The prince of Persia was not satisfied to read the letter once; he thought he had read it with too little attention, and therefore read it again with more leisure; and as he read, sometimes he uttered sighs, sometimes he wept, and sometimes he discovered transports of joy and affection, as one who was touched with what he read.  In a word, he could not keep his eyes off those characters drawn by so lovely a hand, and therefore began to read it a third time.  Then Ebn Thaher told him that the confident could not stay, and he ought to think of giving an answer.  Alas! cried the prince, how would you have me answer so kind a letter?  In what terms shall I express the trouble that I am in?  My spirit is tossed with a thousand tormenting things, and my thoughts destroy one another the same momunt they are conceived, to make way for more; and so long as my body suffers by the impressions of my mind, how shall I be able to hold paper, or a reed [Footnote The Arabians, Persians, and Turks, when they write, hold the paper ordinarily upon their knees with their left hands, and write with their right, with a little reed or cane cut like our pens; this cane is hollow, and resembles our reeds, but is harder.], to write?  Having spoken thus, he took out of a little desk paper, cane, and ink.

The prince of Persia, before he began to write, gave Schemselnihar’s letter to Ebn Thaher, and prayed him to hold it open while he wrote, that, by casting his eyes upon it, he might see the better what to answer.  He began to write; but the tears that fell from his eyes upon the paper obliged him several times to stop, that they might trickle down the more freely.  At last he finished his letter, and giving it to Ebn Thaher, Read it, I pray, said he, do me the favour to see if the disorder of my mind has allowed me to give a reasonable answer.  Ebn Thaher took it, and read as follows: 

The Prince of Persia’s Answer to Schemselnihar’s Letter.

I was swallowed up with mortal grief before I received your letter, at the sight of which I was transported with unspeakable joy; and the view of the characters written by your lovely hand enlightened my eyes more sensibly than they were darkened when yours were closed on a sudden at the feet of my rival.  Those words which your courteous letter contains, are so many rays of light, which have dispelled the darkness with which my soul was obscured; they show me how much you suffer by your love to me, and that you are not ignorant of what I endure for you, and thereby comfort me in my afflictions.  On the one hand, they make me shed tears in abundance; and, on the other, they inflame my heart—­with a fire which supports it, and hinders my dying of grief.  I have not had one moment’s rest since our cruel separation.  Your letter only gave me some ease.  I kept a sorrowful silence till the moment I received it, and then it restored me to speech.  I was buried in a profound melancholy, but it inspired me with joy,