Classic Audiobook Collection - Aladdin by Adam Oehlenschlager ~ Full Audiobook [folklore]

Episode Date: June 28, 2023

Aladdin by Adam Oehlenschlager audiobook. Genre: folklore In Adam Oehlenschlager's Aladdin, the familiar tale from One Thousand and One Nights is reimagined as a sweeping dramatic poem, where street life, palace intrigue, and the unseen world of spirits collide. Aladdin is a handsome but aimless young man, a burden to his hardworking parents, until a mysterious stranger, the sorcerer Nureddin, draws him into a perilous expedition for a hidden treasure. Deep underground, Aladdin stumbles into a power that can reshape his fate: a wonder-working lamp, guarded by forces that do not serve human pride lightly. Back in the city, Aladdin is pulled toward the court of Sultan Soliman and the radiant Princess Gulnare, while rival ambitions tighten around the throne and a promised match threatens to close every door. Between the tenderness of home, the glitter of royal ceremony, and the temptations of sudden power, Aladdin must learn what kind of man he intends to become - and what it truly costs to command miracles. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 00 (00:11:10) Chapter 01 (01:00:10) Chapter 02 (01:45:06) Chapter 03 (02:27:47) Chapter 04 (03:00:11) Chapter 05 (03:46:42) Chapter 06 (04:21:20) Chapter 07 (05:17:21) Chapter 08 (05:55:57) Chapter 09 (06:44:39) Chapter 10 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

part one act one of aladdin or the wonderful lamp by adam olenshager part the first failure act first ispahan a small meanly furnished room mustafa seated upon a table sewing morgiana spinning cotton oh morgiana fast asleep again no mustafa you're wrong indeed you are. I was but thinking of my evening prayers and dropped my eyelids not to be disturbed in my devotions. It is growing late. Late, quoth a late? A pretty way to talk. I call it early. Who I'd like to know is master in the house, wife? You or I? You are a sloth, a troth, a truce, a Is this a time or place for poor folks such as we to talk about devotions? Pish or evening prayers? Where is the use then of our fearing God? No use at all.

That's just the misery. For once you are at prayers you cannot spin. And who are dined on prayers? Will they make loaves or from the book? Butcher by us air a joint? I am a frail old man. My strength is spent. I cannot stitch as once I used to do.

You are my better half, and you should take upon your back the fair half of my trials. Morgiana weeps. I do my best to help. I'm sure I do. Well, dry your tears. and I'll not vex you more. You're a good creature.

Faith, you might be worse. In days gone by, when I was better off, you would have worked too hard, but I forbade you. Ah, wife, I used to beg you then, you know, to spare your fair white hands and comely face. But now, so right. the changes of the world. All your fine gilding has been rubbed away,

and my last piece of gold has long been spent. Now you must card and spin if we're to live. And, what is worse, we must find Provinder, for that long lounging good-for-nothing lout that waste his days in idleness. Poor boy, you should not deal so hardly with him, husband. He is so very young. With his warm blood, you can't expect he'd be content to sit cross-legged upon the showboard all day long. To polish, though, the pavement

all day long, with arms across and lazy pace. His blood is cool enough for that. Now, hark ye wife. Well, keep your temper. Hush, here comes the boy. Aladdin entering. God greet you, my dear parents. Wait a bit. I'll greet you, you young vagabond, I will. Where, sir, have you been frittering your time? With other idle rascals like yourself?

Frittering? I frittering my time? Not high. Say, rather, turning it to good account. There is the price of the rich merchant's dress. Their father. He was not at home himself, but as I'm but a boyish stripling still, they let me have free access to his house. And once they catch me there, the women folks won't suffer me to go. Oh, holy prophet, what darling creatures are those girls of his? They chatted with me,

asked me, the dear rogues, if I was thorough master of my trade. Oh, that I were indeed a real tailor. If they would only give me leaves, said I. I'd take their measures on the spot, I would. Agreed, agreed, they cried. Then off they ran and fetched me paper and a pair of shears. You should have seen what measuring ensued. Round arm, round swelling bosom, slender waist. Lord, Lord, a rare thing is the tailor's craft.

You, good for nothing, scamp. I'll tailor you. Fine tailoring indeed. As he leaps down from the table, he slips, and is on the point of falling. Oh, holy prophet! Help! Help! I fall. Help, or I'll break my neck. Aladdin helps him.

This comes of being overhasty now. Mustafa restraining his anger. Fetch me my elbow. That's a darned boy. Aladdin fetches the El-Wand. Mustafa makes a blow at him with it, but Aladdin springs back. His father strikes Morgiana's spindle and knocks it over upon the lamp. Aladdin runs off.

Morgiana, who has dropped to sleep again, starts up, and seeing her spindle on fire, exclaims, Ha! Fire! Ispahan! Pah! Ispahan! Help! Murder!

Persia's mighty capital is in a blaze. No, not so bad as that. Rich that I am, I am the sport of fate. Ah, you young Scatter-Graise, scamp, gallows-bird, will you not stop till I chastise you, eh? Will you deprive me of my livelihood among my rich, luxurious customers? Well, Morgiana, have you lost your wits?

There you are sitting wringing your hands and let the spindle burn. Oh, water, water here. Water, indeed. And where I am to get it? There's not a drop, not one in all the house. Nor firemen's pale, nor engine spout, have I. Oh, oh, my cotton, oh, my yarn, my yarn. In her distraction, she snatches up the silk dress on which Mustafa is at work, and flings it upon the flames.

The captain burns. This was the heaviest blow. I never, never shall survive this day. Our house is menaced by a ruthless doom. It's light grows fainter to be quenched in gloom. Oh, if it were, what happiness for me? but soon in flames our little home will be. Mustafa swoons away. Africa

A large chamber illuminated by a faintly burning lamp. Roundabout upon the walls hang all kinds of singular instruments. Several bookshelves on one side, in the background sits the enchanter, Noreden, in a long black robe with a scarf on which numerous mystical characters are placed. On the table before him, a little chest, filled with white sand. Buried in thought, he traces lines in the sand within Ebony's stylus.

Suddenly he exclaims, A wondrous treasure! The greatest in the world! Hidden a cavern? Where? In Asia! And where in Asia? Hard by Ispahan, deep in the earth, high overarched with rocks, Girt round with lofty mountains. Holy Allah, what mighty mystery begins to dawn upon me.

Shall I reach the goal at last at midnight hour after the silent toil of forty weary years? I question further What is this matchless prize? A copper lamp How's this? An old rust-eaten copper lamp? And what then is its virtue? How?

Concealed, known but to him that owns it. And shall I Scarcears my tongue give the bold, question voice. Shall I then, ere its happy owner be? See, the fine sand like water interblends, and of the stylus leaves no trace behind. All's dark, yet stay. With surging waves, it heaves, this arid sea, as when the tempest sweeps with eddying blast to by Liddegred. What mean these furrows? I am to draw forth a poem

That lies eastward in the hall, Old, dust be grimmed, And wheresoever my eyes, When so I open it, may chance to fall, I am to weed, And all shall then be clear. Rises slowly, And takes down an old folio,

Which he opens and reads. Fair fortune's boons are scattered wide and far, In single sparkles only found and rare, And all her gifts in few combined are. Earth's choiced flowerettes bloom not everywhere, Where mellows ripe the vines inspiring tide, With bale and bane doth nature wrestle there. In the lush Orient's salty palm groves glide

Fell serpents through rank urbage noiselessly And there death-dilling venom doth abide Darkness and storm defaced the northern sky Yet there no sudden shock o'erwhelms the land And steadfast cliffs the tempest rage defy Life's gladsome child is led by fortune's hand and what the sage doth moil to make his prize when in the sky the pale stars coldly stand from his own breast leaps forth in wondrous wise met by boon fortune midway he prevails scarce weeding how in whatsoevere he tries tis ever thus that fortune freely hails her favourite and on him her blessings showers

even as to heaven the scented flower exhales. Unwood, she comes, at unexpected hours, And little it avails to rack thy brain and ask, Well lurk her long reluctant powers. Fain wouldst thou grasp, Hope's portal shuts amain, And all thy fabric vanishes in air. Unless for doomed by fate,

Thy toils are vain. by aspirations doomed to meet despair. Hmm. These lines were woven in a mortal's brain, Asari Rhymers, little conversing with nature's deep and sacred mysteries. Kindly she tenders me the hidden prize. Is it that she, with woman's waywardness, may make a mock of me? Not so.

On fool she waste not her sage accents. The pure light is not a meteorite that leads astray. With a grave smile, her finger indicates where lies the treasure she has marked for mine. Yes, I divine the hidden import well of that enigma she prepared for me in that unconscious poet's mystic song. The needful powers are by no one possessed. To lift great loads must many hands combine. To me it was given with penetrating soul. to fathom nature's inmost mysteries.

But I am not the outward instrument. Life's gladsome child. That means some creature, gay, by nature doward, instead of intellect, with body only, and mere youthful bloom. Hmm, a young dull-witted boy shall be my aid, and all unconscious of its priceless worth

secured and placed the treasure in my hands. Is it not so, thy mighty Solomon? Traces lines in the sand. Yes, yes it is. A fume of incense will disclose to me the entrance to the rock. And a rosy-cheeked, uneducated boy will draw the prize for my advantage forth, as striplings do in Europe's lotteries. Oh, holy prophet!

Take my fervent thanks. My mind's exhausted with its deep research. The goal achieved, my over-wearyed frame longs for repose. Now will I sleep in peace. Tomorrow, by the magic of my ring, I stand in Asia. The succeeding day beholds me here, and with the wondrous lamp. A room, Morgiana and her female neighbors around Mustafa's beer. Once more I thank you, worthy gossips all, for your kind help with my poor husband here. He's dead, alack, great prophet. He sits no longer stitching on the table there and scolding me for dropping off to sleep. Now he sleeps faster far than air did I. Thanks, thanks, good Mirza.

You, Amina, thanks. If God call either of your husband's hands, You may rely on Mojana's help To wash and dress and lay the body out And weep and wail as you have done for mine. Oh, Allah, think the robe in which he lies It was the death of him. He fetched a blow to hit Aladdin

And upset my distaff into the lamp. I started from my nap with a great trick How to put out the fire was my first thought, but in my parlous fright, not knowing which was black and which was white, I snatched a dress up, flung it on the flames, when down he dropped as pale as any sheet and died of downright terror on the spot. Weeps. Well, it is a road we all one day must go, yet it is hard, and then in such a way. Aladdin is a worthless scamp. And now, farewell, my good kind friends. See, here they come to take him to the grave.

This is too much. The corpse-bearers enter. My heart is breaking. Oh, good gentle souls, when you take up the beer, grasp not too hard. Tis an old man, so lift him tenderly. He is not fit to bear much. buffeting and mind you turn his silver hoary head towards Mecca and his feet to Medina one kiss ah me how tranquilly he lies once he was always fuming that is past farewell my husband

Mustafa farewell exit bears with the beer the women shriek a street aladdin and a troop of ragged boys in the background the magician in naredin who watches a proceedings attentively there is aladdin now we may begin now we shall have our game good-morrow friends and where have you been laundering all this time Look, ye, there was an old man's funeral outside the town near the small village mosque, and this it was that kept me. It is so nice to listen to the singing and to see the stately way they bear the beer along. Why didn't you, I say, take me with you? Who was it they were bearing? Oh, my father. Who? What? Your father? Gracious. Is he dead? Two nights ago.

And you. You never spoke a word to me about it. I forgot. And you're not mourning? Where would be the good? Not in your dress, I mean, but in your heart. Why, if we mourned for all that went amiss, we should do not but mourn. He was old and frail.

Well, come along. The merchant at the corner will fling three oranges today for us to scramble for beneath his window. I will be there. Of course, no doubt you will. See, here comes one. Now youngsters, look alive. Aladdin has caught the orange. You're always lucky. Boys call out. Oh, more oranges! Another orange is thrown from the window and is caught by Aladdin. That's number two. They make a pretty pair. Aladdin shan't play with us anymore. he mustn't try to catch the third he's got enough already comrades hold him back some of the boys hold atlanton a third orange is thrown out and falls into his turban that's number three one i shall eat myself and now here go the other do again throws two oranges into the air all the boys run off to catch them noureddin advances

Why should I travel further? This child's play, as aimless and as trivial as it seems, is yet devised by destiny to show the tool I am to use. As I surmised, sturdy and straight, red-cheeked, without a care, They bury this boy's father, and he goes to gape at this like any other show. Twice on the child did fortune. and shower her boons. Aye. And the third time,

though his hands were bound, he lured her favour down into his turban. Hmm, what would I more? The thing I sought is here. Goes up to Aladdin. God save you, my young friend. I see that you are a smart hand at catching. Aladdin sheepishly.

Rather, sir. Forgive me if, a stranger as I am, I make so bold as tender you my friendship, for I am drawn to you in many ways. First, you are much the handsomest of all your playfellows, the tallest two to boot. How old are you? Just turn seventeen.

I should have thought you older by your looks. you only want a beard to be a man then in dexterity your foremost too and you have luck a foreign merchant i almost a stranger here in ispahan and so would like to know some pleasant people you show me too much honor sir indeed small profit will you get from knowing me i'm a poor tailor's prentice sir my father died very strangely just two days ago. This was the way of it. With his Elwond, he fetched a blow at me, but missed, and knocked my mother's distaff over on the lamp. The yarn caught fire, and thereupon he died. I heard you, speaking of his burial, and don't be angry. The indifference that marked your words somewhat offended me. Why, sir, he was a poor, infirm old man, almost three-score and ten, and very few live past that age in Ispahan.

But then, twas you, it seemed, to cause the old man's death. Because I would not quietly submit to be felt like an ox, because I leapt aside and showed him a clean pair of heels. No, gentle sir. Think what a life is that which hangs by such a very spider's thread. It dies of simple fright, because a wisp of yarn takes fire. He rather owes me thanks for giving him occasion, as I did. to say goodbye to it for good and all.

That was not spoken like a son, my friend. A son? Mishallah, I am fain to think that I count kindred with that sire of mine, through my good mother's courtesy alone. For he was old when he took her to wife, and she was pretty as the rumor goes. El Sethy and Emir oft call on us. Right fond of me he was, and I was like him.

Many is the gift I had of him before he lost his life in fighting with the Turks. Your father was so old. What was his name? His name, sir. Mustafa. Norredden, with increasing interest. A tailor, said you. Body and sole a tailor. And lived long in his behan? Since ever I remember.

A little peevish, naturally testy. You know him. yes an industrious old man amazingly industrious and he wished that you should be the same no doubt and not go lounging idly up and down the streets the very man his picture large as life noureddin embraces him my brother's son what you his brother's sir yes his own very brother "'Moh-hamut, I thought he had been dead this many a day. "'Never could I have hoped to find his son. "'And now I find him in this comely youth. "'Embrace me, child.

"'What is your name?' "'Aladen.' "'Yes, yes, he wrote me word of that. "'But now, touching that same emir of whom you spoke.' "'Aladen, looking embarrassed. Oh gracious. Uncle, not a word of that. Suppose it's something whispered to the wind.

Well, come, Alan, my dear nephew, come, and lead me to your aged mother straight. She's still alive. The cottage there is hers. Oh, mighty God. How wondrous does fate bring things to meet together in this world. Exit into the cottage. A chamber.

Nareden, Morgiana, and Aladdin seated at supper. Most honored kinsmen, dear good brother, don't, don't take a deal of me to speak so bold. Dear, bless my soul, I'd sooner have believed the Caucasus had sunk into the earth. Yeah, the Euphrates run completely dry, and that my dear, my faithful, Mustafa! Weeps! Now he is in the blessed paradise where youthful hurries, pretty our father and I, caress and dress him day by day, and rub with flannel soft his poor rheumatic limbs. Well, let them. I'm not jealous. No, not I.

But to come back to what I meant to say, Nea, as I said before, had I believed that Mustafa, poor Ealing Mustafa, was brother of so great, grand a gentleman. Besides, I never heard him speak of you, yet he was given to gossiping, God knows. And so at first I thought, your pardon, sir, that you were but a thief, a vagabond, who took this plan to throw us off our guard. But when again I came to think that here there's nothing any men could steal, no more than on the red sands of Sahara's waist, and when you ordered heaps,

of viands in and sweet sherbet in goblets of great price, then dearest kinsman my suspicion vanished. For what, said I, in all the world, should make you so kind to an old woman like myself, and my poor boy, if not relationship? Yes, my dear sister, all that's in my power to do for you, or for your darling son, I'll do like a true kinsman. why has fate concealed your poverty from me so long but what is past and gone is past recall tis merest folly to lament the things we have no power to walter we will deal with matters as they are pours out sherbet so fill my son and pledge me in a cup uncle your health drinks now sister tell me and-me and-yreve and and be frank, I beg.

What's your vocation? Whereon do you live? What does Aladdin do? Is he industrious? What business does he mean to turn to? What is the peculiar bias of his mind? The bias of his mind? Alack!

Alack! To scour the streets the lifelong blessed day, To tumble in the mire like any pig, To wear his breeches into halls at knee, to tear his coat to tatters at the elbows, to fight and swear and scramble up and down. That's all his bias. You may well suppose the boy has cost me many an aching heart. It's little else I get from him, God knows.

He is my son, my own true flesh and blood, a handsome youth and smart, pure red and white, and everybody says he's just my image. But I must tell the truth, come. What come may. He sees me spin and spin from morn till night. But what is that to him? God save the mark. He'll not so much as turn his hand,

Not he to comb his hair out. Everything is thrown on me. Poor me! Of widows most perplexed. He should have been a tailor like his father. That was a tailor for you. Taylor's work don't drop into one's mouth like roasted doves. whilst my poor husband lived I took his part, the idle dog,

and now heaven pays me off for having been a weak, good-natured fool. Weeps. Well, well, my worthy sister, dry your tears. As far as I can judge your boy, laden, his character is generous, frank and noble, too young to choose a business for himself, depressed and hampered by the want of me, he does not know which way to turn himself. In this way, indolence has rocked his spirit, like any cradled infant, into sleep.

I'd wager, were he put into the way of starting in some trade in proper style, the master of a handsome shop, will say, well-stocked with fine and well-selected stuffs from China, India, and the Levant, I'd wager, at a venture. two to one he'd very soon grow tired of his old life and turn to other courses. Eh, my son? Good uncle, you exactly read my heart. I never pass a merchant's shop like that, piled to the roof with cloth of golden silver,

gauzes and velvets, and rich robes and silks. But to myself, I say, oh, if I had such a fine shop as that, Then every day would lovely Persian ladies visit me, and they would fling their long, thick veils aside, and order rightly to inspect the goods. And whilst their eyes were busy with my stuffs, mine should be busy taking stock of them. Oh, get me such a shop, dear uncle,

do, and here I promise you by all that sacred, to grow methodical, sagacious, grave, to comb my hair, and never more to play with stupid dirty boys about the streets. Noureddin offers him his stagious, hand. Your hand upon it. Aladdin takes it. And my heart too. Good. A shop I'll get you the day after next. Oh, holy prophet, he, a shop? Poor wretch! How in the world is that to come about? I'll buy a shop, and set him up in it. Aladdin falls on the Redden's neck. That's what I call an uncle.

blood with him is thicker far than water. But dear uncle, tis a long time till the day after next, were it not better instantly by dawn tomorrow? Tis too late, alas, to-night, to buy the shop for me. What's done is done. And to confess the truth, I can't abide to be kept waiting long. Thou saucy knave, thou moon-calf, good for nothing, Has thou ne'er one grain of sense in all thy stupid skull?

Is this thy gratitude? Aren't thou not struck all of a heap with Providence's mercies? I cannot choose but weep. Oh, best of brothers, you are an angel sent from paradise to save this wretched orphan from perdition. The poor dear child! Get up, you rascal! There, go kiss your uncle's hand.

Where be your manners? Have you no thanks? Ha! Is it not a dream? I am so used to misery and grief, this sudden turn of fortune quite confounds me. Calm thee, good lady. Friend Aladdin, no.

Tomorrow's Friday and a holiday, and we can do no business. Shops are shut. The time is given to exercise devout and quiet recreation. Yet will I procure you a fresh suit, without delay, one that is fitted for your new estate. And by your mother's leave we shall go forth into the suburbs, for a quiet stroll among the cool shades of those lovely gardens outside the gates.

Have you a mind for this? Yes, that I have. And for today we part, for it is late and I am much fatigued. Be times, I shall be with you in the morning. And now, good night. Kingsmen, good night. Good night. Exit, Noreden. A wild, mountainous region. A narrow valley covered with grass and flowers, shut in between two precipitous rocks studded with trees. A stream dashes from one of the rocks.

Noreden and Aladdin enter in close conversation. Good uncle, you do tell the prettiest stories whatever I have heard in all my life. I never should grow tired of listening. I fancy I am wiser by a deal than when we started on our walk but now. To every quarter of the world you've led me, it may be very true all that you say of trade and merchandise, but I confess what you have told me of these powers, a cult of nature, and of morals manifold, of men who in a moment oft detained by merest chance would others waste their lives in vain and ceaseless efforts to achieve, of the invisible and central force, and other such mysterious agencies,

these were the things that gave me most delight. These are the noblest themes, the most sublime that can employ the mind of mortal man. Aladdin looks round him amazed. But where in all the world is this we are? You charmed me so with your delightful talk. I took no notice how we came along. Far have we wandered from the gardens. Far through break and greenwood over hill and dale,

we are right among the mountains. Surely we have come a frightful distance. Now I think it struck me once that I was growing tired, but straight away I forgot it. Tell me, uncle, have you been as oblivious as myself? No, my dear son. I led thee by design, far from the city's stupefying din, to nature's calm, majestic solitudes. I marked thy young heart beat with childish joy through the fair gardens as we came along,

which, like a chaplet, breathe their fragrance cool round that huge pile of gross and sculptured stone. Yet, though I do not scruple to confess that these green thickets, Musical with brooks, and clustering rich with fruits of choicest hues, Were fair, most fair, and pleasant to the eye, Yet nature, fashioned in such puny moulds, bound down and fettered by convention's rules, Grown up within possessions close confined, and under the possessor's lordly eye, is poor, Most poor, beside these glorious hills, which tower majestic like the kings of earth, though my words seemed to drop at unawares yet were they pondered carefully to lead thy bright and subtle spirit step by step up from the trivial to the sublime in what i told thee twas my aim to make thee familiar with the marvellous

and so thou mayest not like a fiery metal colt fold in the desert with his wit to learn rear up in terror at the sudden peal this therefore have I done. And now, methinks, I may disclose my purpose to thee safely. Speak on, sir, I am not at all afraid. Then know, my son, that I for years on years have poured over nature's book of mysteries, and their unraveled marbles to occult for the dull glance of common eyes to pierce. Thus, amongst other matters, I have found that here, Where now we stand, beneath our feet a cavern lies, deep vaulted in the rock, Where all, that in the mountain's bosom rests, A deeper bloom and richer luster wears, bright with the hues of an eternal spring,

Than the pale growth of this our upper earth, Where the flower dies as swiftly as it blows, leaving its wands or a leaves alone behind. If, then, thou hast the courage to descend into this cave of, of marvel and of beauty. For thy sake, mark me, I came here, my son, for I have scanned its glories many a time. Then will I, by a spell of mystic power, first kindling some dry twigs, disclosed to thee the hidden entrance to the vault at once. Oh, is there then a real cavern here, right underneath our feet, here where we stand? A grotto, studied with the choicest gems, Infinite Nature's magazine of art.

And you can find its entrance by a fire of twigs and muttering some mystic words? That power has Allah's grace on me bestowed. Dear, dear, I never heard the like before. Art thou so soon afraid? Afraid? Not I. And yet it is too wonderful by half. You see, yon withered branches, how they droop, scorched into tinder on the sun-burnt rocks? Away, my son, and fetch them for our fire. But be alert, for it grows late and dusk.

Trust me for that. I do so long to see this lovely cave. I'll fetch the wood at once. Exit. So then, the moment is at hand, that gives the earth and all its glories to my grasp. This is the spot Has been my life's one dream The spot I've come

So many leagues to reach Here comes my instrument Already back Layden with sticks and Mary as a bird Poor fool So eager to embrace his doom He stumbles as he runs A dismal fall awaits him

Ah, look round thee, giddy boy For the last time Make glad thy wretched eyes With the fresh brightness of these flowery slopes, and warm thy wretched body with the sun. Soon, soon shalt thou, cut off from sun and flowers, shut in the dark and wracked by hunger pangs, shriek through the echoing gloom in vain for death. There be weak fools would call this cruelty, but it is wisdom, unalloyed by passion. What's doomed is doomed, and cannot choose but be.

pshaw does the sage who into nature prize shrink to impale the insect on his pin aladdin returns with a bundle of faggots on his back here's wood enough to roast an elephant but uncle on my way and whilst i broke the branches off and laid them on my back there came into my mind the old old tale of abraham and the sacrifice of isaac and how the unhappy lad himself was made to bear the wood for his own funeral general pile. Suddenly he swings around on one leg and waves his hand triumphantly. But Allah sent him an angel to his help direct from heaven. Yes, Allah always helps just when our need is sourced, don't he, sir? Norredden confused. Inexplicable fate overrule us all. Yet the good Isaac was a done smithings, not to see through his father's art of us. Just catch me being such a precious fool, but after all, perhaps, just all a lie. Most likely, I'll lay the faggots here, and now help me to kindle them. But stay, one word.

From the first moment that I saw thee catch the oranges in thy turban yesterday, I set thee down to be a youth of spirit, that manfully despises woman's fears, and hails adventure like a trumpet call. If such the notion that you took for me, I fancy, sir, you are not much deceived. Good. Then prepare to look upon a sight will make your very heart leap up with joy.

When I have set the wood on fire and strewn some incense on it, and pronounce the word, the earth will heave and tremble, and anon from out its breast will rise a marble stone, square, with a ring of iron in its center. This thou shalt raise, the slightest pull will do,

So thou but mutter to thyself the while, Thy father and grandfather's honoured names. The stone, once raised, Thou wilt behold a stair. Descend that stare. Tis dark, but do not fear. Around thee soon the cavern's fruits Will spread a radiance brighter and more beautiful

Than yonder sallow, sultry, sulfurous suns. three lofty grottos first receive thy steps a blaze with veins of gold and silver ore which from the rugged walls of rock protrude pass onward and touch nothing that you see tis all too firmly fixed to a labour lost Crossing these chambers, thou wilt find thyself within a garden. Paradise itself was not so fair. Tis paradise, perhaps, here from man's view concealed since his first fall. The finest and most gorgeous fruits are there. Of every different color, crimson, blue, white, yellow, violet, and emerald green, like jewels hung in a sultana's ear.

flame on the boughs and give the eye delight how gladly would i go with you but one alone may taste this rapture on one day my own delight i sacrifice to thine and all i ask thee for myself is this that thou wilt cross the garden tarrying not till at the end thou comest to a wall where set within a smoky needs thou shalt find an ancient copper lamp. This fetch to me. I told you I was fond of old knick-knacks, that I collect these curious odds and ends, and so, this lamp, to others valueless, as a mere fancy value for myself.

As thou returnest, thou mayst pluck the fruit, and bring with thee as much as thou canst carry. Only be quick, my son, and fetch the lamp. all right dear uncle i am quite prepared noureddin takes out a box of incense and flings some upon the flames immediately a peal of distant thunder is heard and a flash of lightning strikes the fire the earth trembles a large square stone rises horizontally with the surface of the ground in the centre of which has seen a large iron ring now quick aladdin pull away make haste Oh, no, dear uncle, dearest uncle, spare me. I tremble so. I can't, indeed, I can't. Nureddon strikes him to the ground. Will thou provoke me, craven-hearted boy? How? Have I undertaken for thy good a task so hard and perilous

that thou shouldst, like a lap-dog over-nursed and cloyed, tremble with mere distrust when I but stroked thee, quick, seize the ring, do it, or by the prophet and by the mighty Solomon, I'll chain thee down to the stone and leave thee here behind, pray for the eagles and the mountain wolves. How dear, st uncle, do not be so cross. I'll do your bidding willingly, I will. Do so, and I will make it worth your while. Tosh, silly boy. What? Tears still in your eyes. For shame, Aladdin. Show yourself a man. And a kind kinsman you shall find in me. In suit, I stand you in a father's stead, and therefore it is my duty to chastise you when you deserve it. Trust me, it is all for your advantage.

Come then, come and show how brave you can be. Grasp the ring, and whisper your father's and his father's name. I will. He mutters to himself, grasps the ring, and pulls, but is unable to lift the stone. Nareden aside, and starting back affrighted. Almighty prophet! What is this I see? Does the spell fail me? Have I been deceived? I thought twas not the thing. What didst thou think? Didst thou not name thy father's name, thou wretch? Had of respect for you, my honored kinsman, I whispered Mustafa and Kaysam's names, and so the stone lies rooted to the rock. But by your leave, I mean, sir, no offense, none in the world.

But if you let me name the emir whom you ought of at his father, then you shall see. Ah, name them, name them, boy. Aladdin, again grasping the stone. Al-Mamon and Al-Saffi. Here it comes. So, you were right. A rare disclosure this. If one may judge by what we have just seen,

We ne'er were kinsmen. Well, then, we are friends. But now, away at once, and fetch the lamp. The stairs are marble, beautiful and broad. It don't look dangerous at all. And there I spy the light already. Yet too strange. Now I am in the hole.

I have no fear. A little nervous, I must own, nor so. But come what may here goes. That's bravely said. Mind, don't forget the lamp. I'll never fear. He is about to descend. One word. Upon thy finger place this ring. Whatever may be fall, t'will keep thee safe. Takes a ring from his finger and places it on elevens.

Uncle, all right, I'm eager to be gone. Disappears. Oh, Mohammed, be great. to thy servant i struck aladdin to accustom him to be obedient for spontaneously and not from fear or menace must he fetch me the lamp from this same murky cave below but if with it he reascends to earth the lamp belongs to him fate wills it so and once closed in the mountain oaps no more strange chance well well here will i await my dear doom within the shrouded urn the lots repose. Ah, can the ministers of darkness say, if chance or industry shall gain the day?

End of Part 1, Act 1. Part 1, Act 2 of Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp, by Adam Olenshager, translated by Theodore Martin. This is a Librevox recording. all librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librovocs dot org act second a subterranean garden blooms in the mountain deeply shrouded with trees of sparkling metal bright and radiant leafage crowded there copper iron lead and tin aloft in air are gleaming and and rarest fruits on every bough with wondrous sheen are beaming for some are white as milk and some like a crystal sparkle gaily blood-red are some and others like the coral blushing paly

green violet yellow blue and brown in many a varied cluster within this beauteous garden shine with bright and fiery lustre the fruits of white are pearls the bright are diamonds and the flaming are rubies bloody red with hue all other hues outshaming the grass is grown of emerald and amongst the tree roots creeping with their azure light the sapphires bright like forget-me-nots are peeping and all around that wondrous ground now clustering and now single the agate and the pale amethyst and glowing garnet mingle through the trees along with cheery song a sparkling brook is straying it prattles well though none may tell what that little brook is saying and in an itch with smoke begrimed and damp and looking meanly doth burn the lamp the wonderful with steady light serenely and brightly and brightly Right as day its lonely ray that wondrous garden maketh, For every gleam on gold or gem in a thousand sparkles breaketh. Chorus of mountain spirits.

Heart to the thunder, the leaven has broke, And rift is under the rock with its stroke. Voices, soft and afar off. Life, glowing and fair to sea, is coming to our. our lifeless power. He shall the best of our treasures be. His be our gardens goodliest flower. Voice of the lamp.

Then shall my flame, with radiance stronger, in heaven's free air as freely glow, and these deserted halls no longer ill-huming for a bootless show. Hark to the hero's tread, as fearless through jeweled groves he comes to me. soon from this hush of death so cheers shall endless wisdom set me free voices of the trees and thou wilt go and leave us here in sadness no longer shall our fruits a radiant shed what beauty will be left what lustre gladness when from the cave thy magic light hath fled rest ye content ye stones of every die soon shall you kindle in another light within these caverns flames not only i but an eternal fire for ever bright to steal the light life's bloom and strength of your prometheus climbed he now descends for this and odin through gunn luyden's love once more

thus from the mountain take the draught of bliss aladdin who starts on entering and looks around o me what a strange garden all the trees full of such pretty fruit ripe rose the apples green gauges peaches with a purple bloom and oranges like flame white gooseberries and o me grapes some blue as heaven itself and others clear as water in a tree How sweetly whines the little brook-thew-all! Oh, what a pity there is near a bird to warble in and out among the leaves. How very still it is! What pretty flowers! Yellow and filigreed, like ruddy gold! How! What tremendous lilies!

How they shine as though each leaf were out of silver carved! I'll smell to one of them. They have no smell. How comes it does it? Now they have no smell, I wonder. My uncle I must own was in the right. This sort of thing is only worth a look, and then goodbye. But see, there hangs the lamp. How strangely does its steady gleam light up all round about and make it beautiful? My uncle is the oddest sort of man. What wants he with the lamp? These fruits, I'm sure, are better far and prettier.

Heaven preserved me. Saw ever mortal such a bunch of grapes. Oh, what a size! Oh, shan't I have a feast? I am so thirsty. So here goes at them. My uncle gave me leave. How?

What is this? Dear me, these are no ordinary grapes? They're nothing but mere glass. Let's try again. These red ones may taste better, possibly. How? Still mere glass? Well, this beats everything. All these fine things are nothing else but glass. This is too ridiculous. I made my mind up. They were luscious fruit, and they are only stones. Oh, what a cheat. Since this is so, to our best get home again as quickly as we can,

The vittles there are bad in Scandy. Still they have relish. These glistening stones are wonderfully fine, and to my comrades when I show them off, how they will stare at their magnificence. I'll pluck as many as my clothes will hold. Ashallah, I am packed and laden like a camel for a jaunt across the desert.

Now to be off, yet stay. How good gracious me! I very nearly had forgot the lamp! and then my uncle would have cuffed me finally. He takes it from the niche. So, come this way, old battered trumpery. Had I my will, I'd rather let thee hang. I'll not put out the light, though,

till I see the daylight through the opening again. This cave is certainly the prettiest place. There hangs a plumb of such a brilliant blue. I should so like to take it with the rest. And now farewell, thou dainty, of glass shops. I must away. My uncle waits for me. Exit.

The narrow pass between the rocks. Noureddin stands at the entrance of the cave. He bends down and listens. At length, at length he comes. I hear his step. Tis manifest he bears a heavy load.

He's weighted with the stones and can't get on. No matter. Once the lamp is in my hands, I'll fling this incense on the fire and speak the magic word, then all shuts up again. I'll not be tortured by the ceaseless dread that through this boy's simplicity, whose soul stands like an empty chest agape to all, my secret should be brooded to the world. He comes. No more. Let destiny decide.

Aladdin still in the cave. "'Let me have your hand. It is so steep here.' "'Give me first the lamp, my dear boy, and then I'll help you up.' "'I've such a load of pretty pebbles here within my caftain, and beneath them all lies the old lamp. "'So pray just help me out.' "'You, stupid booby, let your rubbish drop and hand me up the lamp. "'What, playing off your childish pranks again? "'The lamp, I say.'

"'Aladdin to himself.' he makes me first go down like any fool to fetch him up a trumpery rusty lamp and when that's done and on the way i've picked some score of pretty stones up for myself he'll not so much as let me take them home you shall not have it till i'm out again noureddin restraining himself and with a gentle voice boy take your toys and gygoks from your kafftan and let me have the lamp at once you can pick up the stone stones again. Good gracious, sir. Why should you ask me such a thing? Why not wait till I'm fairly out? It's very strange. The staircase should so suddenly have vanished. Come, uncle, come be quick. Give me your hand. That I will not, until I have the lamp.

Then I can scramble out without your aid. He is nearly out, when Nareden in a rage strikes him and throws him incense upon the fire. Close up once more Thou ruthless rocky walls He shall not reap the harvest of my toil The mountain closes He gazes steadily for a while Upon the place where the entrance to the cave had been

Then heaving a deep sigh He sets down exhausted upon a boulder of rock What were the words of the old minstrels lay Fain wouldst thou grass Hope's portal shuts amain. Why was I so impatient in my wrath? What evil spirit did o'er master me? Tis done, and being done, as past recall,

This fortune then was not designed for me. Starts up. Despair I shall not, no, though baffled now, Before the power of will shall nature bow, Home, home to Africa I haste once more. And there anon renew my mystical lore. My strenuous toil, a power evoke I will To be the bond-slave of my wizard's kill.

This stake is played and lost. Boy, greet thy fate, and with thy rashness expiate. Exit. The Cavern Aladdin entered. feeling about in the dark, stumbles and falls down exhausted. Oh, dearest uncle, open, open pray, I'll do whatever you ask. Indeed I will. Oh good, oh best of uncles, open do!

Already he is far away. Oh, heaven, how many a tear shall I be forced to weep in this dark, dismal dog-hole of a place? Huh, thou art not mine uncle. No, thou art a wicked wizard full of tricks. and snares that joys and leading simple lads astray, and takes a fiendish pleasure in their death. Yeah, thou gaunt livid scarecrow. Holy prophet!

Bring me deliverance from this bitter strait. Have I been guilty of so great a crime must deserve such heavy chastisement? My father died. But how was I to blame? Oh dear, good Allah! Rescue me, I pray. And leave me not to die of hunger.

here he drops for a few seconds into powerless silence and listens and then says quietly with a childish distraction how strangely does the brook and the big garden run on and sing and still run on so was it flowing long long years ago i many hundred years ere i was born harked the trickling from the stalactites high upon the roof there there it drops still with the self-same sound plump plump plump plump plump will it ne'er have an end hark there again the monotonous sound lulls him gradually into a sweet sleep two fairies ride through a cleft of the rock each with a flaming torch in her hand they bend over aladdin and regard him tenderly Look at the boy, how he smiles in his sleep. Who hath made him a pillow so stony and steep? How comes one so blessed in the mountain to be? Far fairer than dwarf, or than fairy is he?

What bloom are, what sweetness. What exquisite shape. See, sighs from his breast as he slumbers escape. One kiss, oh, the little. delicious. His cheeks are aflame. Hush, he wakens. Alas! We must hens as we came. They vanish.

Aladdin, looking up. How? Still shut up within this dismal cave. What ice-cold lips is of a corpse touched mine. Tis death has kissed me. I am faint for food. Ha! Cursed fruits that are but glass and

stone and prompt the hunger ye cannot appease. Springs up. I will go drink some water at the brook. I cannot. A great rock has fallen between. O Allah then have mercy on my soul. He strikes the ring which he received from Naredin against the rock. A sparkle of light leaps from the stone,

remains burning upon the ground, and illuminates the cave. The spirit of the ring of the ring of the ring. appears in the form of a giant and asks in a voice of thunder. What wouldst thou with me? Say, for thee I must obey. A sovereign's right hast thou. Thy slave to thee I bow. Not only I must be obedient unto thee, but every slave, where'er he be, in earth or air, that serves the ring, at thy all potent spell must fly. Aladdin on his knees with clasped hands. How most tremendous gin!

If thou would save a wretched child as I am sure thou canst, transport me from this miserable hole to my dear mother's house in Ispahan. Freely give order, ruler and lord, and spirits all potent will come at thy word. Anon with swift pinion, I'll bear thee on high, and far o'er the snow peaks of Caucasus fly, Or mountain and under, transport the I can, Through the air or the forest to Ispahan.

Vanishes with Aladdin. Before a gate of Ispahan, sunrise. Enter Aladdin, his pockets filled with the precious stones of the cave. My head is all a spin. Well, such a journey I never meant. made in all my life before. He caught me by the waist. The parting air around me flowed like water in the bath. In the clear moonshine, what a height he flew. And oh, how strangely small the earth became. Great Ispahan itself with all its lights that in the distance one by one went out,

looked like a bit of paper which we burn, and see the boys all running out of school. In a wide circle around the sky he wielded that I might view the wide expanse of earth, bathed in the magic moon's transparent beams. I never shall forget how far he flew our Caucasus, and rested on its peak, then swept sheer down upon the plain, as though he meant to plunge me in a freighties deep. A tall three-decker flew before the gale upon the chafing sea. Thither he sped, and resting with his toe upon the mast, he, like a pillar, poised himself in air, and there secure as though he trod the ground, he held me in one hand aloft to heaven.

Then when the moon, as pale as any ghost, vanished before the earliest flush of dawn, straightaway he changed into a purple cloud and dropped down with me softly as the dew munks the small flowers, close by the city gate. This done transformed, He warmed again, he soared, a lark, and vanished twittering in the azure air.

Oh, me, I am faint and weary. Now for home. How will my mother stare and gape at me? I hope she has some vitals in the house, for I am hungry, ravenously hungry. Exit. A room. Morgiana, Aladdin seated at a table, eating. My son, eat slowly. Do not bolt your food so very fast. Pause for a little while.

There, take a drink. Spill not the precious meat and do not smudge your caftan with the fat. Ah, we get nothing from our children, nothing but care and kirk. Where Allah children sends there too, he sends vexation. I made sure our days of care and trouble were gone by, and that you were to turn out something great, that when you were a merchant, I should sit beside you always selling off my yarn. And wherefore not?

Allah confound thee thou a cursed magician for the whole affair. Yes, mother. Was it not a scurvy trick to shut me up in such a way, to leave me without remorse to perish of starvation? And what was worse than all, to box your ears and send you spinning clean heels overhead? The saucy jack? Mary, who gave him leave to punish other people's children, eh?

A scurvy rogue. Look, ye, good mother mine. Where's past is past, and cannot be recalled. While here am I so very hungry still, I positively must have more to eat. Alas, dear child, there's nothing in the house. My little bit of supper I had saved and hoped would be enough to stay your cravings. I have no money either to get more until I sell the yarn that I am spinning.

That's in the last degree unfortunate. I always have a monstrous appetite after a walk. But stay, a lucky thought. Reserve your yarn, dear mother, yet a while, and hand me that old rusty copper lamp, which I brought home with me. A coppersmith will give us for it, take it at the worst,

what will procure us two good meals at least. Well, here it is. But who will buy such trash? It looks for all the world as if it had lain unscrumbed for centuries in dirt and mire. They must be perfect pigs, these elfin folk that live inside the mountains? Who can tell if it be made of ordinary metal? I'll scar it up a little bit, and then, if you can manage to dispose of it, so much the better. If not, you must wait and curb your appetite until tomorrow.

takes a cloth and wets it, then dipping it in sand, she begins to scour. The spirit of the lamp, a giant of beautiful aspect, rises out of the ground. Scour not with such force and fury. I am here at thy command. Swiftly speed I when thou callest, swiftly as the lightning's brand. Every spirit of the earth, too, eager is, nor I am. alone, thy behests the lamp's great mistress to fulfill as soon as known. Oh, holy prophet, help me, help, help, help, help.

Swoons. Aladdin recovers himself, seizes the lamp and says, Ah, dear good devil, I am mighty hungry. Get me some dinner only now, and I will do you a kind turn some other time. The spirit vanishes, but immediately reappears with a large silver tray upon his head, in which are twelve silver dishes full of the most choice viands, six white loaves upon platters, and two flasks of rare wine and two glasses. All this he places on the table, and vanishes.

Aladdin looks on in amazement for a time, at last his appetite gives him courage, he advances slowly to the table, lifts the covers from some of the dishes, and then exclaims, full of delight and admiration, as one by one he tastes all the dishes. How, roast meat, soup, rice exquisitely boiled, pastry and fruit besides, fish, pheasants too,

the dish of dishes that I like the best. A sphere of this of taste in no mistake. He's hit my fancy to a nicety. suddenly dejected. But mighty Mahomet, they're not, I hope, glass Like the fruit in the enchanted garden. Eats.

No, heaven be praised, tis all good honest meat, The best of beef, and with a savory sauce. Sits down at table. Here goes, in Allah's name. But gracious me, where is my mother? Ah, she tumbled down as soon as the great giant showed him, himself. Oh, mother! Oh, get up and come to dinner. He's barely gone he is. Rise, Mother, rise. If she won't rise, why, I suppose I must, just when I was so nicely seated, too.

Rises. There's nothing perfect in this veil of tears. Shakes her. Oh, mother, ho! What fancy can you have for lying in the dirt? How's this? My God, She is not surely dead. Oh gracious heaven, father and mother both cut off so soon. Runs to the table, fetches a jug of water, and putting some meat in his mouth, returns and dashes the contents of the jug in her face. Ah, dearest mother, do recover, pray. If like my father you are dead and gone, I shan't enjoy a single morsel more.

Morgiana opens her eyes. Oh, good and kind, sir, spirit. spare me, spare. He's gone long since. Why, mother, can't you see the difference to your own child and a spirit? Aladdin, did you see the Phantom 2? Of course I did.

Ah, t'was your blessed father, or I am much mistaken. Then you are. No Taylor's ghost was ever such a size. You take my word for that. Morgiana gets up. When did he go? He brought this dinner.

and then took his leave. What? He, the ghost, bring all these dainty things? Yes, mother. There, fall to, and with a will. Into the dust-hole with them every scrap. No, I am not so mad. Come, come now, mother, you only try how nice the victuals taste. I will taste nothing, not a morsel, I. Ah, me, I've gone through many a straight in life.

I'm old and I have seen strange things in my time, but anything like this I never knew. We learn, they tell us, every day we live, but say, my blessed boy, how it fell out that this appalling incident occurred. Well, that's plain enough, because you scoured the lamp. And so the lamp's to blame for this mischance? Go, sell it, sell it, sell it anyhow you can. I shall not have a moment's peace as long as it is in the house. "'Good gracious, mother. "'Sell the lamp now?

"'What? Part with such a treasure? "'No, mother, no. "'Collector scattered wits. "'The fever's on you still. "'Miss Chance, indeed. "'A most astonishing mischance, no doubt. "'When I have a mind for pheasants, roast, meat, "'cakes, and all the choices dainties of the season,

"'it is but to rub a little verdigree from the same lamp, "'and lo! I have my wish.' "'Oh, my dear, sir, son, just for a moment, think that this is devilry and nothing else, and tis enjoined us by the prophet's law to hold the devil and his imps at bay. But I have always heard that devils were wicked and mischievous. But this of ours is such an honest soul that he might pass most fairly for an angel at a pinch. Faith, I am much mistaken if this lamp is not a blessing sent us by the prophet.

Now, now I comprehend why the magician, sly rascal, was so bent. on getting it, and why he called it queer old trumpery. Just such a spirit saw I once before. Heaven only knows what way he came, but I, somehow or other, must have rubbed the lamp, and him, and him alone I have to thank for my release from the dark dreary cave, to a shame to recompense the good with ill, and to despise the spheres that befriend us,

just when we're driven into the hardest strays. Look now, what handsome did. dishes, silver all. One on the plates I'll and my captain take, and straight away sell it somewhere in the town. So with the rest, till I have sold them all. For mother, it would not be right, you know, to call the spirit sooner than we need. Come now, do take some vittles on your plate. After this fright I could not touch a scrap. As for yourself, my son, do what you please. I wash my hands of it. I'll have no part, not I. in any of your wizard tricks.

No more you shall. So never fret your heart. I'll soon be back. And now to sell the plate. Exit. A street. Aladdin with a silver plate. An old Jew.

A fair good morning, sweet young gentleman. Hey, anything to sell? You, something there behind your captain. I can see you have. you want to sell it Well friend I can buy as well as other men Of course I can

Well that's to be seen Say how much will you give This fine silver dish Jew makes a grasp at it A silver dish Silver of course He he my good young friend Tin

Tin more likely Let me look at it Out of my hand I part not with the dish Till you have paid me for it I know you Jews When you had got it you might run away And say it was your own

Oh holy Moses How can he slander on his people so But how much might you want now For the dish What will you give Oh is that all you know about doing business, friend? The seller first must name his price,

and then the buyer bargains. Oh, I have no skill in shaffering, not I. Say, at a word, how much you let me have, and I will trust you for your honest looks. Jew, eyes attentively first the plate, and then Aladdin. More honest looks. That's fairly said. He thinks there's still some.

honesty left in the world. A nice young man. A very nice young man. But not extremely wide awake, I'd say. Well, Jew, what do you offer for the dish? Nah, it's good. All real silver. But a man may buy even gold too dear, you know.

Takes hesitantly a gold coin from his pocket to try Aladdin. What do you say now to a piece like this? Aladdin takes it. I'm perfectly contented. It is gold. I'm half afraid lest he on second thought should think his bargain dear, and want to get his money back again.

So I'll be off. Exit. Jew calls after him. Hark ye, young man. Already gone. woe's me he fancies i might think my bargain dear hog that i was dog idiot stupid dot he would have sold it for half the money only for a quarter of it ye a sixth ho stop him catch the thief he's out of sight ah thou old hunks thou stupid addle brains looks at the plate sure it is well worth sixty times as much as i gave for it excellent fine silver

perhaps he may have more to sell go to the chance is past what boots it now to whine the thing is done ah moses what disgrace for an old rogue like me to be outdone by such a green young simpleton as that exit a con merchant seated round about smoking and drinking coffee a lee and bed redden at the window look there's the young man coming down the street i mean the head handsome fellow who came here two days ago and yesterday, across the street, with the high turban and the dandy cafton. A handsome fellow, truly. I am told that not long since, that youth was to be seen playing with ragged urchins in the streets. But all at once, most unaccountably, a change so great came over him, one scarce could know him for the same. And now, you see, he's always smart, Frequence the choicest cons, and listens with a heedful, modest air when learned men or aged people talk.

See the young rascal, stealing sidelong looks at Abon Hassan's windows. He expects to see his pretty wife. Ah, cunning rogue, you must be hankering for forbidden fruits, my pretty butterfly. See, here he comes. We'll have some sport with him. Aladdin enters, rat or bashfully, and salutes them. Sir, Allah's blessing be with you and the prophets. Fairly spoken. But may I be so bold as ask, young man,

what were your eyes in search of when they looked so hard at Aban Hassan's window? Oh, he merely wished to see if it remained in the same place as yesterday. No more. Brother, you do him wrong. This gentleman looked not at Abinhasen's window. No, but through it I'll be sworn. And there beheld the iron bars that stand there night and mourn, so slim and straight to keep intruders out.

I, and though speechless, speaking plain enough, and, at all seasons, Fatima is fair, and Abanhasen old and jealous too. Fair sirs, I'm young and simple, shy, unschooled, and therefore, am I a most ready but for you to ply with arrows of your wit. O, simple, very. Innocent itself, the long and short of it is simply this. You think the spouse of Abon Hassan fair, and so she is, the ad-do-I-know-a-maid, that far excels her, lovely though she be. Aladdin eagerly.

And who may she be, sir? The Sultan's daughter, the exquisite Galner. Oh, she is fair. Fair as the first blush of the morning sun. The big round moon mantled in silver clouds is not so bright, so witching to the view as the full radiance of her orbit cheeks behind her tissueed veil of new fallen snow. And when she lifts the fringes of her eyes and looks aloft to heaven, oh then tis sweet, as when the grave gives up its denizen and the blessed soul ascends to paradise, In her hath nature made assay, young man, to blend all opposites in perfect union. The warmth of spring burns in the winter snow, and through the lustrous alabaster skin, the azure veins are faintly seen to gleam. Who thinks that darkness can be luminous? And yet there's no darkness half so black, as her large, lamping and voluptuous eyes,

joyous and languishing, half earth, half heaven, as ice. ivory smooth, yet doth her dusky hair roll over her shoulders like a crispet stream. Here slender, there luxuriently full. The butterfly moves not more light, and she is good and gentle as the turtle dove. But why, as say, to paint her, when all words but mock the glory of her matchless beauty? Oh, dear sir, cease, I beg, implore you cease. I've held my breath till I was nearly choked for. "'for fear of interrupting you too soon.

"'If, sir, your sketch be like her, "'she is fair.' "'Like,' said you, "'tis a vile, a lying dub, "'mere butcher's work. "'Words are but as the threads "'on the wrong side of tapestry, young man, "'whenever women's beauties in the case.'

"'I should be glad, kind, sir, "'to learn the way to get a view upon the proper side.' "'Hem, almost every day, "'about this hour, she goes to bathe. Now, if you have the pluck, to steal behind a pillar out of sight, close by the door, O many have done this, you may content your longing eyes at ease. For commonly she puts her veil aside, to cool herself before she passes in. But have a care, my good young friend, that the same doffing of her veil, which makes her cool,

don't set you in a blaze. Nay, never fear, you ask if I have pluck? What punishment may one expect that's found there? A mere trifle. What ducks and geese must very often bear? Just to be spitted, or, perchance, to make one leap for the advantage of your health, down amongst the iron spikes around the tower. I said I was a simple youth, tis true, and only to be likened to a goose,

but catch me coming to such goose-like end. Bows? Oh, don't, but. believe him, sir, the Sultan's an amiable man, and feels much flattered if anybody dares to snatch a glance. If you're found out, your greatest punishment will be a hearty scolding from the eunuchs. But may I trust you now? Most certainly. Someday, when leisure serves and have a mind, I'll make the venture.

I am busy now. Some matters of the very greatest moment require my instant care. So fare you well. Exit. Busy, of course. My smart young gentleman has posted off, I'd wager, to the bath as fast as feet can carry him. No doubt.

But t'was too bad. It was upon my life, to put such maggots in the young man's head. If the poor devil now should fall in love? Then home he'll go, heart-sick, as we did once, and sleep his love of there as best as he may. Exit.

A garden. In the background, the princess's banyo, a handsome building with marble pillars. Aladdin running in, out of breath. This is the place. Here, where the pillars stand, shall I be charmed into a pillar too? In love and admiration lost,

shall I like a Chaldean shepherd stand at gaze while the bright star gleams on across the sky? Courage, Aladdin, if the guard should see me, if they should wait here while she's in the bath. No, no they won't. They'll wait within the hall. Heaven! She comes! Now to conceal myself! Entered Goulnar, with her nurse, followed by a large retinue of black eunuchs. At the entrance she throws back her veil and uncovers her face. The nurse whispers to the princess. Look, daughter, look.

What shameless impudence. You see that young man by the pillar there? It is to look at you, he hides himself. On with your veil. Goulnar, looking at Aladdin. I am so hot, dear mother. Nay, let him look. I'll pay him glance for glance.

How can you grudge him such a transient pleasure? They pass in. Aladdin steps out from behind the pillar and stands gazing motionless with hands folded. Yes, she is fair. An angel. Oh, what eyes! And her mouth's smile, her bosoms rise and fall.

I'd never, never saw such eyes. Oh, Allah, I feel a strange commotion. Yes, it is true. True, the merchant's sketch was but a botcher's work. But how paint light with colors of the earth. Colors are not but shadows of the light. Oh gracious Allah, send her back again. How come again and soon thou beauties hurry.

Here will I wait thy coming. Oh, return! He stands as immovable as a statue. Morgiana enters with her market basket on her, arm. As she passes, she stops to look at the banjo. Although I have a world of things to do to purchase beef and pot-herbs for the day, I must have one good look, I always have, at the same wondrous banio as I pass. Oh, what immense pilasters and so fine!

The bathing here must be quite excellent. Hey they, what have we here? A spick and span new marble statue, made, like a young man. Why, how he stares, stalks still, without one wink. And yet that's not so strange, he's only stone. Draws nearer. Oh, Mecca's prophet! What is this, I see? It is my son, my very flesh and blood. All stone, the caftan, turban, boots, and all, done to the life his very counterpart. However came he by this honour? Why, they surely can't have done it for a jest, because he's only a poor tailor's son.

Let me go closer. Now he moves his arm. And now, dear me, he brushes off a fly that's settled on his nose. To think of that. And now he rubs his nose. No, that can't be. This is sheer witchcraft. It is too much to ask of any statue.

But perhaps it is a puppet that can be. move and not a stone. What's that? A sigh? That's more than statue can, or puppet either. It don't look fierce at all. I'll peep a little closer. So, here goes. Goes closer. Aladdin, my dear child, I beg of you, speak if it were but a word that I may hear if you are indeed my son. But if I'm wrong and you are not Aladdin but a stranger, Do not be angry, but forgive your mother as a good, loving, loyal son should do. Aladdin observes his mother and leaps down. How, mother, you? What are you doing here?

I'm buying pot herps, beef, all sorts of things. But what, sir, are you after, stuck up there like any poppin' jay? Aladdin sighs. Oh, shape divine. The house I grant you has a handsome shape. Of architecture nothing do I know, and yet I can't help stopping every time I pass this way to have a look at it. How, mother, how? You two stand here at times, here are me steps? I? Bless your heart, not I? For first, in vaulting, I am not expert, and secondly, my bones are old, and thirdly, my petticoats are not near wide enough.

And fourthly, it would not become me quite, and fifthly, standing. Standing in the corner there, one cannot see the outside half so well as one can do out here. Now come along. I see they're opening the doors again. And here's the princess coming from the bath. It will never do to linger here. No man is suffered to be by when she comes forth. Aladdin lingers and looks around.

Oh, me, dear mother. Come along, I say. There, take my basket, sir, and carry it. Help your old mother with her work, young man, and don't stand gaping like a mini there. Aladdin reluctantly takes the basket and follows his mother. That's right. What business has a lad like you casting sheep's glances after pretty girls? Go on to market with the basket, child. End of part one, act two.

Part one, act three of Aladdin. or The Wonderful Lamp by Adam Olenshlager, translated by Theodore Martin. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. 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 place. 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.

Young master, buy 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 amongst other sects, and knaves amongst them, as amongst their neighbors. But he, the Jew who deals with you at times, is an arch knave. I've found that to my cost. What did he give you for a plate like those you used to sell him? Only a zekin. What? A zekine?

O gentle god of peace! 500 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. You are an honest man, who'd air have thought to find a conscience even amongst Christian men. Come, sir, I will go with you to your shop. The Jew rushes in out of breath.

Hey, stop, you there. Ah, scoundrel, Christian dog? And so you'd rob me of my customer? Peace. Or I'll tweak that rusty beard of thine, thou livid Judas. And so roughly too, thou'll cheat no more unto thy dying day. 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 cell also is my Jew.

But he that whisks my customers away is nothing but a thief. Dog of a Jew, are you deranged? If I don't get that solver, I'll go deranged, I will. Have it I must. I reckoned on that silver

long ago. Aladdin beats him. There, get thee gone, thou pale and hungry knave. Thou'd's cheat a Muslim, wouldst thou? Take thou that. Muslim? Who talks of Muslim or of Jew? And as for cheating, I cheat all mankind, and would the devil, for that matter, too? Come, sir, we will go in. The man is crazed. He's often subject to attacks like this,

of avaricious madness. Let us go. Since crazed thou art, thou shalt, thou shalt. Thou shalt. Thou shalt. not lack for what thou richly hast deserved as many a day. These unbelieving souls of thine shall taste the caddies bastinado till thou roarest. Exit with the goldsmith. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob. Spits. Scoundrel all.

Call you this helping your children's children? I will go hang myself. Yes, that I'll... 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, money, that is our nation's true Messiah, who from all our troubles freeze us. Oh, lovely silver, if I were laid upon my dying bed, 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 fingertips 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, here? What 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. However did you come by all that gold? You never, never were so rich before. Ah, me, I never was so poor before. Of what, then, is the bag there full? Of gold.

Gold, boy? Dear mother, let me have to drink. You are too hot. It is not well to drink, hot as you are. But one is thirstiest then. There, that was spoken sensibly for once. Dear me, dear me, I am so glad to hear some words of sense come from you anyhow,

for look ye boy! The last ten days or so have been quite puzzled to make head or a tale of all the rambling nonsense you have talked? Have you no notion, mother, of the cause? 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.

What do you think? Tell me your thoughts, dear mother. Well, what I think, young man, is that I think that what you think is thinking to know good. Well, then, what do I think? 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 should be on the moon. 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 whir from waxing over-loud. Call not its everlasting buzzing wisdom, and scorn not what demands a higher skill. I should be glad to know, boy, which requires most toil and sweat, to spin or rub a lamp? He that is strong is slow to feel fatigue, whilst in the wood the insect boars its whole, Allah swings round the sphere of the circling sun. Which do you think puts forth the greatest power?

Whoever works with all his might and main deserves at least the most respect, young man. Then is the insect worthier than God? 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 newfangled 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 a miss? 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. In love? God bless the boy. With whom? With whom? Alas, our Sultan's daughter. What? Golnair? Yes, mother, yes. The princess? Even so.

Morgiana weeps. Why do you weep? I am so sad to think you are so clean forsaken by your wits. Hark, mother. I know not how it is. I can no longer chatter as I used, and prattle freely what comes uppermost. I've 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 undersong. There all is vocal with Gulnar'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. What would you have me do? Go woo for me with Sultan Solomon, and that at once. With Sultan Solomon?

What should I say? With Solomon? Yet, Sully, Solomon, it all comes to the same thing. One is not more possible or proper than the other. Unless you'd see me at your feet a corpse, you'll promise to do this for me. You will. Aladdin, son, what freak of fancy is this? A tailor's son.

That any tailor's needle had any share in my begetting, I'll never believe. El Sethy was my father. 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? Mother, on this there needs no more be said. I am their mere son. I know the fact. You are a Cooper's daughter. Well, the mother of Sultan Solomon was but a slave. He has an empire, and I have the lamp, and so the scales are even. Oh, no, no. The Sultan sinks and makes you kick the beam. To weigh the Persian Empire against the lamp is just as rational as if I were to set a joint stool against the velvet couch, and a sweet cake against the loaf of musty rye.

And have you then forgotten that the lamb possesses the slight virtue, that it can conjure up giants ready at a word our every wish in order to fulfill? 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 springt will 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. Of that have not the very smallest fear. Enough! What I have asked you you must do if you not have my death upon your conscience. 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. Not else? No, please, your majesty, not else. And he desires to have my daughter?

Yes, he's always. overhead and he is 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. You need not fear for that. He is not cruel. What's more? Oh, what an errant 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. 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. You mean the painted glass? Is that your gift? That what you'd offer to the Sultan boy? A buddy then may say with perfect truth that as the donkey is, so is the bridle. Weeps.

Mother. The things which you call painted glass Are diamonds of the purest water I, 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 wooze 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. How? Is this true? Bless me.

And are they all diamonds and sapphires, then, these pebble stones? 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. Ah, well, a day, what plagues once chill, 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. Money, mother. In yonder purse is more than you can want. You never bear my copper lamp in mind. Would it have never come inside the house? 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. I'll dress myself a bit and go at once. Exit Aladdin The Devan Solomon upon the throne, The Grand Vizier and the Council, Spectators business is over and the crowds are dispersing.

Wilt please, your majesty, to give command forthwith to shut the doors of the divan. Nay, wait a little longer. That old woman there at the door, who looks her very poor, has been here thrice already, and each time planted herself direct before the throne. She bears two bundles. doubtless she has come to seek for justice in 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 caddy.

Well, be it so. Go, fetch her here to me. The vizier fetches Morgiana. She throws herself on her knees before the throne. 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 zekkins? Or has the butcher in the market cut your bit of beef too close upon the bone?

or the green grocer with unblushing face, given you staleed cabbage for your money's worth? 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 Morjana, lack a day, that's all.

My husband, he is dead now, but when he lived he was called Mustafa. 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 greater scent. 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 live. sent these people from the hall and let me get upon my feet again. All will come straight year long, I fain would hope. Solomon gives a sign. I'll retire except the Grand Vizier. Rise up, my good old woman. Do not fear. And if you are 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. Say then, what hast thou in the bundles there? Is bread or beef?

Speak, dame, or rotten fruit? 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 17 years, 17 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. I understand your wish. You fain would see the lad hold some appointment at our court among the eunuchs. No! The heavens forfend! Wide off the mark, you most imperious high, Oh, far, far wide. As touching that, your grace, he much prefers remaining as he is. What wants he then? But only he can want, whose knock the 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 anyone may tell the cow that once has had a car, 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. What is the fancy which your son has formed? Out with it, and as briefly as you can.

And so I will, but you must promise first, not to fly out into a passion, most illustrious sultan on my son's account. Well, the boy's fancy cannot anger me. What does he want? What does he want? Now comes the pinch. So please, you, oh, most gracious sultan, he'd fain contract a marriage out of hand, if to the match you don't object. With whom? Your daughter.

With Goulna. Just so. Solomon smiling. Why, this comes on me rather unexpectedly. The step is one of some importance, too. A truer word than that you never spoke. There's nothing dearer than our flesh and blood, and marriage surely either makes or mars.

Then pray thee, madam, leave this point a while, and say, what have you in the napkins there? 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 mourning gift. Now, that is well, and, as you said before, they are fine hardy winter apples, eh?

They are, most gracious Sultan, but look here, you'll find they're mixed with other sorts of fruits, so please, Your Highness. Solyman, to the vizier. Take them all away, and let them be delivered to the cook. Oh, they are hard as stone and smooth as glass. They are glass. Glass? Here, hand them up to me. Some skillful imitations. Tis most alike.

The vizier 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?' "'No, not from me, but from my son, great sir.'

"'A treasure of incalculable wharf. "'Ha! Wait against these gems! "'My royal crown is but a mama's cap of paste and tinsel. "'Who is your son?' "'A poor young tailor lad.' "'Oh, what a treasure! "'Look at the fine colours! "'As the fresh radiative,

of the morning sun, breaking in myriad sparkles on the dew, so shines the lustre of these glorious gems, and them hath nature blended all the pomp and bloom and gorgeous beauty of the east. Ah, 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 the prince's daughter. Vizier 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. What say'st thou, Nushir one, my friend, to this great treasure? Vizier coldly. Certainly, the stones are fine. And is this all? I think the treasure is of most rare price. Incalculably great. Yet, do I think that my great lord and sultan himself

possesses one far costlier gem than all these put together? Aye, a gem? Art dreaming, Nushirwan? What may it be? Here, in your... Your palace, mighty Soleiman, a diamond, and of the rarest water, which none but the pure gem of innocence is fit to hold. Ah, now I comprehend you. You mean gulna. A gem whose beauty shows not in the garrish glitter of an hour.

Dead as a stone, no, full of sweet, warm. life, a gem immaculate of two-fold price, whose inner worth its outer, far outvise, 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 spring-tide sun. And this fair flower, with a 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 ah no sheer one thou speakest wisely 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?

Peace, Nushri Iwan, the splendor of the stones for the first moment so absorbed my soul. It turned a heedless air to what my lips were whispering to my memory the while. Long since I gave my promise to your son, and this fast promise should alone prevent me, although there were no other obstacle from carrying out the second rashly given. when shall the rites be solemnized my lord 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 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? Mary, well said,

a very pattern thou for grand viziers. Come, follow me within. I must show Zulima this sumptuous gift. Exit. a street evening noise in the street most of the house is illuminated enter morgiana she knocks at a grocer's door glocher 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. Sir, neighbor, in God's name, enjoy yourself as much as air 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. Aha, Dame Morgiana, is it you? Just wait a bit.

I'm dazzled with this blaze, and cannot see it. for sheer excess of light. And I can't see for sheer excess of darkness. Aye, I, just so, just so. They dazzle both too much, too little. Both are good for naught. I will not, neighbor, go so close to work with an old customer like you.

So come, you want some oil. The best, huh? Bless you know, some of the commonest will do for me. But mind, be sure to let me have it good. Oh, you're economical. Aye, neighbor dear, else it would fare but ill with me. But tell me, what does this slighting and rejoicing mean? Hark, I hear music in the distance, too.

Are you the only soul in Ispahun, who does not know our Sultan Solomon this evening celebrates his daughter's marriage with Sally Dunn, the son of the Grand Vizar? What's that you say? What? What? Good neighbor mine, I had a notion that you told me something. In that, you are certainly not deceived. I'm grieved to give you so much trouble, friend. Put back the oil and measure me instead some lavender water for my half-penny. I'm taken very ill. God bless my soul. What ails the woman? What's the matter, Dame? What's your objection to the match. I struck my corns against the step here, that is all. Goodbye. I have no time to spare

for sights, but must go home direct to tell my son. Exit. See, there she goes, full trot. And here am I, her money in my hand. What's to be done? Ho, Morgana! No, she's out of sight. I am a man of substance and good name. No man could ever say I did him wrong. 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 are all thieves, that in his calling every man's a thief,

is one, I think, a great loachman's sauce, and a wise saw it is, and true withal. But for this halfpenny, O 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 heavy sin, God knows, to enrich oneself with 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,

so ho 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 a lamp in his hand he rubs it when immediately appears the spirit of the lamp and says mighty master what desirest thou quick dispatch me on the haste Scarce can I find words to frame it with a rage that rends my breast. Briefly hear a deed disgraceful, false all other guile above. Sultan Solomon had granted the entreaty of my love. I believed, O, judge my rapture, that Golnara mine should be. How the transports, the sweet frenzy can I ever paint to thee. But the Sultan, faithless, shameless, in his promised words despite,

gives to Saladin the vizier'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 transported 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 Kative bear away. He shall watch upon the housetop, Stiff and cold and mad with pain,

But within the couch, Gondara, Blooming beauty shall remain. By another spouse full quickly Shall her heart be wooed 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 lord i do what thou enjoynest rest thee happy and serene hadst thou by the moment longer tarried plucked the flower had been he vanishes for a moment but returns him immediately with the bridle-bed in his arms, in which Saladin and Golnair are lying. He takes out Saladin and says to Aladdin,

Now rejoice, my lord and master, where the cative over his heads keeps his watch, and gaves and goggles at the stars upon the leads. Vanishes with Saladin. Gullner 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 shrink with terror from his loathed caress.

Where am I? Can this be some blessed dream? Can it be fancy? Or do I behold the handsome youth who late concealed himself behind the pillar of my banio, 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. Pry thee 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 not forgotten.

How delicious hope! Takes her hand. Art thou a blessed angel, fair young man, sent by the prophet for my rescue. Speak. Oh, how divine she is. The filmy veil assays, 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. 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. O 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 plays between us Be like a cherub Scaring deadly sin Far from the Eden of thy stainless soul The housetop

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 has 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. Ah, death and hell, a moment since, warm in my bridal bed, on the fair bush. of a lovely girl. Now, stock still as a mummy, nothing stirs, save the cold wind that through my

cafton 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! Ah, distracting jealousy, rob me of life at once, ye pale, cold stars, fall down and dash me to oblivion. End of Part 1, Act 3. Part 1, Act 4 of Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp, by Adam Olenshager, translated by Theodore Martin. This is the Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org.

Act 4th. The Sultan's Palace. Solomon, Zulima, his wife, Golnir, the vizier, Saladin. The grounds of the device is all peculiar, and lies very far beyond the bounds of what is either possible. or likely, I'm fairly puzzled what reply to make. Such, oh my liege, is my opinion too. Experience shows how readily the blood inflames the fancy with delirious dreams.

And yet that both of them should dream the same is odd. Yet is it not impossible, and if we are to trust the tale at all, "'Tis better to believe it in the course of nature "'than suppose a miracle. "'In order to arrive then, at the truth, "'it will be best that we wait patiently "'and see the issue of the second night. "'Then shall we both within the bridal room

"'conceal ourselves, where we can see and hear, "'and for ourselves, decide upon the facts.' "'Thou art a sage, most mighty potentate. "'If it was a sage, fancy, nothing shall we see, but if the devil's hand be in the business, then we are sure to probe it to the root. And in that case we may allow our children, it cuts me to the heart, the very thought, to be unfettered from the marriage bond. What says my daughter to this fair resolve?

I am submissive to my father's will. We hold this business as concluded then. No, stop. I have some claim to be allowed. A little word or two in this affair. I love your daughter, mighty sultan. Well, my rare good fortune, too, I clearly see. But not for her sake, no, not for the world would I encounter such another night.

You have no notion what it is to stand, stiff as a post and rooted to the roof. contemplating the stars and Milky Way You have no notion what it is to be By spirits pinched and squeezed and pulled about To see a strange man get into your bed And make himself at home there with your wife Whilst you were loft like a mad dog Perforce must bay the dog-star and the grinning moon

Golnara there may well submit For she stays in her warm and comfortable bed so wide and roomy that the naked sword can do no harm. And touching that same sword, I'm quite of your opinion that tis hard to credit what our own eyes have not seen. Now I have really seen my bride her bed with the enchanter nestling at her side. But that same naked sword I have not seen. Perhaps the thought of it is all a dream. To follow your opinion.

O great Sultan, a mere creation of her virgin fancy. Audacious wretch! This language to my daughter! Ah, by the prophet, this is too absurd. What? Cheaphing still? There, fume away, my children. Your peevish brawl is like the angry bay of a caged hound. The quarrels with the night, because the fleecy clouds play around the moon.

Call up your manhood, boy. Not I, indeed. I want to rid me of my womanhood. Can you not brave the hazard one night more to win a pearl so far beyond all price? Can you appraise his risk that dives for pearls? If you can do so, multiply it or, an hundred thousand times. Such risk is mine. By Mahomed, it might. might be dangerous for some poor puny, pitiable paltroon, to find himself in such a case as yours.

But ne'er could I have dreamt such fears in you. Make me not frantic. Tantalus was blessed compared with me. It was but water lapped against his baffled lips. But I, oh, hell, enough, tis very palpable to me. This business sets your. reckonings all awry. To be a Sultan's brother is as fine, I fancy, as to be his son-in-law. Yet, father, you must arm yourself with patience. Tis a son's duty, doubtless to obey,

but to stand nightly for the family on a cold sentry on the housetop, whilst another enjoys himself at leisure with my wife, is, you'll excuse me, sir, too much to ask. "'Forget not, boy, the pride, the self-respect which your exalted station claims from you.' "'The exalted station on the roof, you mean? To that methinks, I have already shown all due respect.' "'You always will fall back on this preposterous vision.' "'Oh, dear father, Grant, I entreat you, Saladin's desire.' "'What do you save, vizier? What shall we do?

The tale is simply ludicrous, my liege. The captain of the bodyguard enters. Sire, Alibaba, the astrologer, awaits outside with bald, uncovered head. Something of moment he has come to tell. Let him come in. Exit captain. A sage and learned man, skilled in the mystic volume of the stars, Far on the plain I built for him a tower

Where all night long he sits With sleepless eyes Reading the marbles which the stars portend Marvels indeed Believe me, O great Sultan There's not one grain of marvel stirring there One stands and gapes and yawns And that is all

Alibaba enters God send to Persia's Sultan Peace and Joy Firm stand his throne And may his race increase I thank thee Say what vision of the night Hath brought thee hither from thy tower in haste

But for such cause thou scarcely hadst come here The lovest solitude Ah good my lord An old man I And weary of the world Earth's bowels have no longer charms for me its greatest things seem little to the sage when old age shades us with its silvery wings then ever more and more the eye is bent upon the star-sown canopy of heaven thither we look as to our real home the haven of our earthly pilgrimage as for myself

it is my joy and solace to watch serene of soul night's feeble rays till heaven its mighty gates wide-open flings and floods me with the radiance of the dawn what revelation does there bring me now as i last night according to my wont had climbed into my tower and there had prayed upon the moon i let my eyes repose and mused how our great prophet on a time in order to the unbelieving earth to prove his mission beckoned it from heaven when clanging down to earth it fell and broke on either side the mountain elechias whereon by his all power powerful command, he welded it anew and bade it rise and shine in ether as it did before. As I stood musing thus with gaze intent, the moon grew suddenly so pitchy dark that under it the earth seemed black as coal. The owls shrieked dismally within the wood, the village masted it. suddenly grew dumb. But still I kept my place, though sore perplexed, by the mysterious darkness,

the whole sky was clear without a cloud. Besides, no cloud could have thrown such a shadow on the earth. I thought, perhaps tis the eternal's will, this very night to judge creation. The angel hath he summoned now of death. The mighty Israfil, who evermore, stands ready with his flashing trump, at once with shattering blast to shake the universe to crumbling ruin. I was calm as now, yet as upon my knees resigned to heaven, I waited in the dark for what might come. The moon regained its luster by degrees, and in the clear light palpably I saw, it was a mighty angel's dusky wings, had all the sky diffused this strange eclipse. Along the air he floated with a bed of ebony and gold

whereon were laid, clear to the sight, a woman and a man. What unto us this wondrous sign portends is more than I can fathom, but I come, impelled by duty, with my dearest speed, to make all known my liege to thee. Heaven grant it bodes no evil swiftly to ensue. Evil, forsooth! What evil could ensue, hath by my beard ensued already. Beard? You have none. But I hope for one in time. What do you mean, fair sir?

Say, hast thou not decried me through thy telescope, great sage, upon a certain housetop yesterday night, fixed, like yourself, contemplating the stars? What time, fair sir? Why, shortly after you beheld that monster in the air? Not I. T'was me you saw up yonder in the air. You lay hard names upon yourself, young sir. Ha, take me not for yonder devil spawn, yonder great black, unsightly vampire bat.

I was but one of the two persons you beheld reclining on the handsome bed. Were you the woman, milkbeard, or the man? The man? Good gracious. Had I been the woman, I should have been more pleasantly employed than in research of that celestial law, which, to my thinking, might be better styled, a law downright infernal. Sir, you rave! Beloved father, hesitate no longer. Now thou must see it was no fervish dream. The ways of God are oft inscrutable.

Yet that this marriage is not blessed of heaven, I see beyond all the question. Be it then dissolved from this hour forth. O Father, thanks. Thanks, mighty Sultan, for this blessed release from bondage dire that would have driven me mad. Vizier aside, O wretched churl, by heaven he's not my son.

such a vile recreant i could ne'er beget ha all my hopes are torn up by the roots and yet i must be grateful to my liege grateful oh allah thanks great sultan thanks most strange now follow me to the divan exit the sultan and the vizier will ne'er follows her mother Ali Baba to Saladin. Will you inform me, sir, what all this means? Go goggle at the stars and learn of them. But for myself, the world can't flout me now. The cockords' horns no longer grace my brow. Exit.

Ali Baba returns to his tower. The divan. Solomon, the vizier, spectators, the council. Morgiana at the door. Morgiana to a drunken peasant. Good gracious me. Don't poke me in the ribs. Wait till you're cold, and don't come bouncing so against a frail old woman like myself.

What business have you here? Go, get along. You can't speak with his majesty today. He only talks to people of my rank, who come to see him on important business. Important business, Mary and indeed. And don't I come upon important business? I come, if you must know it,

to arrange the marriage of his daughter with my son. No sheer one, does they see there, by the door, the woman who last week presented me with the under-glorious treasure? Impudence, the guard shall instantly "'Old vizier, hold, remember what beseems my dignity, and what doth wrong it. In the flush of joy "'a promise gaped my lips, which cannot now be kept, indeed. But which with violence I will not break, "'for violence begets anger, and anger generates revenge, where by a momentary prudence

"'this can be avoided, it behoves it should.' "'My sultan words do make me smile, perforce. Anger, revenge, revenge, and anger? What? A tailor lad and Sultan Solomon? And what of that? Be who he may, he is my subject still, and am I not his prince? My state demands that I should tend the flock entrusted to my charge with loving care. To treat it with a brute-like recklessness, were but to prove myself a sorry shepherd. Forgive, my lord, the outburst of my wrath, and unto me too let your grace extend.

The coldest nature shows a hasty spark. When its green wounds are roughly touched, and mine, need I add more? Well, well, I understand. Yet these green wounds, which go us both are like you promised me no Shirwan not to touch let me forget them then and tell me what you think is best and fittest to be done if all you wish be to get rid my lord of the old fool and not to punish her tis but to ask her love-sick son what he can by no possibility fulfil this well effect truly conclude the matter.

You counsel sagely. Bring the woman in, and let the others for today depart. The vizier calls in Morgiana, who throws herself down before the throne. The others retire. Solomon sternly. I recognize you.

Know why you are here. My promise also have I not forgotten. I said to you, the man who could afford such gifts to our exchequer as the last, might, if the rest were equal to the first, conceive the hope to wed a prince's daughter. What then I said, old woman, I say still, For if your son in treasure be so rich,

As his last gift doth give us cause to hope, To such a bride he fairly may aspire, Then, to make sure of this, For it might be mere chance to throw that treasure in his way, I now desire that he send here to me, to-morrow at this hour, forty large vases, curiously carved, and of the purest gold. These also he must fill with precious stones, much better than the former. Every vase must by a handsome negro slave be born, and forty more white slaves must follow these. Let this be done, and by my word I stand, and give my daughter to your son for bride.

But if this be not done, let me no more have word or sign from you. Remembering the gift which late you brought me, I forgive your son's audacious insolence, this once, for let him dare no father to offend with his unblushing importunity. Rises and exit with the vizier. Aye, aye, just so, just so. Did I not say it? Have I not warmed him as a mother should? Not said a thousand times, boy, stretch your hand no farther out, then you can draw it back.

Red shoes alone won't make a buddy dance. Need you be told that rotten eggs must make unsavory cakes? That wooden covers go with wooden bowls? That he who has no cat must catch his mice with owls or let them know. and he that lacks for a lime must build with loam why then the princess why but her if you have neither horse nor ox-boy take an ass what twas me a preaching in a deaf man's ear a buckler's no defence against the noose he'd have his way because he had this lamp and our good sultan courteous isn't kind but never wake a sleeping dog nor pull a donkey's girth too tight beware of cat that lap before and use their claws behind. We tread upon the worm until it turns.

Now, what a howl he'll make. Why did he then lie down between the corner and the door? Like yarn, like cloth. Laugh in the morning, cry before the night. An oaken cudgel is the true fool's towel. As you make your bed, so you must find. As the clay, the pay. Exit.

A room. Aladdin. To him enters Morgiana. Aladdin runs to meet her. Well, dearest mother? Well, my dearest son, I have not the heart to let him know the truth. Well, mother, well, now tell me, you have been— At the butchers? Yes, boy, that indeed I have, and got a famous joint of venison. That's not the question. You've— Been at the tailors? Oh, yes, I'm sorry. just looked in upon him. Dear, what a good, kindly

honest soul it is. Your father and himself were ever friends. I, though they both were tailors to their craft. Your father, none could match him a cloak, the genius of the other lay in hose. And so they rubbed along the best of friends, each in his line a master of his needle.

They never fell to loggerheads these two. He always trumpeted your father's cloaks, who always always trumpeted his hose in turn. So all went bravely many and many a year. Ah, that was the golden age of tailorhood. But, mother, tell me. What the tailor said? Good dame, you may be sure of this, said he,

that I will stitch as soundly for your son as for himself he could have stitched if he had followed out his father's handicraft. Who in the fiend's name asked about the tailor? Who soars to high, my son? must have a fall. Now do I see too plainly what the bell has struck, but by my honour he shall find this sultan that he plays a dangerous game. Tis bad my son to eat cherries with great folks, for they are apt in very wantonness to throw the stones into your face. I'll stone him, but quick, quick, mother, tell me everything. What shall I tell you, boy, you know the truth,

You have already guessed it to a turn. It's no use stirring in this business more. Best once for all to let the stone lie still you find too hard to lift. This sort of thing is just like writing black upon the chimney. I almost burst. Ha, Sultan, wait a while, thou beggar king. Just wait thou haughty chel. I'll teach thee what it is to play with me as though I were the meanest of thy slaves. I'll teach thee to fulfill thy plighted word. Not long shall thou contemn me like the sheep That from the rocks bleats mockery at the wolf

Because I cannot reach thee. Reach thee I shall. Yes, by the prophet's beard, I swear it here. Pray curb these hasty paroxysms, boy. They make you most unhappy. That they do. Unhappy? And what makes my happiness or my unhappiness?

or my unhappiness. Canst tell me that? To live a noble life, unsoiled by shame that constitutes my happiness, to be abased and scorned, my chiefest misery. To vanquish obstacles, be what they may,

hath Allah gifted me with strength and will, with so much pride and constancy combined, that though my love should bring disaster, death, yet shall I triumph even in my fall. snap goes the bowstring that's too highly strong. Yes, if twas never fit to bear a strain. Great heaven, shall the free spirit ne'er aspire?

Must we forever stoop, forever crawl? But cha, enough of this. Tell me what passed. He ordered you away, no doubt, at once. No doubt he'd chid you for audacity, and did not choose to recognize you. No, that he did not. But on the contrary,

stuck to the promise which he gave before. But what can all his promises avail? They leave us just precisely where we were. What did he say? He said if you tomorrow should send him 40 vases, all of gold, and filled with painted crystal like the last, that you should have his daughter for your wife. But look you, every vase was to be brought by a black slave,

and he, his very words, must be attended by another, white. But how is this to be brought about? How, mother, how? And this is all he asked. All? And a mighty deal too much, say I. Why did you fire my blood without a cause, and stir my anger against the Sultan thus? Most moderate in sooth is his demand, and by tomorrow it shall be fulfilled. Tomorrow? By tomorrow? Well, and how?

How? By the lamp. The lamp? Oh, it's Pitikins, the lamp. That's true. I never thought of that. Who can remember an old rusty lamp? The lamp boy.

So you really think the lamp? Yes, Mother, certainly. Beyond a doubt. You and the lamp be blessed. Nobody has a lamp like this, of course, but you. I mean that everybody has a lamp, but this. Is a lamp, mother, of no common kind? Still, boy, I have my doubts.

To do all this may be beyond the spirit. We shall see. What is beyond his power, and what is not, the spirit for himself can best decide. We'll ascertain at once. Takes out the lamp. Just wait a bit. I want to purchase something in the town,

and as it's growing dark I must be all. runs out. She cannot get the lamp into her head. She always will forget it. Strange enough. But for my life she plans and schemes all day. Her thoughts should never turn upon the lamp. To her I am but her son, not the lamp's lord.

Now, if I be its lord, this test will show. Rubs the lamp. The spirit appears. Lord, what wilt thou? Straight give order. all thy wishes to fulfil hath almighty Allah gifted me with power and strength

and will. Precious to me is thine aetence, strong and great art thou, and I therefore with a bold assurance on thy potent help rely. What thou wishest say, And waste not praises of my skill and might. Forty mighty golden vases,

As the flashing sunbeams bright, Through the filmy streams of ether must thou bring me, bringing o'er with the diamonds lustrous water, with the ruby's rosy gore, with the emerald's earthy verdure, with the sapphire's heavenly blue, as they gleam and glow in beauty in the mountain's spring-tide dew, large and lustrous, each a marvel, with no flaw in all their sheen, as they bloom within the garden, hidden deep the rocks between. There no black stone intermingles to set off the radians gay, But black slaves must bear the vases,

Night shall bring the glorious day. And a more imposing contrast to the mingling hues to lend, Forty white slaves you must find me, With that dusky train to blend. Pair by pair these slaves shall mingle, White and black, and black and white. Lay on every vase a napkin, Woveen with tissues dipped in light,

where on ground a softest velvet, copied in the silk, are seen, rose and tulip and carnation, budding from the meadow green. All this by tomorrow bring me, then thy power is firm and good. They shall stand, great lord and master, there, where even now I stood. Aladdin rubs the lamp. Not so fast, thou best of servants. Stay, my further hast to hear. Thou hast but to rob, O master, and straightway I reappear. List then to what more I order. Dexterest art thou, and swift.

All these treasures I have ordered, for the sultan are a gift. And already thou divinest I must come in such array, As beseems a prince, before him such a princely gift to lay. First a bath must thou prepare me, Whereon every wall doth shine, marble, agate stone, and jasper, quaintly carved and polished fine. Let two streams of purest water, hot and cold, be flowing still, so contrived that I may mingle either current at my will. There, attending on my pleasure, must be maiden's fair and bright, with sweet balsams to anoint me, and to steep me in

delight. Then the finest caftain bring me, diapered with jewels rare, next a sabre of Damascus, and a wild Arabian mare, wild, but which the costly bridle at my will can turn and wind. Fetch my mother, too, all vestments whereunto she hath a mind. Bring her trusty handmaids also, O thou spirit good and great, who to execute her wishes on her every step shall wait. Do thou this, and do it swiftly, and thy praise I'll sound all way. All which thou hast yet commanded is to me, but babies play. Vanishes. Aladdin rubs the lamp. Servant, I again must call thee. Doubly long thou makes thy flight.

Thou wilt soon attire of rubbing, then will I of toil so light. When now all is fairly ordered, and when all is now complete, When the nuptial hour approaches, hour of rapture heavenly sweet, Then shalt thou a palace rear me, All of pure white marble there, Full before the sultan's harim, In the midst of the great square, After thine own wisdom rear it.

But let it be gorgeous all. Store it with the costliest treasures, And within it build a hall, Vast, four-square and highly vaulted, Peerless for its palms, and pride. Four and twenty spacious windows make for me on every side. Yet of these so matchless windows, one imperfect thou shalt leave. Wherefore thus I do command thee, thou true servant, wilt conceive. Solemise my nuptials nobly, make all sumptuous, festive, bright, let the torches fume with

amber. Day arrives from dusky night. Quires of nimbly footing, fairies bring to lead the dance along, whilst the throng of loveliest damsels thrill all hearts with lute and song. Canst thou do this? Of my wishes this within my heart is chief. Yes, as easily, O master, as the Zephyr stirs to leave. Vanishes End of Part 1, Act 4 Part 1, Act 5 of Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp, by Adam Olenshagher, translated by Theodore Martin. This is a Libravox recording.

All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 5th, the entrance to the Sultan's palace. First, Sentinel. What do I see? What a great swarm of men is coming to the palace down the street. A grand procession of distinguished strangers. Princes they are, that's clear. Run, Hassan, run and let the Sultan know with your best haste,

that several princes from distant lands are on the road to visit him today. Exit Second Sentinel. 80 black and white slaves enter slowly. in procession, the black bearing the vases on their heads. After them enters Morgiana, sumptuously clad, attended by six female slaves. Solomon, attended by his vizier and bodyguard, meets them on the steps of the palace. As the first slave reaches the top, he speaks. Welcome, my trusty and beloved kinsman, welcome! Great ye most great, the joy that fills our heart, to see you here thus unexpectedly.

The slave kneels. I am a slave, O mighty lord, no prince, the eightieth merely in this long array. Most humbly we approach here at thy feet to lay the gifts Aladdin promised thee. You, slaves, and thus right royally attired, from him, the tail, the stripling, from Aladdin? Yes, mighty sultan. And the ancient dame attended by these lovely creatures is? His mother, sire. His what?

The tailor's widow? Morgiana throwing back her veil. The same most mighty sultan. So you don't know me again? That's probably because I wear a veil. Vizier. My gracious liege. What say you now?

I'm dumb. I'm petrified. Come on, dear madam, to the palace. Come, and there you shall awake me from my dream. Ah, not a bit of it's a dream, sir sultan. It is simple, downright, plain, straightforward fact, and not a grain of witchcraft in it all. Come, follow slaves, me and your master.

Come. If this be not a dream, and no delusion, who not assume will be Aladdin's bride. The slaves shout. Long live great Solomon. Long live Aladdin. Exit into the palace. A beautiful marble bath, Aladdin, waited on by invisible fairies.

Peribino, their queen. Fair youth, we wait thy pleasure. Lo, all thou seest is thine. Hear all thy heart but yearned for. in magic light doth shine. The chamber's lofty arches are bold and sculptured fair, and walls of polished marble are round the everywhere. With sand of alabaster the floor is softly strewn. The bath excels the perfume of sweet flowers newly blown. Its surface like a mirror reflects thy visage near. Oh, see the limpid water as starry diamonds clear. Here to the right a fountain

of icy coolness flows, along abetted wimples of the lily and the rose. Here to the left is streaming a river's tiny arm. It gushes from the mountain, and it is soft and warm. Then mingle at thy pleasure, the means are by thy side. The cool flower-shaded brooklet with the glowing rock-borne tide, and when with quickened vigor thou leavest the waters bright, fair maiden hand shall dry thee and lack thee in delight. Ha! voice of sweetness, let me see thy mouth.

the flute through which thy witching accents flow why dost thou hide thyself o beauteous rose so cruelly the wast a nightingale trills on thy crimson petals her glad strain content thee youth content thee with the perfume of the rose seek not to view nor fondle what are but airy shows we are here above around thee but if earth thy glances be the creatures of the element they pierce but cannot see then such fond wishes banishes learn thou our might to prize ourselves we show but rarely and earthly women skies oh dear young man but rarely and ne'er an open day in the bath before a stripling so frolicsome and gay o pain in every pleasure every joy the fairies sing play ye limpid waters fondly bound these limbs so sweetly rounded make the sturdy sinews pliant hard and strong the youthful nerve How? Was it not as though the water sang? Cool is now thy hot blood's crimson. Sweetly is thy heart refreshed.

Glorious are thy locks resplendent. From the bath, new nerve, arise. How? Was it not as though the ether rang? From the bath new nerve to rise. I rise. What tones, what rapturous sensation, By Zephyr's viewless pinions I am fanned,

By breezes which of fragrant warmth Have drawn from the deep bosom of a bursting rose. Now let beauty come apace, To the bath with rosy grace, Strength too rough or grown with hair, Hasting from his forest lair. Strength and beauty, A giant and a fairy, enter,

But are also invisible to Aladdin, the former bearing a sponge, the latter bearing a hyacinth. Strong art thou, but at my bidding greater strength shall soon be thine. Fair art thou, but soon, Aladdin, shalt thou fairer be at mine. Every few shall swell and harden underneath my rubbing hand. Every limb I'll round and soften with this flower from fairyland. Amplers still must be thy shoulders, stalwart each and round the dwell. In thine eyes a deeper hazel shall love secrets sweetly tell.

Now, thy chest is narrow. Quickly shall it arch in amplest might. Cheek, to me too like a maiden's, seems to me. thy rosy luster bright. Let the back in sinewy vigor, like hewn marble, smoothly shine.

Only just a trifle smaller must I make those lips of thine. Brother by my feet and stronger, like a rock vault stand in place. Thine shall be a just proportion, not too tall to move

with grace. Boldly shall thy lofty forehead tell of spirit, power and pride. Arching eyebrows shall betoken worth doth there with strength abide. Beauty, he is not a maiden, but a man. Then have a care. Right, so they must droop serenely, with a high and thoughtful air. straighter still the swelling oenches and the arm an oaken root whiter still the fair round fingers smaller too must be the foot in thy heart i power all glowing hero's blood unstained by guile love's pure flame the sweet the holy thus unto thine eyes i smile thy foes be vowed terror like a lion to pursue bloom thou ever loved of beauty and to loving beauty true thus have i o youth beloved all my gifts bestowed on thee henceforth may thy life be sunshine ever happy ever free they vanish The Sultan's Palace Solomon Aladdin

To Allah and the prophet I give thanks That such a worthy son-in-law have sent me Thy wealth I scarcely yet can comprehend Surpassing is thy beauty Spirit health and constancy Are beaming in thine eyes O noble youth

Thou dost deserve my daughter of that I am well convinced. Another man would ask, perchance, how thou camest by their wealth, who, what thou art, and more. So do not I. Since thou to keep thee secret thinkest meat, doubtless thou hast good reasons of thine own,

Which, though I knew, what better should I be? I see well what thou hast. But how thou hast it? I do not know. but better do I know how I, or any other child of Adam, have what we have, enough to know the what. It is only fools make question of the how. Great Sultan, these your noble words of wisdom refresh my soul, as morning dews that fall from the high cedarth top, refresh the bush, which seeks a shelter in its giant shade. "'Tomorrow, then, and with the dawn, my son,

"'we celebrate in state thy nuptual feast.' "'The bee, great Sultan, yearneth not at morn, "'more fondly for the rose's honeyed cup, "'than I to rest within her arms divine. "'The grass, bent with the stormy rains of night, "'not more impatiently awaits the sun, "'to lift its head with added strength than you, "'than I, bowed down by love's long,

feverish watch, Awake the gracious smiling of her eyes. Yet I entreat, The marriage, oh, my sire, May be postponed but for some little space, Till in the square, before the palace here, I have a mansion built, May worthily receive a mistress so unparagoned.

My son, I will concede the boon you ask. How long will you require to be prepared? That I cannot with certain. for tell. But this at least I know, t'will not be long. My mazins are unmatched for industry. So be it then. Now come to the divan, that I may there acquaint thee with the duties of my vice-gerent, and the burdens. Thou must henceforth, as my son, submit to share. Ah, if the needful strength are only mine, but you shall strengthen me. Your wisdom shall upraise. me, whensoever I droop or fall.

Exit. The great square in front of the palace. Night. Spirits of the lamp engaged in building the palace. There, the first stone is fast and stuffed with golden coins. Get me but freestone now, and I shall build a pace. Two others advance through the air with massive blocks of stone. Here's stone for thee.

A lovely marble white as milk, with veins as blue as air gleameth through a young maid's skin. Out of the caucasas we quarried them, and Swift have posted hither yet not fast enough for you. A band of shepherd youth sat fluting on the cliff. The fairest of their maids unseen of her we caught, and from her rounded throat the napkin tore away. That with her bosom we are marble might compare, but straightaway spread a purple bloom or all her breast of maiden bashfulness. Look with a laugh we cried, the marble child is like thy bosom, white and full,

yet blush so sweet as close thy breast no stone can show. Who brings me lime? Ho, lime, I say. Now be alive. Here's lime from Hindostan, dug from the central earth. A dazzling white, but sprinkled here and there with blood

at the dead hour of midnight. by the king's command, the head of a blaspheming rebel was to fall. Then to the scaffold we upon our errand flew, loud rang the axe, his blood shot heavenwards in a stream, but mixed with it, the lime will have a firmer hold. Who will fetch me from the north a granite corner stone? Here is a stone, a sacred stone will last for I. We stole it in far Norway, from a peasant band who bore it from the quarry to their monarch's grave. which newly had been closed.

Here's due upon the stone, we'll harden it against the tooth of wasting time, for tis the tear of sorrow given to parted worth. Who now will bring me carvings for the cornice here? Into a giant whale we two transformed ourselves, and down beneath the ocean's foam and sedges plunged, till far, far in the south, against an aisle we drove, all netted round with coral and thick clustering shell,

these from the ground we tore away and on our heads set like a wreath the whole red jagged labyrinth for thee to fasten in festoons around the wall where now shall i find pearls and radiant carbuncles we come rich laden from the veil of diamonds that's fenced and girdled around with precipices steep to mortal tread forever inaccessible upon the distant rock some merchants thronged agape in hopes to see the eagle to his nest return. For round about his talons lumps of meat they tie, and when into the veil he swoops upon his prey to sate his hunger on the snakes and vermin there, the diamonds cleave unto the beef beneath his feet, and every merchant has his nest, and thence he hopes to find a fortune wafted to him through the air. Today their hopes were faded to be dashed, for we swept for ourselves away gems, eagle, nest, and all, and left us to find a fortune, and left the gapers standing pale in blank despair.

Who brings me pictures now unmatchable in worth? See, here they are, my friend. To Italy we flew. Beneath the silver moon a pair of lovers sat, and the bride sang a tender lay to her guitar. Unseen beneath a pile of ruins they were hid, which in that country's tongue are Herculaneum styled. A main we dived as dived the wild geese in the sea.

down into the earth and brought these pictures thence. Magnificently they will deck thy great saloon. Now where shall I find gold, my mouldings to enrich? See, here is golden ore sufficient and to spare. We winged our viewless way to Africa's lonely waste. The midnight cool hung o'er it. On the tawny sand the moon shed tawny light, and tawny lions round and round the desert roamed,

and with their claws tore up the tawny gold in masses from the spongy earth and in the filmy moonlight tossed them to and fro ten steers we flung them we from barbary had brought and whilst the lions were dispatching these we took the gold such lumps thou never hast till now beheld and now for silk is meet to deck imperial walls from china from the wood of mulberries we come where in the starlight clear the silvery brooklet runs and countless silkworms spin their webs unceasingly more than we bring thee here thou'lt scarcely lack my friends who'll fetch me pillars now to bear the palace gates to tourist-tourish sky-peak we clomb and looked around. There in the veil a herd of elephants we saw, trampling a peasant's cornfields down into the clay. To punish this wild pastime, on the plane we swooped, and from the creatures wrenched their tusks right cunningly.

Look here, what sickles? Has thou ever beheld the lake? Now in the cold moonshine I'll pillars carve from them. But copper for the palace roof who next will bring? two mighty armies were encamped in tartary the ground was strewn with helmets shields spears shirts of mail and every shield was blood-red copper of japan these seemed to us right-handy copings for the roof and so from every hero there his shield we stole though he had laid it down as pillow for his head when they awake at dawn lo every shield is gone good they will have to wield their swords to more accounts Now for a diamond staff To crown the tower with all

A youthful king Milk bearded sat upon a throne And slept the sceptre in his left hand upside down And dreamily he swung it Like a baby's toy among a slavish horde So that the last remains of order disappeared And all too chaos fell In anger from the feeble hand we wrenched the staff

Here it will shine And boldly heavenward still aspire. Thus do I crown the hole with the ruby's lustrous fire. He puts the coping on the peak of the tower and then contemplates the building. Oh, see, friends, how the moonbeams, softly gilding all, are smiling on the new and snow-white marble wall. Her moist rays curiously peer through the window bars. The pinnacles are bright and twinkle like the stars. But now from distant oceans verge the morning glows, And on our copper roof a furtive glance she throws.

How day will marvel when it sees the palace there, Born in a night, and yet so perfect and so fair. Ah, look there, how the dome towers proudly into view. Go, fetch me brightest tints, bring thou an azure blue, And thou dive southward, far into the deep, dark sea and bring a purple conch right suddenly to me then roses i will paint shall bloom midst leafage green when garden roses long to dust have withered been the next i'll sketch gullnari thy swan like bosom white shall fire thy children's children with still new delight here shall the youth enamoured gaze and say full oft our grand dame's bosom O how full it was and soft!

Whoever would believe that time, So old and whore, Could give such beauty birth for ages to adore. And when his hair is grey, His eye will glow anew With all its youthful fire, Her likeness here to view. Thus youth and age will rise

And wither and decay. But in the picture She bloom freshly as stature. today. See how she smiles. Ho spirits, quickly do my will. Here tis a shade too small, and here too ample still. No more. This nobly done. But hark, what cry was there? The cock crows. Red-crested watchman calls. We sent the morning air. Now mounts the sun, the earth with golden glow to cheer. When mortals wake to toil, we spirits disappear.

They vanish. The harem, Goulner in a bridle dress. The dreadful hour approaches. How I tremble, deliver me kind heaven, once hast thou saved me and brought me by a miracle to him who reigns alone supreme within my heart. How happy was I there. then. But, oh, kind Allah, didst thou release me from the tiger's claw that I might fall a victim to the

bard? Oh, no, that cannot be. It must not be. For then, thy mercy had been cruelty. Ah, me, what fate was ever like to mine, bound to a man I loathed, then in the hour of my despair, saved by a youth divine. Oh, how I love him. Thou slim cedar, thou. Like palm leaves, waves thy undulating hair. Thy kindling eye is like the antelopes, and like the crimson tulip are thy cheeks. The moon shines in the firament of heaven, not half so fair as thou in that of love. What free-born pine-tree on the rocks doth lift its head so high and haughtily as thou? yet was a shepherd's mildness in thy glance. Love's gentle yearnings nestle in thy heart. Oh, how he loved me, and how blessed was I. But woes me, severed suddenly again. Alone within my chamber I am left to mourn the

piteous loss, until the tears of my despair are stifled as they flow, by the dread news of fresh calamity. Oh, cruel father, wilt thou sell me now to some coarse creature of the boorish mob? How blessed is woman in the Frankish land? There, her best feelings, all she prizes most, are not condemned and trampled in the dust. Man doth respect her there, and cherish her as nature's fairest blossom. There, a maid calls for herself and is not handed over the mindless bond slave of an unknown lord. The husband there, for mistress, owns his wife, and there the lion lets himself be led, gentle, and tame by beauty's leading strings. Oh, that must be a good, a glorious land. Would I might live there? Yet I would not, no, for then were I still farther from

thy side, invisible, beloved one of my heart. O, if thou wert no phantom of a dream, appear, come forth in thy youthful pride, Strong as a lion, as a tiger lithe. Warm as the sun, and lovely as the moon. Thine own love calls to thee in her despair. O come and bring her rescue from a straight, more piteous and more cruel far than death. Enter Solomon with Aladdin, the sweet and sweet and court gesture. Oh, heavens! Throws herself at Aladdin's feet.

Good angel, hast thou heard my prayer, and hastened hither from the vulture's claws to save the frightened lamb. My Gabriel thou, for my sake hast thou left thy glorious home in paradise above. My dearest bride. Solomon, aside. What means all this? I thought to find her still bathed in her tears, and overwhelmed with grief.

I had my father's sternness all prepared, and now, instead of scratching out his eyes, as she declared she was resolved to do, down at his feet she falls, and worships him as an archangel. Well, well, I must say, they are strange creatures these same women folk. Oh, most unlooked-for chance!

Oh, sweet surprise! How? Chance? Surprise? Reflect, reflect, Gunare. What will his hair-brain creature come to next? Thou wert prepared beforehand? I prepared. You told me I was destined for a wretch, a miserable slave you called Aladdin. That miserable slave, that wretch, my child, is he,

you clasped so fondly to your breast. "'Art thou he?' "'Yes, my love.' "'compose yourself. "'It gives me joy to see you weep no more. "'It must you not give full career to mirth, "'the gravity, whichever more, should grace a princely forehead, "'is a flower that scorns the rain of tears and sun of smiles alike,

"'for only in the shade it strikes of root, "'and blooms the fairest in an arid soil.' "'Mary, what? well said. That's my opinion, too. She neither sees nor hears me. Talk away. I'll lend a patient hearing to thy saws, while the young folks are in each other wrapped. Gullner to Aladdin. And that great lovely palace, is it thine?

No, no, O dearest of all womankind, that is thy temple, and the throne of love. And thou, my bridegroom? Yes, beloved, yes. I know not if I wake, or if I dream. If waking, I am blessed past words to tell. But if a dream it be, oh, sweetest dream, sink with me in the slumber of the grave. They're both in such a state of ecstasy. I cannot make them here.

Stay where you are. I will approach them and perform your part. My dignity will not be compromised if they shall turn as deaf an ear to me. goes up to Aladdin and Golnair, who are conversing in the background. The ruler of the faithful, sweet young people requests you will attend him to the palace, where, for this hour and more, in the great hall, a most select assemblage waits your coming. The golden hour invites us, my sweet bride. Bliss waves us onward. Let us haste to meet it.

Jester pulls him back. Here, my good friend, haste goes with measured step. At court, sir, ceremonies govern all. And pray you note, I'm a master of them. I, an office which from immemorial time has with the jesters piously been linked. First comes a lengthened train of negro slaves, with sabers and with halberds in their hands, to keep aloof the mob of lookers-on.

then follow the viziers and privy council these are not negro slaves friend they are white next comes the sultan neath a velvet paul attended like a shadow by his fool and only then the princess and yourself appear upon a handsome dromedary he arranges the procession and then makes a sign from the windows with his babel and exclaims now blow ye rascals all your trumpets blow as fierce and loudly as your lungs can strain let cannon thunder bells by thousands ring and all the world and joyful chorus sing they go off in procession africa noureddin seated at his table buried in thought he lets the stylus drop from his hand into the box of sand and sinks back exhausted ah fate why art thou hostile to me still my hand is weary with long toil my eye is dim with staring into vacancy where'er i draw my lines all all is blank and barreness of harrah's sand To the mountain still they pointer is behind. There do they seek the lamp's small eye of flame.

But woe is me. All bootless is the search. Without the lamp I stumble in the dark. For what I seek is with the magic lamp linked closely. Holy, yea inseparably. This much, alas, I see too well. Too well. O excorable fate!

A cursed boy! Long ere now thy wretched frame is dust And thy bleached bones Like freezing in the brook. And can it really be That mortal hand shall never more obtain The wondrous lamp? Is there no measure

None I still may try? Or have I tried them all? Full well, I know. Open the cave again. I never can. And all that has relation to this cave. As for example, what befell the boy is shrouded from mine eyes that see all else. It is not true. Thou liest, Norreddin. What prevents thee seeing further? Ah, tis this. I would not even confess it to myself. I shrank till now was shuddering from the sight,

For all too well I knew what I should see. The loathsome livid body half decayed. Now that is past. A whited skeleton. What's horrible in that, or grim to view? Down, weakness, down. Courage, I'll probe again. That glorious cave, the seat of every joy,

shall be no more to me a den of woe. He puncturates and drops the stylus from his hand in a fright. Oh, heavens! Allah! Mecca and Medina! Happy! A prince! And on the eve of wedding the Sultan's daughter! Master of the lamp! Saved by the ring which I, I like a fool, placed on his finger!

Fury, death, and hell! What devil robbed me of my memory That I could thus so totally forget my magical ring. Ah, Malapert! And thou art reaping now the fruits of all my toil, Plundering the tree I planted? I must know how awe has come about. I must and shall.

Straight will I call the water spirit here. The only spirit from which my present powers can now constrain obedience to my will. Makes signs. Thou spirit of the stream, Appear, up here, appear. Answer thy master all that he demands. The water spirit appears.

What wouldst thou with me, ho? Be brief, and let me go. I cannot keep my shape for long, but must escape on every side and flow. now trickling fine and slow now tumbling white as foam where'er my fancies roam and ever must i range in sunshine and in storm and pass from change to change and shift from form to form thou art a feeble spirit but still a spirit and as the denizen of yonder world no more than he who summons brought thee here. Say then, who twas that drugged my memory?

How hath it chanced that I forgot my ring, And by what spell have I been cheated thus? The little golden snake, That wears a diadem, Of precious stone and gem, Blood red and emerald bright, And diamante light, The little golden snake

Doth at the water quake She is no water snake She is no water snake? It is for her to chill Where dreary billows scream She shuns the sphere of dream She loves the palpable She loves the palpable?

Her home is fixed and still The vague desire eyes, before the schemer's eyes, are banished thence all way. She bows to nature's sway. She bows to nature's sway? In mead she loves to stray, where nobly fashion flowers bloom on through endless hours, where fresh buds still unfold, and time is never old. She bows, she bows, to nature's sway. O'n I not nature's way? Thou art two dreams a prey,

Her bounds they will not bide, They reel from side to side, Mere foamplakes are they chased, Or oceans formless waste, The little golden snake Doth at the water quake, It is for her to chill, She is no water-snake. She loves the palpable.

Am I not palpable? Thine is a rebel's will, against creation's course. Thou dost essay by force, its limits to or leap, and far beyond to sweep. Thou dost not own the ring, that gurgles everything, the little golden snake Is nothing but the ring At that I do not quake Success shall soon be mine

Soon shall I find the lamp And brightly shall it shine It bears a life divine It burns knots in the damp And when I've won the lamp Mine too shall be the ring The ring shall hold the lamp, but not the lamp the ring.

My wish I'll soon command. Yet both go hand in hand. The lamp burns near the ring, The ring shines near the lamp. To flout me is thy care, And dark distrust to shed. The temple's dome in air Must meekly lift its head,

That on the altar fair, the pure flame may be fed untrually hast thou spoken thou silly vaporous thing thyself the ring hast broken thou ne'er shall find the ring ah babbling idly yet thou wilt again forget vanishes a philosophic spirit grant me patience the stupidest adults that lives on earth will mix you physics up with metaphysics, proprieties, and ethics. What the plague has ethics and propriety to do with magic? Pasha!

A moral necromancer! The art, for which our ancestors subscribed allegiance to the fiend with their own blood, is to be practiced now on moral rules? Zounds! Every day the world grows worse and worse. I never could have fancied any spirit with such a fool,

even though he were mere water. Enter Hindbad. How, brother, what does all this fiori mean? You used to pour at night within your room, as still as owls by daylight, where the wood is thickest. What has roused your anger thus? Tomorrow, I set out for Ispahan.

For no, my brother, that the wondrous lamp is in the power of that audacious boy, who, I believed, was dead. Good heavens, the least. Lamp? Thou art my brother. Unto me thou owest whatever thou hast learned. More had zeal kept pace with thy ability. Tomorrow I set out, and hope the best. But destiny is cross and full of guile. Then swear to me, and by the prophet's tomb, thou wilt avenge me like a faithful brother, if I should fall a victim to my foe. I swear to thee as brother, and I swear to thee as brother, and

and as friend if thou shalt fall no thirsty tongue did err long more for water in the wilderness than hinbad's dagger for thy murderer's blood tis well then take this talisman thou seest that now tis black if it shall turn blood red it is a token of thy brother's death exit and is the lamp then really on the earth and no mere figment of a bell dame's tale is this not one of your old lies in a redden to tis titillate your shallow vanity. So then, your crucibles, your fumes and stenches have borne some fruit at last. In sober sore sooth I fain would be the lord of such a lamp, not could be handier to one who loves like me to link his pleasures with his ease. Then as I sat a night's and wished some girl within my arms who had my fancy hit, I rub my lamp and there she lies like Eve, and I like Adam, straight in paradise. Then, when I want to eat, no need have I to plague myself about a stupid cook. I'll send my spirits off to help themselves to the choice vians of the Sultan's table,

eat my fill, and have the jest besides of thinking how His Majesty is starving. Water shall no man mingle in my wine. I shall have every cellar who does strangled at once, for to mix wine with water is a high crime which merits instant death. Such rascals as I relish not I'll have hanged by my spirits on a gallows. Gests and bushels shall my darling lamp supply. To be a sultan were an easy thing. But I will not be one. I'd rather reign incognito and at my own caprice.

All things which men call duties I detest. It is not wickedness, no, by my soul, his only love of ease, and that I take restraint upon my inclinations ill, and that the world is a mad world. and he the greatest madman who would govern it, and he that is the sagest angles on in troubled waters till he bites the hook of death himself at last. This, in few words, is my religion and philosophy. Well, go, Nareden, I can scarcely blame you for seeking to dispose of that same boy. I will direct my course by your example, and in due season, on the self-same grounds,

assay the same experiment with you. For such a lamp is worth a little stroke of private murder, even between brothers. Exit. Aladdin's Palace, the Great Hall, Aladdin and his bride, Solomon, Zulima, Morgiana, the vizier, and numerous guests seated at table.

Magnificence like this I ne'er beheld! But say, my son, when everything beside is perfect, wherefore is that window there, and yonder far the corner, incomplete. My lord and father, all my happiness is to your goodness do,

and therefore I, as a poor token of my gratitude, have left this single window incomplete, that you might put the final hand yourself to this fair structure. You alone might have the praise and glory of the perfect work. Charming! Aladdin, you enchant me. All my artists shall be sent for with the dawn. Now by your leave, Let dance and song proceed to give a daintier relish to our feast.

Aladdin makes a signal whereupon enter a band of fairies, some dressed for dancing, some with instruments. When the dance begins, sings the chorus, Spring is come. Swel softly in its sleepy sheath, slumbers the young bud. How red swells beneath. Tinkle then ye strings like brook and forest glades. land as birds in spring sing ye beautiest mates every bosom now is glowing with love's fires age itself anewish thrilled with fond desires

all the earth doth wear a garneture divine freely sprinkle then the golden juice and wine with its glad to nectar brind the gallants full loves consuming harder moderate and corn Muhammad each tries not. See his smile divine. Mertile wreath bids welcome maidens love and wine. Let her praise is loudly echo through the hall. Who a fairest roses, fairest is of all. Singulara's charms serene and soft and bright. We shall sing Aladdin's prowess in the fight.

In her scarf hast thou been toying Zephyrsei. Love's delicious puns. bring'st thou lens away? Say, hast thou been sporting amongst her dusky's air that sweeps and crisped in crisp with waves and down her shoulders fair? Hast thou in her bosom's mirror

peeped and seen there thyself reflected in its ivory shin? Has thou drawn enchantment from the musky air? Lender for a while among the hollows there? Answer Zephy! Answer, hast not to be gone. Tell me

every beauty thou haste thou hast looked upon. Zephyr hence go whispering on through woodland ways. Here resounds the hero's trumpet song of praise. Though he ne'er hath pitched his tent on the sifted field, Hero world the glory soon to be revealed. Stars shall quail before the gleaming of his spear. Even the sun shall fail before his balky unclear. Hordes of slain his steed in war shall trample war,

waiting to the hoofs incarnadined with gore. Every young maid's lock shall murmur, O to be, manacles of gold, To clasp and fetter thee. In his good sword, flashing from its sheath shall gleam, elements that war, that each of worth supreme. Water when at peace within his arm it rests, Fire when it is whirling or his fulence crests. Loud its iron tongue shall, in the battle hour, peel the war-notes shrill of its death-dealing power. joy thy glory puts the poet's skill to shame thou shalt sweep the desert like a blasting flame strong and righteous wrath and rudderly arrayed death unfailing death cleaves to thy falchian's blade see where now with panting breast and kindling eye to the natural room hand link in hand they high o the blossoms love sweet flame shall ripen there when to land a little room hand in hand they high o the blossoms love sweet flame shall ripen there when to the last, to stem so stalwart nestled rose so fair on with song and dance ye maidens and unbind the wreath of lilies woven that in her hair is twined crown her in their stead with hyacinths to be emblems meet of beauty strength fertility

end of part one act five end of part one part two act one of aladdin or the wonderful lamp by adam olenshlager translated by theodore martin this is a librivox recording all librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libravox dot org Part the second, Melpominy. Prologue, Melpominy speaks. Thalia, bright one of the rosy cheeks. Thy lily wan and tragic sister thou hast bidden to this play, except my thanks, for mirth that hath brought sunshine to my soul. Will't thou pursue thy task, and to the clothes, spin out the threads, have been but loosely laid in these fantastic gambles? sister this thou hast not power to do without my aid for never man did all his life long tread on roses no not even the happiest nor ever yet did any child of earth over his playthings trip into the grave two swarthy shadows shall in season do upon the far horizon rear their heads and cloud thy glad creation with their gloom then thou defenceless shepherdess shalt need my vener vengeful sword, and atropos the old must join her aid to ours, and with her shears cut through

the raveled skein of destiny. That she who rules the warp and wolf of time may this her motley broidery complete. Agreed, then hand in hand we travel on. Thou to a joyful issue I foresee wilt bring thy hero's fate, through brief eclipse of night, that morning with a rosier bloom may break new risen through the parting clouds. I see that thou wilt strew thy quips as thick, as stars along the dusky firmament, and that thy love, more brightly than the moon, shall shine around him wheresoever he goes, and be a lamp and glory to his feet. Still shall this struggle, this stern conflict, pass in tragic action. Blood, not roses, die, the track of his perplexed and perilous steps. Therefore, most meet it is, Malpominy should high on spear the ample shield upraise, which she thy hero means to guard

withal. Her sacred name aflame on its black field, as blazon of the trophy to ensue. Act first, the great hall in Aladdin's palace. Day, a number of the sultan's workmen at work, completing a window. Was ever man in such a strait, I sink beneath the heavy weight, a month has slipped away, and still I'm at the bottom of the hill. We never, never shall achieve, this plaguey window, I believe. Confound it! Here the Sultan and his son-in-law are close at hand. Back from the war, where they have crushed the foe, in gory silence hushed, the rebels thickly strew the plain, and all his peace and joy again. Aladdin, with his good sword came, and carved away to deathless fame.

He has, I'd swear, however, screened, some private dealings with the fiend, else how should he, a tailor's brat, display such fortitude as that? Or such a wondrous structure rear, as this colossal palace here? With windows in it too like these, that leave me not one moment's ease,

and all my skill at mockery set, Green serpentine, how shall I get? It is scarce and precious stone, and hard to come by even when known. I sent to C.K. all around, but it was nowhere to be found. Nothing we want us to be had, tis quiet enough to drive one mad. What can we do for granite say, when we had nothing else but clay? One plan alone I could suggest, and hope you think I've done my best. A smoothest stone I've made the wall of stock up pounded, fine and small.

These as the painter oiled and bright, the green and brown you see unite. Twelve paths for Mabu, though I fear, that people must not look too near. Still, if you do not like it, we can pull it down quite easily. For those one great advantages, chalk as or a stone that walls like this, are easier to run and they steal easier at to take away. I must be patient, friend, and where no marble is with plaster bare. But out of stucco say, will you make gems and such like matters too? First Lord of the Treasury enters.

Look at these precious stones, how fine. There is a choicer from the mine. We'll decorate this window now, most admirably for i vow alladin has no finer none see how they sparkle in the sun of every sheen of every sheep apple and berry plum and grape i know them well they are the same which from the prince aladdin came those by his slaves the eighty cent and like all his most excellent but they are excellent but they are not enough by much, and where shall we find others such? Court Jew enters. Here be some gems of every hue.

They are a trifle small, tis true, but see their fire, how delicate. I sold them at a costly rate. The Sultan paid me for them well, and so just right to make them tell. They're not so large as these, but lies all beauty, then alone in size. And if they're not so brilliant, why, they're in much better time. taste, say I. Go, too, you gabble like a goose. How can I turn such pips to use?

They can avail as little here, as paste or tinsel. That is clear. Oh, sir, the stones are really fine. I would that they again were mine. And what would you do with them, then? Do. Sell them when I could again. Use them, I must, poor though they be.

Where shall I find gold presently? For that your labour shall not slack. brimble of gold as yonder sack the sultan sealed with his own hand and sent a mandate through the land that all his subjects east and west who were of gold in store possessed should hither bring their yellow oar this wounded many to the core and thence the great rebellion rose of which we just have seen the close for though men love their king they will be fonder of their money still But here it is, no matter how, and ready at your service now. You've drained the nation great and small, yet this won't finish half the wall. The Sultan can't complain if this attempt of ours turn out amiss. Where not is, fools even understand.

The Sultan forfeits his command, but statues we must have a pair, to set within the niches there, carved curiously like those that grace the other windows of the place. Well, here comes a sculptor hot and steaming, the moisture from his forehead streaming, two figures on a truck he brings, no doubt they're quite surpassing things, all swayed in linen they repose, like babies in their swaddling clothes. I've labored like a Pacman's ass, Zounds, things are at a pretty pass. When I, a man of such fine power, must carve and chisel hour on hour.

I've hewn and chipped till I'm half dead. What will a man not do for bread? But I've so thriven in my attempt. I vow my mother never dreamt, she would the happy author be, of such a gifted soul as me. What a strange thing is genius now. It comes, tis here. we know not how, as in to view a comet strays, and sets the welkin in a blaze.

Enough, what is it you have brought? A masterpiece of skill and thought, two copies find beyond compare of the most exquisite gulner. Two copies, two, good sir and why. For reasons good you may rely. How easily passed all belief a sculptor's work. A sculptor's works may come to grief. So against the risk of such a fate, tis well to have a duplicate. Grant me this much. Of course you will. Yet there's another reason still. I had too little time.

The two, in one night, I was forced to hue. And so I had to carve them both upon the self-same lines, in troth. Had longer space been given, I should have carved Aladdin too. in wood. Your tongue's expert, and now to see if as expert your fingers be. Uncovers the statues. What have we here, ye heavenly hosts, Galnaris indeed, a pair of ghosts. No trace of her is here, I'm sure. Here all, sir, is in miniature. So must her charms diminish to be that all may tone in harmony. Tone? Harmony? You're crazy. down right. Your beauty is a perfect fright. All goes from bad to worse. Ah, me! What I'm to do! I cannot see! The window is a botch, a vast bungle and daub from first to last.

Trumpets! Hark! The sound fills my soul with awe. The Sultan with his son of all! Aladdin's Palace, the Great Hall. The window is finished. Solomon, and Aladdin, with their suite, equipped for the chase. Golnar and her nurse. I never hope for such a blithe old age, although with joy familiar all my days, a prince by blood and destined for the throne.

What shall I most admire in thee, my son? Wealth hast thou, wisdom, love, a lion heart, and such a power as ne'er before was man's. Where shall we find a house, like this of thine? "'Twas well that window was left incomplete, "'that I might learn to prize the glorious work "'by proving my own incapacity. "'Thou, in a night, didst the whole fabric rear.

"'Yet, in a month, my best artificers "'could not so much as finish this one window. "'A word from thee, and there it stands, complete. "'Thay saw it as scattered my vene, rebellious subjects, and taught them due submission. Yet hast thou given back twofold to every man of them the gold I levied, in the idle hope to execute the promise I had made about this single window. And my daughter!

How tenderly thou lovest her! To me thou art the best of sons. Gulnar is right in calling thee a cherub. To my realm thou art like him. "'whus Faltzion guarded Eden. "'Let us away, my son, "'the hunting-horn with cheery summons "'calls us to the glade.

"'I've appointed there some childish sport, "'for he, that quills a rebel hoard, "'so soon, must deem it babies' play to hunt the tiger. "'Gulnare, my darling, for brief space, farewell.' "'Belved father, oh, my darling, lord, "'leave the fell tiger free to range the tiger free to range the forest, and do not rashly give him cause to rend the best of hearts in his infuriate rage. How womanly and tender are thy fears? But what becomes thee as a woman? We must poise with what

becomes us as men, and that is, to be flattered by thy fears, but not to share them. Sweet, farewell. And when wilt thou return? In two days, love, supposing the fell tiger rends me not. Thou triflest with my fears. I joy in them, and know thou loves the fearlessness in me. Kisses her. Farewell, my bride. We soon shall meet again. Exit Aladdin, Solomon, and Sweet. That's pretty tenderness, to go and leave his youthful wife so calmly.

Silence, nurse, thinkest thou I'd love a pulling shepherd boy? Man's greatest charm is courage. pride, adventure, for these are but the consciousness of power. I do not love your silk and smooth gallants. It never yet vexed a brave woman's heart, if in the play of lips a sturdy beard brushed her cheek somewhat roughly. Thou art right. A weakling ne'er made a good lover yet, and beard on chin is ever sure to win. Time was, I've pined for such a bade myself. Exit Street

Noredin Yes, yes Tis to the lamp he owes it all The palace is its work And it's alone And it lies yonder Tis not at the chase with its possessor Tis in the great hall

Thrust he thrust heedlessly behind a marble pillar. This much I had deciphered by my art. Success, I hope, will crown the plan I've framed. Fails it, I'll straight assay some new device. Here dwells a coppersmith. I need his aid. Knox.

Coppersmith enters from the house. A stranger? Oh, good day. Your service. sir. Pray, is your visit kindly meant for me? Master, it is. Well, that is truly kind. Will you allow me just one question? Are you come to the friend or to the coppersmith? The 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 goodworthy, sir, don't be alarmed. I will not run you hard. but who forgive my asking could have told you the arum scarum 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 or more but shower and shine have licked his face as clean as my cat licks the platter ha ha ha you see sir i have fancies i'm a poet and can make similes with cat and platter ha ha ha but make your mind quite easy i've a higher genius still for

smithy work. Who was it now directed you to me? No one. The people in the 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 waist, 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 copper smith aside a cunning dog aloud my very worthy sir it is not i i am as mum's a mouse but the infernal copper is always shrieking as though it felt a clasp-knife at its throat, and I may thump it from dawn till dark,

yet never can I make it hold its peace. You really should try, by reason's force, to bring it into ways more orderly, and let it go unthumped. Such treatment, sir, we Asiatics do not understand. I'll wager now, were I to take your counsel, it would be ray itself with verdant gall and ten to one go fair to poison folks who chance to finger it now my dear sir copper and woman kind must both have blows as polished boots must daily well be blacked if you'd have leather pliant curry it well but now to business wherein can i serve you you'd marry 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 grieves as well as pots and kettles worthy, sir. Who makes the one can make the other two? I wish to have a dozen copper lamps. "'Sh, speak low, sir, and 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 show you lamps, give better light eye "'than the planets and the stars in heaven.' "'Is this the way?' "'All right. "'Straithforward, sir,

mind the step there so and do not soil your captain with the wall smithy's will smoke now this way mind you do not bump your head against the beam and now sir straight along exit gulnar's chamber evening towards sunset gulnar seated at the open window with a lute singing Feasures ringing, singing strains of joy the clearest, dearest friend, and thus my sadness, charm through gladness into slumber, and with hopes in golden number, chase my haunting fears away. Oh, how sweet the daylight closes, Toses tipped with fire are glowing Flowing wheels are sparkling beaming Stars are gleaming in the fountain From their mountain height descending

There in fond communion blending List in rapture to thy lay Sing the passion sweet that fill me, Thrill me voice with string resounding, Bounding heart thy tale, I'll listen, Whilst love's torches glisten, sparkle, Each's evening shadows darkle, Sing what each of love has no,

cozy evening glimmer dimmer grow the flowers and dusky musky odour sweet are rising dies in size the booboole singing be jock and ringing love sweet praise in dulcet tone oh what foreboding my bosom is looting whence cometh this anguish heart why dost thou languish anchor i see thee fell monster beneath thee the swart all o'er ha is it wet with gore hell vision drear foolish one have no fear ah no still faster they fall enter guernard's nurse laughing ha ha ha ha well i am past my prime and many things i've seen is that a thing to laugh at no to weep for child but this is not the reason reason why I laugh. No, no, tis something so ridiculous. I never laughed in all my life before with better cause. What is it? It is a thing to make folks in their senses weep. Lord, Lord, the

miserable devil, tis really hard to lose one's wit so utterly as this. A sorry case indeed, so prithee take good care to keep your own. What is the matter? There's a man down there in the marketplace, carries a basket full of fine new lamps. The prettiest copper lamps were ever seen, ha ha ha, ha, and he is selling them. Well, I see nothing mad in that as yet. Patience, my child. To sell I grant you is not madness. Nay, tis excellent good sense, when one can turn a profit by one's wares. But what now would you fancy? The old ass is asking for a lamp in exchange. I cannot say. An old, a rusty one.

How? Want to get an old lamp for a new? Now isn't it a thing to make one split? Nonsense, you have misunderstood the man. Not understand him? Wait, see. Here he comes. He's right beneath the window. Listen. Hark, judge for yourself if you mistrust my ears. "'Norredin is heard calling in the street. "'No lamps for old ones. We'll buy.' "'Now then what say you?

"'He tis very plain. "'In old lamps only traffics, not in new. "'As I'm a sinner, tis the craziest wretch that walks the earth. "'With what a haughty air he looks about, "'what cunning in his eye, "'as though he thought his law was sure to take. "'Dear, dear, dear. Heaven pity the unhappy wretch.

Do you observe how he keeps ogling us? As though he meant to say, Now won't you buy? My daughter I have a notion in my head. Two days ago I spied in the Great Hall, a battered old black rusty copper lamp, lying behind a pillar out of sight. Some slave most probably had left it there.

What say you? Shall I send a servant straight into the street to sell it to this fool. I'm dying to make sure if he's in earnest, or only playing off some paltry hoax. You've no objection, have you, Lady Bird? Goulnar, looking out. Tis very odd. There, sure enough, he stands, and freely gives new lamps away for old. He sees us now, holds up his lamps to us, making them glean and glitter in the sun. They're really pretty things, these copper lamps. I have a great mind to have one of them. Do, darling, do. It would be glorious. They are so neat and quite as bright as gold.

A lamp like that is most convenient. A lamp like that. Away and get one of them. Exit nurse. There's something in the features of the man that I should know. He has a gloomy look. Poor soul. How could he well look otherwise? His brain. is crazed, that's easy to be seen. And yet, ah, I'm a child, a very child. Nurse returns. I have dispatched a slave into the street with the old rusty lamp. Oh, tell me, Nurse, does it not strike you that this crazy wretch resembles very strongly someone else whose features are familiar to you? No, you know I live a very private life, and to the madhouse I have never been. There,

doubtless, there'd be many quite as bad. Do you remember, Nurse, the pretty tale Aladdin told us once about the boy, whom the magician wickedly contrived to shut within the cave when he refused to give him up the treasure he had found there? I only heard the first part of the tale. The fact is that when anyone begins a doleful story, I go fast asleep, else weep I must. I have a tender heart and cannot bear to have my feelings racked.

But what should bring this tale into your head? You know that even from childhood, every tale I heard became as real to my mind as it had passed before my eyes. The people appeared like the acquaintances of years, the place, a spot I had myself explored. Thus, in that boy I evermore have seen no other than Aladdin. The magician I've pictured to myself,

and is it not strange, the image, which my fancy fashioned bears a marvelous resemblance to this man. Accident, pure accidents, my precious pet. A simple trick of fancy take my word. But hush, the slave approaches with the lamp. Ha, now the comedy begins indeed. See, what delight is sparkling in his eyes, the stupid dalt. We cannot be too grateful that all our faculties are spared to us.

Just look, he lets the slave. slave choose which he will. Oh, if he'd only take that little one. He takes the biggest. Abu, oh, you dunce, why didn't you pick out the smallest? Fool. Well, well, it doesn't signify. The big one is very pretty, and a well-sized lamp burns better than a small one all the night. Look there, the bargain struck, and the poor fool turns up the street among the little boys. He looks nor left nor right, but holds straight on, for all the world as if he's found a prize. He turns the corner. Now he's out of sight. Looks at the princess.

Good gracious me, my child. Whatever ails you? You tremble and look pale. Alas, dear nurse, I feel a sudden sinking at the heart, a strange misgiving. Wait, my sweetest, wait. I'll fetch the camphor mixture. instantly. Aside as she goes off. The pretty darling. Here be signs indeed. Well, all is as it should be. They are young. She is a handsome woman. He a man. None of your saladins to freeze and quake all night upon the house top. Ah, young rogue, could I have ever dreamt such things of you when I have seen you with your toys at play? Well, tis the course of nature.

every age has its peculiar toys to play with all. Exit. Goulnar seats herself at the window, and, leaning her head upon her hand, gazing out upon the landscape. The sun has scarcely set behind the wood and see where shines the moon, a fiery red. The evening roses ginned to droop and pale,

and the cold night wind moans among the trees. From the horizon clouds are rising fast, and all the arch of heaven grows sad and drear. A funeral vault there through a broken wall of rifted clouds, the sickly moonbeam shine. The beautiful glad lamp of day has sunk. Darkness doth shroud the world as with a pall, and from their lairs do noisome serpents crawl.

Falls into a reverie. The open country, night, storm and rain, noureddin with the lamp in his hand i have it joy i have it here it is tis here here in my right hand fast and sure pale star i do not fear to show it thee thy seat is far too high and far too fixed for thee to come and rob me of my prize behold then star look from thy patch o blue thou only orb in all the vast of heaven, here is the lamp. This poor green copper thing, which in my hand I clutch with nervous gripe, lest I should lose it like that heedless fool. Tis night, midnight, and gloomy as the grave.

Nature herself has aided me, and donned her blackest mantle to obscure my course from every eye. Courage, then, Norreddin. I quake in very terror of my power. Should this not be the true lamp after all? The doubt sends a cold shiver through my bones. Looks round. Am I alone?

Alone, as Adam was in paradise, when all the world as yet was subject to his way. Now, for the proof. the lamp. The spirit appears and says in a loud voice, Scour not with such force and fury, I am here at thy command. Swiftly speed I when thou callest, swiftly as the lightning's brand. Every spirit of the earth, too, eager is, nor I alone, thy behest the lamp's great master, to fulfill as soon as known. Nareden drops the lamp in a fright. The spirit vanishes. He lifts it again and says,

Stay, stay. Again I grasp it. Stay. Spirit reappears. I stay. Aren't thou the famous slave that serves the ring? Not famous, no, a mystery. Dear Jin, I'm so confused. I know not what I say. Canst thou procure me whatsoevere I wish? Thou hast hurt so. Thou speakest little. Act the more. If, for example, I should be so bold as order, Don't be angry, I but ask.

An asking certainly is not a crime. If, for example, I should be so bold as order you to carry off myself, Aladdin's palace, bride, and everything that is within the palace at this moment into the wilds of Ethiopia? I'd execute thy wish without a word. So easily? As the hyena gulps its prey. In the lamp's power, thy duty then fulfill. More swiftly than thy thoughts can fly, I will.

Vanishes with Nareden. End of Part 2, Act 1 Part 2, Act 2 of Aladdin or The Wonderful Lamp by Adam Olenshager, translated by Theodore Martin. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 2, The Sultan's Palace. Morning The Sultan rises from his couch. "'It is a lovely morning.

Yes, Aladdin, I would not take your word, but you were right. Another day you'd lingered for the chase, but the impending rain-clouds drove me home. I wonder if my daughter yet is risen. Dear usage ever as I quit my couch to seek my window, and receive the greeting of my dear children near palace there, It nerves me for the labours of the day. Advances to the window and looks out. How? What?

Good heavens! Can I be still asleep? Still dreaming? Allah! Have I lost my sight? Yet, mighty Muhammad, I see all else around me plain enough. There stands my bed. Here is the window. Here the street, and there are the houses.

But, in heaven's name, where's a room? Where's Aladdin's palace? Where, my daughter? Where? Calls out. Enter the officer on guard. Oh, Kaysam. Answer quickly.

Where, my son, where stands my bed? Thy bed, most potent king? I said, my bed. Did you not hear me, sir? Tis there. Now tell me where the window is. There, most sage sultan. Now, the garden plots.

The garden plots? Yes, yes, the garden plots. Qasem aside. Ah, Persia's Sultan sure has lost his wits. Allowed. There, mighty Sultan. Excellent, but as you know all things and my questions tickle you, pray show me something bigger than all these.

Where stands, Aladdin's palace? Gassim points out of the window without looking. There, my lord. Where? Gives him a box on the ear with such vehemence as to cause him to spin around. Please to turn your precious head about. There, ha, most potent. Where's the palacee, thou oister-headed knave?

Heaven only knows. But yesterday twas there? That's not the point. You, bid the vizier come to me at once. He came into the palace even now. Tis his accustomed time. See, here he comes. Enter vizier, exit Kisim.

Vizier. Illustrious Sultan, are you ill? What ails the gracious majesty of Persia? Your face is flushed, your eyes are rolling wild. So then you two are ignorant, what is chanced? Did you not pass Aladdin's palace, eh? Yes, mighty sultan, as I always do, whenever my duty calls me to your throne.

And you saw nothing? "'Nothing, oh good, my lord.' "'I'm Mecca and Medina. You are right. There is not even a fragment to be seen. "'What I meant was, did you not observe some most uncommon change there as you passed?' "'To speak the simple truth, my noble liege, when I am on my way to the divan, "'I have so many matters in my head. I neither cast my eyes to left nor right. for fear I should be hindered or distracted. And what is more?

You know, my gracious Lord, that in your eyes the palace was a thorn? Well, well, the thorns extracted now, my friend. And, as a proof, you see much further now, with your cured optics than you did before. You could not see beyond the palace once. Now you may gaze for miles and miles beyond. "'Ha!

"'Well, didst ever see so mad a freak?' "'So mad? "'Why, yes, my noble liegean sultan, "'undoubtedly I have, and so have you.' "'How? I?' "'When first you saw the palace there, "'was that one jot more comprehensible, "'than its evaporation is to-day.

"'Now I may speak. I'm not the least surprised. This turn is of a peace with all the rest. Aladdin's a magician, that is clear. A vile magician, sire, who envied me my great good fortune, so betrayed my son, cruelly robbed him of his wife's affections, with his enchantments dazzled you, and one your daughter. Now his appetite is cloyed, and so the magic fabric melts in air. Oh, Allah, Allah, oh, my daughter, oh! A heavy blow, indeed.

My daughter, oh. Has she then vanished, too? Hold's gone, my daughter, my darling child would now, my heart's delight. This is a sight to touch one to the quick. The mighty majesty of Persia tears the hair in maddened anguish from his beard, weeps tears in torrents like a child,

and flings himself like any slave upon the ground. O miscreant, where, where hast thou hid her? Where? Ah, it was for this the traitor wished to hunt another day, And now he has escaped. Who knows? We'll leave no single stone unturned. I will dispatch a troop of soldiers straight

To hunt the forest thickets through and through, And if they find him, they shall drag the wretch, bound hand and foot before your majesty. If he be found, no, he will not be found, but if he be, and shall not instantly confess where he has hid my daughter, bind the traitor, and conduct him to the scaffold, there let his cative blood the vengeance cool that now is burning in my father's breast. Exit Vizier hastily A shady dell in the forest. Aladdin discovered asleep on the sward, under a huge, tree near a book. Lympha, a little fairy, clad in azure, comes down the brook, sailing upon a large leaf, with a water-lily

in her hand, and sings. I charge thee, O streamlet that softly thou tinkle, with many a gleamlet, thy bright waters twinkle, through flower and through creeper, steal gently and slow, and dreams to yon sleeper, of loveliness show Go dimpling and wimpling By moss and by stone And I will caress thee And make thee my own

Sweet gentle and lustrous I'll love thee and prize thee But foaming and blestrous I'll quickly chastise thee Strikes the water menacingly with her flower Zephyr, a little boy comes riding through the air on a rose-leaf in a robe of silver tissue. Sasa, hark away, by night and by day,

Over mountain and mead, my meddlesome steed, And fill all the air, with an odor most rare, Down dale and uphill, sweep onward at will, Over mountain and plain, I give you full rain, How it bounds, how it springs, a phico for wings, It circles and swerves, and eddies and curves, more fleet and more airy than ever was car. Ah, look at yon fairy. She's bright as a star, a shade or so paler, but sweeter by far. That beautiful sailor, her love it were bliss, on steeds soft and sleek, from her balm breathing cheek.

Let us rifle a kiss. Steals behind lympha and kisses her. of fear thou knave with shield and with glaive in gorgeous attire through bush and through briar whilst thy trumpeter small when shrilly his call o'er brake and o'er forest and cornfield thou sorest a feat to fulfil which a hero might vaunt thus thief like to steal to my watery haunt rare chivalry this to shame a poor girl to ravish a kiss o pitiful churl of the spring. Why, limba, repel me, be gracious and gay. Why seekest thou tell me, the water today? Tush where could I be half so blessed, foolish boy? The water to me is a cradle and joy.

Then turn, sweet to me, be kind to my sighing. Observes Aladdin and speak softly. What man can it be? On the grass there is lying. The gallant is night, in peace or in fun, "'Tis for this I am here, "'to whisper the stream that it come not too near "'to the slumberer's dream,

"'that it sing a low song as it winds by its ledges "'and sparkling along through the rushes and satches, "'whisper softly and mild a slumber, my child.' "'Do, Limpa, do try, thou ever art good. "'No longer will I, on thy silence intrude, "'with a hush even deeper, so thou but approve, I'll play around the sleeper and warily move, And freshness and fragrance shall fan and caress him,

And with their sweet vagrants, shall cool and shall bless him. Rides off and flutter several times over Aladdin. In his eagerness he makes a false movement, Comes in contact with the sleeper's nose, And is knocked from his horse. Aladdin moves in his sleep. All my purpose you mar, fine care you have taken. How awkward you are!

See Aladdin doth waken. Ah, Limbao, my queen, would I never had tried? Away from the greenwood now swiftly I glide. Sails away, Zephyr, looking after her with tears in his eyes. Again am I humbled. Well, can I complain? I have tripped and have stumbled, and blundered again. What have they not lost me, these mad pranks of mine?

What tears have they cost me? would heartache and pine. Intent to assudge her, I vowed to amend, to be wiser and sager, and never to offend. But the vow scarce was taken, ere I erred as at first. Looks at Aladdin. Yes, and sooth he doth wakened. O stumble accursed.

Goes off dejectedly. Aladdin rises and looks round him. Oh, lovely morning. How the dawning light Through the green branches breaking Cheers my soul Fatigue has vanished with the shades of night And with new life the sunshine fills my veins

How freshly gleams the dew upon the grass This little rose-leaf presses on my cheek It tickles me as though it meant to say My friend sleeps longer than tis meat he should Thanks for thy homage Thou sweet silvery brook thy cradle-song has loved me into sleep. What beauty meets my gaze, where'er I turn.

Oh, if thou too wert here, my darling bride, then were this flowery galaxy complete. But now amidst all its wealth I feel a void. Without thee, everything looks cold and sad, As looks a coronel without a rose. Falls into a reverie. How happy am I? This delightful morning, so bright and tranquil, gently laps my soul in joyful contemplation of its bliss.

How bountiously has fate Tain thought for me! The husband of the fairest, best of women, lord of a wondrous power, which at a word fulfils my every wish without demure. The sultan's son-in-law, sultan to be, strong, not uncomely, healthy, sage and bold. How in this blessed hour of dawn I feel all the luxuriance of my youthful life. Tis many a day since I have prayed to God.

Ah, in the whirl of sublunary joys, the heedless heart is little apt to turn to the great source of all. Thou noiseless wood, ye verdant avenues, ye dark brown trunks, that are the almighty's worthiest, blest shrine. Here do I kneel. O Holy Father, look into my heart. I can but weep, yet thou scorns not the meanest of thy children's tears. Enter the Sultan's guard, who, observing Aladdin, close upon him, and are about to manacle him, Aladdin springs to his feet and draws his sword.

Ha? What is this? Back robbers, fierce scum! In us behold the sultan's bodyguard What would you? In accordance with his orders Bear you away in chains Here and obey Tell me what I have done That thou shalt hear

And where would you convey me To the scaffold They lead him off Zephyr advances in dismay Ah Limpah Limpah Limpah

Saffir Zephyr Didst hear the sad catastrophe My fast-falling tears, canst thou not see? Ah, these mortals, what surest they are! But wait, by Allah's seats of bliss, They shall pay, and dearly too, for this. I'll get me homeward, and swiftly afar.

Over wood and overture it my course I'll hold. Till I come to my father, the storm went old. He shall start from his slumber, and wild with our, shall bind to his chariot his steeds of fire, with nostrils wide and with streaming main, they shall course through the welkin, a wondrous train. He shall don his storm-cap and shriek command, with a club gigantic in either hand.

Thus shall he avenge this ill-starred right on the tyrant's realm with a tyrant's might. Ah, how I tremble, alas the day, But wait vile sultan, I'll punish thee. Since thou art so cruel, I'll post away, To my mother that loves me, the salt-salt sea. She shall dash on the foaming strand And spread disaster on every hand.

She shall rage, and your argazes shall be rent and shent on the ruthless seas. The hardiest mariners' hearts shall quail, At the scud and the strain of the seeding gale, she shall scatter the wreck With a laugh of scorn As thy ships by the surges Are wrecked and torn Tossing about on the tumbling sea

To avenge my friend And to punish thee A dungeon Aladdin chained with heavy fetters To a stone Almighty God Is this a dream? A dream?

Yes, yes it is a dream I slumber still Among the wild flowers and yorn shady wood. The vision fair of Zephyr and the brook has shifted to a dismal tragedy. It is a dream, a phantasm of the clouds.

Whereas some light wind stirs, the shepherdess becomes a fiery dragon, belching flame, the tree, a giant with arm raised to strike. Death watch in a crevice of the wall. Pai, pie, pie, nara shout that go free. Who was it so?

spoke, tis the death watch. Again. Pai, pie, never shall thou go free. Is this the only carol thou hast learned, thou hermit small, who in the loneliness of crumbling gaps and crazy masonry sings but of death, corruption, and decay? Pai, pie, pie, never shall thou go free. Too true. thou speaks with so assured a voice, I must believe thy words, do what I may.

Prophet of evil, hourglass of grim death, who hath sent thee to my dungeon here to torture me with thy funereal song? Pai! Pye! Thou shalt never go free. It cannot change its note, though feign it would. It is but a sound, a beating of its. its mouth, as they who watch such creatures well have shown. Pie, pie is all that sings. The ne'er go free is but the addition which my fancy makes.

Tis I that hear these words. It sings them or not. Thou shalt ne'er go free. Ha! Insect, there again! What dost thou think with a mere word to scatter to the winds the faith of my assured conviction? Pye! How it be! hope has abandoned me.

This brief, reiterated warning song has struck all nerve and manhood from my heart and filled the void with paralytic fears. Yes, it is clear. It must. It must be so. The enchanter now is master of the lamp. Not but itself could its own work undo.

Ha! heedlessness, thou damned serpent, who drove Adam from his parents, of your, thou art the marr of all earthly bliss, thou art the real fiend, the temptor thou, who sowest the seeds of mischief in good hearts, and diggest pitfalls, Satan-like for health, virtue and happiness, that so mankind drops unawares into the pit of hell. There am I now, through thee, through thee alone. How darkly do these cramped walls close me in And hark the tempest shrieking

As it beats against the turret walls Tis midnight now Night Night, night, oh God And I must dread the dawn The glorious dawn For which all earth doth yearn Beneath whose kiss men's eyes

The dreaming flowers Ope to be blessed scares me alone alone, it brings life to all other men, but death to me. The moon breaks through a cloud and shines into the prism. Grews it so bright. Now day begins to break. Now comes the headsman. No, it was the moon.

Why com'st thou to me, thou smiling ghost? Is it to tell me, I am not the first, upon whose wan and blood-forsaking cheeks thou hast looked down the night before his death, as he lay jived upon his couch of stone, and wished for wings to bear him far away, where hungry acts yearned not for morning's light to cleave the head from his poor bleeding trunk. Is it to tell me that tomorrow night thou wilt salute my head upon the stake? Thou cruel moon, grim phantom of the night! How often hast thou bent with smile divine as on the bosom of my bride I lay, And nightingales from dusky groves hard by,

Did voice our mute felicity in song. Then, then I called thee good and fair and kind, And yet thy cold, remorseless cruelty, Thy silent, savage hate are measureless. Thy visage wears the same indifferent smile For rack and gibbet as for myrtle groves. Thy selfsame ray That beamed upon my bliss

And kissed the couch of innocence and love Have smiled on the assassin's gory blade And churchyard stones That not more heavily weighed down the lifeless dust Than doth despair those that are left to mourn And comst thou now to mock me in the hour of my distress Hence pallid ghoul Disturb not the repose of innocence in the hour

when it must die. The moon is obscured by clouds. By heaven she flies. She hides her pallid face behind the fleecy silver clouds. In grief, as doth an innocent girl her blushing cheeks, when she would smother up behind her veil the tears wrung from her by ungentleness. Oh, if my hasty words have done thee wrong, thou guiltless moon, forgive me. Oh, forgive me!

I am so very wretched What I say And do I know not I am guiltless too Yet must I suffer Guiltless I must die But see What tiny ray breaks brightly in

Like an ethereal finger From the cloud and points to Yon great spider as he sits Right in the centre of his airy web And calm content in full serenity My web so rarely twinned with threats so fine and small, the very faintest breath of wind

can straight undo it all. And yet, though frail and slight, and mainly how'd it be, it symbolizes Allah's might and comfort hath for sea. As in the moonbeam, I, since God, amid the blaze of endless light,

and from on high the universe surveys. His threads through earthen hair, still in and out, he waves, and even the tiniest thread his care, not unregarded, liars. Ha, spider, strong in simple piety, far better comforter than dervish thou. His threads in wisdom out and in he weaves, nor even the tiniest unregarded leaves. Now doth he call me back into his care.

Shall I then curse my fate? Shall I despair? No, welcome death. Though cold and gaunt thou come. Thou only leads me to my father's home. Throws himself on his knees and sings with a loud joyful voice. Should my death a trembling dread awaken? No, such weak and craven,

here I scorn. If the night by storms be shaken, doubly radiant breaks the morn, death in me no terror shall awaken. God hath made immortality my dower, because that he himself immortal is. And my best life shares his power. In him lies my purest bliss. God hath made immortality my dower. My lifeblood shall be dried up at its sources, and my flesh be preyed on by the worm. But my soul's undying forces shall not perish in the storm, shall not dry up like my lifeblood sources. Death and ruin to no fears can win me. They can never cloud my soul with gloom. All that's best and noblest in me is not bondsman to the tomb. Death and ruin to no fears can win. me. Oh, how often have I found them languish, droop and die, Earth's hopes in bliss's

vein. Through the strife of pain and anguish, we the better life attain. Better life. No longer shall I languish. Man's true friend on earth is death. He brightens the celestial light within our souls, all our griefs and burdens lightens, scares the wicked and controls. death, man's only friend, his pathway brightens. That we may not live in mere sensations, creatures of the passing hour, he brings tears and heavenward aspirations, takes our dearest earthly things, he up lifts us over base sensations.

Come, whene'er thou pleasest with thy sickle, thou fell reaper, fleshless phantom old. I am not so frail or fickle as to dread thy, death grip cold. No, I do not fear thy flashing sickle. Shall my father in yon heaven forsake me, when my eye in life's last throes grows dim, in my death and outcast make me, who in life was bound to him? No, my God, thou wilt not then forsake me. Stretches himself calmly upon his palate and falls asleep. The place of execution.

The Sultan seated, with his viziers and courtiers, upon an elevated platform, a crowd of spectators, the headsmen and his assistants. By heaven, my people, ye, the world knows well I am no tiger, do not thirst for blood,

but just as ever will have blood for blood, and my own blood is nearer, to my heart. Unari, my child, sweet Lily, who can tell by what fell purpose thou hast fallen a prey.

Yes, by Almighty Allah and his prophet, I am a tiger when I think of this. Bring forth the criminal. See, here he comes. Enter Aladdin,

surrounded by the guard, his mother following. Captain of the Guard to Morgiana, You cannot follow further. Get ye gone. Oh, God, my son, and must I leave thee now? We soon shall meet again. Morgiana bursts into tears and embraces him.

Yes, very soon. Already near the mosque outside the walls, where, as a boy you liked so well to play, have bespoke to graves beside your fathers. Mine on his right hand, yours upon his left. How? Buried? He? No, bound upon the wheel, a dainty tidbit for the birds of heaven. The birds of heaven? Oh, thou ill-omened bird, thinks thou heaven's birds are murderous like you? No, no, the little kindly gentle things, so pure, so full of piety that they are ever soaring up from earth to heaven, how should they do a hurt to innocence? Hence, woman?

She swoons and is carried away. My poor old mother, go thy way in peace. Simple thou wert, but ever good and true, and ever loved me with a mother's love. All that thou crits thou didst from me all way, and span of nights that I by day might eat. Alas, alas, small comfort have I been to thee, your mother. Thou didst ever think my happiness would come to doleful end. So hath

proved. O suffering prophetess, God be thy stay. In heaven will meet again. Neals upon the sand. I've nothing now to bind me to the world except my love. But thou, O holy love, thou art immortal as the eternal soul. My loved one, I shall find her yet. But here, Here I have lost you through my heedlessness. So let my lifeblood flow. To the headsman. Come, do thy duty. First, I must bind this kerchief on your eyes.

No need of that. Free let me have my eyes, that the immortal soul may freely pass. I do not fear the light. Quick, do thy duty. Tumult. The crowd presses in. Aladdin's innocent. Let him go free.

Oh, what is that? Aladdin's innocent. The headsman swings his sword above his head and awaits with impatience the signal from the sultan. Aladdin's in his sentence. Let him go free. He is our friend and we will rescue him. Sages in council, boldest in the field, the shield and champion of the oppressed,

the comelyest Persian and the noblest he, and you would kill him. Down, down, down with the guard. to the rescue. Oh, in constant blinded fools, would you then save your Sultan's bitterest foe? No, he is not thy foe, but the new Sheer-Wan, the Grand Vizier,

behead him and thou wilt. He is thy foe, because he is Aladdin's, off with his head, by all means, as we are here to see an execution. Not a man in all the city but will be delighted. Solomon to the Grand Vizier. What say they? O my liege, it is merely clamor, mere inarticulate incensed clamor,

which means, but this, Aladdin shall not die. Ho! Set him free! Aladdin shall not die. To the rescue! Solomon stands up and exclaims, Pardon, to the headsman, Throw away thy sword. My people has pronounced its judgment here, and I cannot withstand the general voice.

Aladdin's pardoned. Malhomet defend the mighty Solomon. Aladdin's pardoned. Vesir, aside to the Sultan. To prison I will have him straight conveyed, and there the righteous sentence execute, which this blind popular fury here prevents. Peace, slave. Go bring Aladdin.

to me here. Aladdin is brought. Not that the people claim it, but because their guilt has not been clearly proved on thee. I grant thee time to prove thy innocence. Thy doings always were mysterious.

This may be nothing but some magic slight, and thou mayest set the whole to rights again. Then, swear to me, by Allah's sacred name, that thou, within the space, of forty days will bring back my daughter and the palace, or, failing this, die by a felon's doom.

O noble sultan, suffer me to speak. Peace! Swear, or die this moment, swear, I say. I swear to thee by Allah's glorious name, that I to thee the palace and Golnir will, in the space of forty days restore, or gladly undergo a felon's doom. Breaks thou this oath Thou't ever more accursed And that curse bears a heavier doom than death

Unloose his fetters He is free to go Exit the Sultan with his sweet The multitude separate The headsman to his assistants A plague upon this tender-heartedness T'was all for nothing That I left my bed to wet my broadsword by the early cock

Confound the knave I've had my toil for naught. If I had only got the Grand Vizier, for lack of better, underneath my blade. But no, the fellow's slippery as an eel. Come, bundle up your tools and start for home. I must be off. I'll have no peace till I've chopped the head off a crowing cock.

I drank this morning Tiger's blood, you know. Blood, I must see, else nothing right will go. Exit. Assistant takes out his breakfast, sings and eats while he packs up his implements. The life of a man is but a span, his passions but a fever. By night and day they boil and play, and whirl him along forever. On every side would air be tied, men wrestle and men wrangle, And though the world be ever so wide, They're sure to clash and jangle. The priest says he,

Why can't you be more well behaved, I wonder? But all his prates can't mend their state, Although he spoke in thunder. Then the headman comes in his cloak of romewark. and to better tune he trips it he lays your unruly rascal dead and his head clean off he whips it at dawn the red blood warm and bright on the scaffold spurts full boldly a cold black stain it lies at night when the moonbeams glitter coldly O man amid your folly's pause And mind what you are doing

For when you're in the headsman's claws Tis a thought too late for ruining This song was by a poor devil made As clever a dog as you'll see now But now there's an end of his rhyming trait for never ahead has he now. Exit. A street. Aladdin in a coarse linen frock knocks at the door of his mother's house.

A strange man comes out. What do you want, friend? Will you tell me pray if the old Mordiana be at home? Aye, that she is, nor like to leave it soon, else I am much out in my reckoning. Why, aiding perhaps? She ails for nothing, sir. I'm very glad of that. I bring her news, important news, and must have speech with her.

I'm grieved to say, then, you have come too late. She's in no state to talk with anyone. Is she within there in her little room? Her little room. Oh, yes. Oh, yes, she's there, but not here in the house. No. Where else, then?

Beneath the Cyprus, in the burial ground. Ah, no. Oh, I understand you. She is dead. And you have bought this cottage recently. Precisely so. Friend, would you be so kind as let me for a moment see the room she lived and died in? Very willingly. You'll find it just as twas a week ago. All the old furniture, down to her spindle. I'm let a loss what to do with the things. The crazy bits of sticks are worthless quite, and the old lady has no air.

Her son has forfeited both goods and life. Indeed. It was a hard case hers, the good old soul. She died of downright grief about her son, the good-for-nothing varlet. Aladdin, aside. O most sage, thou pipest thy solemn sentences by rote, in placid ignorance of time and tune. Aloud.

By your permission I would go within. Oh, certainly, but you'll excuse me, friend, from waiting on you. I'm pinched for time and full of business. Pray thee then be gone, and do not waste your time in talking more. Exit into the house. Morgia on his room. Ha! The old spinning wheel is still there.

No more its busy work comes from the corner now. To such an ancient friend a man grows used and feels a strangeness when its clack is dumb. There's still a little wool upon the spindle. I'll do as though my mother's self are here. I'll set me down and spin and sing the while. Sits down, sings, and bursts into tears. No, this will never do. It does not go in the old wanted canons, even and calm.

I turn the wheel too wildly, feverishly. Oh, God, to think this little slender thread twas her hand span it. It is sound and whole Hangs undisturbed, unhurt As when she left it But she, the fate that span it She lies stark With stiffen fingers

Need the cypress tree Oh me There hangs her old silk mantle still Lined with warm flannel Here her slippers Now thou freest mother Through thine aged limbs This house thou never wouldst consent to leave,

nor ever quit thy former way of life. I, vain, presumptuous, aspiring fool brought early ruin on thy gentle, fond, and peaceful nature. Ah, ye strangers, you who shall hereafter occupy this chamber, when you shall hear a clack and wear our knights, be not afraid. It is a faithful, kind, house fairy. Let her turn her humming-wheel, "'Twill harm you not.

"'She was a woman once, "'who for her son's sake, "'spanned the very skin from off her fingers, "'and for her reward he slew her. "'Yes, I slew her. "'Yes, I did.' "'Sits down and weeps. "'There stands her water-pitcher still,

"'and see, a leaf half-withered, "'sticking to the rim. "'That leaf am I. It is a type of me. He gazes for a long while, with wild looks upon the place where the wonderful lamp used to hang, then says with a wandering air, By heaven, there hangs the lamp still on the nail. Springs up and makes a grasp at it.

How? Fancy'st thou I cannot seize thee. Takes a chair, stands upon it, and seizes the nail. Ha! I have thee now. Now thou art mine again. Now will I find Golnair once more. Regain the palace, all my old magnificence, when I have visited my mother's grave.

Comes down from the chair, the owner of the house entering. Well, have you seen, friend, all you wished to see? She was a kinswoman. She was, she was. I would be going. Will you let me take this rusty copper lamp away with me, which is scarcely worth a penny? Lamp, my friend.

I see no lamp. Open your eyes, behold, the lamp is here, here in my right hand. Look, tis, as they say, but rusty trumpery. Sir, I collect such queer old odds and ends, so this lamp to others valueless has a mere fancy value for myself. Indeed, friend, you have nothing in your hand. Aladdin, aside. The lamp has gained this further property that it to strangers is invisible.

Rare, it never can be stolen from me. aloud, placing the imaginary lamp in his bosom. Since you have so posth, I too, believe the lamp is some mere phantom of my brain. A jeer, good sir, and thanks. Pray, let me take this withered leaf from out of a pitcher here. My turban, it shall, as a feather deck. And of a heritage no more, seek eye. Farewell.

Poor soul. He's manifestly mad. Pray take the leaf, good man, and go your ways. Farewell, kind, sir. Have you no greeting none to carry to the age, Morgiana. I'm going to a grave. My compliments. Aside. A madman must be spoken madly, too.

A loud. You must make haste, for just about this time it is her want to rise up from her grave, and walk about a little for her health. Tis bad to lie so constantly one way, it cramps the joints. Most true and wisely spoken, Are you a doctor that you know so much about dead people's health? Not I, my friend. I am a courier.

So too is the doctor. He courieth the hide so fine and soft, The cobbler worm can riddle it easily. Farewell, sir, doctor. Sir, you're most obedient. And as you've curried such a host of calves, I promise you I'll curry you in turn. Night after night, my friend, when I am dead.

Don't give yourself the trouble. Don't I pray. No trouble in the world. None, none. Adieu. Exit. Cemetery. Aladdin, upon his mother's grave. He moves as though he were rocking a cradle and sings.

Sleep, child, in thy flowery bed. Dreams serene and sweet and bomb thee, though no pillow prop thy head, though no cradle rock and comb thee. Hear's thou how the moaning storm What I lost in thee is weeping Marks thou How the charno worm gnaws the couch

Where thou art sleeping All the stars are shining clear Slumber darling to my singing The mezzan dost thou hear From the tower thy death dirge ringing Dost thou hear the bulwis soft Descanst trilling each to other Mother, thou hast rocked me oft. I will rock thee now, my mother. Is thy heart as loving still?

See my suffering and my sorrow. From that elder bow I will, now a pipe to low thee borough. Hark my fluting, how it sank in the chilly march when dying, like the night breeze, through the dank leaves of winter sadly sigh. Ah, I must. I must. be gone, the wind pierces here so sharp and keenly, yet we're better cheer to find, where to house, however meanly. Sleep child in thy flowery bed, dream serene and sweet and bomb thee, though no pillow prop thy head, though no cradle rock and calm thee. Exit. The great square before the palace, Aladdin on the spot where his palace had stood, surrounded by the populace.

Now you shall see. The hour has struck, and now ye ruthus hearts of stone, ye shall not scoff, nor mock at me and jeer me any more, nor pelt me any more with stones in mud. One single little word, but one and low,

there stands my palace once again, and I fold my beloved in transport to my heart. Makes a gesture as if taking something from his breast. Look here, sir. "'Seest thou this old copper lamp?' "'Where, beggar prince?' "'Look to thy manner, sir, and call me not a beggar prince, thou churl. "'I know thee very well.

"'Was it not thou I once encountered in a storm of rain? "'Then thou couldst fling thyself upon thy face, "'that I might set my feet upon thy back, "'and so preserve my slippers from the mud.' "'But times are changed. "'Now by the lamp which here in my right hand I hold aloft to heaven, "'I will chastise thee.' A brave oath.

Has come, that which thou seest not with thy idiot eyes, thou'd not believe. But wait thou, varlet, wait. Rubs. Seest thou the spirit, the spirit of the lamp? Of course we do, as stiff as any post, and carrying the lamp. I mean the lantern. By the lamp's might, I do command thee, slave, to fetch me straight the palace and Golnair. Thereafter this most vulgar knave to seize

And on the lamp post hang him by the heels To the crowd Take care The palace like a blast will come Out of its way or it will crush you all Runs to one side Great laughter Aladdin after waiting a few seconds

Makes a motion as though he were throwing away the lamp Ha! This then was a spurious copper lamp Tretory! Trettery! What slave of ye all has Bacely Rodney of my property. They laugh. Oh, yes, laugh on. Weeping will come betimes.

You fancy vengeance is beyond my power. Snatches up a stone from the pavement and flings it at the mob. Some run away, others make a rush at him. Enter an old man. For shame, for shame. Torment, not the poor youth. Thank God your reason has been spared to you. Hence, to your home, my friend, and no more words.

I will go home immediately, kind, sir. But tis far off. I am a stranger here. Last night I slept within the ruin tower in the lone forest. Can you help me, friend, with a small calculation? Tell me, will you, of forty days, how many will remain if nine and thirty be already spent? Why, only one remains. That's very clear. But one, but only one.

Oh, count again. Perhaps you've made some error in your tale. Are there not three, kind sir? I thought there were. No. Two then, surely, at the very least. I pray you reckon once again. The toil is small.

The issue life or death to me. Just one is left. You cannot make it more. Not make it more. Well, well, God. God's will be done. I have grown use to suffer and endure. But one, that is not much. Is it not so? It's very little, eh? Go home, my friend.

If only one be left, I will go home but times tomorrow morning. But old man, the way is dark, dark. If you wear a lantern which you can lend me, my own lamp's gone out. will guide you. Will he? That is well. With him to guide, no man can miss his home. I thank you for this gracious comfort, sir. Kisses his hand. Say, have you children?

Yes, a son. A son. Alas. Old man, I would it were a daughter. Sons are a heavy trouble. Will not stay beside the quiet earth, but will be bent to plunge in the thinkingly in life. wild stream mid-brawl and storm, and many are sucked down.

Stairs into the sky. We shan't have moonshine, I suppose, tonight. Yes, lovely moonshine, sir. The moon is full. Ah, it is kind of her to leave me not in darkness my last night as here I sit amid the ruins of Persepolis. It has been a great city. Very great. It is now laid low. Everything on earth is doomed to be laid low

It cheers me, though, when on the ruins Plays the wan moon's smile God bless you, friend. For now I must away. Exit There is a goodly fabric overthrown. Exit. A retired spot outside the city Covered with palm trees, near them a brook.

Night. bright moonlight. Aladdin enters wrapped in meditation. What is an oath? A complicated knot, neither by craft nor skill to be unloosed, nor cleft asunder by the sharpest sword, a rope by which the demon's coal-black claws

can drag me down into the jaws of hell. Seats himself on the stump of a tree. By dawn, the meagre remnant of my life will be run out and spent. That sorry dull, Which like a beggar I was fain to take, Which half in anger, half in pity, Late was proudly flung to me. Thou pale-faced moon, That dost divide the hours upon the earth. Why? Why were thou so niggardly to me, thou yellow, livid harpacks? Tell me why? Is that mine ears have lost the power to hear the nightingales of midnight deskant poor?

or that these eyes of mine are dull, opaque, as the dim horn that rounds thy thievish lanthan. Can I no more distinguish Hugh from Hugh? Is mine arm flaccid like an oar-worn bow? The bellows shattered here within my breast, worn out and feeble with its endless toil. Takes out a dagger. And still, what wouldst thou with the healthy flesh?

Thou shalt not set the precious purple stream abroach and wasteful current. Many a day, aye, many a year may it flow peacefully. Thou dark, unyielding mass, Strong o'er that dost like an avenger from the mountain come, thy self-most gross substantial, To chastise the unsubstantial soul, the ethereal will, because tis wicked. Wicked I am not. What sin have I committed? What offence? Takes nature, count of guilt or innocence? The accursed time brings children to the world, but to devour them with her monstrous maw. Goes up to the brook and gazes upon it. I've heard it said by one who was a sage, that water is the void and formless chaos,

from which all form and substance emanate. The mighty deep, but one vast crucible, where in the crude amorphous masses whirl, shapeless, yet of all shapes, susceptible. I'm vilely made, a piece of botcher's work, a pewterer, too, once told me on a time that, if a casting at the first of sage shall prove amiss, into the melting-pot tis flung again, and so is cast anew. Long-headed and sagacious folks are they, those pewterers and sages. I'm a fool, and fools should tread the footsteps of the wise.

is about to throw himself into the water when he hears a plaintive voice singing softly. The little golden snake, da that the water quake, she is no water snake. What do I hear? A voice. And from my ring, the ring Nureddin gave me at the cave, and which has pressed my finger until now. A heaven, a ray of hope begins to dawn. strikes the ring against a tree. The spirit of the ring appears instantaneously and exclaims, What wouldst thou with me? Say, thy will I must obey.

A sovereign's right hast thou, thy slave to thee I bow. Not only I must be obedient unto thee, But every slave, where'er he be, In earth or air, that serves the ring, At thy all potent spell must fly. How? Is a lad not forsaken still? Behold me here. Thy wishes to fulfill. Back then, my bride. Back, back my palace bring.

Too much. Such power abides not in the ring. In knowledge and in motion, I am strong. But not to me, doth power to act belong. In knowledge and in motion sits thou. Ha, where is my palace, then? In Africa In Africa Now Now the mystery falls

And where is my beloved Within its walls Pining and pale beneath the enchanter's sway But true to honour And her lord all way Quick mighty spirit Bear me to her side Swifter than light

We through the air shall glide Vanishes with Aladdin End of Part Part 2, Act 2. Part 2, Act 3 of Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp, by Adam Olenshlager, translated by Theodore Martin. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 3, Africa. Aladdin lying in a large garden. asleep under an apple tree, with the beams of the rising sun shining upon him, a palace in the background. The tree is full of twittering birds, zephyr and lympha sporting upon the grass. With the richest fragrance of rosy bowers, I have steeped his senses and soothed his pain. With a diamond dew of the morning showers, I have cooled the fire in his fevered brain. Birds

Lively and gay From spray to spray We have leapt and have warbled All through the night Now his task half done And the goal half won His reason returns And his soul is bright

Then courage Aladdin Thy bride is found Thy soul's desire thou shalt quickly see And lightly thy heart And thy breast shall bound And thou shalt be happy and blessed as we. Aladdin awakes.

How blithe the carol of the gamesome birds. How sweet the fragrance the young grass exhales. What do I see? My palace! Heaven and earth! I am in Africa! It is not a dream. In yonder arbor sits my love. My wife, sad, silent, pale,

with tears upon her cheeks. Good, yet I'm still in the magician's power. Let prudence guide thy footsteps, sacred love. He wraps himself in his old cloak, conceals his face with his turban, and advance to Golnir with the tottering steps of an old man. Allah protect thee, lady. Gulner wiping the tears from her eyes.

Thanks, old man. You look so very sad. Is Otter Miss? Goulner sighing and half a side. Oh, all, alas. Aladdin, looking carefully around. Tell me, dear lady, where is he that owns this palace? Is he within? He is from home, but we'll return tomorrow. Ah, now I see the reason you are sad.

Not so, old man. Tis well you are alone. You're of a soft and gentle-hearted race. Your heart's more prone to pity than a man's. A poor old pilgrim, I. Give me an arm's to help me on my road. Goulner offers him money. Take this, my friend.

No, dearest lady, take your money back. It is past the power of draw. to help me now. Would you have the wherewithal to break your fast? Go in there to the kitchen, and the cook will give you viance to your heart's content. I thank thee, lady, no, I am not hungry. Art thirsty, then? That is more near the mark.

Go to the cellar, and the cellar will help you freely to the best of wine. Here I have nothing to assuage your thirst. Believe me, lady, that concerns me not, Nor cook nor cellar can serve my turn. You, you yourself must be my caterer, Else must I pine and sink. I, how can I be helpful to you? With a kiss, a kiss.

How, are you mad? Nay, prithee, be not wroth. I never could have fancied that you were so true to the magician and so fond. Who art thou? Now you cannot be untrue to your Aladdin. He has lost his head. Oh, Allah!

Is about to faint. But has come by it again. And, oh, my own heart's darling, he is here. Throws off his cloak, Golnir falls upon his breast. O ye kind heavens, beloved of my heart. My heart. Aladdin embraces her. Will thou still send me to thy kitchen, eh? Aladdin, my soul's joy.

Then kiss me, love. A thousand, thousand times. My darling bride. While they converse, the birds sing. By a sudden parting blighted, on a sudden reunited, O of all joy's tis most sweet, When long-party lovers meet. when last we came here love the tree was forsaken not a sound met the ear love it's hushed to awaken

the north's icy bolt sped my pinions and panting i sought this green halt this eden enchanting and thou as i flew didst meet and work by me i swept on nor knew such a sweet mate was nigh me my heart was so drear and impassionate longing my voice rang out so clear shepherd maidens came thronging to hear it and they unaccustomed to languish never wist that i lay was the cry of my anguish oh i remember well the time twas when from north to southern climb, the birds with ringing music passed, of fife and flute in concourse vast. There many a race commingling flew, Toot, Longobard, and Cimbrian too. Goldwing sought wildly far and nigh, because her mate she could not spy, and as she did not find him there, she vanished suddenly in air. She would not pause, she would not rest, but flew and fluttered east and west, and thought he is not in the tree.

Alas, he'll ne'er be found by me. And then it was, I found thee too. Oh, then our life, how blithe it flew. The leaves of springtime, greenly spread, became our second bridal bed. By a sudden parting blighted, on a sudden reunited, O of all joys tis most sweet, when long-party lovers meet. Ah, my Aladdin, vain thy hopes I fear.

The lamp is still in the magician's hands. He bears it with him, folded on his breast, and never parts with it. How oft has he held it before my eyes in fiendish scorn? How oft essayed to make me hate thee sweet! Whenever he is at home, it is his want to load me with his hateful shows of love and tried to win an answer to his passion. Till now, my grief and scorn have kept him off. But, oh, how long my love will this endure?

Rest thee at ease. The trustiest of thy maids shall by the secret entrance let me out. The town, though sayest, is distant, scarce a league, and with a powder I will straight return, shall be a swift death-warrant to the wretch. Go deck thee in thy best, and let him think when he return. turns, thy heart begins to melt, and that thou fain wouldst fascinate his eyes. Farewell a little while, my own sweet love.

Chase every fear away and trust to me. To thee restored, I cast all fear aside. Exit. By a sudden parting blighted, on a sudden reunited. O of all joys tismuthes sweet, when long-party lovers meet. Apothecary shop. Apothecary, Aladdin in his old cloak. Aladdin at the door.

O bliss of blisses, to have found my love and scape the clutches of impending death. Yes, I shall hurl her tired from his throne. The clear bright springtime dances through my blood, and all my boyhood's gamesomeness comes back. See yonder silly druggist how he stands the picture of an overblown conceit. necessity commands me to employ fell poisons deadly chalice be it so but since to stern necessity commands since virtue needs must come to grips with vice banter and whim as music does in war shall drown the wail and anguish of the fray enters good friend i'd wager me a trifle now you are the owner of the shop himself and who may you be pray that crow so like I've just arrived from Alexandria. I clean the boots, or, to be more precise, the slippers of a great philosopher.

What want you? Friend, Kent's to read? Scarce were I else a pharmacopolis. Canst read, I mean, words fairly outed out. Apothecaries never go farther in the common way than bear first syllables. That more than these are never seen upon their boxes, friend, has shortened many in honest fellow's days. And who are you that in your rusty cloak dare thus insult me with such saucy quips? In my own shop I'll have fair words, I say. Fair words, tis my vocation, for my master is a grammarian. Don't he teach me, friend, to trim and give a polished my speech.

But if you really can read, if all your talk be not mere vaporing and flam, give me what's writ on this prescription here. Apothecary looking at the prescription What do I see? You want this powder? This? And that forthwith. Don't keep me waiting.

Come. The foul fiend fly away with you, say I. The first of huxtrous thou that ever sent a customer to the devil. No huckster, I, and you, you are no customer. What then may your vocation be? No huckster, eh? What are you then? A leech of skill.

An artist, a pharmacopolis, a man of science, a doctor, a mediciner at least. And who am I? A miserable knave. Has thou the money for such gear to pay? A drug so rare and of such potency? What wouldst thou with it? It is poison. Wouldst thou poison thyself? Myself? No. Other folks. How other folks, better and better still. come with me to the caddy.

Harky friend. I have a word of counsel for your ear. Counsel for me. Always hear people out before you judge. You're bent on poisoning. Did you not say so much? If twere yourself, it would not matter much, but other folks? That was the word, and said without a blush. And pray, sir, who may these same others be? A pretty scrape you'd land me in.

But whom would you send post-haste to the realms of shades? Whom? Answer. Flies. Flies? Wasps. Wasp? Gadflies. Hmm!

Kill gadflies with a powder of such price? Tashman. I am better off than you suppose. It will not put me very much about to treat my flies to something savoury. Gives him a gold coin. Apothecary very courteously. This puts the case in quite another light. Outside the man is rather rough, no doubt, but he's a proper fellow at the core. That's quite another matter.

Ah, dear sir, you're not offended by my hasty words. One must be circumspect with things like these. One's bound to have a kind of conscience, eh? Spoke like an oracle. But tell me, friend, suppose I'd kill a fly now handsomely. How much of this will do the business? That stands in a mathematical relation, sir, if one may say so, to the insect's size. Suppose it be, say, of the common sort, in sugared water dropped the various grain,

and you will slay them by the thousand, as with ass's jawbone Samson slew his foes. Hands him the powder, Aladdin puts it in his pocket. But how pray, if the fly were of your size? How, my size? There, you're at your quips again. You have some mischief in your thoughts, I swear. As big as me? Almighty Prophet, why?

The biggest horse-flies not so big as that. You have a shrewd wit of your own, tis clear. I do protest. Tis flies I mean to kill. But as they're lodged within a mortal's head, I must convey the powder through his lips. Now, by the prophet's grave, I'll give the alarm. Indeed you won't. You've wit enough to see how easy to have for me to stop your mouth should it grow clamorous, by a knock-down blow, or by this powder flirted down your throat.

A moraine on thee for a murderous knave. Go. Kill whomever you please. I care not. Go. Kill flies, wasps, gadflies, gnats, philosophers, men and mosquitoes, anything you will. So you but spare myself, my wife and Hassan, my little peasant, my little pears, Pet, my bandy-legged boy. So, fair you well, tis but a jest, you know, a harmless jest no more. So be at ease. Exit. Apothecary, looking after him. Who knows what a rogue like this may do, but he paid handsomely, and promptly too. One must wink hard and pocket many a slight, who would not lose his customers outright.

Aladdin's Palace, Golnir, Her nurse. Have you concealed Aladdin carefully? Yes, yes. He's yonder in the cabinet, which opens right on the Great Banquet Hall. There he can overhear each word that said, and at the proper time disclose himself.

I scarce can draw my breath for very fear. You must not take on so. Be merry, child. What matters it to kill a wretch like this? Courage, and let me see you pay him off. the lean and livid scarecrow, for the trick he played on you through me that luckless day. The table spread in the great hall, and when he comes, you must to supper welcome him, the last I hope that he shall ever eat, so you but manage craftily to drug the golden goblet

whence he quaffs his wine. Ah, Hadshaw, this is a dark and desperate deed. And what alternative is left thee? None. Wouldst have him spoil thee of thine honour, say? Wouldst see Aladdin falling shameful death, and let thy poor old father die for grief? No, Hadshah, sooner shall the sorcerer die. And tis but right he should. From garden plots we root out weeds, wild beasts we hunt and kill.

And why then make exception of a man who has a free will and a reasoning soul? Fear not, and mark me, do not spare the powder. In with it all and shake the goblet well. For look, ye, child, that he may not observe the colour of the powder in the wine. I've set large golden goblets on the table and shut the common ones of glass away. The sorcerer will be all on fire with love when he beholds thee in this brave array. Dear child of all the women Who my eyes have looked on

Thou art loveliest by far Good luck my milk has thriven with thee indeed How charmingly the satin's glossy white clings round Thy undulating form How close the diamond bodice clips thy slender waist Which these twin dainty hills so sweetly crown My darling If you only spice these charms

with just the smallest grain of tenderness. You will so dazzle the magician's eyes. He'll rush like any moth into the flame. They go in. Cabinet. Suits of dresses hung around the walls. His lucky chance has led me unawares to my own wardrobe. I will have my whim.

Rummages among the dresses. Here it is. Pat. Yes. Here the very dress. Noureddin, when he is. played the uncle gave me. I'll put it on. Here's the turban, too, a wondrous, smart and showy piece of goods. Puts on the dress. It will appear before him in this garb, when he has drained the

goblet drugged with a death, that he thereon may call his sins to mind, nor end his life of worthlessness without some stirrings of remorse. Oh, mighty Allah, shall I succeed? The moor with far less risk destroys the hooded snake than I this fiend. No deadly or evil can befall the world than that the lamp should be a miscrean slave. Contemplates his ring. O ring, thou art my one sole comfort left. How could he so forget thee utterly? It was heaven's own work that still leaves some escape furnace and swear wickedness pursues.

Shall I succeed? this doubt the ring shall solve strikes the ring against the wall the spirit of the ring appears what wants my lord and master nothing hush dear spirit nothing do i wish to know it was a foolish and considerate fancy which made me wish to ask thee of my fate all things are known to thee and i desire to know beforehand how my plan will thrive but answer not dear spirit what is life if all be of necessity for do That which I know not, will I not disclose. Canst thou not then discover all events? The past I can, and those in progress now. Thou reads not, then, the future's mighty book. Yes, for tis mirrored in the storied past.

He that knows well the seed and well the soil, the harvest chances well can calculate. Then speak. What dost thou prophecy for me? of what by time and space is uncontrolled. The sages can, but meagrely at best, as in a dream the mystery unfold. Thou best wilt to the lamp thy claim attest, if thou shalt rest it from the impious hand, by which it is unworthily possessed. O's manifold thy purpose will withstand, and for thy guidance I will now recall what time hath raced out from thy memory sand. The wondrous lamp, most commonly, in small proportions, is to mortals doled and slight.

For few, most few are they, possess it all. Fortune, its outward sign, unfew doth light, its inward, soul, in only some hath place. Life's loftiest aim is reached where both unite. Blended they bring serenity and grace. For wanting fortune, soul goes off to miss. And wanting soul, fortune is but disgrace. He only perfect for all issues is, Who, grappling with his foe, his foe subdues.

Then victory is felt as crowning bliss. Ful many a souls unstrung in all its thues, for those who are not sealed by Allah's might, are fit, but with the vulgar herd defuse. Yet do the Ethiopes wash themselves and fight against their maker, life and destiny, because they are not, like their neighbors, white. In powerless wrath they rise rebelliously, and wage with nature war, because she gave decrees. that white they never more should be. So do they mutiny and storm and rave. So the mere husk to be a colonel strains, and to be master he that's born a slave. To this must strength devote its wakeful pains. God hath for this power, to the mighty lent to keep the dastard and the weak in chains.

In divers courses are their strivings bent. The one unseeked, ceasingly essays to pass, on clouds up to the sun, a vain assent. The other, wallowing in his sins, alas, would drag down every flower that shoots to heaven, to stifle with himself in the morass. When thou against these twain hast boldly striven, curb the conceited fools aspiring flight, whose worship is to his own shadow given. When guilt hath fallen, before thy hero's might, and baseness, which no purge can purify, and which in cunning only finds delight. When through thy prowess both disabled lie, then songs to thee of triumph I will pour. Then shall the mist that now in rhapsody fly, and on thy pathway shine the lamp once more.

Great Hall Golnair Nureddin at table This dish is better still Taste it, my lord Noureddin graciously after his fashion No epicure am I, divine Gleinre Of all tidbits, there's one

And only one I've ever coveted thee, thee my sweet I am a sage, deep skilled in life and lore. All nature's book I've studied leaf by leaf. Mine is a spirit subtle, brisk and fine, that spreads like dew or every blossoming flower. Love, only love, I ne'er have known till now.

Feel how my heart beats, new and strange delight. How could you be unkind to me? so long. You know tis no light thing to conquer grief and take a new affection to the heart. I know, I know, my queen, I know it well, I know whatever mortal man can know. By nature I was framed for mighty ends,

gifts as she lent me, various and bright, that are for wisdom most essential. Thus, as a child, my memory was great, and so it was that I was plagued with worms. I could not, therefore, play with other children, was peevish, sickly, set apart, and learned to run up calculations on my slate, while other boys were scampering up and down, fighting, and gazing at the moon and flowers. Well, when I grew up into years, that is, having fairly worn my childish bushkins out,

for in the common way of speaking I did not shoot up remarkably in height. You understand me? Quite, in body you are rather small and lanky. To proceed. As years went on, they fain had tempted me to go a cruising after wives and maids, but I was much too well behaved for that. Besides, I had no liking for such freaks. then for carousing with your madcap use that too i fancied not for firstly i had a poor stomach and wine heats the blood praised be the prophet who forbids it quite

but still my wisdom ripened hour by hour through many a wakeful night to such a pass that i discovered there was in the world a lamp which with its rays doth vivify all objects that was to such a pass that was in the world a lamp which with its rays doth vivify all objects that was within its radiance come, and wanting which all else is valueless. For this, I struggled through on resting years, and at the last I gained it, as thou knowest. Indeed I do. Therefore, my love, will I from this hour forth enjoy my life at ease. Till now I've dealt but little with the sex, for objects of an import far greater and throng,

and filled my spirit with content. In deep investigations all engrossed, I have not learned the chamberer's dainty arts, my tongues unduced to amorous discourse, and the long, wakeful nights of many years have bleached away the roses from my cheeks. Yet weak I am not. Of an evening now, I can enjoy a supper such as this,

it's easy of digestion, for, as I said, my stomach's not the strongest. men like me who do not move around much must observe discretion and restraint in all they do oh paragon of wisdom my dear child wisdom directs and seasons all my speech and this is what you've not been used to eh with yonder dull-brained gormonizing knave but to be merry now and then as well oh yes in moderate doses most minute I hate all mirth, as I do spice, for that inflames the blood, destroys digestion. But if your mirth be of the stinging sort, a poisoned ballast, delicately dressed, for some conceited, tiresome fool to gulp, I don't object to it, but may a wanton mirth, I loathe as a full-grown man does pap. You like your jesting serious. I'm a woman in matters of the kitchen, only skill.

But even in the kitchen now and then, the pot boils over when the fire's too fierce. The same perhaps may chance with wit at times. Wits quit and not a pot. Your pot's absurd. Your boiling over will not do. I know tis always bad. Yet will the dish be spoiled unless that point be very closely touched. My child, the world is not a kitchen, nor the soul a dish.

The simile don't fit. It has no philosophic pertinence. And measured by the true poetic scale, tis in vile taste, ignoble. I can see tis altogether in the Arabian style. Art thou a Persian, and canst condescend to taint thy lips with such low metaphors? The metaphor, methinks, is striking. If a rascal lays a cudgel on my shoulders, he's striking too. An image, should be noble, and by the way I do remember me, to have read in some Arabian how a king's, yes, a king's ghost, did thus address his son, were I to tell thee all, oh, it would make the hair upon thy head to stand on end like quills upon the fretful porcupine. Could not the knave have said

a lion's mane, or even a hyenas, or a serpent's crest? I see thou lackest some training at my hand. Most willingly will I be trained by thee, this tiny morsel more. My angel, no. If I eat more, I shall not sleep, and all my life I've that great store on a good night's rest. Ah, it grows late, how dark the sky is.

Look, and oh, so full of stars. By night alone do these stars. shine, but thou, my child, hast two, which sweetly shine on me both day and night. You flatter me. There is a time for all things, says Solomon. I am a suitor now, but once I am thy husband, I will cease to deal in such like tropes in similes, which are but idle folly after all. I only speak so now that thou mayst know I am as capable as other men, of seeing pretty nothings, if I please.

Know it's thou the name of yonder fiery star? Ah, nowadays I cannot see so well. Study has made sad havoc with my sight. But patience. I will fortify my eye. Where was it? Tell me. Which star do you mean? The red one there, right over the apple tree.

Well, Noredin looks at the star through his telescope. Golnair drops the poisedest powder into her goblet. Necessity, be thou my plea with heaven. Dost thou not know the dog-star, child? Are thou entirely ignorant about the stars? It gladdens me to see them twinkling so, like choicest flowers in some rare garden plot. Their piercing looks deter man's soul from crime

to which the murky knight would urge him on and threaten him if he sins with eyes aflame. Mare superstition. What I meant was this. Doth it not fill thee with delight To know the name of every star And to foretell where in the sky When night comes, it will shine?

No, such a notion never crossed my brain. And is it true, then, all these stars have names? Most part of them, my child, most part of them. The Milky Way, though, that's unnamed. But there Allah has made sad, muddled work of it. But time ends all, and we improve apace. And so the star up yonder is the dog star? Yes, and that is my star.

Beneath that star was I brought forth. You do not say so. Strange. I've heard it said the stars have influence upon the lives of mortals. Is that true? Hmm. One can't altogether say tis not. Most wonderful, but what am I about, here like a fool,

concerning me with things I do not comprehend the very least? Speak always, child, as sensibly. T'will make thee a great deal more attractive in my eyes than hitherto thou hast been. O my lord, since matters have advanced so far between us, I will no longer coyly hesitate, after our Persian fashion, to exchange the spousal cup with thee. But gracious heaven, I am no widow, no, my husband lives.

And how, how can I break my troth to him? To ease these qualms of conscience, I will straight command the spirit of the lamp to cut Aladdin's head off, and to bring it here upon a silver solver presently. For heaven's sake, no, do that, and here I vow down to thy feet to fall a lifeless, a lifeless corpse. Thou lovest him still? Ah, no, I don't indeed.

Thou lovest him still? Ah, traitorous, tis right well thou hast recalled the cative to my mind. Yes, he shall die at once, for, while he lives, thy thoughts are full of treachery to me. Goulner, snatching up a knife from the table. By heaven, I plunge this knife,

into my breast the moment that your finger grasps the lamp. She loves him. He shall die this very night. But she shall live. I will possess her. Thus upon that churl shall I be oft avenged. Thou lovest me then? So fondly, I exchange this cup with thee in token of thy love. That's spoken as it should be, sweet Gornier. This loving goblet drained, then thou art mine. I shall possess thee wholly, and to-night.

This night shalt thou beside thy bride be laid, So thou shalt quaff this cup. I quaff it now. The last drop in its rim shall seal the bond. Empties the goblet, while Goulner, clasping her hands, looks up to heaven. Why dost thou stare so strangely

at the sky. The red dog star has lost his sanguine hue, shine silvery pale, and dies away in the mist. Garnere, I am ill. I feel a sudden spasm.

The pale-faced bride doth clasp thee to her breast. I've lost the power of motion. All grows dark around me. And a fear Consuming fire burns in my vitals. The door opens gently, and Aladdin enters, goes up to him, and gazes on him in silence.

Death and hell. Thou here! Aladdin! Tries to take the lamp from his bosom, but his hand drops powerless. Devil, thou hast poisoned me. Aladdin, with emotion, yet calmly. What else was left for me to do? Oh, pray to God,

I, with your latest breath, to grant forgiveness for your sins, you wronged me deeply. What was I but a poor defenceless boy, not but my young, fresh life to call mine own in all this mighty world? And this wouldst thou have blasted for thy vile omission's sake.

But fate had better things in store for me. The mischief thou did, its plot against me low has turned to my advantage. Yet again to crush my life thou craftily didst come. My mother's debt of grief, and thou the cause. And now thou dost blur my innocent bride with shame. Tis everlasting justice, and not I that smites thee. Pray, die penitent at least.

Caresses on thee, thy God and all the world. dies. Great heaven, he's dead. Aladdin takes the lamp from his breast and flings a black cloth over him. And vanished out of sight. My noble wife, away now to thy chamber and thank God

for the mercies of his grace. Soon shall thou see thy father's face again. But get thee first to bed and sleep in peace. Sleep now. Sleep, oh, my soul's beloved, No! Yet gladly will I pray all through the night, till the bright dawn shall smile on us once more. Exit. Aladdin rubs the lamp. The spirit appearing. What asks my lord and master?

Giant, strong and proud, within the womb of earth, this ghastly carcass shroud. Next, approve thyself both dexterous and bold, and place this palace where it want to stand of old. As swiftly shall I compass All that thou dost name As shoots across the night A meteor's sudden flame Thou didst not think good spirit So soon to see the hour

Which was to set thee free from yonder Cative's power I seldom think By might eternal I was wrought In silence to fulfil my lord and master's Thought Vanishes End of part two

Act 3 Part 2, Act 4 of Aladdin, or The Wonderful Lamp, by Adam Olenshlogger, translated by Theodore Martin. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 4th, Sultan's Bedchamber. Salomon, asleep under a canopy.

Enter the court fool, with a plaster on his forehead. He goes up to the bed and shakes the sultan. Ho, sultan, sultan, king of kings! What, ho! hast thou not taken upon thyself the task, the giant's task of watching for the realm? Is it lawful, then, thus to go dozing on until high noon? For shame, your highness, shame! Suleiman, waking.

What would the fool? Would wake the wise man, there. Is it so late? So late, it soon will be too early. There is comfort to your hand. O came you by that plaster on your head? My liege, I come for justice. What has happened?

O mighty monarch, thou whose crest doth tower, or caucuses, yea even or ararat, which some geographers protest is higher, because twas there that Noah's ark stuck fast. Thou that dost stretch thy right hand to the Ganges, and to the black sea, puttest forth thy left. O thou whose foot so nobly broad and firm, toucheth the hidden treasures of the earth, Thou, whose eye lives on most familiar terms with stars and planets, hear thy servants cry, and grant him justice. Who has done thee wrong? Cursed be all piles of such capricious moods, which at their pleasure come and disappear,

are we to change the notions that till now we've entertained of houses, palaces? Are they immovable property no longer, but changed to simple movables, the deuce, this is directly contrary to law? Speak plainly. I am a poor fool, my liege, but not the wisest man in all the land. No, not thyself and thy most royal person could ward off such catastrophe as this. Speak, or beware my wrath. Well, speak I do. i am a bird thou art an elephant a poor sheep i and thou a lordly stag so push thy royal nightcap off thine ears and summon all thy powers of comprehension

This morning forth I started for a walk, to exercise my limbs, and glad my soul with looking at the sunrise, the red streaks across the saffron hemisphere of sky resembled most uncommonly the blood which, for your royal health, was yesterday breathed from your highness's arm. Good God in heaven! What strange comparisons the fellow makes! This is the very quintessence of flattery. Another man would, in some bungling way, Thy blood have likened to the glorious sun,

But I can see no aptitude in that, And therefore to thy blood compare the sun. Say on, or I'll compare it with thine own. From natural historians thou hast learned That eyes grow blind with gazing at the sun, Well, then, as I, delighted with the blaze of his fair glittering ball, began to muse how all things hang together in the world, I started off full swing, quite pleased to think the universe had let itself be cocked so thoroughly,

without remonstrance. Well, on I went running, sire, in full career. and in the grand square there was not, I knew, at least I thought so, to impede my course. But as it proved, this notion cost me dear. For lo, before I could collect my wits, bump something came, my liege with such a bang against my pate, that, were a Greek to see me, he would suppose me Jupiter himself, with palace ready from my brain to start. what was it you had run against there now what should it be but that same madcap palace which comes and goes without a by-your-leave upon the spur of its capricious whims aladdin's palace oh great heaven my daughter is she there too that's what i cannot say for it was not her alas i bumped but here's a roll of parchment good my liege the porter gave me for your royal hands read read good fool aloud and spare your jests

praise be to god alone the land of the king of kings the imperial sovereignty and the realm as it is exalted above all others in excellence so may god cause it it to flourish forever. I do protest, this is no jest of mine. Tis here in black and white upon the scroll. Go too. Tis sensibly and soundly put. Tis thus all letters sent to me begin. Proceed, proceed. This is preamble merely. The meanest of your subjects, who is even as a great gnat fluttering in the air, Aladdin, Mustafa's son, announces to his most high, high and mighty master, great as Solomon, the shadow of the Almighty, the ruler of the merciful, the dispenser of Persia's benefits, the Lord of the Earth, Solomon Sultan."

Wipes the sweat from his forehead. Why, now, a moraine on this chancery style, the man's all plain enough as he goes on. This must be so. My dignity requires it. does not every man dare prate to me in such a free and easy style as thou but on and ave on oh this is still preamble as the favour of the eternal god came to your faithful servant and left him alike incomprehensibly so has it been shown to him once more the palace before your eyes upon the old spot may serve as a sufficient evidence of this so soon as i see slave to whom thy grace and goodness vouchsafed thine own daughter to wife hath returned with her from a pilgrimage to Mecca, and they have shaken from their souls the dust caught up upon the journey of life,

he will cast himself at thy feet with a lightened heart, and restore the daughter to her father's arms. The star of dominion and majesty illumined thee evermore with its lustre and resplendent. How? Is it true? Is this all in the letter? Now could I match this high poetic style? Oh, help me then, this instant out of bed, and let me see and judge with my own eyes. Surely thou seest this plaster on my pate. Delay another second, and thou diest. And if I don't delay, my foolish life is equally at stake.

What would my liege? Help me this instant to get out of bed. Come then, old gentleman, accept my help. Thou waxest frail apace. Here is thy robe. Wilt doff thy nightcap and put on the crown? Crowns are in general soft and warmly lined and predisposed to comfortable sleep. Thy sceptre, where has it gone wandering?

Fallen down we shan't say where beneath the bed, and drenched by all that's ammoniacal no matter it is gold and will not rust o gracious heavens gulnare my child my child exit followed by the fool another apartment in the palace the fool surrounded by retainers of the court first courtier good gentle foe and is it really true and is the palace come back. You see it there. Oh yes, no doubt I see it. But nowadays, what man can trust his eyes? Would thou prefer to trust another's, hey?

Four eyes, see more than two. Then hi thee, friend, and of a spider question, it has eight. Another courtier running in. Sir fool, did something quite miraculous. all back again what is a man to think he is to be well bred and hold his peace he is not to try to comprehend the things which are not to be comprehended he is not to fill with cries and idle prate the palace of his majesty as though it were an hospital of aged crones he is though to betake himself to his room to be a man and be of hopeful cheer How can one be a man of hopeful cheer? That's for your wisdom's gentlemen to solve.

Exit courtiers. An old servant of the court entering. Friend, hast thou seen it? I and been rejoiced. Aladdin friend is Fortune's favorite child, and he deserves to be so. What a world of rich, warm life is centered in that man. All a child's grace with a child's grace,

manhood's figure blended, gracious and loving, as he's proud and brave. I grew so doleful after his mishap, my part became mere child's play then, for misery, storm, and disaster always lead to wit. Therefore there's none so witty as the devil I like to jest, from gamesome wantonness, yet do I find my task grow burdensome, when all around are busy, gay, and strong. The Sultan grows too feeble and good-natured, where he buts plenetic, my quips and jibes might do the office of a shield at least, against severity or hasty wrong. But he is not, and all my pointed saws are lost upon him. Once Aladdin comes, I'll not be such a fool as be his fool.

Your task must always grow a bore at last. One can't always be in the mood for jest, and irksome is the fool's vocation. His especially, who's not a born buffoon, and who has pride, as thou hast, and a heart to nobler issues touched. Genius may stoop to play the wag in Zainey for a while, but soon the eagle finds the moorland dull, feels all his pinion's strength, and soars away.

A true word hast thou spoken, friend, in that. Exit. Mecca, a great square, in the background, the mosque, a vast concourse of pilgrims, dervishes, Abdallahs, and calendars. In the foreground, Aladdin and Gloula, ne'er attired as pilgrims with staves in their hands. What mighty multitudes are gathered here! And all, my love, are here to edify themselves, and not for gain or selfish ends. The world's pervading soul, humanity has summoned them. Is not a blessed thing, thus with commingling hearts, to worship God?

Oh, glorious! The multitude's full voice strengthens the heart and spirit. and man feels born on the swelling cadence of the hymn, himself a link in the eternal hole. Life needs its days of rest as well as work. The man who squanders all his days on toil is but a clod of dull and soulless clay. Oh, look, love, hath the young man standing there, neither is pilgrim nor is dervish dressed,

nor is a calendar, nor Abdallah. Where, sweetest wife? Dost thou not see him then? Yonder, his undergarment, all of white, open at the throat and with full hanging sleeves, whilst his close-fitting gabardine has none. A high cap, not a turban, crowns his head. He wears a pocket fastened at his waist, an in it paper, inkhorn, and some books, and a light kerchief gay with woven flowers from his right shoulder droops to his left arm. I see him now. "'Tis an Arabian poet.' "'Now he sits down, and see, they fetch a loot.' "'Come, love, we too shall listen to his lay. "'Who does not love the poets art divine?

"'The rocks themselves, in echoings low, "'declare how sweet to them is song. "'The rose expands her bosom to the bulbous throbbing note. "'The camel foots it lightly through the veil. "'Soon as the fluting of the guide begins. "'Shall man, then, man, man.' Man who bears a reasoning soul, not find enjoyment in the poet's song. Then worry harder than the incensed at stones.

The minstrel strikes a few chords. The crowd forms a wide circle around him. When all is quiet, he sings as follows. He gathered tribes, ye pious pilgrims strong. O you the minstrels lute awakes its strain. Gladly will I proclaim to you in song, The legend old that fires my heart and brain, Rooting the sins up which have scathed him long,

Each man becomes a newborn child again, Here by the sacred stone, the patriarch trod, Here by the vaulted fame, the prophet reared to God, all this was chance is vanish swift from sight the mightiest deed grows in the distant small in heaven's grave message finds but brief respite in aged books or stones memorial that it be lost not in oblivion quite tis meet the legend oft-times to recall E'en into death to breathe a living fire. God made the bard and doubt him with the lyre. In Egypt's plains, in ages long gone by,

forth wandered Abraham of Azar's race, With him went faithful Sarah and with high, And hopeful hearts, Arabia's sands they trace, distant ararat they did espy soon found the patriarch an abiding place viewing that regent's sons both frank upright now slavish hordes were soon forgotten quite then as his wife no more could bring him joy for all her youth and bloom were long decayed when Abram and begoth a lusty boy upon a beautiful Arabian maid. Hagar perforce was circumspecting coy, For she was Sarah's handmaid and afraid,

All turned against her and in sore distress, She force was driven into the wilderness. With anguish ranked the patriarch searched the land And lifted up his voice from east to west At length he found her laid upon the sound Her little boy clasped tightly to her breast Was she with glaring eye and outstretched hand Did for the water pat that wild be pressed

forth where the child's foot from the ground had crushed water where water now till then had gushed and now that hagar off the stream might taste which all a foam burst fiercely from the ground the patriarch made it wimple through the waste of desert sand with soft and tinkling sound then all her sorrows from her heart were chaste and they praised god whose mercies they had found then next they dipped the boy-child in the well and named him by the name of ishmael ye sons of ishmael hence comes the power which change you to these wastes fell like manned that which can nurse nurture scarce one little flower. The horseman proudly calls his father land. Your founder's name is wafted hour by hour, Where'er by breeze the cedars tall are fanned, The world in all revies the hero's name, And o'er the waste, His spirit sweeps in flame. soon after in a dream by Abram's bed and smiling as he gazed at Gabriel

God's grace has marked the out to build he said A house for him heart by young distant well Which was the fond miraculously fed For thy first born the little Ismail there boldly rear a high and vaulted fain and with the blood of bulls its ulster's stain down on his knees fell abraham on me how how shall i he cried a temple rear where restless sands were everlastingly where stone is none nor any rock is near by faith that temple builded up shall be said gabriel and he touched the patriarch's ear with his bright lily stem thy faith then grand and based on rock that temple firm shall stand and straight from arra at far peak where you by allah's dread come and have gone to pray at dawn as clefts by bolts of thunder through

the snow-white marble blocks were rent away and crashing down into the veil they flew no longer now was doubting or dismay the pageiat took the pageyard took the rifted marble fine and thereto allah reared the sacred shrine now one huge stone was thrown unheeded by t'was fine but black whilst all the rest were white ah woe is me he cried that only i am deemed unworthy to show allah's might the god of heaven took pity on its cry and gave command to abraham who at night did with his feet stamp on the stone i whiz the mark which pilgrims still devoutly kiss and oh to think him what a wondrous way god links on earth what most he makes his own where ishmael was born on that far day the prophet too was born as well is known that ancient shrine fast crumbling to decay forlorn unheeded all with weeds or grown is reared anew and never more to wane for tis embedded in the prophet's fain oh yet once more into that temple wind with branching palms and anthems chanted high then gabriel thou wilt there from him descend

robed in the radiance of the morning sky if we in brotherly communion blend our love to god the lord to testify o sons of his Ishmael then nor forget, There is but one God his prophet Mahomet. He rises and goes into the mosque. The crowd repeat with a loud voice the concluding stanza of his chant And follow him. Another place in Mecca. Hindbad and Fatima, an aged woman in a pilgrim's garb.

Allah be with thee. And with thee. Good pilgrim. Good is a title which I may not claim thou holy woman in thy company. Allah is holy and the prophet holy. I am a frail and sinful woman, friend. I know well what thou art. The fame of saints spreads like the liberal sunshine wide and far, and lures the suns of darkness forth to warm their blood's thick current in the radiant glow. Whence comest thou? I am from Africa, yet though between us lay the streams of Nile, the Red Sea, and Arabia's desert sands, the glory of thy name hath reached my ears.

I must attribute this to chance alone. Thy homes in Persia, is it not? It is, in the great forest hard by Ispahan, where peasants kind have built a hut for me. And daily to thy hermitage repair, to reap instruction, comfort, wisdom, strength from thy discourse. I have been told besides the prophet hath endowed thee with the power to heal the sick, by merely with thy hand touching the head of such as need thy aid the powers of nature friend are fathomless still more the goodness of the eternal father a poor weak woman i yet i fear god to do his pleasure is my light's sole aim when men for years has rendered up himself to drift where'er his yeasty passions flow with him earth's baser things grow paramount the head which should erect itself to heaven drops swayed down by sin its craven front but if alarmed by consciences

warning voice, his heart, repentant, turns to virtue back. Then, then, indeed, a loving human hand can smooth away the wrinkles from his brow, and by its pressure give his spirit ease. Is true that Prince Aladdin and his bride are amongst the pilgrims here in Mecca now? He and his bride were here but yesterday, but left this morning with the caravan. Hinbad with visible disquietude. What? Is he gone? Why should this trouble you? I am from Africa, as thou hast heard. I wish to speak with him. We had, besides, much urgent business to transact.

I'm a merchant, and he owes me certain monies. Now he's gone back again, and tis, you know, a weary way from Persia to Mecca. My friend, thou rather shouldst give Allah thanks, that things have so fallen out. The prophet city is destined only as a rendezvous for pious pilgrims. Tis no Khan, no money. Art? Rebuke well-merited. Forgive me, pray. I, thus it is, the vanities of the world hold us despite our will within their thrall. I thank thee. Thou hast made me see my sin. I will beguile the time with holy thoughts, and with the earliest caravan depart for Persia. Perhaps we go together? No, friend, I go not with the caravan. I make the journey tardily on foot. It is a fancy that I have. I've gone the road repeatedly. It does me good. Somehow I feel this journey is my last. Depart thou with the caravan peace. I will set out tomorrow with the dawn. But if, when thou to Ispahan shall come, thou carest to visit me in my poor cot. Thou wilt find me there beneath my forest shades, and of my milk and fruits thou shalt partake. I thank thee. May all happiness attend thee. The pilgrimage to God is always happy.

They part. Arabian Desert, night, nothing but sand and sky, the moon in mid-heaven. Caravan passes slowly across singing, Through the noontide glare, along the desert sand, home we travel cheerly to our fatherland, bearing back a treasure priceless, peace of heart, peace and hope that never from our eyes shall part. Hala, guide by faithful pilgrims as they go. Give our camel's vigor, crystal fountain's show. Sweetly falls the dew, the sultry day is fled.

Cool is now the ground beneath our camel's tread. Everywhere is sand and sky. Oh, lovely night, on us from afar, the crescent moon smiles bright. With what wondrous radiance through the cool, doing dew, leaves the prophet's symbol from the welcome blue. Onward then, push on with lusty hearts and gay. To our home, Muhammad's moon shall light our way. Passes on.

A wild forest in Persia, night. In the foreground a heap of stones. In the background, Fatima's cottage, Hindbad. Out on this plaguy hut, where can it be? Perhaps I may have passed it? Who can tell? How is a man to know a nest of twigs covered with moss from other underwood? I've gone ranging through nigh half the wood, and now the night has oortay in me.

This must be the place, by all that I have heard. How tired I am! There's a heap of stones. I'll rest me there. Sits down. The lamp. Have it, I must. This aged bell dam has a great.

renown. Goldner has long been eager for her friendship. I will attach me to the pious crone, become her pupil, yea, her fomulus, and so, by feigning piety, ensure an entrance to the wondrous palace. Thus I soon shall gain the lamp, and so avenge my brother's death. That's just and equitable. How come these stones now to be lying here? They look as if set up with some intent. There's one large block right in the center there, and, as I live, words graven upon it, too. Let me peruse the verses. What a plague yon bank of clouds should lie athwart the moon. The moon breaks out, and the owls hoot far off in the wood, and he reads. Noreden's corpse lies rotting here, in murder close his dark career, through guilty deeds he thought to

climb, behold the end of all his crime. Starts back in terror and stands gazing fixedly at the heap of stones. Was I then sitting on my brother's grave? His grave? And should I not avenge his death? This comes to wet my purpose, not to warn. Looks round and suddenly descry his Fatimus cottage. There is the cottage, surely. Close at hand.

The wizard veil is lifted from mine eyes. I'll get me in. This aged crone shall aid me. High, though at forfeit of her life she shall. Is about to enter, suddenly the figure of a man, Ashley pale in a blood-red dress, appears before the door, and bars his entrance. Who art thou? Away, away, away, away. Who art thou darest to bar my passage thus? Who art thou? Answer me. Thy brother's spirit.

Naredn thou? His spirit. My bones lie there. Points to the heap of stones. How comes thou in the scarb of fiery red? Spirit sighs. Alas, alas. What means that sigh?

And why shines thou like lured? flame against the dark. Oh, ho! Answer me. Oh, oh. Answer, I say. The red, which burneth here so ghastly is... Well, what is it?

Is the fire of hell. Vanishes. Inbad sinks upon the heap of stones in a swoon. When he recovers, he looks round him and descrys an old venerable man by his side in a black gabardine, smoking a short tobacco pipe which gives out great puffs of smoke. Hinbag springs up. Here again. And black as cinders now?

Burned out already, eh? The old man with a soft, gracious voice. My worthy friend, what may all this fantastic foolery mean? I live hard by, and as I passed along, I heard you talking to yourself aloud in a strange fashion, of a lamp you spoke, that could accomplish wonders which had been stolen from you, and you wanted to regain. You thought you saw a spirit and fell down upon the heap of stones there in a swoon. Are you come off a journey? Yes, I am.

It very often happens at such times. One's wits get out of order, but take heart. You don't look weakly. Quite the contrary, this is a passing spasm, no more, and you bear an undaunted spirit, all be bound. There you are right. I very rarely dream. I'm no way superstitious.

See no spirits at other times. But now, he stood there, there. The old man smiling. T'was only in your head he stood, good sir. Had anything been standing there? Of course I must have seen it also as I passed. Then you saw nothing? Nothing but yourself, a wandering pilgrim talking to the trees.

By heaven, I too believe it was a dream. The old man uneasily. You should not swear. Don't name that name to me. I cannot bear it. for the rest be calm. That you should wish to have your lamp again, appears but fair. It is your inheritance.

I've heard all sorts of tales about that lamp, and how Aladdin often misuses it. We suffer from it all, we Persians hear, and I should be quite overjoyed. Could you but clip that upstarts wings. Aye, aye, but how? That is the question. For that plan of yours, I heard you mention it some minutes since, will never do. She's a long-headed woman, and trust me, would discover at a glance what you were after. Hide it how you might. No, no, that scheme is much too shallow, much.

Were you in my place now? What would you do? Brush the old woman fairly from my path. Be Fatima myself. But how? I know the princess wishes to converse with her, but she has never seen her. have the people very plainly for she is always enveloped in a close thick veil if i were in your place i'd very soon affect an entrance to the palace how your face and figure sir are plastic you can counterfeit most rarely i am sure and if i can why then good sir you must enact the part of Fatima. And she? Oh, she is old, and surfeited with life.

I hope, my excellent friend, tobacco smoke is not unpleasant. Very, to you, eh? I am a sturdy smoker. Smoke away. The old man smokes vehemently and puffs fire from the pipe every now and then. Well, she is old and looking on for death, but death comes tardily with aches and pains. It would be doing her a kindness quite, should you forestall her pains, and gratify the wish at once, which she has cherished long. You'd have me murder, the old lady, then.

Who talks of murder? Sir, I am no friend to strong. expressions of that nature no to her long yearning you would put an end and that's the whole affair no more at all go to what's to be done do and at once there the old woman sleeps employ your dagger put on her dress and bury her anon then when the people come tomorrow morning, you must preach to them. You are Fatima, and will as Fatima presently be summoned before the princess. Then you can regain the lamp with ease. Farewell, we meet again. Retires into the wood. Hinbad gazes after him for considerable time, then speaks. That was the devil himself, or I'm deceived.

leans against a tree and presses his hands upon his head. I drank somewhat too freely at the con, and therein lies the secret. Devils and ghosts are the mere creatures of hot blood and wine. But all that fell from that old fellow's lips are the suggestions of my better brain. I'll be no mummer, I. Here's the hut. The Cray's door half off its hinges. Is she asleep?

She sings. I'll pause and hear. The moon shines bright aloft, or wood and dingle, the birds in cadence soft, their warblings mingle. The breezes from the hill come sighing, sighing, and to their voice the rill sends sweet replying. But one flower in the wold, droops when and sickly, Death at its heart is cold, it will perish quickly. But yonder chaplets twine, forever vernal, and in God's presence shine through springs eternal. O moonlight pale thy rays, soon softly creeping,

Shall paint my pearler face in death trans-sleeping. Smile then on death that he may gently take me, And where no sorrows be ere morn awake me, Droop on its stem the flower, come sweetly stealing, Angel of death and shower, soft dews of healing. O come, beneath thy blight, my soul shall quail not. Yonder is endless light and joys that fail not. She sleeps.

Tis well. She says herself, good soul, she will not quail before the blight of death. She longs for it. Good. She shall have her wish. Enteres the cottage. Interior of the cottage, Fatima, asleep on the couch, Hinbad enters. I'm glad the moonshine lights the hut so well.

There she lies sleeping on her bed of leaves, scantily mantled by her old worn cloak. her thin white hands clasped clothes as though she prayed it is unlucky that her clothes are on i must awake her not to stain her dress with blood for i must use it afterwards presents his dagger to her breast come fatima awake oh heaven who's there are you a robber say what do you want in my poor cottage there is nothing here is worth your taking nothing oh have pity upon an aged woman blow not out the flame which soon must have itself expire Rise up. O'ala, wherefore do you come at dead midnight with this assassin's knife that gleams as wild and raffle as your eyes? Rise up and do not fear. Rise up, I say. Take off your dress.

Be quick and give it me. Give me your robe, your veil, and now your crutch. And there's my cloak instead, which you can keep until I give you back your clothes again. Only be quick and do not waste the time with questions. Oh, sir, you are surely crazed. What would you? You are feverish. Come sit down. Travel has raised a tumult in your blood. Your speech is wild. I'll tend you, and my care shall bring health back to you and calm your brain. There's bread and fruit in yonder basket. Wait, and I will fetch you water from the spring. I am not weary. Neither have I lost my senses. Quick, obey me instantly. Off with your clothes. There is my mantle. Quick, do what I bid you. Or into your heart I plunge my dagger. O eternal God, I fear not death,

But to be wakened up from sleep to be spatched so quickly, have mercy on me. Come, your clothes, I say, by Allah's mercy, by my hopes of grace, I will not harm you. Fatima gives him her clothes. Take them, there they are. Hindbad hands her a little box. Now lay this color here upon my face. "'T'll make the skin look brown and wrinkled like your own.

"'My hands tremble for fear. "'They, there are wrinkles enough already on your brow. "'Now, by thy God, did I not swear to thee?' "'Fatima dies his face. "'Tis done. "'You're sure you've done it thoroughly?' "'Indeed, indeed I have.' "'Say, is it true that you have never been with Aladdin's wife, the princess?'

"'Yes, but she has often wished that I should wait upon her gentle soul. "'I'll pay that visit.' visit for you. Stabbs her. Get ye hence unto your God. You've lived quite long enough. Even while he lives the godless man is dead, but he lives after death who fears his God. Dies. Gone with antitheses upon her lips. Can't to the last. Now I must stow this corpse deep in the earth. The morning after next I'll wait upon the princess, and she shall persuade her husband a request to urge shall so incense the spirit of the lamp that he is like to crush him on the spot. Your spirits have a weak side of their own like other people. They can show their teeth.

Then I will straight possess me of the lamp. But I must preach tomorrow, well be thought, to make the people think I'm Fatima. Moreland, night, moonshine, two elves. Come hither. See what I have found. beneath the brushwood, near the brook, upon the heath. A corpse! Now out on thee, foul-fingered white. Dost thou not know it, then?

O woeful sight! What do I see? Oh, bloody deed of shame! They've murdered our true friend, the aged dame, who dwelt there in the forest, and oh knights, with loot and song, regaled us elvish sprites, when, in the cool and watery moonshine, we, our rondos, danced about the alder tree. She was so good, through all the country round, she was for worth and gentle heart renowned.

Though we, poor tiny elves, are held in scorn by well-nigh all that are of women-born, She in the ground stuck crosswise sprigs of wood, With cobwebs twined, and thereon laid us food, And sat and smiled on us as we drew nigh, And sipped at ease the dainty fermenty. Come, let us call our sisters from the hill. None will disturb us, for tis midnight still. To help us make a grave, both soft and deep,

Where is she that loved us well? In peace may sleep. Come hither, hither, elves. As quick as thought, behold them. They are here. What's to be wrought? You see this aged dame? O direful pass!

The holy Fatima, dead? Alas! Go, make for her a grave by yonder spring, and thither we the while the corpse shall bring. We'll follow. We shall go before and sing. We at her side shall walk with dripping wind. And from the brook the lily we shall bring,

which upward straight to heaven its head doth fling, while blossoms manifold its stem doth bear. These shall be emblems of her silvery hair, and of her cheeks with sorrow, white, and thin, and of her soul serene, and pure from sin. We must go round, we that the bearers are, lest the magician's ghost our task should mar. For he lies yonder, shattered flesh and bone,

among the trees beneath the pile of stone. Now we shall sing, pace tenderly along, Nightingale and a tree overhead. Ye elves, may I too mingle with your song? Sing on, sweet bird. Thy note is clear as fire. Chief chorister be thou, and we the choir. Durg of the elves.

The nightingale's note is heard in the pauses of the song and the faint tinkle of a bell at a distance. How swift the passing moments fly? Who can his final hour foretell? But his hand governs all, who high, above all time and change doth dwell. Life comes, life passes like a dream. Worth only lives or all supreme. Man's life is longer than the flowers, hours longer than the sons of play.

Yet that dear race who nurtured ours, to heavenly bliss have passed away. the hamadryans who of yore us tiny folk of elfland bore we too shall die and creatures new shall sport and gamble in the glade and they our children shall be due with tears the graves where we are laid and we small fairies now shall soon be only shadows neath the moon yet has a merry life been ours blameless we've ranged the woodland's green No blood creeps to our hands, and flowers alone declare where we have been. And when we perish like the rest, our sleep shall be serene and blessed. She too shall sleep a blessed sleep. Her life was pure of all offense. The avenging hand of God shall sweep him down, whose dagger hurled her hence.

But see, the east is streaked with red. Farewell, farewell, the night is fled. End of Part 2, Act 4. Part 2, Act 5 of A Latin, or The Wonderful Lamp, by Adam Olenshawger, translated by Theodore Martin. This is a Librevox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. act fifth square in front of aladdin's palace salim sinbad give you good day for if i don't mistake i see an old friend of my youth in you tis very like in youth one always has abundant store of friends but friendship is like wheat and bread and will be eaten quickly it won't keep long come but one night between, and it is dry and savourless as chips. You do not set great store by friendship, then. Stor? Quotha store? There is no storing her, although she be a mercenary jade.

But youthful friendship, youthful friendship, sir, is a mere youthful sickness, which must be gone through like cowpox or the measles, sir. and fortunate it is so few retain the scars upon their faces afterwards no no they vanish as we grow in years what sendbad don't you really know me then if i may draw conclusions from your feet you are hmm selim aband hassan's son we dwelt in day gone by in yonder street and played as boys together many a time. You don't mean that you know me now. You don't, because my feet are both a trifle large? Well, not both your feet.

The left is all quite right. Tis the right only twists a trifle left, but nothing, sir, to speak of. Left and right, as a great scholar once divulged to me, are relative and fluctuating terms on which the world will never be at one. For what in Persia we call right and left, people in Europe say is left and right.

Look you, so many sides as has the globe, so many rights and lefts. Now as the globe is wholly round, or oval at least, the rights and lefts roll on without a stop, as long as this mad ball of earth rolls on. if then the one be right the other left you may jog on at ease on both your feet and neither left nor right have caused to turn tis but a scurvy trick to run your jokes in this way on an old school's comrade sir i know all people by the foot it is to my mind the best limb in all the body and the most rational

if all our limbs like it would only hold fast by the ground no fear of tumbling ever need perplex us a man can't walk with all his body eh and wherefore not good selim if he did then all his body must be shod with shoes and one might turn an honest penny then thy father was a cobbler and i should to hear you talk almost believe precisely i was conceived and borne into the craft there is something friend in what the scholars say that genius comes with us into the world poets are born not made the sages tell now for the life of me i'd like to know if cobblers are not born as well as they in this way friend i take it you would like that man that man would like that man had all a thousand feet apiece. Precisely so. The things most people like, I can't by any means endure. Not I. For instance now, a cloudless sky, the dawn, a sunny day, I hate like the pestilence. No, rain and mud. There's sense in them, say I. They play the devil with the boots. Again, a fellow brags, he walks straight on his feet.

That cuts me to the quick. For, oh, the time, the ages such a varlet's souls will last. To see a new laid pavement makes me weep. About a dancing is my chief delight, and though I much respect your moralists, it makes me venomous to hear them warn our youth against lounging up and down the streets for of all virtues friend the chief is that which tends to wear the pavement into dust you make a living yes oh yes so so men can't get on without my handicraft well now good brother mine it seems odd whilst you've been cobbling here upon your stall i've wondered all

on foot the country through, a peddler with my bundle on my back. In Baghdad, I have been Balsora too, Kashmir, and Samara. So wags the world. One man makes shoes, another uses them. When last we met, we were mere boys at play. Now we are useful members of the state. ah if you love me what's become of yonder long-legged good-for-nothing lad what was his name the poor thick-headed dunce oh lord what beatings at the school he got because he never would get up his task and how he used to take his vengeance out by drubbing us who did all round in turn whom do you mean in special there were many who often drubbed me roundly him of course who always was the foremost at a lark a great stout fellow and in all our games he always came off best can't you remember twas he who caught the oranges that time the merchant flung them to us from his shop do you mean eladdin that's the very man that was the name how goes the word with him it goes thank heaven as well as it can go for he's become a prince the princess is his wife and when the good old sultan dies he will be sultan too

now gossip is there tolerable promotion for you hum come come you're joking ask the veriest child he'll confirm my words on the spot the deuce what he-he he The runigay, that was, forever building castles in the air, forever wrapped in some fantastic dream, and never could learn anything by heart? Right, but he must have learned a deal by head. There's a rare castle in the air he's built. Points to the palace. Good gracious, how has this come about?

You want to know, huh? Oh, not a word I beg. Don't name the subject. Why, the very thought sets all my wits a spin. Enough, he's prince. I feel as if I've tumbled from the clouds. And is the dote who went to school with us in days of yore become a famous man? You may say that, and grown so proud to boot that he can't remember me the least.

Oh, no. although we two were birched together oft in those same days of yore but who comes here with such princely retinue of slaves tis he our gracious prince himself quick quick down in the mud with you my holes will be most miserably dirty at the knees what matters that they can be washed again if you'd enjoy the country's bread you must follow the customs of the country's too. Aladdin passes with his sweet. Sinbad on his knees shouts at the top of his voice. Heaven reign its blessings on thee, noble prince. It was he, sure enough. But tell me how you're able in the self-same breath to will right round so palpably. Tash, hold thy peace. I have my views upon the palace, sir. I want the post of jester at the court. the present man's foresworn his cap'n bell's and grown a man of sense therefore it is i make such wonderful essays of wit

what with my genius and my patron's aid the place i may say is as good as mine tis a vocation quite compatible with wielding in all we meet in story with cobblers who have been philosophers and poets too why then not fools as well poets and fools they are so close allied it needs a brain well skilled in splitting hairs to separate the species but come home with me and there will parley more at large for here the windows and the walls have ears exit the great saloon in aladdin's palace gulner hindbad as fatima hindbad speaking in a subdued and gentle voice most true my daughter all that i have seen is marvellous and of such magnificence my eyes are well nigh dazzled by the blaze the finest thing of all is this saloon the lofty dome blue as the gracious heavens its golden stars the garlands which are wreathed along the walls with blooms of thousand eyes the noble marble columns all are proofs not more of wealth than of fine taste and soul there is but one thing pray your highness pardon the boldness of the humblest of your slaves but one thing wanting to make this saloon the paragon and marvel of the world but one thing will you pardon my surprise of all who have beheld this hall not one has ventured to suggest it had a want nay most have rather been disposed to doubt if what they looked upon was not a dream.

You must not think, dear child, that my old eyes are blinded to a marvel such as this, which far out tops the other seven of which the rumor ran of yore in Greece, but just because all here is superb, I cannot brook that anything should lack. It irks me sore. But take this comfort, child, that nothing air is perfect in this world. What is it you conceive as wanting, pray? Look up to that great dome. Do you not see something wanting there? There? No, not I. There's nothing wanting. I should say the dome is the most perfect thing in the palace.

All that could beautifies already there. To add to it would only be to take from the fine boldness of the lofty arch. My dear good child, I'm old and weak tis true. And in my little little, hermitage I lead a homely life, removed from worldly gods. Yet, time was, I was young as you are now. By earthly beauty I was often tranced, and so I am even now, for in it I have never owned a merely sensuous charm, but rather felt the presence at its core of deity itself. So tis my duty, at all times, to instruct my eye to see God's pure and perfect loveliness, my soul to comprehend his wisdom, and my heart to recognize his fond paternal care. Thy words are full of piety and wisdom.

What then is wanting here? Ah, for the eye, which, if it be but tickled, is content, nothing, my child, and every haughty soul which puffs itself upon its earthly gifts must marvel at the boldness of the arch. Well? But, dear child, the eye of piety, which seeks God's image and whate'er is fair,

might wish for something more that should impress a more profound significance on all. Although, be like, a meaner taste should say, it was not faultless quite in elegance. What does the dome want? Tell me. A rock's egg. A rock's egg? How? An egg of that huge bird, which in its claws can bear an elephant, which dives into the deep after the whale, even as the seamew dives for tiny fish. An egg of that same bird. Do such exist?

It's not a mere creation of the fancy? Oh, doubt thou art a perilous disease. You do believe in it, then. And wherefore not, but we shall let this bird take wing in peace, to wish for the impossible were folly. And why a rock's egg tell me for the dome? Because, my child, when tis suspended there, it will be a type of deity for thee, of Allah, of the unknown power, the world's disposer, the great

center of the globe. Oh yes, that would be charming. In bed as if about to go. Come, my child, to wish for the impossible were folly. And dost thou think that he who built this palace cannot procure a rock's egg at his will? I doubt, my child. I doubt exceedingly. How little wots thou of Aladdin's might, it shall be there before tomorrow night. They pass on. Cabinet, Aladdin with a lap in his hand, the spirit of the lamp. I'm here. What wouldst thou have me do? Say on. What thou hast done till thou is bravely done.

The palace thou hast built me here is fair, of peerless splendor. Yet doth man, thou knowest, yearn for the better ever. from the good. And truly this desire is commendable. Who would not reach perfection if he could? So does it fare with me. Through Allah's grace, I am of all that is most rare possessed, and there is little left me to desire. It is with me as with the artist now, who, when his work is perfected and done, surveys it with an eye of calm delight, that he may give to it the final touch. How much does even the finest diamond gain from the polisher and setter skill? So fares it with my magic palace now. All that is most material is here. But some slight decoration

here and there, some trifles, these are all is left to do. What's wanting? Fetch me a rock's egg, good slave, and hang it up for me in yonder dome. It will be to me a type of god who sits throned in the center of his universe. Are thou in earnest? Yes. Now I must speak. He surveys him for some time with flashing eyes, then exclaims. Ha! Thus even around a noble soul will sin its coils and twine.

Thus a violent crafty spirit hath an entrance found to thine. thou, who e'er while were so simple, With a child's heart heaven would bend, In a cage wouldst hang up Allah, For a toy, an ornament, Has thy faith then left thee? Is it to thy vaunting state, undue, lowly down to kneel before him, Like all other Muslims true? In yon tottering dome, O impious, thou wouldst in a single hour, seek by courts to hang the being Who the centre is of power

Thou wouldst have a rock's egg Wards thou in thy garish hall to swing Madman Knowest thou what beneath thy roof of Latin Thou wouldst bring Knowest thou what a rock Importers which thou fain wouldst Prison fast

Tis the earth The huge the bounties Floating in the ethers vast merely earth that still unwearied through the boundless void doth plough. Rockbird is it? On its verdant plumage thou art standing now, that the bird of chainless wing, then never weary in his flight, who the strength of steel with ether's speed doth in itself unite. He, with his broad pinions, bravely oaring, ever onward cleaves,

and the while thyself and Persia in his talons high up heaves. I, I am of earth a spirit. She, my mother, is. But now I must fetch my mother for thee in thy dome to hang her, thou. From the throne to shame I tell thee swiftly, shamelessest thou art. But I know the guile of Hindbert, know thy light and guileless heart. lay aside thy fears and listen well to what i say to thee eve of yore was by the serpent tempted so her sons will be craftily new reddin's brother masked as fatima night and day plots to rob thee of thy treasure and thyself in dust to lay hintbert is his name his dagger with her saintly blood is red tis by

Greet and not by vengeance He to seek thy life is led. Like a prince and monarch bear thee. Call me not to succour thee. From this strait thyself must help thee. This thy punishment shall be. Vanishes. The exterior of Fatima's cottage. Knight, Hindbad as Fatima, Sinbad.

Are you the saintly headache-healer, pray? I am. Is someone in the village sick and wants my help? I'll come tomorrow, friend. I can no longer run about at night as once I did. Old age creeps on me fast. What means this pratting? Do I look as though I came from the village? Follow straight. You must to Ispahan this very night. Simple and homely as you find me here. Yet am I, chief shoemaker to the court. And for the princess, for Golnari, I make the prettiest slippers possible, and boots. Small only in the feet, for her right foot is scarce so big as my left hand. The leg is ample, calves most round and plump withal, but mum for that. These be the mysteries of my vocation, and they have, besides, no sort of bearing on our princess's headache. Look, you, our great prince, well nowadays he's great, but in his school days he was small enough. For twixt ourselves, you're probably aware, he's but of mean extraction,

and owes all his greatness to his genius. That's the fact. He has no ancestors, but it would seem he meant to found his family himself. To come, Then to the point, This prince has an aching head, which fills his bride with aches, and so she wants your help with all dispatch. The court has, as you must know, its own physician. His head, the princess, cares not to consult, for all she's so concerned about Aladdin's.

I'm witty, very, ain't I? Oh, most witty. And foolish, too. Astonishingly foolish. Amusing, huh? Well, you are good at least for killing time. Now that is excellent. My brain's in labor, look you, with a fool.

And soon I hope to touch that rank myself. Therefore, I bear with everything at court. I run on errands making no complaint. And to the princess solemnly I vowed, living or dead, to bring you back with me, that you might cure the prince of all his pains. Oh, these young couples are as full of aches as children are when cutting their first teeth. Ha, ha, that was a happy hit, you'll say. T'was not amiss, yet tis not well you should direct attention to your jokes yourself.

They lose nigh half their value by the act. I will but fetch my Quran and my staff and go with you, good man, write willingly. Enteres the cottage, Sinbad alone. Oh, why had I not some learning to my back? There's such a host of things a fool should know. I've heard there be natural poets. Good. I'll be a natural fool.

And, by my sooth, that's not to be despised. We cannot all be learned fools. There must be layaks, too. sits down. Ah, what will man not do for wife and child? Is not everyone who would live alone like this old woman in this tangled wood, with lions, leopards, serpents all about, and many other monstrosities that scamper bare-legged over the wide world upon all fours,

like honest sheep and cows. It is not pleasant here, especially when the full moon's shine, through the branches so to the left a waste of sedges and morass to the right a copse all blossoming with buds and a small footpath to the town between the path methinks betwixt two grave mounds lies the one thickly heaped with stones the other with lilies and with roses planted oar and how the tallest lily lifts its head on its five stem, like silver to the moon. It looks, for all the world, as though the moon were whispering some secret in its ear. Ha, here the old lady comes again at last. Now are you ready, Dame, to step along? I am, my son. Let us set out at once. Tries to force his way through the thicket to the right, but sticks among the thorns. What are you after there? Where are you going?

you are right my son the path lies here goes to the left and sinks in the morass oh help me help sinbad pulls him out old woman are you mad and you would cure you other people's heads zounds wherefore don't you keep the proper road the road what there betwixt that pair of mounds why don't you see the man in black who sits there smoking on the heap of stones, smoking at midnight's what I can't endure. A man? No, I see nothing but a twig that waves and nods in the breeze. Aye, hi, he nods. You're right. Look how the old man nods. Ha, now I see where the shoe pinches you. You're superstitious, huh? Well, most women are. Well, we'll take up the path here to the right, up past the lily. There. It is no lily. It is a dead old woman in her shroud. See, she is thin, for tis a skeleton

the pale white sheet enwraps. Well, I must say, you're a nice person to be called a sage. Go to, oh, don't be a fool. Come on, I say. Pulls him along. No, no, no, I will not stir a foot. Sinbad drags him up to the lily. Can you not see? It is a lily now. now, and no dead woman. The white lily smells too strong for me. It smells of human blood. Swoons.

Oh, why, what plague is this? You don't like smoke? You don't like lilies. What smell do you like? By heaven, this is a pattern wise woman. A very sage. She can't abide tobacco. Oh, let that pass.

No doubt some women can't. But lilies? Lilies? Well, after all, they have a pugnant smell. And a wise woman has delicate nerves, I fancy. Mine are steeled. I am a man. A shoemaker to boot.

And furthermore, a fool in embryo. Tis a fool's part to bear all sorts of things. "'Confound that branch. There it goes bobbing still. It's all you're doing that I'm kept so late, and you shall pay for it.' "'Is about to break off the branch.' "'Ah! The devil! Oh! My hands all over in one blister!' "'That plaguy branch is bristling with sharp thorns. "'But what am I to do now with this dame?'

come she not to the court the prince will keep his headache and i shall not be his fool in short i shall be utterly undone what's to be done to take her on my back to ispahan i have not the strength for that i have no gossips either as at home to lend a helping hand what's to be done ah i'll let her lie a little that's the way and at my meersham take a whiff the while perhaps the real smell will bring her back to life again sits down on fatima's grave with his back towards the grave of the magician strikes a light and begins to smoke tis really terrible the wild vagaries fancy sometimes plays in people's heads when will they gather sense the black man upon the magician's grave has smoked out his pipe and taps with it thrice upon the gravestone shaking out the ashes the stones rattle naredon's ghost in red rises walks thrice around the grave and stands still before the black phenomenon who points to hindbad as he lies on the ground gives noureddin ghosts the secret order and vanishes the latter approaches hindbad gazes at him sighs and strikes his hands together above his head at this moment sinbad turns around and becomes aware of its presence what do i see what strange fish have we here handsomely decked out in a scarlet dress he seems to pity the old women's state tis possible he may help me if i ask him now for a greeting

gracious sir good day to speak correctly i should say good-night only it does sound too absurd to wish a man good-night the moment one sees him help me to put the old woman on my back and i will bear her to the palace straight but when she wakes again you must not tell, who helped you thither with a sleeping freight. I know you not. How then, pray, should I tell? Say, thou thyself didst bear her to the gate. Good. You but carry her. Leave me alone to take the credit of your work myself. The ghost takes Hinbad on his back and goes on. Sinbad follows.

You came just in the neck. This woman is secure the Prince Aladdin's aching head. She grew unwell just here, the poor soul, with a strong odor of this lily bed. Had you not chance to pass along this way, it's more than likely she would never have stirred from where she fell. What would have happened then? Soon, very soon. She'll be herself again. And do a deal of service in the world.

After death, when life's brief race is run, comes the glory done for each action done. Speed we on. Her goal is nearly one. Your pace is rather brisk, I must confess. To keep the company, I'll make it less. That gabardine of yours is handsome, very.

Where do they make this glorious scarlet, pray? On the loom, whereof the yarn is fire, And the weft is pitch. It sweats the bier. A storm is breaking on the forest, Hark. You speak exceedingly low, Weak lungs, perhaps? This bellows long has ceased to inhale the air.

Who are you, sir? A charcoal burner, friend? Oh, yes, of course. In such a handsome dress? I serve a charcoal burner, you must know. The wealthiest far in all the country round. Trees that do move themselves are what he burns. Arms are their branches cold, and hair their leaves.

It blows so I can't hear a word you say. Push on. For ere the rays of morning break, Back to the earth, I must myself betake. advances singing as he goes. As the nightingales sing in the merry greenwood, So the cock in the caverns of hell doth crow. And the black swans loom through the pitchy gloom

Of the brimstone lakes that are down below. And in the abysses it howls and it hisses, and no cool breeze ever circles there. So we take our delight at the dead of night in the cool moonshine and the dewy air. Fye, my good man, what filthy songs are these? Their soldiers' songs, the madness of wild youth. The load I bear grows lighter if I sing,

I don't feel comfortable. I almost fear this fellow is no better than he should be. Stands still. Push on, push on, else this good, worthy soul I tug along, will hardly reach the goal. Push on, or I will wring your neck about. Alla, preserve me. Tis a ghost, I doubt. I'm coming, Master charcoal-burner.

see you have no need to twist my neck i'll go without that trouble cheerfully oh exit antechamber in aladdin's palace sinbad hinbad the latter lying on the ground still in a swoon the chamber is full of niches and marble statues a large black owl sits in the background upon the statue of justice and keeps its eye fixed throughout the scene upon hind mad. Not even yet come to herself. Huh, I can't help laughing heartily, to think how sorely I was frightened in the wood. The worthy man who helped to bear her here, Ah, faith at last, I thought he was a ghost. Well, superstition is a dreadful thing. One cannot somehow wholly root it out. Here, in the city now, at broad noonday, when the thronged streets are full of passers-by, all things run smooth, and I am bold as brass, so that it positively needs an effort, not to forget there is a god at times, but of a night in yon-grip-n-pinchy wood,

when the winds are howling and a screech-owls cry, and oaks of centuries shake their gloomy heads, and their locks stream upon the gale. I'd fain believe in God, and in the devil, too, and every other thing a man could wish. Ah, she stirs. That's well. She's coming around at last. Hindbad opens her eyes. Where am I? Tell me. Quick, how came I here? Upon these shoulders. Hindbad arises. How? You carry?

me? I carried you? I rather think I did. I fell down in a swoon. That's no way strange. Frail vessels are we all, we sons of clay. You can't endure the smell of lilies? Well, I can.

But cats are things I can't abide. Thus, we all have our foibles, as you see. That filthy lily! Tell me frankly, friend, have I been talking about. friend, have I been talking nonsense, by the way? Wild, feverish fancies. If on all occasions your tongue is equally discreet as then, well, I'll answer for it. Never senseless word will dare to find a passage to your lips. Was I quite silent, then?

Mum as a mouse. You must be tired, good man. Oh, not the least. Why, I could carry you that self-same way as far again, and never. tire, I could. Now go. A messenger has just been here, but you had need of some repose, I said, after your walk. Judiciously observed. Looks at his arm. How hard you must have grasped me. Look, my arm is livid with your finger marks. When you get home again, with brandy, wash the place, and they will vanish. Take it not amiss.

Tis hard at times to regulate one's strength. i will go in and for your timely aid i will include you in my daily prayers precisely what i wish but prayers to whom were they better offered to than god of course of course that's very well so far but look you now when you have cured our prince he's sure to grow so very fond of you he won't deny you anything you ask then prayer remember me. I ask no more to pay me for my long and weary walk. I will. I'm tired of shoemaking, you see. Of all professions, tis the vilest, quite. A stocking weavers ranks above it miles. A tailor's also, not to name the barbers, who lives in close relations with the head. Forget me not when fortune smiles on you.

sure. I'll not forget thee. Say a place where there is little to do and much to get. To cut the matter short, a place at court. The royal bed preparer, for example, who leaves the servitors to make the beds while he sleeps soundly. Of the fool you spoke? Yes, something of the sort. Once placed at court, the fool betimes will follow of itself.

Farewell. I'll not forget you, rest assured. I wish you health and happiness and blessing, and the fulfillment of your every wish. Exit. Hindbad alone. Health, good, and happiness and good success. I thank thee.

I am tired and sick at heart. This swoon, tis strange. The phantom, too. Was it a spirit warm? Does Narenden burn? Is there another life then after death? Is there a heaven? A hell? Observes the owl. What have we here? An owl as black as any coal perched high on yonder statue glaring down on me with eyes of fire. Owls are not want to brook the brightness of the day and sunshine thus. How has the creature got into the house? The windows are all closed me, thanks.

Ha, ha, there is a pain out. Excellent. This speaks of the old levity and want of thought. He's the same gay madcap as of yore. Now for another murder. Murder? Sits down. In bed.

This comes now of a saintly life. As Fatima, one must eat only bread and roots, and drink water for wine which muddles all the brain and stuffs it full of vapors. Let me then to work at once. and change this style of life. Conscience is merely weakness, all fears are. Justice?

If I mistake not, there she stands, a marble image, and the black owl sits upon her single scale. Yet hard and fast the balance stands. An image most exact of that grave personage whom men called justice. Quail now, upon the threshold of success? That were to wear a villain hard indeed. No, Hindbad. in his breast.

My good dagger, art thou there? Tis well. Now courage, and thou canst not fail. Goes in, the owl flies off through the broken window pane and is lost in the distance. The great hall, Aladdin lying upon a sofa. Gulnar enters with Hindabad as Fatima. Aladdin eyes him closely. Art thou the wily dame who is so skilled?

in healing aches of body and of soul? So simple piety believes, great prince. I am not holy. Muhammad is holy. I am a woman, frail and full of sin. Art thou not able then to assuage my pain? The princess says that thou hast faith in me. Come, lay thy aching head upon my breast,

and let me stroke it with my age at hands. But, if my skill is to avail the art, thy chiefest treasure must be close at hand. Most marvellous it seems, but so it is that all my art consists in sympathy. Mysterious are nature's powers divine? It joys me much to hear thy sage discourse. Proceed. My chiefest treasure is at hand. Gunaire, my love, come hither to my couch.

O prince, thou hast a noble, loyal heart. A wife in sooth the dearest treasure is which the pure soul could for itself select. But here it is only the mere body's case. Therefore your treasure must mere body be. By holy inspiration, while I know, thy chiefest treasure is a copper lamp. Good. Then thou also knowest that I bear this lamp within my bosom. Ah, indeed, but it is needful to effect your cure that you should lay your bosom bare to me. I must touch now the lamp, and now your head, and the magnetic forces of the metal, thus interblended through my finger-points, will soon dispel the vapors from your brain.

Draw us his dagger. Be not alarmed, I pray, my noble liege. The bare steel must also be called in aid, else we shall not affect a perfect cure. I with my dagger, sire, must touch the lamp, for tis by bringing oars of different kinds in contact with a fluid interposed that you alone can be restored to health. He's about to place the dagger in his breast. Aladdin springs up, seizes him, and dashes him to the ground. Ha! Murderer! Thou thinks to take my life?

Oh, heavens! What deed is this? The holy woman! Is the most worthless miscreant on earth? Seizes the dagger and holds it at Hinbad's throat. Die, traitor, die! Hindabad on his knees. Oh, spare my life, my liege! Die!

Let me live, I pray thee. I will be a loyal servant. As a father, I will honor thee if as a father thou endowsed me with life. Mute be the tongue which speaks but to blaspheme all holy things. Hindbed, seizing him by the arm. What have I done to thee? Thou, Adder vile, wouldst not have murdered me at unawares? And if I would, hast thou not slain my brother, calls not his blood for vengeance from the ground? His blood! Ha! The assassin!

My brother was a man. The treasure he had panted for through life thou didst to spoil him of. What wonder, then, if he detested thee? Thou escapes me not. Claps his hands, a slave enters. Quick, fetch me hither two Damascus swords. The slave fulfilled the order and retires. Look, Hindbad.

My career until this hour has still been upright. Honorable, Frank, thou art a cate of vile, and die thou shalt. Yet will I leave thee not the power to say that force and murderous violence struck thee down. In my right arm and righteous cause I trust. Take this good sword. Ha, dost thou tremble, slave? Can conscious innocence grow pale and tremble? Quick, take this sword.

By heaven, thy shameless brow shall mock the heavens no longer. Not an hour. Soon shalt thou kiss the dust with gory lips. And should I kill thee? What shall be my fate? Aladdin takes the lamp from his bosom and places it upon the ground. See here, I place the lamp between us. He who conquers can possess him of its strait,

and then no power on earth can do him hurt. Aladdin! Oh, great heaven, what dost thou risk? Courage against cowardice, strength against deceit. Defend thyself, or by the eternal God I'll cleave that flattened skull of thine in twain. Hindbad takes the sword. Invisible chorus of wicked spirits. Woe, his course of life is closing.

Of our friend, we are despoiled. And no sucker in the conflict. Can we lend him no assistance? For in combat breast to bosom, We are cravens, We avail not. How to wield the sword we know not, With the dagger only can we murder in the silent dark. See, Behold our tribulation,

Canst thou not, Hindabad, recoil, and plunge with sudden spring thy dagger in his back? Hug him to thy bosom like a friend, and strangle him? Then shall the praise of thy valour be wrung. Slip like an eel out of his hands. Quick, quick! Where, Hindabad is that? thy cunning now, thy skill, thy craft. Like a pitiful coward thou dost succumb. Chorus of good spirits. See even now the Catef cowers. Soon now all will be fulfilled.

Sucker none our friend requireth. No kind words to fire his heart. Proud he stands in youthful vigor, while his strong hand grasps his sword, and with wary eye he wieldeth, like a toy, its ponderous blade. But a deadly terror standeth, in great drops on Hindbad's brow. See, he totters, drops his sword point, but Aladdin spares his life. I charge you. On your valor, let me draw my breath in peace a moment. Take thy wish. Hindbad sits down and draws a deep breath. At length I see full clearly, but mere craft must veil its pride to valor.

So my hand, my own hand, shall dispatch me to the devil. Stabs himself with his dagger. This hast thou with all wickedness in common. For all its power, a juggle at the best In its own misty light is quenched and lost. Aladdin and Golnar stand for some moments wrapped in thought and contemplate the body of Hindbad. Suddenly it is borne away by invisible hands. A beautiful low strain of music resounds from the dome of the hall

and gradually effaces every unpleasing impression left by what had just occurred. The sweet caressing cadences sink into their souls. They embrace in a transport of joy and are lost in a blissful feeling of wonder. Suddenly, an invisible chorus is heard. Sevenfold joy and health attend thee. No list of the sons of men. Troubles, lowering clouds have vanished.

Flowers and sunshine smile again. Thou hast proved myself a hero. Danger, trial, now are o'er. Henceforth ring and lamp shall serve thee. and forsake thee never more. We around thy step shall hover, wheresoe'er thy fortunes lead, viewless but unsleeping ever,

ready to attend thy need. And the oil of life, profusely in thy lamp of life will pour, so its flame shall burn serenely, brightly too, forevermore. Sevenfold health and joy attend thee, noblest of the sons of the men. Thou hast fought and thou hast conquered.

Flowers and sunshine smile again. O heavenly tones, what raptures ye awake. Our soul's best thanks, ye viewless liegemen, take. The vizier enters with his suite, advances to Aladdin, bearing the diadem upon a cushion of red velvet. Tidines we bring of joy and grief my liege. The good old sultan lives on earth no more. To nature's law he has succumbed, and home is gone, to where his fathers dwell in bliss. We the true servants of a much-loved Lord find yet a comfort in this woeful hour,

when we recall what hope has promised long, from worth and magnan, like thine. Thus, while this stroke of death will change our Lord, it will not change our loyalty and love. And may we hope, thou not dismiss thy slaves, who through long years have proved their service true. This crown, accept it from thy servant's hand, but, place it on thy kingly brows thyself aladdin receives the crown the people are heard shouting in front of the palace may allah's blessing rest on persia's sultan that like the sun he may with joy and strength the land illumine bless his beauteous bride long live gulner long live aladdin o Aladdin advances to the window, and after contemplating the crowd for some time in silence, he says,

There in the square, a boy I love to stand, on holidays, when rambling through the streets, and on the ancient palace gazed with awe, lost in astonishment to think that man could build a palace so supremely fair. There in the square, in my mad rage, I flung stones at the crowd. which scoffed and cheered at me. In that same square they hail me, sultan now, and as their monarch greet me with acclaim. How strange a problem is the life of man!

How wondrously its threads are twined and woven upon the loom by the Eternal's hand. A nod and straight way we resolve to dust. What then is human greatness? Come, my love. Let us together to thy father's beer, And in his gentle visage, Now so pale, See consolation,

Whilst the giddy crowd with feast prepares to usher in my reign. Thereafter to the cemetery we, Where, meath a fragrant alder, Hand in hand, We'll sit and muse on Morgiana's grave. End of Part 2, Act 5. End of Aladdin or the Wonderful Lamp by Adam Olenshager.