The Brass Bottle: A Farcical Fantastic Play in Four Acts

    [Suddenly the room is in complete darkness; there is a loud report and a spurt of flame from the bottle. Horace has fallen back on the floor, with the cap of the bottle in his hand. There is just light enough to see a tall weird figure standing with out-stretched arms behind the bottle.

Horace

[Sitting up and rubbing the back of his head; faintly.] Hullo! Is any one there? Who's that come in?

The Stranger

[In an attitude of supplication.] Towbah! Yah nebbi Ullah! Anna lah amill Kathahlik ibadan! Wullah-hi!

Horace

I daresay you're perfectly right, sir – but I've no idea what you're talking about.

The Stranger

[Repeating the Arabic sentence.] Towbah! (&c. &c.) Wullah-hi!

Horace

[About to raise himself, sees the figure for the first time, and falls back astonished; then, recovering himself.] I suppose you've just taken the rooms on the ground-floor – so you must be able to make yourself understood in English?

The Stranger

[The room has grown lighter, and he is seen to be in dull-green robes and a high-peaked turban. His long grey beard is divided into three thin strands; his eyes are slightly slanted, and his expression is a curious mixture of fatuous benignity, simplicity, and cunning.] Assuredly I can speak so as to be understood of all men.

Horace

Then it's as well to do it. What was it you said just now?

The Stranger

I said: "Repentance, O Prophet of Allah! I will not return to the like conduct ever!"

Horace

Oh, I beg your pardon. [Sitting up again.] Thought you were speaking to me. But I say – [looking up at him] – how do you come to be here?

The Stranger

Surely by thine own action!

Horace

I see. You ran up to see what was the matter. Fact is, my head's still rather buzzy. I fancy I must have hit it somehow when I was trying to open that jar.

The Stranger

Then it was thy hand and none other that removed the stopper?

Horace

I – I suppose so. All I know is that something went off with a bang. I can't imagine what could have been inside the beastly thing!

The Stranger

Who else but I myself?

Horace

[Slowly rising to his feet.] You must have your little joke, eh? [He reels against the table.] Or did I misunderstand you? My head's in such a muddle!

The Stranger

I tell thee that I have been confined within that accursed vessel for centuries beyond all calculation.

Horace

You can't pull my leg like that, you know! Seriously, just tell me who you are.

The Stranger

Know then that he who now addresseth thee is none other than Fakrash-el-Aamash, a Jinnee of the Green Jinn.

Horace

[Half to himself.] Singular, "Jinnee" – plural, "Jinn." Where did I hear that? I – I shall remember presently.

Fakrash

I dwelt in the Palace of the Mountain of the Clouds in the Garden of Irem, above the City of Babel.

Horace

[To himself.] Why, of course! Sylvia! The Arabian Nights! [To Fakrash.] I can quite account for you now– but go on.

Fakrash

For a certain offence that I committed, the wrath of Suleymán, the son of Dáood – on whom be peace! – [he salaams] – was heavy against me, and he commanded that I should be enclosed within a bottle of brass, and thrown into the Sea of El-Karkar, there to abide the Day of Doom.

Horace

Don't think I'm believing in you. [Walking round the front of the bottle, as if to test Fakrash by touching him.] I've sense enough to know you're not real!

    [He withdraws his hand without venturing upon the experiment.

Fakrash

Stroke thy head and recover thy faculties! I am real, even as thou art.