It stands when sleep I, when I stand it sleeps ✿ Heaven pity not who pitieth that yard!
When the old merchant heard this ill flouting from the damsel, he was wroth with wrath exceeding beyond which was no proceeding and said to the broker, “O most ill-omened of brokers, thou hast not brought into the market this ill-conditioned wench but to gibe me and make mock of me before the merchants.” Then the broker took her aside and said to her, “O my lady, be not wanting in self-respect. The Shaykh at whom thou didst mock is the Syndic of the bazar and Inspector[[458]] thereof and a committee-man of the council of the merchants.” But she laughed and improvised these two couplets:—
It behoveth folk who rule in our time, ✿ And ’tis one of the duties of magistrateship,
To hang up the Wali above his door ✿ And beat with a whip the Mohtasib!
Adding, “By Allah, O my lord, I will not be sold to yonder old man; so sell me to other than him, for haply he will be abashed at me and vend me again and I shall become a mere servant[[459]] and it beseemeth not that I sully myself with menial service; and indeed thou knowest that the matter of my sale is committed to myself.” He replied, “I hear and I obey,” and carried her to a man which was one of the chief merchants. And when standing hard by him the broker asked, “How sayst thou, O my lady? Shall I sell thee to my lord Sharíf al-Dín here for nine hundred and fifty gold pieces?” She looked at him and, seeing him to be an old man with a dyed beard, said to the broker, “Art thou silly, that thou wouldst sell me to this worn out Father Antic? Am I cotton refuse or threadbare rags that thou marchest me about from greybeard to greybeard, each like a wall ready to fall or an Ifrit smitten down of a fire-ball?” As for the first, the poet had him in mind when he said[[460]]:—
“I sought of a fair maid to kiss her lips of coral red, But, “No, by Him who fashioned things from nothingness!” she said.
Unto the white of hoary hairs I never had a mind, And shall my mouth be stuffed, forsooth, with cotton, ere I’m dead?”
And how goodly is the saying of the poet:—
The wise have said that white of hair is light that shines and robes ✿ The face of man with majesty and light that awes the sight;
Yet until hoary seal shall stamp my parting-place of hair ✿ I hope and pray that same may be black as the blackest night.