Ye nightingales and ye roses sing,
Noble halls and courtyards ring!
The Caliph's court rejoices
And echoes love's true voices.

[Pehr and bride hide their agitation.]

VIZIER. Caliph, a happy people, whom you find assembled here, at
the foot of the throne, rejoice as they see happiness, like a sun,
beam in your eyes to shine on the white rose which long hath sought
the tall oak's trunk to lean upon; a happy people, youthful
princess, rejoice in your good fortune and hope that your tree may
have off-shoots with fresh rose buds, which, at some future day,
may spread joy and bliss, like a spring rain, over land and kingdom!

[Pehr leaps up and draws his sword, bride attempts in vain to calm
him.]

PEHR. Hell and Damnation! You grand vizier of lies! and you,
dressed up adventurers, are you my people! Are these hired maidens,
with their venal tricks, my people who pay taxes to us that we may
say nay to their humblest request? No! I have never seen my people.
Is this young woman, whom you have placed by my side, my mate who
loves me? No--She is a heifer that you have let into my stall; she
is an imp who is to shoot branches on the genealogical tree; she is
an administration's candidate who makes happy her spouse with a
tariff treaty. You call us happy because we pretend to be; but we
are most unhappy, for we stand near the brink of a crime, which,
praise God, we shall never commit. I curse you, palace! dedicated
as a temple of lies. Down in the dust with you, false family tree!