what? Good neighbour mine,
I had a notion that you told me something.

Grocer.
In that you certainly were not deceived!

Morgiana.
I'm grieved to give you so much trouble, friend.
Put back the oil, and measure me instead
Some lavender-water for my halfpenny,—
I'm taken very ill.

Grocer.
God bless my soul!
What ails the woman? What's the matter, dame?
What's your objection to the match?

Morgiana.
I struck
My corns against the step here; that is all!
Good-bye. I have no time to spare for sights;
But must go home direct to tell my son.

[Exit.
Grocer.
See, there she goes full trot, and here am I,
Her money in my hand. What's to be done?
Ho, Morgiana! No, she's out of sight!
I am a man of substance and good name:
No man could ever say I did him wrong,
And what is more, I never in my life,
That is to say, directly, picked a pocket.
What in my trade was indirectly won
Is quite another thing. There all are thieves.
That in his calling every man's a thief,
Is one, I think, of the great Lokman's saws,
And a wise saw it is, and true withal.
But for this halfpenny! Oh holy Prophet,
'Tis a poor woman. Many and many a time
It's cut my very heart, to see her left
Without a bit of bread even in the house.
One can't help everybody! Just last week
I let her have a brace of plums for nothing,
To give her something for her teeth to do.
But for this halfpenny! Were I to die?—
It is a great, a heavy sin, God knows,
To enrich oneself with a poor widow's goods.
I'll make a memorandum in my book. (writes)

“Received a halfpenny from Morgiana;
If in return I am to give her oil
Or lavender-water, yet is dubious.”
Soh! now a load is off my heart; 'tis well;
It stands recorded here, come death or life!

[Exit into the house.
Aladdin's Chamber.
Aladdin standing with the lamp in his hand; he rubs it, when immediately appears
The Spirit of the Lamp,
and says:—
Mighty master, what desirest thou? Quick! Despatch me on thy 'hest!

Aladdin.
Scarce can I find words to frame it, for the rage that rends my breast.
Briefly hear a deed disgraceful, false all other guile above!
Sultan Soliman had granted the entreaty of my love.
I believed—oh, judge my rapture—that Gulnara mine should be,
Oh, the transports, the sweet frenzy, can I ever paint to thee!
But the Sultan, faithless, shameless, in his promised word's despite,
Gives to Saladin, the Vizir's son, my own dear love to-night.
Therefore storms my heart as darkly as the murky midnight hour;
Listen, then, what I command thee, then essay thine utmost power.
When now the divine Gulnara—in the thought there lies despair—
Enters the hushed nuptial chamber, to the hateful bridegroom there,
Soon as they are left together, take the couch where they recline,
Through the air transport it swiftly, up into the clear moonshine;
Through the cooling stream of ether bring them here without delay,
Set the couch within my chamber, but that caitiff bear away.
He shall watch upon the house-top, stiff and cold, and mad with pain,
But within the couch Gulnara, blooming beauty, shall remain.
By another spouse full quickly shall her heart be woo'd and won;
But so soon as in the orient purple-red appears the sun,
Come to fetch the couch, and bear it to the Sultan's palace back.
This to thee is my injunction. See it done, and do not slack!

Spirit of the Lamp.
Lord, I do what thou enjoinest.—Rest thee happy and serene!
Hadst thou but a moment longer tarried, plucked the flower had been.
(He vanishes for a moment, but returns immediately with the bridal bed in his arms, in which Saladin and Gulnare are lying; he takes out Saladin and says to Aladdin),
Now rejoice, my lord and master, while the caitiff o'er your heads
Keeps his watch, and gapes and goggles at the stars upon the leads.

[Vanishes with Saladin.
Gulnare
(raises herself upon the couch).
Where am I? Holy Prophet, where am I?
What gracious power invisible has saved me,
Even while despairing in his arms I lay,
And shrunk with terror from his loathed caress?
Where am I? Can this be some blessèd dream?
Can it be fancy, or do I behold
The handsome youth, who late concealed himself
Behind the pillar of my bagnio,
And since has hovered in my waking dreams?
Where am I? Holy Prophet, where am I?

Aladdin
(advances, and throws himself at her feet).
In the protection, dearest maid, of one,
Who without thee is but an empty shade,
Who loves thee truly, and whom Allah clothes
With wondrous power, that he may win thy hand.
Prithee look up and fear not! Far away
Is your detested bridegroom; while we speak,
He's fixed, stiff as a mummy, on the roof.
But tell me frankly, oh, my beautiful,
If thou canst love me? Seen me,—yes, thou hast,
And not forgotten? Oh, delicious hope!

[Takes her hand.
Gulnare.
Art thou a blessed angel, fair young man,
Sent by the Prophet for my rescue? Speak!

Aladdin.
Oh, how divine she is! The filmy veil
Essays, but all in vain, within its folds
To hide the bloom and beauty of her form.
Oh, tell me, thou most artless and most fair,
Canst thou, oh, canst thou love me? Speak!

Gulnare.
I loved thee
From the first moment I beheld thy face.
Pent in the harem from my infant years,
Few of thy sex have ever met my view.
Yet doth my heart assure me, there is none
Can ever be so dear to me as thou.

Aladdin.
Oh bliss of blisses! (Kisses her.)
Now thou art my bride.
No angel I! Praise be to heaven! I am
Mere flesh and blood, and mortal, like thyself.
Now sleep in peace. Here by thy side I'll rest;
But until Allah ratifies the bond,
That knits us each to each, shall this bare sword,
Which naked from its sheath I place between us,
Be like a cherub, scaring deadly sin
Far from the Eden of thy stainless soul.

The House-top.
Saladin
(leaning like a pillar against the balustrade, his head turned towards the stars).
Ha, treachery! disgrace! Ha, rage! despair!
How, still the same? Weak, miserable arm,
Canst thou not move? Ah, not one limb, one limb!
Here am I stuck, congealed and motionless.
I feel as if the marrow had been sucked
From all my bones. I've not a joint, but is
As stiff, and damp, as if I'd gone to sleep
Among the grass in the cold morning dew,
And woke up lame, by rheumatism set.
“Stand there!” he shouted with a ghastly grin,
“Stand like Lot's wife, a pillar, and of salt!”
And then he disappeared. Ha, death and hell!
A moment since, warm in my bridal bed,
On the fair bosom of a lovely girl;
Now—stock still as a mummy! Nothing stirs,
Save the cold wind that through my kaftan blows;
My miserable eyes turned up to heaven,
My tongue, the herald of a vile despair.
I never, never can survive this night!
Now lies another in those rounded arms!
Ha, madness! Ha, distracting jealousy!
Rob me of life at once! Ye pale, cold stars,
Fall down, and dash me to oblivion!