" "O my lord," replied my brother, "they are indeed
excellent." Then the host feigned to put his hand to my brother's
mouth, as if to feed him, and ceased not to name various dishes
and expatiate upon their excellence. Meanwhile my brother was
starving, and hunger was so sore on him that his soul lusted for
a cake of barley bread. Quoth the Barmecide, "Didst thou ever
taste aught more delicious than the seasoning of these dishes?"
"Never, O my lord," replied my brother. "Eat heartily and be not
ashamed," repeated the host. "O my lord," said my brother, "I
have had enough of meat." So the Barmecide cried out, "Take away
and bring the sweetmeats." Then he said, "Eat of this almond
conserve, for it is excellent, and of these fritters. My life on
thee, take this one before the syrup runs out of it!" "May I
never be bereaved of thee, O my lord!" replied my brother, and
asked him of the abundance of musk in the fritters. "It is my
custom," said the other, "to have three pennyweights of musk and
half that quantity of ambergris put into each fritter." All
this time my brother was wagging his jaws and moving his head
and mouth, till the host said, "Enough of this! Bring us the
dessert." Then said he to him, "Eat of these almonds and walnuts
and raisins and of this and that," naming different kinds of
dried fruits, "and be not ashamed." "O my lord," answered my
brother, "indeed I am full: I can eat no more.
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