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_ ACT III - SCENE III
The Great Hall of the Palace. The room is plain, white marble.
ISHAK alone, in his robes of Court Chamberlain.
(Enter SOLDIERS with the CAPTAIN OF THE MILITARY
and the CHIEF OF POLICE.)
(The SOLDIERS intone "The War Song of the Saracens.")
SOLDIERS.
(sing)
We are they who come faster than fate: we are they who ride early or late:
We storm at your ivory gate: Pale Kings of the sunset beware!
Not on silk nor on samet we lie, nor in curtained solemnity die
Among women who chatter and cry and children who mumble a prayer.
But we sleep by the ropes of the camp, and we rise with a shout and we tramp
With the sun or the moon for a lamp, and the spray of the wind in our hair.
From the lands where the elephant are to the forts of Merou and Balghar,
Our steel we have brought and our star to shine on the ruins of Rum.
We have marched from the Indies to Spain, and by God we will go there again;
We have stood on the shore of the plain where the Waters of Destiny boom.
A mart of destruction we made at Yalula where men were afraid,
For death was a difficult trade, and the sword was a broker of doom;
And the Spear was a Desert Physician, who cured not a few of ambition,
And drave not a few to perdition with medicine bitter and strong.
And the shield was a grief to the fool and as bright as a desolate pool,
And as straight as the rock of Stamboul when our cavalry thundered along:
For the coward was drowned with the brave when our battle sheered up like a wave,
And our dead to the desert we gave, and the glory to God in our song.
THE SOLDIERS.
(Cheering)
Allah Akbar!
(etc.)
CHIEF OF POLICE.
That is a splendid song your soldiers sing, O breaker of infidel
bones. Permit an inglorious policeman to inquire what flaming
victory you celebrate today. Such is my loathly ignorance,
I knew not the Caliph's army
(may it be ever plosh in seas of hostile blood!)
had even left Baghdad.
CAPTAIN OF MILITARY.
It is true we have not left Baghdad, But perchance we have
saved it from destruction. For when the Caliph's Police
have allowed a conspiracy to ripen undetected, It is our
duty to mow down the conspirators. It is true we did but
vanquish beggars--but they were beggars to fight.
Half of them we slew and one-half we captured, and,
since the police believe no clue but the ocular, here
they are. A victory is well worth a song.
CHIEF OF POLICE.
Allah, such a song!
I thought: "At the least they have captured Cairo."
CAPTAIN OF MILITARY.
To save Bagdad is better than to capture Cairo.
CHIEF OF POLICE.
(Pointing to the captive BEGGARS)
Behold only the chain-mail
of the vanquished!
CHIEF OF MILITARY.
It is an old song, a glorious great battle song, and in
mocking it thou has displayed on an absence of education,
thou dragger of dead dogs from obscure gutters.
ISHAK.
Is this talk for the high divan, Captain?
Ye have saved Bagdad? Bagdad is no longer worth saving.
You rose-petal-bellied parasites of the palace, how
dare you sing that song?
CAPTAIN OF MILITARY.
Allah, these poets talk in rhyme.
(Enter the Herald announcing various personages,
who enter as he announces them and are motioned
to their place by ISHAK.)
HERALD.
Abu Said, Prince of Basra, to do homage. Fahraddin, Prince
of Damascus, to do homage. Al Mustansir, Prince of Koniah,
to do homage. Tahir Dhu'l Yaminayn, governor of Khorasan,
to do homage.
The great calligraphist, Afiq of Diarbekir, master of the riqa
and the shikasta hands: also of the Peacock style, and of
painting in miniature.
ISHAK.
(Aside)
Episodes of considerable obscenity.
HERALD.
The celebrated Turkoman wrestler, Yurghiz Khan, whose thighs are
three cubits in circumference.
ISHAK.
(Aside)
As fat as a woman's, but not as nice.
HERALD.
Abu Nouwas, the Caliph's jester. The Rajah of the Upper Ganges,
come hither to do homage with a present of 800 bales of indigo.
ISHAK.
(Aside)
And never dyed his beard.
HERALD.
Hang Wung, the wisest philosopher in China, come hither to study
the excellence of the habits of true believers. He is a hundred
and ten years old....
ISHAK.
(Aside)
And perfectly blind.
HERALD.
Anastasius Johannes Georgius, ambassador of the infidel Empress Irene,
mistress till God wills of Constaniniyeh and the lands of Rum,
come here on a vain errand....
ISHAK.
He understands no word, and believes we do honour to his name.
But the jest is thin, my Herald.
HERALD.
Abul Asal, the wandering dervish, come hither to remind
kings that they are but dust.
ISHAK.
"Where lies Nushiravan the Just?"
DERVISH.
The rhyme helps reason. In the dust.
ISHAK.
The platitudes of dervishes do not much
disturb the beatitudes of kings.
HERALD.
Masrur, the Executioner, come hither to make several beggars
the dusty equivalents of monarchs.
ISHAK.
Ah, you may well shiver, poor captives:
it is draughty among your rags.
HERALD.
Hassan ben Hassan al Bagdadi, the Caliph's friend.
SOLDIERS.
Long live Hassan and the shadow of
Hassan and the friend of Hassan
ben Hassan al Bagdadi!
ISHAK.
(Drawing HASSAN aside)
Come hither, friend of the Caliph;
do not forget that you are the man with the broken lute.
HASSAN.
What is a friend?
ISHAK.
Are you not in favour? Has not the Caliph taught you?
You have a royal friend.
HASSAN.
He is generous: he is gracious: he is intimate. He has leant on
my arm, he has embraced me, he has called me by that name "friend".
But I tremble before his eyes.
ISHAK.
You have found out. No man can ever be his friend.
HASSAN.
Alas, that is because he is exalted far above mankind!
ISHAK.
Alas, no: but because he uses that supremacy to play the artist
with the lives of men.
HASSAN.
What do you mean, Ishak?
ISHAK.
Have you not seen the designer of carpets, O Hassan of Bagdad, put here the blue and here the gold, here the orange here the green? So have I seen the Caliph take the life of some helpless man-- who was contented in his little house and garden, enjoying the blue of happy days--and colour his life with the purple of power, and streak it with the crimson of lust: then whelm it all with the gloom-greys of abasement, touched with the glaring reds of pain, and edge the whole with the black border of annihilation.
HASSAN.
He has been so generous. Do not say he is a tyrant! Do not say he delights in the agony of men!
ISHAK.
Agony is a fine colour, and he delights therein as a painter in vermilion new brought from Kurdistan. But shall so great an artist not love contrast? To clasp a silver belt round the loins of a filthy beggar while a slave darkens the soles of his late vizier, is for him but a jest touched with a sense of the appropriate: and I have seen it enacted in this very room.
HASSAN.
But you are his friend.
ISHAK.
As you are. It is elegant for a monarch to condescend: it is refreshing for a monarch to talk as man to man. It is artistic for a monarch to enjoy the pleasures of contrast and escape the formalities of Court.... But here comes the preceder of the Caliph, the penultimate splendour of the divan, a man noble without passion, sagacious without inspiration, and weak as a miser's coffee.
HERALD.
The Tulip of the Parterre of Government, the Shadow of the
Cypress Tree, the Sun's Moon, Jafar the Barmecide.
SOLDIERS.
Long live the great Vizier!
HERALD.
Let all mouths close but mine.
(Lifting his staff.)
The Holy, the Just, the High-born, the Omnipotent; the Gardener of the Vale of Islam, the Lion of the Imperial Forests, the Rider on the Spotless Horse, the Cyprus on the Golden Hill, the Master of Spears, the Redresser of Wrong, the Drinker of Blood, the Peacock of the World, the Shadow of God on Earth, the Commander of the Faithful, Haroun ar Raschid ben Mohammed, Ibn Abdullah Ibn Mohammed Ibn Ali ben Abdullah, Ibn 'Abbas, the Caliph.
SOLDIERS.
The Holy, the High-born, the Just One, the Caliph!
The Cypress, the Peacock, the Lion, the Caliph!
From Rum to Bokhara one monarch, the Caliph!
DERVISH.
(Gloomily)
A clay thing, a plaything, a shadow, the Caliph!
CALIPH.
The Divan is open. Let all mouths close but mine. Our
justice today will be swift as a blow of the sword. In
the Book of the Wisdom of Rulers I read: "Be sudden to
uproot the tree of conspiracy for it scatters far its seed."
Are you the Beggars?
BEGGARS.
We are the beggars of Bagdad.
CALIPH.
Thou, spokesman, come hither! Wherefore didst thou plot
against my throne and the safety of all Islam?
Didst thou not fear not only for thy life but for thy salvation?
BEGGAR.
Master and Lord of the World,
hast thou been poor, hast thou been hungry?
Dost thou know what dreams enter the gaunt heads of starving
men as they lie against the back of thy garden wall, and moan:
"Bread in God's name, bread in the name of God?"
CALIPH.
Dost thou deny conspiracy?
BEGGAR.
I conspired.
CALIPH.
Is there one of you denieth conspiracy?
(Silence.)
Masrur, lead out the conspirators to death.
(MASRUR executes the order.)
CALIPH.
Let those whose duty it is fetch him who is called
the King of the Beggars from his cell, and let him
who did us the great service of capturing alive
that dangerous man, step forth into the midst.
CHIEF OF POLICE.
(Stepping forward)
Lord of the World--but I am dirt.
CAPTAIN OF MILITARY.
(Simultaneously advancing)
Lord of the World--but I am dung.
CALIPH.
Where you both concerned in his capture? My favour is doubled
upon you. Let two robes of honour be brought before my throne.
CHIEF OF POLICE.
Sir, I fail to comprehend the presence of this military man.
He was but a spectator when I dragged out the King of Beggars
from the gutter of his roof.
CAPTAIN OF MILITARY.
O thou civilian, I caught a valiant hold of his legs,
despite his heavy and continuous kicks, whilst thou
didst but timidly pluck at his sleeve.
CHIEF OF POLICE.
Pluck at his sleeve, tin-coated murderer! Summon the
twenty drops of blood that trickle round thy lank and
withered frame and let them mount to thy mendacious cheek!
CAPTAIN OF MILITARY.
Thou dropsical elephant!
CALIPH.
Enough! I love to hear the speech of heroes, but enough.
It is clear the glory is divided. Give me one of those
robes of honour, and summon the tailor of the court.
COURT TAILOR.
(Very prostrate)
O Master of the World, O Master!
CALIPH.
Slit me this robe in twain.
COURT TAILOR.
(Moaning as he does so)
Allah is great, Allah is great.
Such a well-cut robe: such excellent silk!
CALIPH.
Come hither both.
CAPTAIN OF MILITARY.
(Hanging back) The glory is all to the police.
CHIEF OF POLICE.
The credit is entirely due to my honourable friend.
CALIPH.
(Insisting)
Come hither both.
(They are fitted with half a robe of honour each amid laughter.)
SOLDIERS.
Long live those whom the Caliph delights to honour!
CAPTAIN OF MILITARY.
(Under his teeth)
Mutinous swine!
CALIPH.
And now bring forth the King of the Beggars.
(The KING OF THE BEGGARS is brought in chained hand and foot,
but still dressed in gold.)
The Salaam to my host of yesternight.
RAFI, KING OF BEGGARS.
The Salaam, O man of Basra. I see thy fellow-merchant
in the robes of the Grand Vizier. But the negro, that
most disgusting Negro, seems to be absent. To Hassan,
my congratulations on his advancement.
CALIPH.
Thou dost speak with the impudence of a king, but thy subjects
are taken from thee. They will soon be black crows in the
pine-wood by the walls.
RAFI.
Had I but known thee last night, thou man of Basra,
whom men call Caliph of the Faithful--O thou massacrer
of good men--had I but known thee, had I but known thee!
CHIEF OF POLICE.
Shall I tear out his tongue?
CALIPH.
Let him talk. I have found a man who does not flatter me.
Let me study the hatred in his eyes.
RAFI.
It is not enough for thee to misrule a quarter of the world.
Thou art not only a fool tyrant, but a mean tradesman,
thou dog-hearted spy!
JAFAR.
It is not decent to let this man continue his coarse
abuse, O Master. Wilt thou not end him?
CALIPH.
He shall end in his time.
(To KING OF THE BEGGARS)
Thy impudence will not redound to thy advantage,
Rafi! Wherefore dost thou not bite the tongue
of insolence with the tooth of discretion?
RAFI.
I am a man in the presence of death.
CALIPH.
There a thousand paths to the delectable tavern of death,
and some run straight and some run crooked.
RAFI.
Cut, scourge, burn, rack thy uttermost. The nobler the aim
the baser the failure. Do not I deserve to feel
every separate pain of those whom my folly has sent to cruel death?
CHINESE PHILOSOPHER.
I am a hundred and ten years old, and I have never
heard a remark in more exquisite taste.
CALIPH.
It is well. But before I send thee to a death so cruel
that thy conscience will be fully satisfied in this world
and the next, answer me this: Hast thou forgotten that
unparalleled lady whom the zeal of my servants ravished
from thy embrace?
RAFI.
Thou devil of Eblis! Have I forgotten? Have I not prayed
thou shouldst forget?
CALIPH.
Shall a gallant man forget the name of a beautiful woman?
We will look on her, for whom thou didst attempt to raze
the central fort of Islam.
(To ATTENDANTS)
Bring in this lady, Pervaneh.
RAFI.
(In supplication)
O Master of the World! O Master of the World!
CALIPH.
Thou changest tone abruptly but late.
RAFI.
I was insolent only that her name should be forgotten
in thy anger and my death, O Splendour of Islam!
CALIPH.
A crafty excuse for impoliteness. Wilt thou now begin
to be polite to the tyrant whose coffin was to be nailed
over his open eyes? He who hopes for his audience to
forget the subject of his discourse should moderate his style.
RAFI.
God blind me that I may not see her!
CALIPH.
Why? Dost thou not love her still? Is not the sight of
his beloved to the victim of separation like the vision
of a fountain to him who dies of thirst?
HASSAN.
(Aside)
But if that fountain be a fountain whose drops are blood?
RAFI.
Thou, thou hast held her in thy arms! O God, have pity on my soul!
CALIPH.
But with this knowledge thou didst still desire her, and
was ready to wreck Bagdad for the sparkle of her eyes.
RAFI.
But first the blood of her possessor
should have washed her honour clean.
CALIPH.
Thou art a most ridiculous man. Thou hast built thy
monstrous tower of crime on a foundation of painted
smoke. Dost thou imagine I have tasted all the
fruit of my garden?
RAFI.
Allah has given thee men's bodies, but it is for him
alone to torment the soul. By thy faith, O Caliph,
speak the truth!
CALIPH.
Do I know every slave whom my industrious officials sweep in
from the streets? To my knowledge I have never set my eyes
on this woman of thine.
HERALD.
The maiden Pervaneh!
CALIPH.
Let her come before me.
(PERVANEH is ushered into the Presence.)
PERVANEH.
(With due reverence)
O Master of the World!
CALIPH.
It is written in the Sacred Law: In the King's presence a
woman may unveil, without fear of censure.
PERVANEH.
Ah, Master, but only the eagle dare look upon the sun.
CALIPH.
Thy speech is proud enough for all the eagles, Lady Pervaneh,
and I doubt not thy eyes, which I desire to see, are steady
in the blaze of danger. Must I command thee to unveil?
PERVANEH.
Alas, Master of the World, my eyes are dim with long confinement
in a jewelled cage, and the wings of my soul are numb.
Only on the hills of my country where the rolling sun of Heaven
has his morning home, only on their windy hills do the women
of my country go unveiled.
ISHAK.
(To himself, half singing)
The hills, the hills,
the morning on the hills!
CALIPH.
(To PERVANEH)
I command thee to unveil.
PERVANEH.
If thou wilt tear my veil off my face, I will tear my face
before thy eyes.
RAFI.
Ah, no!...
PERVANEH.
Who art thou who dost cry, "Ah, no!"? Who art thou who
dost hide thy face in fettered hands ...
RAFI.
A prisoner.
PERVANEH.
dissembling thy voice...
RAFI.
A prisoner awaiting death.
PERVANEH.
trembling when I touch thee?
RAFI.
A man afraid.
PERVANEH.
(In a voice of exaltation)
For thee, Sultan, I raise my veil;
and wait, thy captive, to share thy destiny.
HASSAN.
Oh, Ishak! The fire of the heart of beauty!
RAFI.
Leave me, Pervaneh! Walk not upon my path! You do not know
what a foul doom is mine.
PERVANEH.
Foul dooms? Foul dooms? Rafi, I can forget ten centuries of doom
now that I see your eyes again!
RAFI.
I conspired against his throne to win you freedom.
Through my fault I failed, through my fault my thousand followers
are dancing in the wind.
PERVANEH.
For me you conspired? For me--for me?
RAFI.
I would have drowned Bagdad in blood to kiss your lips again.
PERVANEH.
O lover!
RAFI.
(Showing his fettered hands)
Lover indeed!
PERVANEH.
There are a thousand eyes around us, O my beloved, but
what care I? The voice of the world cries out,
"Thou art a slave in the Palace, and thy lover a
prisoner in chains."
(Embracing him.)
But we have heard the Trumpets of Reality that drown the
vain din of the Thing that Seems. We have walked with the
Friend of Friends in the Garden of the Stars, and He is
pitiable to poor lovers who are pierced by the arrows of
this ghostly world. Your lips are the only lips, my lover,
your eyes the only eyes--all the other eyes but phantom
lights that glitter in the mist of dream.
COURTIER.
This is sheer heresy.
ISHAK.
Then a plague on your religion.
JAFAR.
This is Sufic doctrine, and most dangerous to the State.
HASSAN.
Then a plague on the State!
CALIPH.
Ye who make love in full Divan,
can ye yet listen to the voice of the world?
PERVANEH.
(Dazed) They are speaking.
CALIPH.
O Rafi, King of the Beggars, since after all thou art much
entangled in the web of unreality, it is necessary that I
ask thee some phantom questions concerning thy apparent acts.
Firstly, dost thou deny thou didst call thyself Caliph of
the Unbelievers, and blaspheme thy faith in my presence
and in the presence of Jafar, my Vizier, Masrur, the
Executioner, and Hassan, my friend?
RAFI.
I have nothing to deny.
CALIPH.
Dost thou, secondly, deny that thou didst swear in the presence
of the same to nail the Caliph of the Faithful alive in his coffin,
or that thou didst conspire with the beggars to slay me, to seize
Bagdad and to usurp the throne?
RAFI.
I have nothing to deny.
CALIPH.
Dost thou, thirdly, deny that thou didst scheme this monstrous
crime for the sake of a woman?
RAFI.
I have nothing to deny.
CALIPH.
Rafi, thou art confessed a Blasphemer, a Traitor...and a Lunatic.
It remains to consider thy punishment.
RAFI.
As thou wilt.
CALIPH.
Thou art brave, but I fear the shafts of unreality will prick
thee extremely hard. For thou hast merited not one but a
dozen deaths. Now, if I impale thee for conspiracy, how
shall I burn thee for blasphemy? But with such other
pains as man can suffer, judicious arrangement carries
the day over unthinking brutality. For if I skin thee
for thy impudence, how can I flog thee for thy folly?
But if the order is reversed thou canst enjoy the
benefits of both expiations.
RAFI.
Thou hast certainly studied the art of pain.
CALIPH.
Yet what are the worst tortures thou shalt undergo to the horror
of the death thou didst contrive for me?
RAFI.
(With impatience) What is my condemnation?
CALIPH.
For Lunacy to be nailed, for Conspiracy to be stretched,
for Blasphemy to be split.
PERVANEH.
Ah!
(Murmurs of horror and satisfaction fill the Court
at the announcement of this savage punishment.)
RAFI.
As Allah wills.
PERVANEH.
(Falling at the CALIPH's feet)
Spare, Spare, O Master of the World!
CALIPH.
Dost thou think I will absolve him for thy "spare"?
PERVANEH.
Mercy! Oh, Mercy!
CALIPH.
Why dost thou cry "Mercy" and clasp my feet?
Is not pain a fancy and this world a cloud?
PERVANEH.
(Rising to her feet)
This world is Hell, but those that dig Hell deeper
shall find the Hell-beneath-the-Hells which they search for.
CALIPH.
Thou hast metaphysic, but hast thou logic? Invent me a reason--
one small and subtle reason--why I should show mercy to this man.
PERVANEH.
Ah--wilt thou have reasons?
CALIPH.
Was not my sentence just?
PERVANEH.
Wilt thou have justice?
CALIPH.
If I had stood bound before him,
would he have listened to my prayer?
PERVANEH.
Wilt thou have revenge?
CALIPH.
Shall I scorn reason, pervert justice, and put aside revenge--
for thy dark eyes?
PERVANEH.
Turn thy justice, turn thy revenge on me in the name of
the dark eyes of God! They say a woman suffers longer
and sharper than a man.
CALIPH.
Lady, dost thou mean this with all its meaning, or say it to
implore pity? Beware of thy answer! The rack and the whip
are ready and near at hand.
PERVANEH.
(Her arms outstretched)
Then give the word. Knock off those fetters
before my eyes--and nail me to the wall.
RAFI.
Pervaneh!
CALIPH.
Ecstasy! Ecstasy! Thou art an ecstatic and wilt not suffer.
I know the thick skin of martyrs. I refuse.
PERVANEH.
(To RAFI)
Alas, what can I do!
RAFI.
Let me die! I have seen you again. It is nothing for a man to die.
PERVANEH.
Nothing for a man to die? 'Tis Heaven wide open for a man to die.
But they will tear you, Rafi, Rafi!
RAFI.
Shall I fear the pain you called upon yourself,
or shrink where you were brave?
PERVANEH.
(To the CALIPH)
I ask so small a boon. Grant my lover a clean death!
CALIPH.
Thou dost ask a very great boon indeed. For as thou sayest,
what is death? Shall the man who shakes my kingdom slip into
eternity like a thief men catch in the bazaar? Shall he who
does the greater wrong not suffer the greater pain?
PERVANEH.
He is not afraid of pain.
CALIPH.
That is not to say he feels not pain.
PERVANEH.
Just and reasonable,
yet there is a holier thing than reason and justice.
DERVISH.
(His orthodoxy disturbed)
A holier thing than justice?
PERVANEH.
Yes, Dervish. There is that which should not be defiled.
CALIPH.
Whither now does thy plea wander?
PERVANEH.
O Father of Islam, can thine eyes that love flowers behold
man's body hewn into foul shapes and monstrous as the phantoms
that go wailing round the graves? Can thy ears that love the music
of Ishak, listen to the gasps of the tormented droning
through their bodies like a winter wind among the pines?
CALIPH.
I shall not honour Rafi with my attendance: I shall be far
from sight and sound.
PERVANEH.
The thought of it--the thought of it!
CALIPH.
I have been ordering executions all my life. There is only one thought
that can haunt me--the thought of a coffin closing on open eyes,
the sway of the coffin carried to the grave, the crash at the bottom
of the pit, the rumble of earth on the lid, the gasping for breath
and light.
PERVANEH.
He was distraught by passion, he spoke in fury: but thou dost judge
him with a quiet mind. He is a man among men, but thou art
the representative of God on earth, the sole Priest of Islam.
Thou shalt not order God's image to be defiled.
CALIPH.
So you would have me spare him for the sake of the perfection
of man's body? O Pervaneh, I am far more likely to spare him
for the perfection of woman's.
PERVANEH.
(Shrinking from the implied menace)
For those that have wits,
O Master, perfection is sundered from desire.
CALIPH.
You are a woman--perfect--but a woman.
PERVANEH.
By the curse of God.
CALIPH.
And however much you sunder perfection from desire, from desire
your perfection is not sundered.
PERVANEH.
I am the slave of thy household to come or go, to fetch or to carry,
to be struck or slain; but my perfection is not the slave of your
desire.
CALIPH.
(Softly) Yet if you return to my household...
PERVANEH.
(In fury) To die.
CALIPH.
You would not be forgotten or neglected...and your presence
would be a consolation and a charm....
PERVANEH.
Not to you, frigid tyrant, not to you!
CALIPH.
(Softly) Nor yet to the one who let your lover go in peace?
PERVANEH.
Is there no shame in the world of Islam?
Will you unclothe your lust in full Divan?
CALIPH.
You have already given the example. Come, shall I set your lover free?
PERVANEH.
I would choke if you touched me, I would choke. Oh, the shame on me, the shame! You are smiling. It is not me you want but my shame! Is there a God in heaven that lets you sit and smile! But you can set him free. Ah, will you set him free? I am your slave--I am your slave. You can rob me of rope and knife--the very means of death. If you will set him free! I am your slave, what choice have I?
CALIPH.
Thou hast not the manners or the heart of a slave. Thou wast brought to my household by violence, a free woman born, and art no slave of mine. In the presence of my Divan I pronounce thee free. Thou art free to come and free to go, free to buy and free to sell, free to walk out or free to stay, free to wed and free to die-- and free to make a choice....
PERVANEH.
To make a choice? What choice? Between his death and my dishonour?
CALIPH.
No, between love and life.
PERVANEH.
Explain, O Master of the World.
CALIPH.
Between two deaths with torment and two lives with a separation.
Between a day of love and all the years of life.
PERVANEH.
Enlighten my understanding.
CALIPH.
I have considered this matter. I have decided this matter.
I will speak plain and clear.
(Rising)
This is my irrevocable judgment from which there is no appeal. I give a choice to Pervaneh and Rafi, the King of the Beggars, and I grant them till sunset to consult their hearts and make that choice together. They shall both live on these conditions: that the lady Pervaneh return forthwith to my harem to be my wife in lawful wedlock, and be treated with all the honour her boldness and her beauty merit. That the King of the Beggars leave Bagdad, and that these two lovers part for ever till they die.
But if they refuse this separation, I offer them one day of love, from sunset to-night to sunset on the morrow, unfettered and alone, with no more guard than may keep them from self-destruction. But when that day is over they shall die together in merciless torment.
In the name of Allah the most merciful, the Divan is closed.
CURTAIN. _
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