“During the first hundred years of my imprisonment, I swore that if any one should deliver me before the expiration of that period, I would make him rich, even after his death:  but that century ran out, and nobody did me that good office.  During the second, I made an oath, that I would open all the treasures of the earth to any one that might set me at liberty; but with no better success.  In the third, I promised to make my deliverer a potent monarch, to be always near him in spirit, and to grant him every day three requests, of what nature soever they might be:  but this century passed as well as the two former, and I continued in prison.  At last being angry, or rather mad, to find myself a prisoner so long, I swore, that if afterwards any one should deliver me, I would kill him without mercy, and grant him no other favour but to choose the manner of his death; and therefore, since thou hast delivered me to-day, I give thee that choice.”

This discourse afflicted the fisherman extremely:  “I am very unfortunate,” cried he, “to come hither to do such a kindness to one that is so ungrateful.  I beg you to consider your injustice, and revoke such an unreasonable oath; pardon me, and heaven will pardon you; if you grant me my life, heaven will protest you from all attempts against your own.”  “No, thy death is resolved on,” said the genie, “only choose in what manner you will die.”  The fisherman perceiving the genie to be resolute, was extremely grieved, not so much for himself, as on account of his three children; and bewailed the misery they must be reduced to by his death.  He endeavoured still to appease the genie, and said, “Alas! be pleased to take pity on me, in consideration of the service I have done you.”  “I have told thee already,” replied the genie, “it is for that very reason I must kill thee.”  “That is strange,” said the fisherman, “are you resolved to reward good with evil?  The proverb says, ‘That he who does good to one who deserves it not is always ill rewarded.’  I must confess, I thought it was false; for certainly there can be nothing more contrary to reason, or the laws of society.  Nevertheless, I find now by cruel experience that it is but too true.”  “Do not lose time,” interrupted the genie; “all thy reasonings shall not divert me from my purpose:  make haste, and tell me what kind of death thou preferest?”

Necessity is the mother of invention.  The fisherman bethought himself of a stratagem.  “Since I must die then,” said he to the genie, “I submit to the will of heaven; but before I choose the manner of my death, I conjure you by the great name which was engraver upon the seal of the prophet Solomon, the son of David, to answer me truly the question I am going to ask you.”

The genie finding himself obliged to a positive answer by this adjuration, trembled; and replied to the fisherman, “Ask what thou wilt, but make haste.”