If thou art eminent, laugh not, if thou art wise, at them that are lowly. Many have fallen from high whose places have been taken by the fallen.
Though thou be free from defect, revile not me who am full of blemishes.
One holds the chain of the Kába temple in his hands; another lies drunken in the tavern. If God call the latter, who can drive him away? If He expel the former, who can bring him back? The one cannot implore the divine help by reason of his good deeds, nor is the door of repentance closed upon the other.
Story of the Darwesh and the Proud Cādi
A poorly-clad doctor of law and divinity sat one day in the front row of seats in a Cādi’s court. The Cādi gave him a sharp look, whereupon the usher took the man by the arm and said: “Get up; dost thou not know that the best place is not for such as thee? Either take a lower seat, or remain standing, or leave the court altogether. Be not so bold as to occupy the seat of the great. If thou art humble, pose not as a lion. Not every one is worthy of the chief seat; honour is proportionate to rank, and rank to merit.”
He who sits with honour in a place lower than that of which he is worthy falls not with ignominy from eminence.
Fuming with anger, the doctor moved to a lower seat. Two advocates in the court then entered into a spirited discussion, and flew at each other with their tongues like fighting-cocks with beak and claw. They were involved in a complicated knot which neither could unravel. From the last row of seats the tattered doctor roared out with the voice of a lion in the forest.
“It is not the veins of the neck that should stand out in argument,” he said, “but the proofs, which should be full of meaning. I, too, have the faculty of argument.”
“Speak on,” they answered.
With the quill of eloquence that he possessed, the doctor engraved his words upon the minds of his listeners like inscriptions on a signet-ring; and, drawing his pen through the letters of pretension, he invoked applause from every corner. So hard did he drive the steed of speech that the Cādi lagged behind like an ass in the mire. Removing his cloak and turban, the latter sent them to the doctor as a token of his respect.