A story bearing some resemblance to this is related of a khalif who was wont to cheat poets of their expected reward when they recited their compositions to him, until he was at length outwitted by the famous Arabian poet Al-Asma’i:  It is said that a khalif, who was very penurious, contrived by a trick to send from his presence without any reward those poets who came and recited their compositions to him.  He had himself the faculty of retaining in his memory a poem after hearing it only once; he had a mamluk (white slave) who could repeat one that he had heard twice; and a slave-girl who could repeat one that she had heard thrice.  Whenever a poet came to compliment him with a panegyrical poem, the king used to promise him that if he found his verses to be of his own composition he would give him a sum of money equal in weight to what they were written on.  The poet, consenting, would recite his ode, and the king would say:  “It is not new, for I have known it some years”; and he would repeat it as he had heard it; after which he would add:  “And this mamluk also retains it in his memory,” and order the mamluk to repeat it, which, having heard it twice, from the poet and the king, he would do.  Then the king would say to the poet:  “I have also a slave-girl who can repeat it,” and, ordering her to do so, stationed behind the curtains, she would repeat what she had thus thrice heard; so the poet would go away empty-handed.  The celebrated poet Al-Asma’i, having heard of this device, determined upon outwitting the king, and accordingly composed an ode made up of very difficult words.  But this was not the poet’s only preparative measure—­another will be presently explained; and a third was to assume the dress of a Bedouin, that he might not be known, covering his face, the eyes only excepted, with a litham (piece of drapery), as is usual with the Arabs of the desert.  Thus disguised, he went to the palace, and having obtained permission, entered and saluted the king, who said to him:  “Who art thou, O brother of the Arabs? and what dost thou desire?” The poet answered:  “May Allah increase the power of the king!  I am a poet of such a tribe, and have composed an ode in praise of our lord the khalif.”  “O brother of the Arabs,” said the king, “hast thou heard of our condition?” “No,” answered the poet; “and what is it, O khalif of the age?” “It is,” replied the king, “that if the ode be not thine, we give thee no reward; and if it be thine, we give thee the weight in money equal to what it is written upon.”  “How,” said the poet, “should I assume to myself that which belongeth to another, and knowing, too, that lying before kings is one of the basest of actions?  But I agree to the condition, O our lord the khalif.”  So he repeated his ode.  The king, perplexed, and unable to remember any of it, made a sign to the mamluk, but he had retained nothing; then called to the female slave, but she was unable to repeat a word.  “O brother of the Arabs,” said the king, “thou