The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Volume 10

There dwelt once upon a time in the God-guarded city of Cairo a cobbler who lived by patching old shoes. His name was Ma’aruf and he had a wife called Fatimah, whom the folk had nicknamed “The Dung;” for that she was a whorish, worthless wretch, scanty of shame and mickle of mischief. She ruled her spouse and abused him; and he feared her malice and dreaded her misdoings; for that he was a sensible man but poor-conditioned. When he earned much, he spent it on her, and when he gained little, she revenged herself on his body that night, leaving him no peace and making his night black as her book; for she was even as of one like her saith the poet:—

How manifold nights have I passed with my wife * In the saddest plight with all misery rife: Would Heaven when first I went in to her * With a cup of cold poison I’d ta’en her life.

One day she said to him, “O Ma’aruf, I wish thee to bring me this night a vermicelli-cake dressed with bees’ honey.” He replied, “So Allah Almighty aid me to its price, I will bring it thee. By Allah, I have no dirhams to-day, but our Lord will make things easy.” Rejoined she,—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.