Hassan: The Story of Hassan of Baghdad and How He Came to Make the Golden Journey to Samarkand | Page 6

philtre.
SELIM (Rising and taking dinars) Do not make me chargeable, O Hassan, if the philtre is without effect. I only repeat what I have heard.
HASSAN No, I will not blame you. But go quickly for the magic that nothing may be left unsampled that may prove beneficial.
(Exit SELIM; HASSAN makes up the fire and prepares his caldron, saying meanwhile)
That young man weareth out my carpet apace. I begin to think also he doth fray the braid of my affection. But if he buys me a good philtre I will forgive him. Oh, cruel destiny, thou hast made me a common man with a common trade. My friends are fellows from the market, and all my worthless family is dead. Had I been rich, ah me! how deep had been my delight in matters of the soul, in poetry and music and pictures, and companions who do not jeer and grin, and above all, and in the colours of rich carpets and expensive silks. But be content, O artist: thou hast one carpet; be content, O confectioner: thou hast one love--one love, but unattained...yet hadst thou been rich, O confectioner, never hadst thou found her.
Now I will make her sweets, such sweets, ah me! as never I made in my life before. I will make her sweets like globes of crystal, like cubes of jade, like polygons of ruby. I will make her sweets like flowers. Great red roses, passionate carnations, raying daisies, violets, and curly hyacinths. I will perfume my roses (may they melt sweetly in her lips) with the perfume of roses, so that she shall say "a rose"! and smell before she tastes. And in the heart of each flower I will distil one drop of the magic of love. Did I not say "they shall be flowers"?

SCENE II
Moonlight. The Street of Felicity by the Fountain of the Two Pigeons. A house with a balcony on either side of the street. In front of one of the houses, HASSAN, cloaked: a PORTER.
HASSAN Has she received the box, O guardian of the door of separation?
PORTER From my hands, O dispenser of bounty.
HASSAN What did thy mistress say?
PORTER Sir, the hands of mediation are empty.
HASSAN (Giving a dinar) I have filled them. What honey dropped from that golden mouth?
PORTER She said--may thy servant find grace--"Curses on that fat sugar cook and his love-sick eyes. Allah be praised, his confectionery is better than his countenance!"
HASSAN (Aside) If she likes the confectionery, all may be well. And what didst thou reply?
PORTER: I said: "His sweets sparkle like diamonds and rubies in the crown of OUR Caliph, and his sugar is as pure as his intentions." And she answered--the protection on thy slave--"his intentions may be pure, but his coat is greasy."
HASSAN And did she eat the confectionery?
PORTER I do not know. But within the hour I removed the box, and it was empty.
HASSAN Ah! Salaam and thanks.
PORTER And to thee the Salaam.
HASSAN But tell me what is the name of thy mistress?
PORTER Yasmin is her name, Sir.
HASSAN A sweet name for a moonlight night. Salaam aleikum.
PORTER Ya Hawaja, v'aleikum assalam!
(The PORTER returns and shuts the gate.)
HASSAN (To himself) What if the Jews are an older race than we and know old forgotten secrets? Alas, I believe no more in these Israelitish sweets. Could those drops of purple liquid command the spirit of love? And yet, who can say? the young men of the market-place laugh at all enchantments--but do they know how to spin the sun? On a night like this, does not the very fountain sing in tune and enchant the dropping stones? Ah, Yasmin? (Taking a lute from beneath his cloak and a tuning it.) Yasmin...Yasmin...Yasmin...Yasmin.
(Intones to the accompaniment of the lute.)
How splendid in the morning glows the lily; with what grace he throws His supplication to the rose: do roses nod the head, Yasmin? But when the silver dove descends I find the little flower of friends, Whose very name that sweetly ends, I say when I have said, Yasmin. The morning light is clear and cold; I dare not in that light behold A whiter light, a deeper gold, a glory too far shed, Yasmin. But when the deep red eye of day is level with for the lone highway, And some to Mecca turn to pray, and I toward thy bed, Yasmin, Or when the wind beneath the moon is drifting like a soul aswoon, And harping planets talk love's tune with milky wings outspread, Yasmin, Shower down thy love, O burning bright! for one night or the other night Will come the Gardener in white, and gathered flower are dead, Yasmin!
(As HASSAN intones the last "Yasmin" with passion the shutters open, and YASMIN, veiled, looks out.)
YASMIN Alas, Minstrel, Yasmin is my name also, but it was