As soon as king Zeyn was dead, prince Zeyn went into mourning, which he wore seven days, and the eighth he ascended the throne, taking his father’s seal off the royal treasure, and putting on his own. He began thus to taste the sweets of ruling, the pleasure of seeing all his courtiers bow down before him, and make it their whole business to show their zeal and obedience. In a word, the sovereign power was too agreeable to him. He only regarded what his subjects owed to him, without considering what his duty was towards them, and consequently took little care to govern them well. He wallowed in all sorts of debauchery among the voluptuous youth, on whom he conferred the prime employments in the kingdom; so that there was nothing regular. Being naturally prodigal, he set no bounds to his grants, so that his women and his favourites insensibly drained his treasure. The queen his mother was still living, a discreet wise princess. She had several times unsuccessfully tried to give some check to her son’s prodigality and debauchery; giving him to understand, that if he did not soon take another course, he would not only squander his wealth, but would also alienate the minds of his people, and occasion some revolution, which perhaps might cost him his crown and his life. What she had foretold was very near falling out; the people began to mutter against the government, and their muttering had certainly been followed by a general revolt, had not the queen by her dexterity prevented it. But that princess, being informed of the ill posture of affairs, gave notice to the king, who at last suffered himself to be prevailed upon. He committed the government to discreet ancient men, who knew how to keep the people within the bounds of duty. Zeyn, seeing all his wealth consumed, repented that he had made no better use of it. He fell into a dismal melancholy, and nothing could comfort him. One night he saw in a dream, a venerable old man, who came towards him, and with a smiling countenance said, Know, Zeyn, that there is no sorrow but what is followed by mirth, no misfortune but what in the end brings some happiness. If you desire to see the end of your affliction, get up, set out for Egypt, go to Grand Cairo: a greater fortune attends you there.