Ḥârith is journeying in a caravan to Damietta, and during one of the night-halts he hears two men conversing on duty towards a neighbour. The younger being asked for his opinion replies in a spirit of charity and generosity, upon which the other rebukes him, and sets forth the fitting conduct of a man to his neighbour in accordance with the teachings of selfishness and worldly wisdom. These addresses, especially that of the elder man, are expressed in a highly rhetorical diction, which captivates the literary Ḥârith, and the next morning he looks for them, and discovers them to be Abû Zayd and his son. He invites them to his own quarters, introduces them to his friends, and procures for them valuable presents. Abû Zayd then asks permission to go to a neighbouring village and take a bath, promising to return speedily. They consent, and he goes off with his son. After waiting the greater part of the day they find that he has deceived them, and prepare to continue their journey; Ḥârith, when making ready his camel, finds some lines written on the saddle, which allude to a precept in the Koran in favour of separa­ting after a meal. The plays on words in this Assembly are exceed­ingly ingenious and elaborate, and the opening description has much poetical beauty.

Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm, related: I journeyed to Damietta in a year of much coming and going,—And in those days was I glanced after for my affluence, desired in friendship:—I trained the bordered robes of wealth and looked upon the features of joy.—And I was travel­ling with companions who had broken the staff of dissen­sion, who were suckled on the milk-flows of concord,—So that they showed like the teeth of a comb in uniformity, and like one soul in agreement of desires;—But we coursed on withal apace, and not one of us but had saddled a fleet she-camel;—And if we alighted at a station or went aside to a spring, we snatched the halt and lengthened not the staying.

Now it happened that we were urging our camels on a night youthful in prime, raven-locked of complexion;— And we journeyed until the night-season had put off its prime, and the morning had wiped away the dye of the dark;—But when we wearied of the march and inclined to drowsiness, we came upon a ground with dew-moistened hillocks, and a faint east breeze:—And we chose it as a resting-place for the white camels, an abode for the night-halt.—Now when the caravan had descended there, and the groan and the roar of the beasts were still,—I heard a loud-voiced man say to his talk-fellow in the camp, “What is the rule of thy conduct with thy people and neighbours?”—The other answered, I am duteous to my neighbour though he wrong me; and give my fellowship even to the violent; and bear with a partner though he disorder my affairs; and love my friend even though he drench me with a tepid draught; and prefer my well-wisher above my brother; and fulfil to my comrade even though he requite me not with a tenth; and think little of much if it be for my guest; and whelm my companion with my kindness; and put my talk-fellow in the place of my prince; and hold my intimate to be as my chief; and commit my gifts to my acquaintance; and confer my comforts on my associate; and soften my speech to him that hates me; and continue to ask after him that disregards me; and am pleased with but the crumbs of my due; and am content with but the least portion of my reward; and complain not of wrong even when I am wronged; and revenge not, even though a viper sting me.

Then said his companion to him, Alas! my boy, only he who clings should be clung to; only he who is valuable should be prized.—As for me I give only to him who will requite; I distinguish not the insolent by my regard; nor will I be of pure affection to one who refuses me fair-dealing; nor treat as a brother one who would undo my tethering rope; nor aid one who would baulk my hopes; nor care for one who would cut my cords; nor be courteous to him who ignores my value; nor give my leading rope to one who breaks my covenant; nor be free of my love to my adversaries; nor lay aside my menace to the hostile; nor plant my benefits on the land of my enemies; nor be willing to impart to him who rejoices at my ills; nor show my regard to him who will exult at my death; nor favour with my gifts any but my friends; nor call to the curing of my sick­ness any but those who love me; nor confer my friend­ship on him who will not stop my breach; nor make my purpose sincere to him who wishes my decease; nor be earnest in prayer for him who will not fill my wallet; nor pour out my praise on him who empties my jar.— For who has adjudged that I should be lavish and thou shouldest hoard, that I should be soft and thou rough, that I should melt and thou freeze, that I should blaze and thou smoulder?—No, by Allah, but let us balance in speech as coin, and match in deed as sandals.—That each to each we may be safe from fraud and free from hatred.— For else, why should I give thee full water and thou stint me? why should I bear with thee and thou con­temn me? why should I gain for thee and thou wound me? why should I advance to thee and thou repel me? For how should fair-dealing be attracted by injury? how can the sun rise clear with cloud?—And when did love follow docilely after wrong? and what man of honour consents to a state of abasement?—For excellently said thy father:—

Whoso attaches his affection to me, I repay him as one who builds on his foundation:

And I mete to a friend as he metes to me, according to the fullness of his meting or its defect.

I make him not a loser! for the worst of men is he whose to-day falls short of his yesterday.

Whoever seeks fruit of me gets only the fruit of his own planting.

I seek not to defraud, but I will not come off with the bargain of one who is weak in his reason.

I hold not truth binding on me towards a man who holds it not binding on himself.

There may be some one insincere in love who fancies that I am true in my friendship for him, while he is false;

And knows not in his ignorance that I pay my creditor his debt after its kind.

Sunder, with the sundering of hate, from one who would make thee a fool, and hold him as one entombed in his grave.

And towards him in whose intercourse there is aught doubtful put on the garb of one who shrinks from his intimacy.

And hope not for affection from any who sees that thou art in want of his money.

Said Al Ḥarith, son of Hammâm: Now, when I had gathered what passed between them, I longed to know them in person.—And when the sun shone forth, and robed the sky with light, I went forth before the camels had risen, and with an earliness beyond the earliness of the crow,—And began to follow the direction of that night-voice, and to examine the faces with a search­ing glance:—Until I caught sight of Abû Zayd and his son talking together, and upon them were two worn mantles.—Then I knew that they were my two talkers of the night, the authors of my recitation.—So I ap­proached them as one enamoured of their refinement, pitying their shabbiness;—And offered them a removal to my lodging, and the disposal of my much and my little;—And began to tell abroad their worth among the travellers, and to shake for them the fruited branches;— Until they were whelmed with gifts, and taken as friends.—Now we were in a night-camp, whence we could discern the build of the villages, and spy the fires of hospitality.—And when Abû Zayd saw that his purse was full, and his distress removed, he said to me, “Truly my body is dirty, and my filth has caked:—Wilt thou permit me to go to a village, and bathe, and fulfil this urgent need?”—I said, “If thou wilt; but quick! return!”—He said, “Thou shalt find me appear again to thee, quicker than the glancing of thine eye.”—Then he coursed away, as courses the good steed in the train­ing-ground, and said to his son, “Haste! haste!”—And we imagined not that he was deceiving, or seeking to escape.—So we stayed and watched for him as men watch for the new moons of feasts, and made search for him by spies and scouts.—Until the sunlight was weak with age, and the wasted bank of the day had nigh crumbled in.—Then, when the term of waiting had been prolonged, and the sun showed in faded garb— I said to my companions, “We have gone to the extreme in delay, and have been long in the setting forth;—So that we have lost time, and it is plain that the man was lying.—Now, therefore, prepare for the journey, and turn not aside to the greenness of dung heaps.”—Then I rose to equip my camel and lade for the departure; and found that Abû Zayd had written on the pack saddle:—

Oh thou, who wast to me an arm and a helper, above all mankind!

Reckon not that I have left thee through impatience or ingra­titude:

For since I was born I have been of those who “when they have eaten separate.

Said Al Ḥarith: “Then I made the company read the words of the Koran that were on the pack saddle, so that he who had blamed him might excuse him.—And they admired his witticism, but commended themselves from his mischief.—Then we set forth, nor could we learn whose company he had gotten in our place.