Mangogul went into his stables, accompanied by his first secretary Ziguezague. “Listen attentively,” said he, “and write.”⁠—That very instant he turn’d his ring on the mare, which fell to leaping, prancing, kicking, bouncing, and neighing under the tail.⁠—“Where are your thoughts,” said the prince to his secretary, “write then.”

“Sultan,” replied Ziguezague, “I wait till your highness begins.”

“My mare,” says Mangogul, “will dictate to you this once, write.”

Ziguezague, whom this order reduced too low in his own opinion, assumed the liberty of representing to the Sultan, that he would always esteem it a high honour to be his secretary, but not that of his mare. “Write, I tell you,” said the Sultan again.

“Prince, I cannot,” replied Ziguezague: “I know not the orthography of this sort of words.”

“Write however,” said the Sultan once more.