the use of your arms, my brother from Basra.
(HASSAN rolls out of the basket, filthy and the inanimate.)
Yallah, Yallah, on what dunghill did this fowl die?
Is this your man of honour?

JAFAR
(Astonished) Host of the house, this is not our companion,
and we have never set eyes on him before.

RAFI
Then what is this?

CALIPH
Our friend has played a trick on us--may Allah separate him
from salvation!--and sent up this body in place of himself.
Come let us tip it out into the street.

RAFI
(Feeling HASSAN'S pulse) Wait; this man is by no means dead,
and the mill of his heart still grinds the flour of life.
Ho, Alder!

(Enter ALDER, a young and pretty page.)

ALDER
At his master's service.

RAFI
Ho, Willow!