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Mahommed whose [rest?] was none of the sounded after tossing and turning and swearing the night would last forever he rose and beheld Gheti afroz in all her charms sleeping in a careless posture. “Ah” said he “this unlucky patience takes a terrible time to cure a fever.”

“Come weal or woe I forward go.”

The moment he touched her cesties the arch tormentor started from slap and said in a better lone. “Senseless creature that your will you persist in banishing yourself from my society and bringing irretrievable disgrace on your unlucky head. Dessit or be instantly transformed into some brutal shape that alone is worthy of you.” At this oration every ward of which Melech Mahommed knew to be verity he was terribly disconcerted and instantly slunk of to his couch in a most pitiful manner where a thousand torturing reflections came to his consolation in about an hour the golden plumed peacock of the dawn raised his radiant head the bright morning undrew the dusty curtains of the [displaced?] night and the light of the world displayed his beams above the mountains Budukshan Gheti afroz