snoring potentate's small, fat feet, vociferously clamoring that he should look, touch, buy:
"Behold, Protector of the Pitiful! Only a thousand Persian gold pieces for this priceless emerald! See! It is flawless and cut in the form of a Kashmiri parrot! Only a thousand gold pieces—and I am losing money on the transaction—may I be father to my sons!"
"Behold, O Heaven-Born! A pink turmaline from Tartary as big as my head! Its touch is guaranteed to cure fever, dyspepsia, whitlows, and the pain of sorrowing hearts! Call me a Jew, a Christian, a bath servant, a cut-off one, if I lie!"
"Look, look, look, O Great and Exquisite Moon! Look, O Holder of the Scales of Benevolence with the Strength of Thy Hands! This brocade—look, look—it was woven by the daughter of the King of Germany as a ransom for her father, captured in battle! The diamonds with which it is encrusted—look, look—they are the tears, crystalized by the will of Allah, which she shed while weaving the extraordinary fabric!"
"Look!" "Buy!" "Look!" "Buy!"
