My shword is sharp; good-by, poor head!

Let's chop it off, or kill you dead.

Then do not try my wrath to shun; When you musht die, your life is done. 30

_Vasantasena._ Sir, I am a weak woman.

_Courtier._ That is why you are still alive.

_Sansthanaka._ That is why you're not murdered.

_Vasantasena._ [_Aside._] Oh! his very courtesy frightens me. Come, I will try this. [_Aloud._] Sir, what do you expect from this pursuit?

my jewels?

P. 24.7]

_Courtier._ Heaven forbid! A garden creeper, mistress Vasantasena, should not be robbed of its blossoms. Say no more about the jewels.

_Vasantasena._ What is then your desire?

_Sansthanaka._ I'm a man, a big man, a regular Vasudeva.[34] You musht love me.

_Vasantasena._ [_Indignantly._] Heavens! You weary me. Come, leave me! Your words are an insult.

_Sansthanaka._ [_Laughing and clapping his hands._] Look, mashter, look! The courtezan's daughter is mighty affectionate with me, isn't she? Here she says "Come on! Heavens, you're weary. You're tired!" No, I haven't been walking to another village or another city. No, little mishtress, I shwear by the gentleman's head, I shwear by my own feet! It's only by chasing about at your heels that I've grown tired and weary.

_Courtier._ [_Aside._] What! is it possible that the idiot does not understand when she says "You weary me"? [_Aloud._] Vasantasena, your words have no place in the dwelling of a courtezan,

Which, as you know, is friend to every youth; Remember, you are common as the flower That grows beside the road; in bitter truth, Your body has its price; your beauty's dower Is his, who pays the market's current rate: Then serve the man you love, and him you hate. 31

And again:

The wisest Brahman and the meanest fool Bathe in the selfsame pool; Beneath the peac.o.c.k, flowering plants bend low, No less beneath the crow; The Brahman, warrior, merchant, sail along With all the vulgar throng.

You are the pool, the flowering plant, the boat; And on your beauty every man may dote. 32

[13.22 S.

_Vasantasena._ Yet true love would be won by virtue, not violence.

_Sansthanaka._ But, mashter, ever since the shlave-wench went into the park where Kama's[35] temple shtands, she has been in love with a poor man, with Charudatta, and she doesn't love me any more.

His house is to the left. Look out and don't let her shlip out of our hands.

_Courtier._ [_Aside._] Poor fool, he has said the very thing he should have concealed. So Vasantasena is in love with Charudatta? The proverb is right. Pearl suits with pearl. Well, I have had enough of this fool. [_Aloud._] Did you say the good merchant's house was to the left, you jacka.s.s?

_Sansthanaka._ Yes. His house is to the left.

_Vasantasena._ [_Aside._] Oh, wonderful! If his house is really at my left hand, then the scoundrel has helped me in the very act of hurting me, for he has guided me to my love.

_Sansthanaka._ But mashter, it's pitch dark and it's like hunting for a grain of soot in a pile of shpotted beans. Now you shee Vasantasena and now you don't.

_Courtier._ Pitch dark it is indeed.

The sudden darkness seems to steal The keenness of my sight; My open eyes, as with a seal, Are closed by blackest night. 33

And again:

Darkness anoints my body, and the sky Drops ointment of thick darkness, till mine eye Is all unprofitable grown to me, Like service done to them who cheat and lie. 34

_Sansthanaka._ Mashter, I'm looking for Vasantasena.

_Courtier._ Is there anything you can trace her by, jacka.s.s?

_Sansthanaka._ Like what, for inshtance?

P. 28.3]

_Courtier._ Like the tinkling of her jewels, for instance, or the fragrance of her garlands.

_Sansthanaka._ I hear the shmell of her garlands, but my nose is shtuffed so full of darkness that I don't shee the shound of her jewels very clearly.

_Courtier._ [_To Vasantasena. Aside._] Vasantasena,

'T is true, the night is dark, O timid maid, And like the lightning hidden in the cloud, You are not seen; yet you will be betrayed By fragrant garlands and by anklets loud. 35

Have you heard me, Vasantasena?

_Vasantasena._ [_To herself._] Heard and understood. [_She removes the ankle-rings, lays aside the garlands, and takes a few steps, feeling her way._] I can feel the wall of the house, and here is a side-entrance.

But alas! my fingers tell me that the door is shut.

_Charudatta_ [_who is within the house_]. Comrade, my prayer is done.

Go now and offer sacrifice to the Mothers.

_Maitreya._ No, I'm not going.

_Charudatta._ Alas!

The poor man's kinsmen do not heed his will; The friends who loved him once, now stand afar; His sorrows multiply; his strength is nil; Behold! his character's bright-shining star Fades like the waning moon; and deeds of ill That others do, are counted to him still. 36

And again:

No man holds converse with him; none will greet With due respect the poor man when they meet.

Where rich men hold a feast, if he draw near, He meets with scornful looks for looks of cheer.

[15.19. S.

Where vulgar throngs are gathered, 't is the same; His scanty raiment wakes his heartfelt shame.

Five are the deadly sins[36] we knew before; Alas! I find the sixth is--to be poor. 37