-20_The Viziers of Bassora Act-4 Sc-4Index-22_The Viziers of Bassora Act-5 Sc-2

-21_The Viziers of Bassora Act-5 Sc-1.htm

Act Five  

Bassora and Bagdad.  

 SCENE I  

 

 

A room in Almuene's house.
Almuene, Farced.

FAREED

You'll give me money, dad ?

ALMUENE

You spend too much.
We'll talk of it another time. Now leave me.

FAREED

You'll give me money ?

ALMUENE

Go; I'm out of temper.

FAREED (dancing round him)

Give money, money, money, give me money.

ALMUENE

You boil, do you too grow upon me ? There, (strikes him.)

FAREED

You have struck me!

ALMUENE

Why, you would have it. Go.
You shall have money.

FAREED

How much?

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ALMUENE

Quite half your asking.

Send me a cup of water.

FAREED

Oh yes, I'll send it.
You'll strike me then ?

Exit.

ALMUENE

Young Nureddene's evasion
Troubles me at the heart; it will not dislodge.
And Murad too walks closely with the King,
Who whispers to him, whispers, whispers. What?
Is't of my ruin ? No, he needs me yet.
And Ibn Sawy's coming soon. But there
I've triumphed. He will have a meagre profit
Of his long work in Roum, — the headsman's axe.

Enter a slave with a cup of water.

Here set it down and wait. 'Tis not so bad.
I'll have their Doonya yet for my Fareed.

Enter Khatoon, dragging in Fareed.

KHATOON

He has not drunk it yet.

FAREED

Why do you drag me,
You naughty woman ? I will bite your fingers.

KHATOON

O imp of Hell! Touch not the water, Vizier.

ALMUENE

What's this?

KHATOON

This brat whose soul you've disproportioned

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Out of all nature, turns upon you now.
There's poison in that cup.

ALMUENE

Unnatural mother,
What is this hatred that thou hast, to slander
The issue of thy womb ?

FAREED

She hates me, dad.
Drink off the cup to show her how you love me.

KHATOON

What, art thou weary of thy life ? Give rather
The water to a dog and see.

ALMUENE

Go, slave,
And make some negro drink it off. (Exit slave). Woman,
What I have promised often, thou shalt have, —
The scourge.

KHATOON

That were indeed my right reward
For saving such a life as thine. Oh, God
Will punish me for it.

ALMUENE

Thou tongue! I'll strike thee.

As he lifts his hand the slave returns.

SLAVE

Oh, sir, almost before it touched his throat,
He fell in fierce convulsions. He is dead.

ALMUENE

Fareed!

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FAREED

You'll strike me, will you ? You'll give half
My askings, no ? I wish you'd drunk it off;

I'ld have rare spendings!

He runs out.

ALMUENE

God!

KHATOON

Will you not scourge me ?

ALMUENE

Leave me.

 

Exit Khatoon.

What is this horrible surprise,
Beneath whose shock I stagger ? Is my term
Exhausted ? But I would have done as much,
Had I been struck. It is his gallant spirit,
His lusty blood that will not bear a blow.
I must appease him. If my own blood should end me!
He shall have money, all that he can ask.

Exit.

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