Such were the soliloquies of the hus­band, thus enchained in the grasp of misfortune, with his own heart, when the snake wound himself to the earth, and gradually curving to the pillows of the two criminals, crept three times round them, and at each glanced upon them with his poison-inflamed eyes. After this, approaching a goblet filled with wine, he smelt at it, and when the fumes of the liquor reached his scent, erected his head, and with furious rage discharg­ing the venomed particles in his mouth, shed a few drops of a yellow colour inclining to green, into the cup. Then returning to the suspended husband, in the same manner as before, twining round his body, and for an instant holding his mouth close to his face, he gave a gentle look at him, and ascending the branches of the tree by the way he had come, disappeared from sight.

The confined husband, at sight of such a wonderful circumstance, became overwhelmed in the ocean of amazement, and was unable to comprehend the various mysteries of the inventor without deceit or juggle; nor did he conceive what wine of his skill was fermenting in the goblet, or, from the revolutions of the changeful skies, what wisdom-puz­zling novelty would next appear on the surface of action. When a little interval after this had elapsed, the adul­terer awoke from the sleep of intoxica­tion, and sitting up, beheld his mistress slumbering on the bed of repose, in the attitude of gracefulness, and the full cup glowing like the rose beside him. When the confusion of his head was somewhat settled, he seized the envenomed draught, and swallowed it at one gulp. In half an hour, the deadly poison taking full effect, made him drunk with the wine of annihilation; and soon afterwards the wicked adulteress awoke, and beheld her lover overcome with the liquor of death.

At sight of this, becoming afflicted with excessive grief, she was plunged into the ocean of amazement, and could not in the least divine, how the wine from the still of death had been poured into the chrystal cup of his existence, or his head fallen from the soft pillow of life on the earth of destruction. As she had thus suddenly been hurled from the shore of hope into the whirlpool of despair, and the elevating intoxication of enjoyment was changed into the con­fused giddiness of despondency, rage now became predominant in her abomi­nable mind, and the spirit of fury shook her frame. Snatching, with haste, the keen sabre of her dead paramour from the scabbard, she rushed towards her husband, intending to dispatch the unfortunate man, and to pour out the wine of life from the bowl of his existence on the ground of destruction.

The husband, when he saw his wicked partner, in the agitations of rage and emotions of fury, with a drawn scymetar, was alarmed; for, bound as he was hand and foot, and suspended head downwards from the branch of a tree, he could not even have encountered a mouse, but still less his wife, who was as a savage cat. Remediless, he condescended to try con­ciliatory intreaties, and said, “Appease thyself an instant, and listen to a few words of request, which, should they prove acceptable to thy gentle mind, so much the better; if not, the power is in thy hands.”

The wife now laying down the weapon, exclaimed, “Ah! thou villain, deserving of impalement, speak quickly what thou hast to say.” The unfortunate captive in the snare of calamity, having first soothed her with many gentle expressions, with all humility and softness continued thus:

“In what has been done by thee, I am convinced thou hadst no power; for, as in the divine records the scribe of decree chose to ornament the edicts on my forehead* with these flourishes of disgrace, and the pen of fate had sketched on the leaves of providence such dishonourable characters in my name, wisdom permits me not to be angry with such an angel-faced and sun-resplendent charmer as thyself. As not the least injury can be suspected from me to thyself, of what benefit will be my murder? What advantage can arise from shedding the blood of one from whose existence we fear no harm? If, indeed, that honourable personage who gave up his soul to thy love, had not departed to the cave of death, then to burn the thorns of my life in the fire of dissolution would have been of use; but now, (may his soul repose in the most blissful para­dise!) as he has deserted this perish­able world, it is better that thou resign thyself to patience, and cover the imperfections of my faults with the veil of forgiveness. You well know that I am a man, who, though the millstone of the skies was descend­ing on my head, would not deviate from my promise, and I now solemnly declare, that if at present, regarding our former connection, thou wilt spare my blood, I will esteem thee dearer to me than ever, nor hurt even a hair of thy head. In this world of chance, between lovers and their beloved, such affairs as ours very frequently occur. Thou art not the inventor of them, nor didst thou form them of thyself. It is not fitting, then, for such a slight error, which happened by the decrees of fate, that I should gird my loins in revenge against one like thee so gentle. Truly saith the poet,

The fool-deceiving flatteries of the husband overcame the wife. Immedi­ately loosening the bands from his hands and feet, and releasing him from the cap­tivity of destruction, she prostrated her head at his feet to beg forgiveness of her past crimes. The young man, regarding his promise, refrained his hands from killing the infamous woman; and, hav­ing offered up proper thanksgivings at the throne of the Almighty, he returned to his house. Folding up his skirt from the cares of this world, he retired to a small and obscure apartment, and employed himself the rest of his days in religious duties.

To be captivated, my prince, with the outward beauty of women; to com­mit thyself to the wild waste of madness, and for a few days enjoyment to prefer an age of vexation, cannot be among the institutes of wisdom, nor have the adorn­ers of the assembly of learning and prudence approved such conduct; because the rosy cheek of woman is unblessed by the tinge and perfume of constancy, and apparently this worthless sex, like paste, is merely semblance.