GHOST OF PERVANEH
Speak to me, speak to me, Rafi.
GHOST OF RAFI
Rafi—Rafi—who was Rafi?
GHOST OF PERVANEH
Speak to thy love—thy love—thy love.
GHOST OF RAFI
Cold…cold…cold.
(The wind sweeps the GHOSTS out of the garden, seeming also to ring more wildly the bells of the Caravan.)
SCENE II
At the Gate of the Moon, Bagdad. Blazing moonlight. MERCHANTS, CAMEL-DRIVERS and their beasts, PILGRIMS, JEWS, WOMEN, all manner of people. By the barred gate stands the WATCHMAN with a great key. Among the pilgrims, HASSAN and ISHAK in the robes of pilgrims.
THE MERCHANTS
(Together)
Away, for we are ready to a man!
Our camels sniff the evening and are glad.
Lead on, O Master of the Caravan,
Lead on the Merchant-Princes of Bagdad.
THE CHIEF DRAPER
Have me not Indian carpets dark as wine,
Turbans and sashes, gowns and bows and veils,
And broideries of intricate design,
And printed hangings in enormous bales?
THE CHIEF GROCER
We have rose-candy, we have spikenard,
Mastic and terebinth and oil and spice,
And such sweet jams meticulously jarred
As God's Own Prophet eats in Paradise.