The physician Douban was brought in, and advancing to the foot of the throne, with a book in his hand, he called for a basin, and laid upon it the cover in which the book was wrapped; then presenting the book to the king, “Take this,” said he, “and after my head is cut off, order that it be put into the basin upon that cover; as soon as it is placed there, the blood will stop; then open the book, and my head will answer your questions.  But permit me once more to implore your majesty’s clemency; for God’s sake grant my request, I protest to you that I am innocent.”  “Your prayers,” answered the king, “are in vain; and were it for nothing but to hear your head speak after your death, it is my will you should die.”  As he said this, he took the book out of the physician’s hand, and ordered the executioner to do his duty.

The head was so dexterously cut off that it fell into the basin, and was no sooner laid upon the cover of the book than the blood stopped; then to the great surprise of the king, and all the spectators, its eyes, and said, “Sir, will your majesty be pleased to open the book?” The king proceeded to do so; but finding that the leaves adhered to each other, that he might turn them with more ease, he put his finger to his mouth, and wetted it with spittle.  He did thus till he came to the sixth leaf, and finding no writing on the place where he was desired to look for it, “Physician,” said he, “there is nothing written.”  “Turn over some more leaves,” replied the head.  The king went on, putting always his finger to his mouth, until the poison with which each leaf was imbued, coming to have its effect, the prince found himself suddenly taken with an extraordinary fit, his eye-sight failed, and he fell down at the foot of the throne in violent convulsions.

When the physician Douban, or rather his head, saw that the poison had taken effect, and that the king had but a few moments to live; “Tyrant,” it cried, “now you see how princes are treated, who, abusing their authority, cut off innocent men:  God punishes soon or late their injustice and cruelty.”  Scarcely had the head spoken these words, when the king fell down dead, and the head itself lost what life it had.

As soon as the fisherman had concluded the history of the Greek king and his physician Douban, he made the application to the genie, whom he still kept shut up in the vessel.  “If the Grecian king,” said he, “had suffered the physician to live, God would have continued his life also; but he rejected his most humble prayers, and the case is the same with thee, O genie!  Could I have prevailed with thee to grant me the favour I supplicated, I should now take pity on thee; but since, notwithstanding the extreme obligation thou west under to me, for having set thee at liberty, thou didst persist in thy design to kill me, I am obliged, in my turn, to be equally hard-hearted to thee.”