Chapter 5Scene 4

A room in the women’s apartments of Ibn Sawy’s house. Ameena, Doonya. AMEENA Call, Doonya, to the eunuch once again, And ask if Nureddene has come. DOONYA Mother, What is the use? you know he has not come. Why do you fret your heart, sweet mother, for him? Bad coins are never lost. AMEENA Fie, Doonya! bad? He is not bad, but wild, a trifle wild; And the one little fault’s like a stray curl Among his clustering golden qualities, That graces more than it disfigures him. Bad coin! Oh, Doonya, even the purest gold Has some alloy, so do not call him bad. DOONYA Sweet, silly mother! why, I called him that Just to hear you defend him. AMEENA You laugh at me, — Oh, you all laugh. And yet I will maintain My Nureddene’s the dearest lad in Bassora, — Let him disprove’t who can, — in all this realm

The Viziers of Bassora The beautifullest and kindest. DOONYA So the girls think Through all our city. Oh, I laugh at you And at myself. I’m sure I am as bad A sister to him as you are a mother. AMEENA I a bad mother, Doonya? DOONYA The worst possible. You spoil him; so do I; so does his father; So does all Bassora, — especially the girls! AMEENA Why, who could be unkind to him or see His merry eyes grow clouded with remorse? DOONYA Is it he who comes? She goes out and returns. It is my uncle, mother, And there’s a girl with him, — I think she is A copy of Nureddene in white and red. Why, as I looked downstairs, she smiled up at me And took the heart out of my body with the smile. Are you going to have a rival at your years, Poor mother? ’Tis late for uncle to go wooing. AMEENA A rival, you mad girl! Enter Ibn Sawy and Anice-aljalice. IBN SAWY Come forward, child.

Act I, Scene 4 Here is a slavegirl, Ameena, I’ve bought For our great Sultan. Keep her from your son, Your scapegrace son. My life upon it, dame! If he touches her, I’m gone. AMEENA I’ll see to it. IBN SAWY Let a strong eunuch with a naked sword Stand at her door. Bathe her and feed her daintily. Your son! see that he does not wheedle you. You’ve spoilt him so, there is no trusting you, You tender, foolish heart. AMEENA I spoil him, husband! IBN SAWY Most damnably. Whenever I would turn Wholesomely harsh to him, you come between And coax my anger. Therefore he is spoilt. DOONYA Oh, uncle mine, when you are harsh, the world Grows darker with your frown. See, how I tremble! IBN SAWY Oh, are you there, my little satirist? When were you whipped last? DOONYA When you last were harsh. IBN SAWY You shall be married off. I will not have you Mocking an old and reverend man like me.

The Viziers of Bassora Whom will you marry, chit? DOONYA An old, old man, Just such a smiling harsh old man as you, None else. IBN SAWY And not a boy like young Fareed? His father wishes it; he too, I think. DOONYA Throw me from this high window to the court, Or tell me ere the day and I will leap. IBN SAWY Is he so bad? I thought it. No, my niece, You marry not with Khakan’s evil stock, Although there were no other bridegroom living. I’ll leave you, Ameena. Anice, I have a son, Handsome and wanton. Let him not behold you! You are wise and spirited beyond your years, Above your sex; I trust in your discretion. ANICE I will be careful, sir. Yet trust in bars And portals, not in me. If he should find me, I am his slave and born to do his will. IBN SAWY Be careful, dame. Exit. AMEENA How fair you are, small lady! ’Tis better truly he should see you not. Doonya, be careful of her. I’ll go before

Act I, Scene 4 And make your casket ready for you, gem. Bring her behind me, Doonya. Exit. DOONYA (leaping on Anice) What’s your name, You smiling wonder, what’s your name? your name? ANICE If you will let me a little breathe, I’ll tell you. DOONYA Tell it me without breathing. ANICE It’s too long. DOONYA Let’s hear it. ANICE Anice-aljalice. DOONYA Anice, There is a sea of laughter in your body; I find it billowing there beneath the calm And rippling sweetly out in smiles. You beauty! And I love laughers. Wherefore for the King? Why not for me? Does the King ever laugh, I wonder? She runs out. ANICE My King is here. But they would give me To some thick-bearded swart and grizzled Sultan Who’ld see me once a week and keep me penned

The Viziers of Bassora For service, not for mirth and love. My prince Is like our Persian boys, fair-faced and merry, Fronting the world with glad and open looks That make the heart rejoice. Ten days! ’tis much. Kingdoms have toppled in ten days. Doonya returns. DOONYA Come, Anice. I wish my cousin Nureddene had come And caught you here. What fun it would have been! Exeunt.