_Courtier._ With whom?

_Sansthanaka._ With my own heart.

_Courtier._ Poor fellow! Why didn't he escape?

_Sansthanaka._ Blesshed 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?

_Sansthanaka._ 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.

_Sansthanaka._ Well, on one condition.

_Courtier._ And what is that?

_Sansthanaka._ 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 Sansthanaka._]

_Sansthanaka._ What does he mean?

_Courtier._ He praises you.

_Sansthanaka._ Praise me shome more! Praise me again! [_The monk does so, then exit._]

_Courtier._ See how beautiful the garden is, you jacka.s.s.

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

_Sansthanaka._ 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 jacka.s.s?

_Sansthanaka._ I am sheated. [_They seat themselves._] Do you know, shir, I remember that Vasantasena 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 pa.s.sion gentler burns, Or pa.s.ses o'er. 9

P. 190.16]

_Sansthanaka._ Shome time has pa.s.shed, shir, shince I told my shervant Sthavaraka 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 Gandhari, 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

_Sansthanaka._ Yesshir,

Fasht to my head the heated shun-beam clings; Birds, flying creatures, alsho winged 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 pa.s.sh the time. [_He sings._] There, shir, did you hear what I shang?

_Courtier._ What shall I say? Ah, how melodious!

[116.23. S.

_Sansthanaka._ Why _should n't_ it be malodorous?

Of nut-gra.s.s and c.u.min 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!

_Sansthanaka._ 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 b.u.t.ter 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 Vasantasena in the bullock-cart, and Sthavaraka._]

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

_Vasantasena._ Alas! That is not Vardhamanaka's voice. What does it mean? I wonder if Charudatta 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.

_Sansthanaka._ [_Hearing the sound of wheels._] The cart is here, shir.