Is he delayed by some slow-moving load?
 Has he returned with broken wheel or traces?
 Obstructions bid him seek another road?
 His bullocks, or himself, choose these slow paces?2

[Enter Vardhamānaka with the bullock-cart, in which Aryaka lies hidden.]

Vardhamānaka. Get up, bullocks, get up!

Aryaka. [Aside.]

And still I fear the spies that serve the king;
 Escape is even yet a doubtful thing,
 While to my foot these cursèd fetters cling.
Some good man 't is, within whose cart I lie,
 Like cuckoo chicks, whose heartless mothers fly,
 And crows must rear the fledglings, or they die.3

I have come a long distance from the city. Shall I get out of the cart and seek a hiding-place in the grove? or shall I wait to see the owner of the cart? On second thoughts, I will not hide myself in the grove; for men say that the noble Chārudatta is ever helpful to them that seek his protection. I will not go until I have seen him face to face.

[108.3. S.

'T will bring contentment to that good man's heart
 To see me rescued from misfortune's sea.
 This body, in its suffering, pain, and smart,
 Is saved through his sweet magnanimity.4

Vardhamānaka. Here is the garden. I 'll drive in. [He does so.] Maitreya!

Maitreya. Good news, my friend. It is Vardhamānaka's voice. Vasantasenā must have come.

Chārudatta. Good news, indeed.

Maitreya. You son of a slave, what makes you so late?

Vardhamānaka. Don't get angry, good Maitreya. I remembered that I had forgotten the cushion, and I had to go back for it, and that is why I am late.

Chārudatta. Turn the cart around, Vardhamānaka. Maitreya, my friend, help Vasantasenā to get out.

Maitreya. Has she got fetters on her feet, so that she can't get out by herself? [He rises and lifts the curtain of the cart.] Why, this is n't mistress Vasantasenā—this is Mister Vasantasena.

Chārudatta. A truce to your jests, my friend. Love cannot wait. I will help her to get out myself. [He rises.]

Aryaka. [Discovers him.] Ah, the owner of the bullock-cart! He is attractive not only to the ears of men, but also to their eyes. Thank heaven! I am safe.

Chārudatta. [Enters the bullock-cart and discovers Aryaka.] Who then is this?

As trunk of elephant his arms are long,
 His chest is full, his shoulders broad and strong,
 His great eyes restless-red;[71]
 Why should this man be thus enforced to fight—
 So noble he—with such ignoble plight,
 His foot to fetters wed?5

P. 180.14]

Who are you, sir?

Aryaka. I am one who seeks your protection, Aryaka, by birth a herdsman.

Chārudatta. Are you he whom King Pālaka took from the hamlet where he lived and thrust into prison?

Aryaka. The same.

Chārudatta.

'T is fate that brings you to my sight;
 May I be reft of heaven's light,
 Ere I desert you in your hapless plight.6

[Aryaka manifests his joy.]

Chārudatta. Vardhamānaka, remove the fetters from his foot.

Vardhamānaka. Yes, sir. [He does so.] Master, the fetters are removed.

Aryaka. But you have bound me with yet stronger fetters of love.

Maitreya. Now you may put on the fetters yourself. He is free anyway. And it 's time for us to be going.

Chārudatta. Peace! For shame!

Aryaka. Chārudatta, my friend, I entered your cart somewhat unceremoniously. I beg your pardon.

Chārudatta. I feel honored that you should use no ceremony with me.

Aryaka. If you permit it, I now desire to go.

Chārudatta. Go in peace.

Aryaka. Thank you. I will alight from the cart.

Chārudatta. No, my friend. The fetters have but this moment been removed, and you will find walking difficult. In this spot where men seek pleasure, a bullock-cart will excite no suspicion. Continue your journey then in the cart.

[110.4. S.

Aryaka. I thank you, sir.

Chārud. Seek now thy kinsmen. Happiness be thine!

Aryaka. Ah, I have found thee, blessèd kinsman mine!

Chārud. Remember me, when thou hast cause to speak.

Aryaka. Thy name, and not mine own, my words shall seek.

Chārud. May the immortal gods protect thy ways!

Aryaka. Thou didst protect me, in most perilous days.

Chārud. Nay, it was fate that sweet protection lent.

Aryaka. But thou wast chosen as fate's instrument.7

Chārudatta. King Pālaka is aroused, and protection will prove difficult. You must depart at once.

Aryaka. Until we meet again, farewell.[Exit.

Chārud.

From royal wrath I now have much to fear;
 It were unwise for me to linger here.
 Then throw the fetters in the well; for spies
 Serve to their king as keen, far-seeing eyes.8

[His left eye twitches.] Maitreya, my friend, I long to see Vasantasenā. For now, because

I have not seen whom I love best,
 My left eye twitches; and my breast
 Is causeless-anxious and distressed.9

Come, let us go. [He walks about.] See! a Buddhist monk approaches, and the sight bodes ill. [Reflecting.] Let him enter by that path, while we depart by this.[Exit.

 

FOOTNOTES:

[71] Lallādīkṣita says that these are signs of royalty.

ACT THE EIGHTH

THE STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA

[Enter a monk, with a wet garment in his hand.]

Monk.

Ye ignorant, lay by a store of virtue!
 Restrain the belly; watch eternally,
 Heeding the beat of contemplation's[72] drum,
For else the senses—fearful thieves they be—
 Will steal away all virtue's hoarded sum.1

And further: I have seen that all things are transitory, so that now I am become the abode of virtues alone.

Who slays the Five Men,[73] and the Female Bane,[74]
 By whom protection to the Town[75] is given,
 By whom the Outcaste[76] impotent is slain,
 He cannot fail to enter into heaven.2
Though head be shorn and face be shorn,
 The heart unshorn, why should man shave him?
 But he whose inmost heart is shorn
 Needs not the shaven head to save him.3

I have dyed this robe of mine yellow. And now I will go into the garden of the king's brother-in-law, wash it in the pond, and go away as soon as I can. [He walks about and washes the robe.]

A voice behind the scenes. Shtop, you confounded monk, shtop!

Monk. [Discovers the speaker. Fearfully. ] Heaven help me! Here is the king's brother-in-law, Sansthānaka. Just because one monk committed an offense, now, wherever he sees a monk, whether it is the same one or not, he bores a hole in his nose and drives him around like a bullock. Where shall a defenseless man find a defender? But after all, the blessèd Lord Buddha is my defender.

[119.90. S.

[Enter the courtier, carrying a sword, and Sansthānaka.]

Sansthānaka. Shtop, you confounded monk, shtop! I'll pound your head like a red radish[77] at a drinking party. [He strikes him.]

Courtier. You jackass, you should not strike a monk who wears the yellow robes of renunciation. Why heed him? Look rather upon this garden, which offers itself to pleasure.

To creatures else forlorn, the forest trees
 Do works of mercy, granting joy and ease;
 Like a sinner's heart, the park unguarded lies,
 Like some new-founded realm, an easy prize.4

Monk. Heaven bless you! Be merciful, servant of the Blessèd One!

Sansthānaka. Did you hear that, shir? He's inshulting me.

Courtier. What does he say?

Sansthānaka. Shays I'm a shervant. What do you take me for? a barber?

Courtier. A servant of the Blessèd One he calls you, and this is praise.

Sansthānaka. Praise me shome more, monk!

Monk. You are virtuous! You are a brick!

Sansthānaka. Shee? He shays I'm virtuous. He shays I'm a brick. What do you think I am? a materialistic philosopher? or a watering-trough? or a pot-maker?[78]

Courtier. You jackass, he praises you when he says that you are virtuous, that you are a brick.

Sansthānaka. Well, shir, what did he come here for?

Monk. To wash this robe.

Sansthānaka. Confound the monk! My shishter's husband gave me the finesht garden there is, the garden Pushpakaranda. Dogs and jackals drink the water in thish pond. Now I'm an arishtocrat. I'm a man, and I don't even take a bath. And here you bring your shtinking clothes, all shtained with shtale bean-porridge, and wash 'em! I think one good shtroke will finish you.

P. 187.7]

Courtier. You jackass, I am sure he has not long been a monk.

Sansthānaka. How can you tell, shir?

Courtier. It doesn't take much to tell that, See!

His hair is newly shorn; the brow still white;
 The rough cloak has not yet the shoulder scarred;
 He wears it awkwardly; it clings not tight;
 And here above, the fit is sadly marred.5

Monk. True, servant of the Blessèd One. I have been a monk but a short time.

Sansthānaka. Then why haven't you been one all your life? [He beats him.]

Monk. Buddha be praised!

Courtier. Stop beating the poor fellow. Leave him alone. Let him go.

Sansthānaka. Jusht wait a minute, while I take counshel.

Courtier. With whom?

Sansthānaka. With my own heart.

Courtier. Poor fellow! Why didn't he escape?

Sansthānaka. Blesshèd little heart, my little shon and mashter, shall the monk go, or shall the monk shtay? [To himself.] Neither go, nor shtay. [Aloud.] Well, shir, I took counshel with my heart, and my heart shays—

Courtier. Says what?

Sansthānaka. He shall neither go, nor shtay. He shall neither breathe up, nor breathe down. He shall fall down right here and die, before you can shay "boo."

Monk. Buddha be praised! I throw myself upon your protection.

Courtier. Let him go.

[114.24. S.

Sansthānaka. Well, on one condition.

Courtier. And what is that?

Sansthānaka. He musht shling mud in, without making the water dirty. Or better yet, he musht make the water into a ball, and shling it into the mud.

Courtier. What incredible folly!

The patient earth is burdened by
 So many a fool, so many a drone,
 Whose thoughts and deeds are all awry—
 These trees of flesh, these forms of stone.6

[The monk makes faces at Sansthānaka.]

Sansthānaka. What does he mean?

Courtier. He praises you.

Sansthānaka. Praise me shome more! Praise me again! [The monk does so, then exit.]

Courtier. See how beautiful the garden is, you jackass.

See yonder trees, adorned with fruit and flowers,
 O'er which the clinging creepers interlace;
 The watchmen guard them with the royal powers;
 They seem like men whom loving wives embrace.7

Sansthānaka. A good deshcription, shir.

The ground is mottled with a lot of flowers;
 The blosshom freight bends down the lofty trees;
 And, hanging from the leafy tree-top bowers,
 The monkeys bob, like breadfruit in the breeze.8

Courtier. Will you be seated on this stone bench, you jackass?

Sansthānaka. I am sheated. [They seat themselves.] Do you know, shir, I remember that Vasantasenā even yet. She is like an inshult. I can't get her out of my mind.

Courtier. [Aside.] He remembers her even after such a repulse. For indeed,

The mean man, whom a woman spurns,
 But loves the more;
 The wise man's passion gentler burns,
 Or passes o'er.9

P. 190.16]

Sansthānaka. Shome time has passhed, shir, shince I told my shervant Sthāvaraka to take the bullock-cart and come as quick as he could. And even yet he is not here. I 've been hungry a long time, and at noon a man can't go a-foot. For shee!

The shun is in the middle of the shky,
 And hard to look at as an angry ape;
 Like Gāndhārī, whose hundred shons did die,
 The earth is hard dishtresshed and can't eshcape.10

Courtier. True.

The cattle all—their cuds let fall—
 Lie drowsing in the shade;
 In heated pool their lips to cool,
 Deer throng the woodland glade;
 A prey to heat, the city street
 Makes wanderers afraid;
 The cart must shun the midday sun,
 And thus has been delayed.11

Sansthānaka. Yesshir,

Fasht to my head the heated shun-beam clings;
 Birds, flying creatures, alsho wingèd things
 Resht in the branches of the trees, while men,
 People, and pershons shigh and shigh again;
 At home they tarry, in their houses shtay,
 To bear the heat and burden of the day.12

Well, shir, that shervant is n't here yet. I 'm going to shing shomething to passh the time. [He sings.] There, shir, did you hear what I shang?

Courtier. What shall I say? Ah, how melodious!

[116.23. S.

Sansthānaka. Why should n't it be malodorous?

Of nut-grass and cumin I make up a pickle,
 Of devil's-dung, ginger, and orris, and treacle;
 That's the mixture of perfumes I eagerly eat;
 Why should n't my voice be remarkably shweet?13

Well, shir, I 'm jusht going to shing again, [He does so.] There, shir, did you hear what I shang?

Courtier. What shall I say? Ah, how melodious!

Sansthānaka. Why should n't it be malodorous?

Of the flesh of the cuckoo I make up a chowder,
 With devil's-dung added, and black pepper powder;
 With oil and with butter I shprinkle the meat:
 Why should n't my voice be remarkably shweet?14

But shir, the shervant is n't here yet.

Courtier. Be easy in your mind. He will be here presently.

[Enter Vasantasenā in the bullock-cart, and Sthāvaraka.]

Sthāvaraka. I 'm frightened. It is already noon. I hope Sansthānaka, the king's brother-in-law, will not be angry. I must drive faster. Get up, bullocks, get up!

Vasantasenā. Alas! That is not Vardhamānaka's voice. What does it mean? I wonder if Chārudatta was afraid that the bullocks might become weary, and so sent another man with another cart. My right eye twitches. My heart is all a-tremble. There is no one in sight. Everything seems to dance before my eyes.

Sansthānaka. [Hearing the sound of wheels.] The cart is here, shir.

Courtier. How do you know?

Sansthānaka. Can't you shee? It shqueaks like an old hog.

Courtier. [Perceives the cart.] Quite true. It is here.

Sansthānaka. Sthāvaraka, my little shon, my shlave, are you here?

Sthāvaraka. Yes, sir.

Sansthānaka. Is the cart here?

P. 194.9]

Sthāvaraka. Yes, sir.

Sansthānaka. Are the bullocks here?

Sthāvaraka. Yes, sir.

Sansthānaka. And are you here?

Sthāvaraka. [Laughing.] Yes, master, I am here too.

Sansthānaka. Then drive the cart in.

Sthāvaraka. By which road?

Sansthānaka. Right here, where the wall is tumbling down.

Sthāvaraka. Oh, master, the bullocks will be killed. The cart will go to pieces. And I, your servant, shall be killed.

Sansthānaka. I'm the king's brother-in-law, man. If the bullocks are killed, I 'll buy shome more. If the cart goes to pieces, I 'll have another one made. If you are killed, there will be another driver.

Sthāvaraka. Everything will be replaced—except me.

Sansthānaka. Let the whole thing go to pieces. Drive in over the wall.

Sthāvaraka. Then break, cart, break with your driver. There will be another cart. I must go and present myself to my master. [He drives in.] What! not broken? Master, here is your cart.

Sansthānaka. The bullocks not shplit in two? and the ropes not killed? and you too not killed?

Sthāvaraka. No, sir.

Sansthānaka. Come, shir. Let's look at the cart. You are my teacher, shir, my very besht teacher. You are a man I reshpect, my intimate friend, a man I delight to honor. Do you enter the cart firsht.

Courtier. Very well. [He starts to do so.]

Sansthānaka. Not much! Shtop! Is thish your father's cart, that you should enter it firsht? I own thish cart. I 'll enter it firsht.

Courtier. I only did what you said.

[119.8. S.

Sansthānaka. Even if I do shay sho, you ought to be polite enough to shay "After you, mashter."

Courtier. After you, then.

Sansthānaka. Now I 'll enter. Sthāvaraka, my little shon, my shlave, turn the cart around.

Sthāvaraka. [Does so.] Enter, master.

Sansthānaka. [Enters and looks about, then hastily gets out in terror, and falls on the courtier's neck.] Oh, oh, oh! You're a dead man! There's a witch, or a thief, that's sitting and living in my bullock-cart. If it's a witch, we 'll both be robbed. If it's a thief, we 'll both be eaten alive.

Courtier. Don't be frightened. How could a witch travel in a bullock-cart? I hope that the heat of the midday sun has not blinded you, so that you became the victim of an hallucination when you saw the shadow of Sthāvaraka with the smock on it.

Sansthānaka. Sthāvaraka, my little shon, my shlave, are you alive?

Sthāvaraka. Yes, sir.

Sansthānaka. But shir, there's a woman sitting and living in the bullock-cart. Look and shee!

Courtier. A woman?

Then let us bow our heads at once and go,
 Like steers whose eyes the falling raindrops daze;
 In public spots my dignity I show;
 On high-born dames I hesitate to gaze.15

Vasantasenā. [In amazement. Aside.] Oh, oh! It is that thorn in my eye, the king's brother-in-law. Alas! the danger is great. Poor woman! My coming hither proves as fruitless as the sowing of a handful of seeds on salty soil. What shall I do now?

Sansthānaka. Thish old shervant is afraid and he won't look into the cart. Will you look into the cart, shir?

Courtier. I see no harm in that. Yes, I will do it.

P. 198.12]

Sansthānaka. Are those things jackals that I shee flying into the air, and are those things crows that walk on all fours? While the witch is chewing him with her eyes, and looking at him with her teeth, I 'll make my eshcape.

Courtier. [Perceives Vasantasenā. Sadly to himself.] Is it possible? The gazelle follows the tiger. Alas!

Her mate is lovely as the autumn moon,
 Who waits for her upon the sandy dune;
 And yet the swan will leave him? and will go
 To dance attendance on a common crow?16

[Aside to Vasantasenā.] Ah, Vasantasenā! This is neither right, nor worthy of you.

Your pride rejected him before,
 Yet now for gold, and for your mother's will

Vasantasenā. No! [She shakes her head.]

Courtier.

Your nature knows your pride no more;
 You honor him, a common woman still.17

Did I not tell[79] you to "serve the man you love, and him you hate"?

Vasantasenā. I made a mistake in the cart, and thus I came hither. I throw myself upon your protection.

Courtier. Do not fear. Come, I must deceive him. [He returns to Sansthānaka.] Jackass, there is indeed a witch who makes her home in the cart.

Sansthānaka. But shir, if a witch is living there, why are n't you robbed? And if it 's a thief, why are n't you eaten alive?

Courtier. Why try to determine that? But if we should go back on foot through the gardens until we came to the city, to Ujjayinī, what harm would that do?

Sansthānaka. And if we did, what then?

[121.7. S.

Courtier. Then we should have some exercise, and should avoid tiring the bullocks.

Sansthānaka. All right. Sthāvaraka, my shlave, drive on. But no! Shtop, shtop! I go on foot before gods and Brahmans? Not much! I 'll go in my cart, sho that people shall shee me a long way off, and shay "There he goes, our mashter, the king's brother-in-law."

Courtier. [Aside.] It is hard to convert poison into medicine. So be it, then. [Aloud.] Jackass, this is Vasantasenā, come to visit you.

Vasantasenā. Heaven forbid!

Sansthānaka. [Gleefully.] Oh, oh! To visit me, an arishtocrat, a man, a regular Vāsudeva?

Courtier. Yes.

Sansthānaka. This is an unheard-of piece of luck. That other time I made her angry, sho now I 'll fall at her feet and beg her pardon.

Courtier. Capital!

Sansthānaka. I 'll fall at her feet myshelf. [He approaches Vasantasenā.] Little mother, mamma dear, lishten to my prayer.

I fold my hands and fall before thy feet—
 Thine eyes are large, thy teeth are clean and neat,
 Thy finger-nails are ten—forgive thy shlave
 What, love-tormented, he offended, shweet.18

Vasantasenā. [Angrily.] Leave me! Your words are an insult! [She spurns him with her foot.]

Sansthānaka. [Wrathfully.]

Thish head that mother and that mamma kissed,
 That never bent to worship god, I wist,
 Upon thish head she dared to plant her feet,
 Like jackals on the carrion they meet.19

Sthāvaraka, you shlave, where did you pick her up?

Sthāvaraka. Master, the highway was blocked by villagers' wagons. So I stopped my cart near Chārudatta's orchard, and got out. And while I was helping a villager with his wagon, I suppose she mistook this cart for another, and climbed in.

P. 201.14]

Sansthānaka. Oho! she mishtook my cart for another? and did n't come to shee me? Get out of my cart, get out! You 're going to visit your poor merchant's shon, are you? Those are my bullocks you 're driving. Get out, get out, you shlave! Get out, get out!

Vasantasenā. Truly, you honor me when you say that I came to see Chārudatta. Now what must be, must be.

Sansthānaka.

These hands of mine, ten-finger-naily,
 These hands sho lotush-leafy,
 Are itching-anxious, girl, to dally
 With you; and in a jiffy
 I 'll drag Your Shweetness by the hair
 From the cart wherein you ride,
 As did Jatāyu Bāli's fair,
 The monkey Bāli's bride.20

Courtier.

So virtuous ladies may not be
 Insulted thus despitefully;
 Nor garden creepers may not be
 Robbed of their leaves so cruelly.21

Stand up, man. I will help her to alight. Come, Vasantasenā! [Vasantasenā alights and stands apart.]

Sansthānaka. [Aside.] The flame of wrath was kindled when she despised my proposition, and now it blazes up because she kicked me. Sho now I 'll murder her. Good! Thish way. [Aloud.] Well, shir, what do you want?

A cloak with fringes hanging down and all,
 Tied with a hundred shtrings? or good ragout,
 To make you shmack your greedy lips and call
 "Chuhoo, chuhoo, chukku, chuhoo, chuhooo"?22

Courtier. Well?

Sansthānaka. Do me a favor.

[123.11. S.

Courtier. Certainly. Anything, unless it be a sin.

Sansthānaka. There's not a shmell of a shin in it, shir. Not a perfume!

Courtier. Speak, then.

Sansthānaka. Murder Vasantasenā.

Courtier. [Stopping his ears.]

A tender lady, gem of this our city,
 A courtezan whose love was stainless ever—
 If I should kill her, sinless, without pity.
 What boat would bear me on the gloomy river?23

Sansthānaka. I'll give you a boat. And beshides, in thish deserted garden, who'll shee you murdering her?

Courtier.

The regions ten,[80] the forest gods, the sky,
 The wind, the moon, the sun whose rays are light,
 Virtue, my conscience—these I cannot fly,
 Nor earth, that witnesses to wrong and right.24

Sansthānaka. Well then, put your cloak over her and murder her.

Courtier. You fool! You scoundrel!

Sansthānaka. The old hog is afraid of a shin. Never mind. I'll pershuade Sthāvaraka, my shlave. Sthāvaraka, my little shon, my shlave, I'll give you golden bracelets.

Sthāvaraka. And I'll wear them.

Sansthānaka. I'll have a golden sheat made for you.

Sthāvaraka. And I'll sit on it.

Sansthānaka. I'll give you all my leavings.

Sthāvaraka. And I'll eat them.

Sansthānaka. I'll make you the chief of all my shervants.

Sthāvaraka. Master, I'll be the chief.

Sansthānaka. You only have to attend to what I shay.

Sthāvaraka. Master, I will do anything, unless it be a sin.

P. 205.12]

Sansthānaka. There's not a shmell of a shin in it.

Sthāvaraka. Then speak, master.

Sansthānaka. Murder Vasantasenā.

Sthāvaraka. Oh, master, be merciful! Unworthy as I am, I brought this worthy lady hither, because she mistook this bullock-cart for another.

Sansthānaka. You shlave, ain't I your mashter?

Sthāvaraka. Master of my body, not of my character. Be merciful, master, be merciful! I am afraid.

Sansthānaka. You're my shlave. Who are you afraid of?

Sthāvaraka. Of the other world, master.

Sansthānaka. Who is thish "other world"?

Sthāvaraka. Master, it is a rewarder of righteousness and sin.

Sansthānaka. What is the reward of righteoushness?

Sthāvaraka. To be like my master, with plenty of golden ornaments.

Sansthānaka. What is the reward of shin?

Sthāvaraka. To be like me, eating another man's bread. That is why I will do no sin.

Sansthānaka. Sho you won't murder her? [He beats him with all his might.]

Sthāvaraka. You may beat me, master. You may kill me, master. I will do no sin.

A luckless, lifelong slave am I,
 A slave I live, a slave I die;
 But further woe I will not buy,
 I will not, will not sin.25

Vasantasenā. Sir, I throw myself upon your protection.

Courtier. Pardon him, jackass! Well done, Sthāvaraka!

Does this poor, miserable slave
 Seek virtue's meed beyond the grave?
 And is his lord indifferent?
 Then why are not such creatures sent
 To instant hell, whose sinful store
 Grows great, who know not virtue more?26

[125.14. S.

And again:

Ah, cruel, cruel is our fate,
 And enters through the straitest gate;
 Since he is slave, and you are lord,
 Since he does not enjoy your hoard,
 Since you do not obey his word.27

Sansthānaka. [Aside.] The old jackal is afraid of a shin, and the "lifelong shlave" is afraid of the other world. Who am I afraid of, I, the king's brother-in-law, an arishtocrat, a man? [Aloud.] Well, shervant, you "lifelong shlave," you can go. Go to your room and resht and keep out of my way.

Sthāvaraka. Yes, master. [To Vasantasenā.] Madam, I have no further power.[Exit.

Sansthānaka. [Girds up his loins.] Wait a minute, Vasantasenā, wait a minute. I want to murder you.

Courtier. You will kill her before my eyes? [He seizes him by the throat.]

Sansthānaka. [Falls to the ground.] Shir, you 're murdering your mashter. [He loses consciousness, but recovers.]

I always fed him fat with meat,
 And gave him butter too, to eat;
 Now for the friend in need I search;
 Why does he leave me in the lurch?28

[After reflection.] Good! I have an idea. The old jackal gave her a hint by shaking his head at her. Sho I 'll shend him away, and then I 'll murder Vasantasenā. That's the idea. [Aloud.] Shir, I was born in a noble family as great as a wine-glass. How could I do that shin I shpoke about? I jusht shaid it to make her love me.

P. 209.3]

Courtier. Why should you boast of this your noble birth?

'T is character that makes the man of worth;
 But thorns and weeds grow rank in fertile earth.29

Sansthānaka. She 's ashamed to confessh her love when you 're here. Please go. My shervant Sthāvaraka has gone too after getting a beating. He may be running away. Catch him, shir, and come back with him.

Courtier. [Aside.]