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THE HARVARD ORIENTAL SERIES 
 
 VOLUME NINE 
 
HARVARD ORIENTAL SERIES 
 
 EDITED 
 
 WITH THE COOPERATION OF VARIOUS SCHOLARS 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES ROCKWELL LANMAN 
 
 WALES PROFESSOR OF SANSKRIT IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY 
 
 'Volume /l?tne 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS 
 
 $ubit$tyeD by Barbara antbettftti? 
 
 1905 
 
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 NOV HO 1917 
 
 THE LITTLE CLAY CART 
 
 
 [MRCCHAKATIKA] 
 
 21 ^trtfcu Drama 
 
 ATTRIBUTED TO KING SHUDRAKA 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL SANSKRIT AND PRAKRITS 
 INTO ENGLISH PROSE AND VERSE 
 BY 
 
 ARTHUR WILLIAM RYDER, Ph.D. 
 
 INSTRUCTOR IN SANSKRIT IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS 
 
 by l^attoarD antfccrgtti? 
 
 1905 
 
Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
 Boston and New York 
 Chicago and San Francisco 
 London 
 
 Leipzig 
 
 Publication Agent of Harvard University 
 Ginn and Company 
 Ginn and Company 
 
 Ginn and Company, 9 St. Martins Street, 
 Leicester Square 
 
 Otto Harrassowitz, Querstrasse, lit 
 
 A copy of this volume, postage paid, may he obtained directly anywhere within the limits 
 of the Universal Postal Union, by sending a Postal Order for the price as given below, 
 to The Publication Agent of Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts, United 
 States of America. 
 
 The price of this volume is one dollar and fifty cents ( $1.50). According to the conver- 
 sion^tables used in the United States money-order system as the basis of international 
 money-orders, one dollar and fifty cents ( $1.50 ) = 6 shillings and 2 pence — 6 marks 
 and 27 pfennigs — 7 francs or lire and 70 centimes = 5 kroner and 58 ore — 3 florins 
 and 70 cents Netherlandish. 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY HARVARD UNIVERSITY 
 PRINTED BY D. B. UPDIKE AT THE MERRYMOUNT PRESS 
 
 BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS 
 
TO MY FATHER 
 WILLIAM HENRY RYDER 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 NOTE BY THE EDITOR OF THE SERIES ix 
 
 PREFACE BY THE TRANSLATOR xi 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 THE AUTHOR AND THE PLAY XV 
 
 THE TRANSLATION xxiii 
 
 AN OUTLINE OF THE PLOT xxvi 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONAE XXX 
 
 TRANSLATION OF THE LITTLE CLAY CART 
 
 PROLOGUE 1 
 
 ACT I. THE GEMS ARE LEFT BEHIND 6 
 
 ACT II. THE SHAMPOOER WHO GAMBLED 27 
 
 ACT III. THE HOLE IN THE WALL 43 
 
 ACT IV. MADANIKA AND SHARVILAKA 57 
 
 ACT V. THE STORM 75 
 
 ACT VI. THE SWAPPING OF THE BULLOCK-CARTS 93 
 
 act vii. aryaka’s ESCAPE 105 
 
 ACT VIII. THE STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA 109 
 
 ACT IX. THE TRIAL 132 
 
 ACT X. THE END 153 
 
 EPILOGUE 176 
 
 DEPARTURES OF THE TRANSLATION FROM PARAB’s TEXT 177 
 
NOTE BY THE EDITOR 
 
 w 
 
 ITH the battle of the Sea of Japan another turning-point 
 in the brief course of recorded human history has been 
 
 reached . Whatever the outcome of the negotiations for peace, one 
 thing is sure: for better, for worse, and whether we will or no, the 
 W est must know the East, and the East must know the W est. With 
 that knowledge will inevitably come an interchange of potent influ- 
 ences, of influences that will affect profoundly the religion and 
 morals, the philosophy, the literature, the art, in short, all the ele- 
 ments that make up the civilizations of the two hemispheres. It is a 
 part of the responsibility resting upon the molders and leaders of 
 the thought and life of our time, and upon our Universities in par- 
 ticular, to see to it that these new forces, mighty for good or for evil, 
 are directed aright. 
 
 The fruitfulness of those scions of Western civilization which the 
 Japanese have grafted upon their own stock is to-day the admiration 
 of the world. In our wonder, let us not forget that that stock is the 
 growth of centuries, and that it is rooted in a soil of racial char- 
 acter informed by ethical ideals which we are wont to regard, with 
 arrogant self-complacency, as exclusively proper to Christianity, but 
 which were, in fact, inculcated twenty-four centuries ago through 
 precept and example by Gotama the Enlightened, or, as the Hindus 
 called him, Gotama the Buddha. It has often been said that India 
 has never influenced the development of humanity as a whole. Be that 
 as it may, it now seems no less probable than strange that she is yet 
 destined to do so, on the one hand, indirectly, through the influence 
 of Indian Buddhism upon Japan, and, on the other, directly, by the 
 diffusion in the W est of a knowledge of her sacred writings, espe- 
 
X 
 
 NOTE BY THE EDITOR 
 
 dally those of Vedantism and Buddhism. To judge the East aright, 
 we must know not only what she is, hut also how she has become what 
 she is; know, in short, some of the principal phases of her spiritual 
 history as they are reflected in her ancient literature, especially that 
 of India. To interpret to the West the thought of the East, to bring 
 her best and noblest achievements to bear upon our life, — that is to- 
 day the problem of Oriental philology. 
 
 The Harvard Oriental Series embodies an attempt to present to 
 Western scholars, in trustworthy texts and translations, some of the 
 greatest works of the Hindu literature and philosophy and religion, 
 together with certain instruments, such as the Vedic Concordance 
 or the History of the Beast-fable, for their critical study or eluci- 
 dation. Some account of the volumes completed or in progress may 
 be found at the end of this book. Dr. Ryder, passing by for the pre- 
 sent the more momentous themes of religion and philosophy, has in 
 this volume attempted to show what the Indian genius, in its strength 
 and in its weakness, could do in the field of literature pure and 
 simple. The timeliness of the Series as a whole is an eloquent tribute 
 to the discernment of my loved and unforgotten pupil and friend, 
 Henry Clarke W 'irren. In him were united not only the will and the 
 ability to establish such a publication as this, but also the learning 
 and insight which enabled him to forecast in a general way its pos- 
 sibilities of usefulness. He knew that the East had many a lesson to 
 teach the West; bid whether the lesson be repose of spirit or hygiene 
 of the soldier in the field, whether it be the divine immanence or sim- 
 plicity of life or the overcoming of evil with good, he knew that the 
 first lesson to be taught us was the teachable habit of mind. 
 
 C. R. L. 
 
 June, 1905 
 
PREFACE 
 
 T HE text chosen as the basis of this translation is that given 
 in the edition of Parab, 1 and I have chosen it for the follow- 
 ing reasons. Parab’s edition is the most recent, and its editor is a 
 most admirable Sanskrit scholar, who, it seems to me, has in 
 several places understood the real meaning of the text better than 
 his predecessors. This edition contains the comment of Prthvi- 
 dhara; it is far freer from misprints than many texts printed in 
 India, and, in respect to arrangement and typography, it is clear 
 and convenient. Besides, it is easily obtainable and very cheap. This 
 last consideration may prove to be of importance, if the present 
 translation should be found helpful in the class-room. For the sake 
 of cataloguers, I note that the proper transliteration of the Sanskrit 
 names of this title according to the rules laid down by the Ameri- 
 can Library Association in its Journal for 1885, is as follows: 
 Mrcchakatika; Qudraka; Prthvidhara; Ka^inatha Panduranga Pa- 
 raba; Nirnaya-Sagara. 
 
 The verse-numeration of each act follows the edition of Parab ; 
 fortunately, it is almost identical with the numeration in the edi- 
 tions of Godabole and Jlvananda. For the convenience of those 
 who may desire to consult this book in connection with Stenzler’s 
 edition, I have added references at the top of the page to that edi- 
 tion as well as to the edition of Parab. In these references, the 
 letter P. stands for Parab, the letter S. for Stenzler. 
 
 There are a few passages in which I have deviated from Parab’s 
 text. A list of such passages is given on page 177. From this list 
 
 1 The Mrichchhakatika of Sudraka with the commentary of PrithvTdhara. Edited by Kashi- 
 nath Pandurang Parab. Bombay: Nirnaya-Sagar Press. 1900. Price 1 Rupee. It may be had 
 of O. Harrassowitz in Leipzig for 2i Marks. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 xii 
 
 I have omitted a few minor matters, such as slight misprints and 
 what seem to me to be errors in the chaya; these matters, and the 
 passages of unusual interest or difficulty, I shall treat in a series 
 of notes on the play, which I hope soon to publish in the Journal 
 of the American Oriental Society. It is hardly necessary to give 
 reasons for the omission of the passage inserted by Nllakantha 
 in the tenth act (Parab, 288.3-292.9). This passage is explicitly 
 declared by tradition to be an interpolation by another hand, and 
 it is clearly shown to be such by internal evidence. It will be noticed 
 that the omission of this passage causes a break in the verse- 
 numeration of the tenth act, where the verse-number 54 is fol- 
 lowed by the number 58. 
 
 Of the books which have been useful to me in the present work, 
 I desire to mention especially the editions of Stenzler, Godabole, 
 Jivananda Vidyasagara, and Parab; the commentaries of Prthvl- 
 dhara, Lalladlksita, and Jivananda; further, the translations of 
 Wilson, Regnaud, and Bohtlingk. 
 
 A number of friends were kind enough to read my manuscript, 
 and each contributed something. I wish to mention especially my 
 friend and pupil, Mr. Walter E. Clark, of Harvard University, 
 whose careful reading of both text and translation was fruitful of 
 many good suggestions. 
 
 But by far my greatest personal indebtedness is to Professor 
 Lanman, whose generous interest in my work has never flagged 
 from the day when I began the study of Sanskrit under his guid- 
 ance. He has criticized this translation with the utmost rigor; in- 
 deed, the pages are few which have not witnessed some improve- 
 ment from his hand. It is to him also that I owe the accuracy 
 and beauty which characterize the printed book ; nothing has been 
 hard enough to weary him, nothing small enough to escape him. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 xiii 
 
 And more than all else, I am grateful to him for the opportunity 
 of publishing in the Harvard Oriental Series ; for this series is that 
 enterprise which, since the death of Professor Whitney, most 
 honorably upholds in this country the standards of accurate scholar- 
 ship set by the greatest of American Sanskritists. 
 
 ARTHUR W. RYDER 
 
 Harvard University 
 May 23, 1905 ‘ 
 

INTRODUCTION 
 
 I. THE AUTHOR AND THE PLAY 
 ONCERNING the life, the date, and the very identity 1 of 
 
 King Shiidraka, the reputed author of The Little Clay Cart, 
 we are curiously ignorant. No other work is ascribed to him, and 
 we have no direct information about him, beyond the somewhat 
 fanciful statements of the Prologue to this play. There are, to be 
 sure, many tales which cluster about the name of King Shudraka, 
 but none of them represents him as an author. Yet our very lack of 
 information may prove, to some extent at least, a disguised bless- 
 ing. For our ignorance of external fact compels a closer study of 
 the text, if we would find out what manner of man it was who 
 wrote the play. And the case of King Shudraka is by no means 
 unique in India; in regard to every great Sanskrit writer, — so bare 
 is Sanskrit literature of biography, — we are forced to concentrate 
 attention on the man as he reveals himself in his works. First, how- 
 ever, it may be worth while to compare Shudraka with two other 
 great dramatists of India, and thus to discover, if we may, in what 
 ways he excels them or is excelled by them. 
 
 Kalidasa, Shudraka, Bhavabhuti— assuredly, these are the great- 
 est names in the history of the Indian drama. So different are these 
 men, and so great, that it is not possible to assert for any one of 
 them such supremacy as Shakspere holds in the English drama. 
 It is true that Kalidasa’s dramatic masterpiece, the Shakuntala, 
 is the most widely known of the Indian plays. It is true that the 
 tender and elegant Kalidasa has been called, with a not wholly for- 
 
 1 For an illuminating discussion of these matters, the reader is referred to Sylvain Levi’s ad- 
 mirable work, Le Theatre Indien, Paris, 1890, pages 196-211. 
 
XVI 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 tunate enthusiasm, the “Shakspere of India.” But this rather ex- 
 clusive admiration of the Shakuntala results from lack of informa- 
 tion about the other great Indian dramas. Indeed, it is partly due 
 to the accident that only the Shakuntala became known in trans- 
 lation at a time when romantic Europe was in full sympathy with 
 the literature of India. 
 
 Bhavabhuti, too, is far less widely known than Kalidasa ; and for 
 this the reason is deeper-seated. The austerity of Bhavabhuti s style, 
 his lack of humor, his insistent grandeur, are qualities which pre- 
 vent his being a truly popular poet. With reference to Kalidasa, 
 he holds a position such as Aeschylus holds with reference to Eu- 
 ripides. He will always seem to minds that sympathize with his 
 grandeur 1 the greatest of Indian poets; while by other equally dis- 
 cerning minds of another order he will be admired, but not pas- 
 sionately loved. 
 
 Yet however great the difference between Kalidasa, “the grace 
 of poetry,” 2 and Bhavabhuti, “the master of eloquence,” 3 these two 
 authors are far more intimately allied in spirit than is either of 
 them with the author of The Little Clay Cart. Kalidasa and Bhava- 
 bhuti are Hindus of the Hindus ; the Shakuntala and the Latter 
 Acts of Rama could have been written nowhere save in India: 
 but Shudraka, alone in the long line of Indian dramatists, has a 
 cosmopolitan character. Shakuntala is a Hindu maid, Madhava is 
 a Hindu hero; but Sansthanaka and Maitreya and Madanika are 
 citizens of the world. In some of the more striking characteristics of 
 Sanskrit literature — in its fondness for system, its elaboration of 
 style, its love of epigram — Kalidasa and Bhavabhuti are far truer 
 
 1 In his MalatTmadhava, i. 8, he says: “Whoever they may be who now proclaim their con- 
 tempt for me, — they know something, but this work was not for them. Yet there will arise a 
 man of nature like mine own ; for time is endless, and the world is wide.” This seems prophetic 
 of John Milton. 2 Prasannaraghava, i. 22. 3 Mahavlracarita, i. 4- 
 
INTRODUCTION xvii 
 
 to their native land than is Shudraka. In Shiidraka we find few 
 of those splendid phrases in which, as the Chinese 1 say, “ it is only 
 the words which stop, the sense goes on,” — phrases like Kalidasa’s 2 
 “there are doors of the inevitable everywhere,” or Bhavabhuti’s 3 “for 
 causeless love there is no remedy.” As regards the predominance of 
 swift-moving action over the poetical expression of great truths, 
 The Little Clay Cart stands related to the Latter Acts of Rama as 
 Macbeth does to Hamlet. Again, Shudraka’s style is simple and di- 
 rect, a rare quality in a Hindu ; and although this style, in the pas- 
 sages of higher emotion, is of an exquisite simplicity, yet Shudraka 
 cannot infuse into mere language the charm which we find in Kali- 
 dasa or the majesty which we find in Bhavabhuti. 
 
 Yet Shudraka’s limitations in regard to stylistic power are not 
 without their compensation. For love of style slowly strangled origi- 
 nality and enterprise in Indian poets, and ultimately proved the 
 death of Sanskrit literature. Now just at this point, where other 
 Hindu writers are w r eak, Shudraka stands forth preeminent. No- 
 where else in the hundreds of Sanskrit dramas do we find such va- 
 riety, and such drawing of character, as in The Little Clay Cart ; 
 and nowhere else, in the drama at least, is there such humor. Let 
 us consider, a little more in detail, these three characteristics of 
 our author; his variety, his skill in the drawing of character, his 
 humor. 
 
 To gain a rough idea of Shudraka’s variety, we have only to re- 
 call the names of the acts of the play. Here The Shampooer who 
 Gambled and The Hole in the W all are shortly followed by The 
 Storm ; and The Swapping of the Bullock-carts is closely succeeded 
 by The Strangling of Vasantasena. From farce to tragedy, from 
 
 1 History of Chinese Literature, by H. A. Giles, pages 145-146. 
 
 2 Shakuntala, i. 15. 3 Latter Acts of Rama, v. 17. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 xviii 
 
 satire to pathos, runs the story, with a breadth truly Shaksperian. 
 Here we have philosophy: 
 
 The lack of money is the root of all evil. (i. If) 
 
 And pathos: 
 
 My body wet by tear-drops falling, falling ; 
 
 My limbs polluted by the clinging mud; 
 
 Flowers from the graveyard torn, my zvreath appalling ; 
 
 For ghastly sacrifice hoarse ravens calling. 
 
 And for the fragrant incense of my blood. (x. 3) 
 
 And nature description: 
 
 But mistress, do not scold the lightning. She is your friend. 
 
 This golden cord that trembles on the breast 
 Of great Airavata; upon the crest 
 Of rocky hills this banner all ablaze; 
 
 This lamp in Indr a! s palace ; but most blest 
 As telling where your most beloved stays. (v. 33) 
 
 And genuine bitterness: 
 
 Pride and tricks and lies and fraud 
 Are in your face; 
 
 False playground of the lustful god, 
 
 Such is your face; 
 
 The wench's stock in trade, in fine. 
 
 Epitome of joys divine, 
 
 I mean your face — 
 
 For sale! the price is courtesy. 
 
 I trust you "'ll find a man to buy 
 
 Your face. (v. 36) 
 
 It is natural that Shudraka should choose for the expression of 
 matters so diverse that type of drama which gives the greatest 
 scope to the author’s creative power. This type is the so-called 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 xix 
 
 “drama of invention ,” 1 a category curiously subordinated in India 
 to the heroic drama, the plot of which is drawn from history or 
 mythology. Indeed, The Little Clay Cart is the only extant drama 
 which fulfils the spirit of the drama of invention, as defined by the 
 Sanskrit canons of dramaturgy. The plot of the “ Malati and Ma- 
 dhava,” or of the “ Mallika and Maruta,” is in no true sense the in- 
 vention of the author; and The Little Clay Cart is the only drama 
 of invention which is “full of rascals .” 2 
 
 But a spirit so powerful as that of King Shiidraka could not be 
 confined within the strait-jacket of the minute, and sometimes 
 puerile, rules of the technical works. In the very title of the drama, 
 he has disregarded the rule 3 that the name of a drama of invention 
 should be formed by compounding the names of heroine and hero . 4 
 Again, the books prescribe 5 that the hero shall appear in every act; 
 yet Charudatta does not appear in acts ii., iv., vi., and viii. And 
 further, various characters, Vasantasena, Maitreya, the courtier, 
 and others, have vastly gained because they do not conform too 
 closely to the technical definitions. 
 
 The characters of The Little Clay Cart are living men and women. 
 Even when the type makes no strong appeal to Western minds, 
 as in the case of Charudatta, the character lives, in a sense in which 
 Dushyanta 6 or even Rama 7 can hardly be said to live. Shudraka’s 
 men are better individualized than his women ; this fact alone dif- 
 ferentiates him sharply from other Indian dramatists. He draws 
 on every class of society, from the high-souled Brahman to the 
 executioner and the housemaid. 
 
 His greatest character is unquestionably Sansthanaka, this com- 
 
 1 Prakarana. 2 Dhurtasamkula : Da^arupa, iii. 38. 3 Sahityadarpana, 428. 
 
 4 As in Malati-madhava. 5 Daearupa, iii. 33. 6 In Kalidasa's Shakuntala. 
 
 7 In Bhavabhuti's Latter Acts of Rama. 
 
XX 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 bination of ignorant conceit, brutal lust, and cunning, this greater 
 than Cloten, who, after strangling an innocent woman, can say : 1 
 “Oh, come! Let’s go and play in the pond.’’ Most attractive char- 
 acters are the five 2 conspirators, men whose home is “east of Suez 
 and the ten commandments.” They live from hand to mouth, ready 
 at any moment to steal a gem-casket or to take part in a revolution, 
 and preserving through it all their character as gentlemen and their 
 irresistible conceit. And side by side with them moves the hero 
 Charudatta, the Buddhist beau-ideal of manhood, 
 
 A tree of life to them whose sorrows grow. 
 
 Beneath its fruit of virtue bending low. (i. Jf) 
 
 To him, life itself is not dear, but only honor . 3 He values wealth 
 only as it supplies him with the means of serving others. We may, 
 with some justice, compare him with Antonio in The Merchant 
 of Venice. There is some inconsistency, from our point of view, 
 in making such a character the hero of a love-drama ; and indeed, 
 it is Vasantasena who does most of the love-making . 4 
 
 Vasantasena is a character with neither the girlish charm of 
 Shakuntala 5 nor the mature womanly dignity of Slta . 6 She is 
 more admirable than lovable. Witty and wise she is, and in her 
 love as true as steel; this too, in a social position which makes such 
 constancy difficult. Yet she cannot be called a great character; she 
 does not seem so true to life as her clever maid, Madanika. In 
 making the heroine of his play a courtezan, Shudraka follows a 
 suggestion of the technical works on the drama; he does not 
 thereby cast any imputation of ill on Vasantasena’s character. The 
 courtezan class in India corresponded roughly to the hetseree of 
 
 1 See page 188. 2 Aryaka, Darduraka, Chandanaka, Sharvilaka, and the courtier. 
 
 3 See x. 27. < See v. 46 and the following stage-direction. 
 
 6 In Kalidasa's play of that name. 6 In Bhavabhuti’s Latter Acts of Rama. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 xxi 
 
 ancient Greece or the geishas of Japan; it was possible to be a 
 courtezan and retain one’s self-respect. Yet the inherited 1 way of 
 life proves distasteful to Vasantasena; her one desire is to escape 
 its limitations and its dangers by becoming a legal wife . 2 
 
 In Maitreya, the Vidushaka, we find an instance of our author’s 
 masterly skill in giving life to the dry bones of a rhetorical defini- 
 tion. The Vidushaka is a stock character who has something in 
 common with a jester ; and in Maitreya the essential traits of the 
 character — eagerness for good food and other creature comforts, 
 and blundering devotion to his friend — are retained, to be sure, 
 but clarified and elevated by his quaint humor and his readiness 
 to follow Charudatta even in death. The grosser traits of the typi- 
 cal Vidushaka are lacking. Maitreya is neither a glutton nor a fool, 
 but a simple-minded, whole-hearted friend. 
 
 The courtier is another character suggested by the technical 
 works, and transformed by the genius of Shudraka. He is a man 
 not only of education and social refinement, but also of real no- 
 bility of nature. But he is in a false position from the first, this 
 true gentleman at the wretched court of King Palaka; at last he 
 finds the courage to break away, and risks life, and all that makes 
 life attractive, by backing Aryaka. Of all the conspirators, it is he 
 who runs the greatest risk. To his protection of Vasantasena is 
 added a touch of infinite pathos when we remember that he was 
 himself in love with her . 3 Only when Vasantasena leaves him 4 with- 
 out a thought, to enter Charudatta’s house, does he realize how 
 much he loves her; then, indeed, he breaks forth in words of the 
 most passionate jealousy. We need not linger over the other char- 
 acters, except to observe that each has his marked individuality, 
 
 1 See viii. 43. 2 See pages 65-66 and page 174. 
 
 3 See viii. 38; and compare the words, “Yet love bids me prattle,” on page 86. 
 
 4 Page 87. 
 
XXII 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 and that each helps to make vivid this picture of a society that 
 seems at first so remote. 
 
 Shudraka’s humor is the third of his vitally distinguishing quali- 
 ties. This humor has an American flavor, both in its puns and in 
 its situations. The plays on words can seldom be adequately re- 
 produced in translation, but the situations are independent of 
 language. And Shudraka’s humor runs the whole gamut, from grim 
 to farcical, from satirical to quaint. Its variety and keenness are 
 such that King Shudraka need not fear a comparison with the 
 greatest of Occidental writers of comedies. 
 
 It remains to say a word about the construction of the play. 
 Obviously, it is too long. More than this, the main action halts 
 through acts ii. to v., and during these episodic acts we almost 
 forget that the main plot concerns the love of Vasantasena and 
 Charudatta. Indeed, we have in The Little Clay Cart the material 
 for two plays. The larger part of act i. forms with acts vi. to x. a 
 consistent and ingenious plot ; while the remainder of act i. might 
 be combined with acts iii. to v. to make a pleasing comedy of 
 lighter tone. The second act, clever as it is, has little real connec- 
 tion either with the main plot or with the story of the gems. The 
 breadth of treatment which is observable in this play is found in 
 many other specimens of the Sanskrit drama, which has set itself 
 an ideal different from that of our own drama. The lack of dra- 
 matic unity and consistency is often compensated, indeed, by 
 lyrical beauty and charms of style; but it suggests the question 
 whether we might not more j ustly speak of the Sanskrit plays as 
 dramatic poems than as dramas. In The Little Clay Cart, at any 
 rate, we could ill afford to spare a single scene, even though the 
 very richness and variety of the play remove it from the class of 
 the world’s greatest dramas. 
 
INTRODUCTION xxiii 
 
 n. THE TRANSLATION 
 
 The following translation is sufficiently different from previous 
 translations of Indian plays to require a word of explanation. The 
 difference consists chiefly in the manner in which I have endea- 
 vored to preserve the form of the original. The Indian plays are 
 written in mingled prose and verse; and the verse portion forms 
 so large a part of the whole that the manner in which it is ren- 
 dered is of much importance. Now this verse is not analogous to 
 the iambic trimeter of Sophocles or the blank verse of Shakspere, 
 but roughly corresponds to the Greek choruses or the occasional 
 rhymed songs of the Elizabethan stage. In other words, the verse 
 portion of a Sanskrit drama is not narrative; it is sometimes de- 
 scriptive, but more commonly lyrical: each stanza sums up the 
 emotional impression which the preceding action or dialogue has 
 made upon one of the actors. Such matter is in English cast into 
 the form of the rhymed stanza; and so, although rhymed verse is 
 very rarely employed in classical Sanskrit, it seems the most ap- 
 propriate vehicle for the translation of the stanzas of a Sanskrit 
 drama. It is true that we occasionally find stanzas which might 
 fitly be rendered in English blank verse, and, more frequently, 
 stanzas which are so prosaic as not to deserve a rendering in Eng- 
 lish verse at all . 1 But, as the present translation may be regarded 
 as in some sort an experiment, I have preferred to hold rigidly to 
 the distinction found in the original between simple prose and 
 types of stanza which seem to me to correspond to English rhymed 
 verse. 
 
 It is obvious that a translation into verse, and especially into 
 rhymed verse, cannot be as literal as a translation into prose ; this 
 
 1 Stanzas of the latter sort in The Little Clay Cart are vii. 2 and viii. 5. 
 
XXIV 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 disadvantage I have used my best pains to minimize. I hope it 
 may be said that nothing of real moment has been omitted from 
 the verses; and where lack of metrical skill has compelled ex- 
 pansion, I have striven to make the additions as insignificant as 
 possible. 
 
 There is another point, however, in which it is hardly feasible 
 to imitate the original; this is the difference in the dialects used 
 by the various characters. In The Little Clay Cart, as in other 
 Indian dramas, some of the characters speak Sanskrit, others Pra- 
 krit. Now Prakrit is the generic name for a number of dialects 
 derived from the Sanskrit and closely akin to it. The inferior per- 
 sonages of an Indian play, and, with rare exceptions, all the 
 women, speak one or another of these Prakrits. Of the thirty 
 characters of this play, for example, only five (Charudatta, the 
 courtier, Aryaka, Sharvilaka, and the judge) speak Sanskrit ; 1 the 
 others speak various Prakrit dialects. Only in the case of San- 
 sthanaka have I made a rude attempt to suggest the dialect by 
 substituting sh for s as he does. And the grandiloquence of Shar- 
 vilaka’s Sanskrit in the satirical portion of the third act I have 
 endeavored to imitate. 
 
 Whenever the language of the original is at all technical, the 
 translator labors under peculiar difficulty. Thus the legal terms 
 found in the ninth act are inadequately rendered, and, to some ex- 
 tent at least, inevitably so ; for the legal forms, or lack of forms, 
 pictured there were never contemplated by the makers of the Eng- 
 lish legal vocabulary. It may be added here that in rendering from a 
 literature so artificial as the Sanskrit, one must lose not only the 
 sensuous beauty of the verse, but also many plays on words. 
 
 In regard to the not infrequent repetitions found in the text, I 
 
 1 This statement requires a slight limitation ; compare, for example, the footnote to page 82. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 XXV 
 
 have used my best judgment. Such repetitions have been given in 
 full where it seemed to me that the force or unity of the passage 
 gained by such treatment, or where the original repeats in full, as 
 in the case of v. 7, which is identical with iii. 29. Elsewhere, I have 
 merely indicated the repetition after the manner of the original. 
 
 The reader will notice that there was little effort to attain real- 
 ism in the presentation of an Indian play. He need not be sur- 
 prised therefore to find (page 145) that Viraka leaves the court- 
 room, mounts a horse, rides to the suburbs, makes an investiga- 
 tion and returns — all within the limits of a stage-direction. The 
 simplicity of presentation also makes possible sudden shifts of 
 scene. In the first act, for example, there are six scenes, which take 
 place alternately in Charudatta’s house and in the street outside. 
 In those cases where a character enters “seated ” or “asleep,” I have 
 substituted the verb “appear” for the verb “enter”; yet I am not 
 sure that this concession to realism is wise. 
 
 The system of transliteration which I have adopted is intended 
 to render the pronunciation of proper names as simple as may be 
 to the English reader. The consonants are to be pronounced as in 
 English , 1 the vowels as in Italian. Diacritical marks have been 
 avoided, with the exception of the macron. This sign has been used 
 consistently 2 to mark long vowels except e and o, which are always 
 long. Three rules suffice for the placing of the accent. A long pe- 
 nult is accented : Maitreya, Charudatta. If the penult is short, the 
 antepenult is accented provided it be long: Sansthanaka. If both 
 penult and antepenult of a four-syllabled word are short, the pre- 
 antepenultimate receives the accent: Madanika, Sthivaraka. 
 
 1 But the combination th should be pronounced as in ant-hill, not as in thin or this ; similarly 
 dh as in mad-house ; hh as in abhor. 
 
 2 Except in the names Aryaka and AhTnta, where typographical considerations have led to the 
 omission of the macron over the initial letter ; and except also in head-lines. 
 
XXVI 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 in. AN OUTLINE OF THE PLOT 
 
 Act I., entitled The Gems are left Behind . Evening of the first 
 day. — After the prologue, Charudatta, who is within his house, 
 converses with his friend Maitreya, and deplores his poverty. 
 While they are speaking, Vasantasena appears in the street outside. 
 She is pursued by the courtier and Sansthanaka ; the latter makes 
 her degrading offers of his love, which she indignantly rejects. 
 Charudatta sends Maitreya from the house to offer sacrifice, and 
 through the open door Vasantasena slips unobserved into the 
 house. Maitreya returns after an altercation with Sansthanaka, and 
 recognizes Vasantasena. Vasantasena leaves a casket of gems in the 
 house for safe keeping and returns to her home. 
 
 Act II., entitled The Shampooer who Gambled. Second day. — 
 The act opens in Vasantasena’s house. Vasantasena confesses to her 
 maid Madanika her love for Charudatta. Then a shampooer appears 
 in the street, pursued by the gambling-master and a gambler, who 
 demand of him ten gold-pieces which he has lost in the gambling- 
 house. At this point Darduraka enters, and engages the gambling- 
 master and the gambler in an angry discussion, during which the 
 shampooer escapes into Vasantasena’s house. When Vasantasena 
 learns that the shampooer had once served Charudatta, she pays his 
 debt; the grateful shampooer resolves to turn monk. As he leaves 
 the house he is attacked by a runaway elephant, and saved by 
 Karnapuraka, a servant of Vasantasena. 
 
 Act III., entitled The Hole in the Wall. The night following the 
 second day. — Charudatta and Maitreya return home after mid- 
 night from a concert, and go to sleep. Maitreya has in his hand the 
 gem-casket which Vasantasena has left behind. Sharvilaka enters. 
 He is in love with Madanika, a maid of Vasantasena’s, and is re- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 XXVI] 
 
 solved to acquire by theft the means of buying her freedom. He 
 makes a hole in the wall of the house, enters, and steals the casket 
 of gems which Yasantasena had left. Charudatta wakes to find 
 casket and thief gone. His wife gives him her pearl necklace with 
 which to make restitution. 
 
 Act IV., entitled Madanika and Sharvilaka. Third day. — Shar- 
 vilaka comes to Yasantasena s house to buy Madanika’s freedom. 
 Yasantasena overhears the facts concerning the theft of her gem- 
 casket from Charudatta’s house, but accepts the casket, and gives 
 Madanika her freedom. As Sharvilaka leaves the house, he hears 
 that his friend Aryaka, who had been imprisoned by the king, has 
 escaped and is being pursued. Sharvilaka departs to help him. 
 Maitreya comes from Charudatta with the pearl necklace, to repay 
 Vasantasena for the gem-casket. She accepts the necklace also, as 
 giving her an excuse for a visit to Charudatta. 
 
 Act V., entitled The Storm. Evening of the third day. — Cha- 
 rudatta appears in the garden of his house. Here he receives a ser- 
 vant of Yasantasena, who announces that Vasantasena is on her 
 way to visit him. Yasantasena then appears in the street with the 
 courtier ; the two describe alternately the violence and beauty of the 
 storm which has suddenly arisen. Vasantasena dismisses the cour- 
 tier, enters the garden, and explains to Charudatta how she has 
 again come into possession of the gem-casket. Meanwhile, the storm 
 has so increased in violence that she is compelled to spend the night 
 at Charudatta’s house. 
 
 Act VI., entitled The Swapping of the Bullock-carts. Morning of 
 the fourth day. —Here she meets Charudatta’s little son, Rohasena. 
 The boy is peevish because he can now have only a little clay cart 
 to play with, instead of finer toys. Vasantasena gives him her 
 gems to buy a toy cart of gold. Charudatta’s servant drives up to 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 xxviii 
 
 take Vasantasena in Charudatta’s bullock-cart to the park, where 
 she is to meet Charudatta ; but while Vasantasena is making ready, 
 he drives away to get a cushion. Then Sansthanaka’s servant drives 
 up with his master’s cart, which Vasantasena enters by mistake. 
 Soon after, Charudatta’s servant returns with his cart. Then the 
 escaped prisoner Aryaka appears and enters Charudatta’s cart. 
 Two policemen come on the scene; they are searching for Aryaka. 
 One of them looks into the cart and discovers Aryaka, but agrees 
 to protect him. This he does by deceiving and finally maltreating 
 his companion. 
 
 Act VII., entitled Aryaka s Escape . Fourth day. — Charudatta 
 is awaiting Vasantasena in the park. His cart, in which Aryaka lies 
 hidden, appears. Charudatta discovers the fugitive, removes his 
 fetters, lends him the cart, and leaves the park. 
 
 Act VIII., entitled The Strangling of Vasantasena. Fourth 
 day. — A Buddhist monk, the shampooer of the second act, enters 
 the park. He has difficulty in escaping from Sansthanaka, who 
 appears with the courtier. Sansthanaka’s servant drives in with the 
 cart which Vasantasena had entered by mistake. She is discovered 
 by Sansthanaka, who pursues her with insulting offers of love. 
 When she repulses him, Sansthanaka gets rid of all witnesses, 
 strangles her, and leaves her for dead. The Buddhist monk enters 
 again, revives Vasantasena, and conducts her to a monastery. 
 
 Act IX., entitled The Trial. Fifth day. — Sansthanaka accuses 
 Charudatta of murdering Vasantasena for her money. In the course 
 of the trial, it appears that Vasantasena had spent the night of the 
 storm at Charudatta’s house; that she had left the house the next 
 morning to meet Charudatta in the park; that there had been a 
 struggle in the park, which apparently ended in the murder of a 
 woman. Charudatta’s friend, Maitreya, enters with the gems which 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 XXIX 
 
 Vasantasena had left to buy Charudatta’s son a toy cart of gold. 
 These gems fall to the floor during a scuffle between Maitreya and 
 Sansthanaka. In view of Charudatta’s poverty, this seems to esta- 
 blish the motive for the crime, and Charudatta is condemned to 
 death. 
 
 Act X., entitled The End. Sixth day. — Two headsmen are con- 
 ducting Charudatta to the place of execution. Charudatta takes 
 his last leave of his son and his friend Maitreya. But Sansthanaka’ s 
 servant escapes from confinement and betrays the truth ; yet he is 
 not believed, owing to the cunning displayed by his master. The 
 headsmen are preparing to execute Charudatta, when Vasantasena 
 herself appears upon the scene, accompanied by the Buddhist 
 monk. Her appearance puts a summary end to the proceedings. 
 Then news is brought that Aryaka has killed and supplanted the 
 former king, that he wishes to reward Charudatta, and that he has 
 by royal edict freed Vasantasena from the necessity of living as a 
 courtezan. Sansthanaka is brought before Charudatta for sentence, 
 but is pardoned by the man whom he had so grievously injured. 
 The play ends with the usual Epilogue. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONAE 
 
 Charudatta, a Brahman merchant 
 Rohasena, his son 
 Maitreya, his friend 
 Vardhamanaka, a servant in his house 
 
 Sansthanaka, brother-in-law <f King Palaka 
 Sthavaraka, his servant 
 Another Servant of Saxsthaxaka 
 
 A Courtier 
 
 Aryaka, a herdsman who becomes king 
 Sharvilaka, a Brahman, in love with Madaxika 
 
 A Shampooer , who becomes a Buddhist monk 
 Mathura, a gambling-master 
 Darduraka, a gambler 
 Another Gambler 
 
 Karnafuraka 
 
 }- headsmen 
 Ahinta J 
 
 Bastard pages, in Vasantasena’s house 
 A Judge, a Gild-warden, a Clerk, and a Beadle 
 
 Vasantasena, a courtezan 
 Her Mother 
 
 Madaxika, maid to Vasantasena 
 Another Maid to Vasantasena 
 
 The Wife of Charudatta 
 
 Radanika, a maid in Charudatta’s house 
 
 KumbhIlaka 
 VJraka 
 Chandanaka 
 Goha 'l 
 
 policemen 
 
 SCENE 
 
 Ujjayini ( called also Avanti) aiul its Environs 
 
THE LITTLE CLAY CART 
 
 V 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 Benediction upon the audience 
 
 H IS bended knees the knotted girdle holds, 
 Fashioned by doubling of a serpent’s folds; 
 
 His sensive organs, so he checks his breath, 
 
 Are numbed, till consciousness seems sunk in death; 
 Within himself, with eye of truth, he sees 
 The All-soul, free from all activities. 
 
 May His, may Shiva’s meditation be 
 Your strong defense; on the Great Self thinks he, 
 Knowing full well the world’s vacuity. 1 
 
 And again: 
 
 May Shiva’s neck shield you from every harm, 
 
 That seems a threatening thunder-cloud, whereon, 
 Bright as the hghtning-flash, lies Gauri’s arm. 2 
 
 Stage-director. Enough of this tedious work, which fritters away 
 the interest of the audience ! Let me then most reverently salute 
 the honorable gentlemen, and announce our intention to produce 
 a drama called “The Little Clay Cart.” Its author was a man 
 
 Who vied with elephants in lordly grace; 
 
 Whose eyes were those of the chakora bird 
 That feeds on moonbeams; glorious his face 
 As the full moon ; his person, all have heard. 
 
 Was altogether lovely. First in worth 
 
 Among the twice-born was this poet, known 
 As Shudraka far over all the earth, — 
 
 His virtue’s depth unfathomed and alone. 
 
 3 
 
2 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 [1.14 S. 
 
 And again: 
 
 The Samaveda, the Rigveda too, 
 
 The science mathematical, he knew; 
 
 The arts wherein fair courtezans excel, 
 
 And all the lore of elephants as well. 
 
 Through Shiva’s grace, his eye was never dim; 
 
 He saw his son a king in place of him. 
 
 The difficult horse-sacrifice he tried 
 Successfully ; entered the fiery tide, 
 
 One hundred years and ten days old, and died. 4 
 
 And yet again : 
 
 Eager for battle; sloth’s determined foe; 
 
 Of scholars chief, who to the Veda cling ; 
 
 Rich in the riches that ascetics know; 
 
 Glad, gainst the foeman’s elephant to show 
 
 His valor; — such was Shudraka, the king. 5 
 
 And in this work of his, 
 
 Within the town, Avanti named, 
 
 Dwells one called Charudatta, famed 
 No less for youth than poverty; 
 
 A merchant’s son and Brahman, he. 
 
 His virtues have the power to move 
 Vasantasena s inmost love ; 
 
 Fair as the springtime’s radiancy, 
 
 And yet a courtezan is she. 6 
 
 So here king Shudraka the tale imparts 
 Of love’s pure festival in these two hearts. 
 
 Of prudent acts, a lawsuit’s wrong and hate, 
 
 A rascal’s nature, and the course of fate. 7 
 
 [He walks about and looks around him . ] Why, this music-room of 
 ours is empty. I wonder where the actors have gone. [ Reflecting .] 
 Ah, I understand. 
 
P. 4.7] 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 3 
 
 Empty his house, to whom no child was born; 
 
 Thrice empty his, who lacks true friends and sure; 
 
 To fools, the world is empty and forlorn; 
 
 But all that is, is empty to the poor. 8 
 
 I have finished the concert. And I ’ve been practising so long that 
 the pupils of my eyes are dancing, and I ’m so hungry that my eyes 
 are crackling like a lotus-seed, dried up by the fiercest rays of the 
 summer sun. I’ll just call my wife and ask whether there is any- 
 thing for breakfast or not. 
 
 Hello! here I am — but no! Both the particular occasion and the 
 general custom demand that I speak Prakrit. [Speaking in Prakrit.] 
 Confound it ! I Ve been practising so long and I ’m so hungry that 
 my limbs are as weak as dried-up lotus-stalks. Suppose I go home 
 and see whether my good wife has got anything ready or not. [He 
 walks about and looks around him.] Here I am at home. I’ll just go 
 in. [He enters and looks about.] Merciful heavens ! Why in the world 
 is everything in our house turned upside down ? A long stream of 
 rice-water is flowing down the street. The ground, spotted black 
 where the iron kettle has been rubbed clean, is as lovely as a girl 
 with the beauty-marks of black cosmetic on her face. It smells so 
 good that my hunger seems to blaze up and hurts me more than 
 ever. Has some hidden treasure come to light? or am I hungry 
 enough to think the whole world is made of rice? There surely isn’t 
 any breakfast in our house, and I ’m starved to death. But every- 
 thing seems topsyturvy here. One girl is preparing cosmetics, an- 
 other is weaving garlands of flowers. [Reflecting.] What does it all 
 mean? Well, I’ll call my good wife and learn the truth. [He looks 
 toward the dressing-room.] Mistress, will you come here a mo- 
 ment? 
 
 [Enter an actress.] 
 
 Actress. Here I am, sir. 
 
 Director. You are very welcome, mistress. 
 
 Actress. Command me, sir. What am I to do? 
 
4 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 [3.8 S. 
 
 Director. Mistress, I ’ve been practising so long and I ’m so hungry 
 that my limbs are as weak as dried-up lotus-stalks. Is there any- 
 thing to eat in the house or not? 
 
 Actress. There’s everything, sir. 
 
 Director. Well, what? 
 
 Actress. For instance — there’s rice w r ith sugar, melted butter, cur- 
 dled milk, rice; and, all together, it makes you a dish fit for 
 heaven. May the gods always be thus gracious to you! 
 
 Director. All that in our house? or are you joking? 
 
 Actress. [Aside.] Yes, I will have my joke. [Aloud.] It’s in the 
 market-place, sir. 
 
 Director. [Angrily.] You wretched woman, thus shall your own 
 hope be cut off! And death shall find you out! For my expecta- 
 tions, like a scaffolding, have been raised so high, only to fall again. 
 Actress. Forgive me, sir, forgive me! It was only a joke. 
 Director. But what do these unusual preparations mean? One girl 
 is preparing cosmetics, another is weaving garlands, and the very 
 ground is adorned with sacrificial flowers of five different colors. 
 Actress. This is a fast day, sir. 
 
 Director. What fast? 
 
 Actress. The fast for a handsome husband. 
 
 Director. In this world, mistress, or the next? 
 
 Actress. In the next world, sir. 
 
 Director. [Wrathfully.] Gentlemen! look at this. She is sacrificing 
 my food to get herself a husband in the next world. 
 
 Actress. Don’t be angry, sir. I am fasting in the hope that you 
 may be my husband in my next birth, too. 
 
 Director. But who suggested this fast to you ? 
 
 Actress. Your own dear friend Jurnavriddha. 
 
 Director. [Angrily.] Ah, Jurnavriddha, son of a slave-wench! 
 When, oh, when shall I see King Palaka angry with you ? Then 
 
P. 8.10] 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 5 
 
 you will be parted, as surely as the scented hair of some young 
 bride. 
 
 Actress. Don’t be angry, sir. It is only that I may have you in the 
 next world that I celebrate this fast. [She falls at his feet. ] 
 Director. Stand up, mistress, and tell me who is to officiate at this 
 fast. 
 
 Actress. Some Brahman of our own sort whom we must invite. 
 Director. You may go then. And I will invite some Brahman of 
 our own sort. 
 
 Actress. Very well, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Director. [Walking about. ] Good heavens! In this rich city of 
 Ujjayini how am I to find a Brahman of our own sort? [He looks 
 about him .] Ah, here comes Charudatta’s friend Maitreya. Good ! 
 I'll ask him. Maitreya, you must be the first to break bread in 
 our house to-day. 
 
 A voice behind the scenes. You must invite some other Brahman. 
 I am busy. 
 
 Director. But, man, the feast is set and you have it all to your- 
 self. Besides, you shall have a present. 
 
 The voice. I said no once. Why should you keep on urging me? 
 Director. He says no. Well, I must invite some other Brahman. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 END OF THE PROLOGUE 
 
ACT THE FIRST 
 
 THE GEMS ARE LEFT BEHIND 
 
 ¥ 
 
 [Enter, with a cloak in his hand, Maitreya . ] 
 
 Maitreya. 
 
 Y OU must invite some other Brahman. I am busy.” And yet 
 I really ought to be seeking invitations from a stranger. Oh, 
 what a wretched state of affairs ! When good Charudatta was still 
 wealthy, I used to eat my fill of the most deliciously fragrant 
 sweetmeats, prepared day and night with the greatest of care. I 
 would sit at the door of the courtyard, where I w r as surrounded by 
 hundreds of dishes, and there, like a painter with his paint-boxes, 
 I would simply touch them with my fingers and thrust them aside. 
 I would stand chewing my cud like a bull in the city market. 
 And now he is so poor that I have to run here, there, and every- 
 where, and come home, like the pigeons, only to roost. Now here 
 is this jasmine-scented cloak, which Charudatta’s good friend 
 Jurnavriddha has sent him. He bade me give it to Charudatta, as 
 soon as he had finished his devotions. So now I will look for Charu- 
 datta. [He walks about and looks around him.] Charudatta has 
 finished his devotions, and here he comes with an offering for the 
 divinities of the house. 
 
 [Enter Charudatta as described, and Rcidanika.] 
 Charudatta. [Looking up and sighing wearily.] 
 
 Upon my threshold, where the offering 
 
 Was straightway seized by swans and flocking cranes, 
 
 The grass grows now, and these poor seeds I fling 
 
 Fall where the mouth of worms their sweetness stains. 9 
 [He walks about very slowly and seats himself.] 
 
 Maitreya. Charudatta is here. I must go and speak to him. [Ap- 
 proaching.] My greetings to you. May happiness be yours. 
 
P.13.1] THE GEMS ARE LEFT BEHIND 7 
 
 Charudatta. Ah, it is my constant friend Maitreya. You are very 
 welcome, my friend. Pray be seated. 
 
 Maitreya. Thank you. [He seats himself.] Well, comrade, here is a 
 jasmine-scented cloak which your good friend Jurnavriddha has 
 sent. He bade me give it you as soon as you had finished your de- 
 votions. [He presents the cloak. Charudatta takes it and remains 
 sunk in thought. ] Well, what are you thinking about? 
 
 Charudatta. My good friend, 
 
 A candle shining through the deepest dark 
 Is happiness that follows sorrow’s strife; 
 
 But after bliss when man bears sorrow’s mark. 
 
 His body lives a very death-in-life. 10 
 
 Maitreya. Well, which would you rather, be dead or be poor? 
 Charudatta. Ah, my friend, 
 
 Far better death than sorrows sure and slow; 
 
 Some passing suffering from death may flow, 
 
 But poverty brings never-ending woe. 11 
 
 Maitreya. My dear friend, be not thus cast down. Your wealth has 
 been conveyed to them you love, and like the moon, after she has 
 yielded her nectar to the gods, your waning fortunes win an added 
 charm. 
 
 Charudatta. Comrade, I do not grieve for my ruined fortunes. But 
 This is my sorrow. They whom I 
 Would greet as guests, now pass me by. 
 
 “This is a poor man’s house,” they cry. 
 
 As flitting bees, the season o’er. 
 
 Desert the elephant, whose store 
 
 Of ichor 1 spent, attracts no more. 1 2 
 
 Maitreya. Oh, confound the money ! It is a trifle not w r orth think- 
 ing about. It is like a cattle-boy in the woods afraid of wasps ; it 
 does n’t stay anywhere where it is used for food. 
 
 1 During the mating season, a fragrant liquor exudes from the forehead of the elephant. Of 
 this liquor bees are very fond. 
 
8 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 [8.5 S. 
 
 Charud. Believe me, friend. My sorrow does not spring 
 From simple loss of gold; 
 
 For fortune is a fickle, changing thing, 
 
 Whose favors do not hold ; 
 
 But he whose sometime wealth has taken wing, 
 
 Finds bosom-friends grow cold. 13 
 
 Then too: 
 
 A poor man is a man ashamed ; from shame 
 Springs want of dignity and worthy fame; 
 
 Such want gives rise to insults hard to bear; 
 
 Thence comes despondency; and thence, despair; 
 Despair breeds folly; death is folly’s fruit. — 
 
 Ah! the lack of money is all evil’s root! 14 
 
 Maitreya. But just remember what a trifle money is, after all, and 
 be more cheerful. 
 
 Charudatta. My friend, the poverty of a man is to him 
 
 A home of cares, a shame that haunts the mind, 
 Another form of warfare with mankind ; 
 
 The abhorrence of his friends, a source of hate 
 From strangers, and from each once-loving mate; 
 
 But if his wife despise him, then ’t were meet 
 In some lone w T ood to seek a safe retreat. 
 
 The flame of sorrow, torturing his soul, 
 
 Burns fiercely, yet contrives to leave him whole. 15 
 Comrade, I have made my offering to the divinities of the house. 
 Do you too go and offer sacrifice to the Divine Mothers at a place 
 where four roads meet. 
 
 Maitreya. No! 
 
 Charudatta. Why not? 
 
 Maitreya. Because the gods are not gracious to you even when 
 thus honored. So what is the use of worshiping? 
 
 Charudatta. Not so, my friend, not so! This is the constant duty 
 of a householder. 
 
P. 16.8] 
 
 THE GEMS ARE LEFT BEHIND 
 
 9 
 
 The gods feel ever glad content 
 In the gifts, and the self-chastisement, 
 
 The meditations, and the prayers, 
 
 Of those who banish worldly cares. 16 
 
 Why then do you hesitate? Go and offer sacrifice to the Mothers. 
 Maitreya. No, I ’m not going. You must send somebody else. Any- 
 way, everything seems to go wrong with me, poor Brahman that 
 I am ! It ’s like a reflection in a mirror ; the right side becomes the 
 left, and the left becomes the right. Besides, at this hour of the 
 evening, people are abroad upon the king’s highway — courtezans, 
 courtiers, servants, and royal favorites. They will take me now for 
 fair prey, just as the black-snake out frog-hunting snaps up the 
 mouse in his path. But what will you do sitting here? 
 Charudatta. Good then, remain ; and I will finish my devotions. 
 
 Voices behind the scenes. Stop, Vasantasena, stop ! 
 
 [ Enter Vasantasena, pursued by the courtier, by Sansthanaka, and 
 the servant.'] 
 
 Courtier, Vasantasena! Stop, stop! 
 
 Ah, why should fear transform your tenderness? 
 
 Why should the dainty feet feel such distress, 
 
 That twinkle in the dance so prettily? 
 
 Why should your eyes, thus startled into fear, 
 
 Dart sidelong looks? Why, like the timid deer 
 
 Before pursuing hunters, should you flee? 17 
 
 Sansthanaka. Shtop, 1 Vasantasena, shtop! 
 
 Why flee? and run? and shtumble in your turning? 
 
 Be kind! You shall not die. Oh, shtop your feet! 
 
 With love, shweet girl, my tortured heart is burning, 
 
 As on a heap of coals a piece of meat. 18 
 
 1 The most striking peculiarity of Sansthanaka’s dialect — his substitution of sh for s — I have 
 tried to imitate in the translation. 
 
10 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 [10.2 S. 
 
 Servant. Stop, courtezan, stop! 
 
 In fear you flee 
 Away from me, 
 
 As a summer peahen should ; 
 
 But my lord and master 
 Struts fast and faster, 
 
 Like a woodcock in the wood. 19 
 
 Courtier. Vasantasena! Stop, stop! 
 
 Why should you tremble, should you flee, 
 
 A-quiver like the plantain tree ? 
 
 Your garment’s border, red and fair, 
 
 Is all a-shiver in the air; 
 
 Now and again, a lotus-bud 
 Falls to the ground, as red as blood. 
 
 A red realgar 1 vein you seem, 
 
 Whence, smitten, drops of crimson stream. 20 
 
 Sansthanaka. Shtop, Vasantasena, shtop! 
 
 You wake my passion, my desire, my love; 
 
 You drive away my shleep in bed at night; 
 
 Both fear and terror sheem your heart to move ; 
 
 You trip and shtumble in your headlong flight. 
 
 But Ravana forced KuntI 2 to his will ; 
 
 Jusht sho shall I enjoy you to the fill. 21 
 
 Courtier. Ah, Vasantasena, 
 
 Why should your fleeter flight 
 Outstrip my flying feet? 
 
 Why, like a snake in fright 
 Before the bird-king’s might, 
 
 Thus seek to flee, my sweet? 
 
 1 Red arsenic, used as a cosmetic. 
 
 2 Here, as elsewhere, Sansthanaka’s mythology is wildly confused. To a Hindu the effect must 
 be ludicrous enough ; but the humor is necessarily lost in a translation. It therefore seems hardly 
 worth while to explain his mythological vagaries in detail. 
 
P. 19.9] 
 
 THE GEMS ARE LEFT BEHIND 
 
 11 
 
 Could I not catch the storm-wind in his flight? 
 
 Yet would not seize upon you, though I might. 22 
 
 Sansthanaka. Lishten to me, shir! 
 
 Thish whip of robber Love, thish dancing-girl, 
 
 Eater of fish, deshtroyer of her kin, 
 
 Thish shnubnose, shtubborn, love-box, courtezan, 
 
 Thish clothes-line, wanton creature, maid of sin — 
 
 I gave her ten shweet names, and shtill 
 She will not bend her to my will. 23 
 
 Courtier. As courtier’s fingers strike the lute’s tense string, 
 
 The dancing ear-ring smites your wounded cheek. 
 AYhy should you flee, with dreadful terror weak. 
 
 As flees the crane when heaven’s thunders ring? 24 
 Sansth. Your jingling gems, girl, clink like anything; 
 
 Like Draupadi you flee, when Rama kisshed her. 
 
 I ’ll sheize you quick, as once the monkey -king 
 
 Sheized Subhadra, Vishvavasu’s shweet shishter. 25 
 Servant. He ’s the royal protege; 
 
 Do whatever he may say, 
 
 And you shall have good fish and flesh to eat. 
 
 For when dogs have all the fish 
 And the flesh that they can wish, 
 
 Even carrion seems to them no longer sweet. 26 
 
 Courtier. Mistress Vasantasena, 
 
 The girdle drooping low upon your hips 
 Flashes as brilliant as the shining stars; 
 
 The wondrous terror of your fleeing mars 
 Your charms; for red realgar*, loosened, slips 
 As on an imaged god, from cheek and lips. 27 
 
 Sansth. W e ’re chasing you with all our main and might, 
 
 As dogs a jackal when they hunt and find it; 
 
 But you are quick and nimble in your flight, 
 
 And shteal my heart with all the roots that bind it. 28 
 
12 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 [11.23 S. 
 
 Vasantasena. Pallavaka! Parabhritika! 
 
 Sansthanaka. Mashter! a man! a man! 
 
 Courtier. Don’t be a coward. 
 
 Vasantasena. Madhavika! Madhavika! 
 
 Courtier. [ Laughing .] Fool! She is calling her servants. 
 Sansthanaka. Mashter! Is she calling a woman? 
 
 Courtier. Why, of course. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Women! I kill hundreds of ’em. I’m a brave man. 
 Vasantasena. [Seeing that no one answers.'] Alas, how comes it that 
 my very servants have fallen away from me? I shall have to de- 
 fend myself by mother-wit. 
 
 Courtier. Don’t stop the search. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Shqueal, Vasantasena, shqueal for your cuckoo Para- 
 bhritika, or for your blosshom Pallavaka or for all the month of 
 May! Who’s going to save you when I’m chasing you? 
 
 Why shpeak of Bhlmasena ? Or the shon 
 Of Jamadagni, that thrice-mighty one? 
 
 The ten-necked ogre? Shon of KuntI fair? 
 
 Jusht look at me! My fingers in your hair, 
 
 Jusht like Duhshasana, I’ll tear, and tear. 29 
 
 Look, look! 
 
 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 
 
 V asantasena. 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] 
 
 THE GEMS ARE LEFT BEHIND 
 
 13 
 
 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 . 1 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, 
 is n’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 mish tress, 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”? [A loud.] 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 peacock, 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. 
 
 1 A name of Krishna, who is perhaps the most amorous character in Indian story. 
 
 32 
 
14 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 [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 1 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 jackass? 
 
 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 hurt- 
 ing 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 Va- 
 santasena 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, jackass? 
 Sansthanaka. Like what, for inshtance? 
 
 1 Cupid. 
 
P. 28.3] 
 
 THE GEMS ARE LEFT BEHIND 
 
 15 
 
 Courtier. Like the tinkling of her jewels, for instance, or the fra- 
 grance 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, feel- 
 ing 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. 
 
16 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 [15.19 S. 
 
 Where vulgar throngs are gathered, ’t is the same ; 
 
 His scanty raiment wakes his heartfelt shame. 
 
 Five are the deadly sins 1 we knew before; 
 
 Alas! I find the sixth is — to be poor. 37 
 
 And yet again : 
 
 Ah, Poverty, I pity thee, that so 
 
 To me thou clingest, as thy dearest friend; 
 
 When my poor life has met its woeful end, 
 
 I sadly wonder, whither thou wilt go. 38 
 
 Maitreya. [Betraying his embarrassment .] Well, comrade, if I must 
 go, at least let Radanika go with me, to keep me company. 
 Charudatta. Radanika, you are to accompany Maitreya. 
 Radanika. Yes, sir. 
 
 Maitreya. Mistress Radanika, do you take the offering and the 
 candle while I open the side-door. [He does so.] 
 
 Vasantasena. It seems as if the door took pity on me and opened 
 of itself. I will lose no time, but enter. [She looks in.~\ What? a 
 candle? Oh dear, oh dear! [She puts it out with her skirt and enters .] 
 Charudatta. What was that, Maitreya? 
 
 Maitreya. I opened the side-door and the wind came through all 
 in a lump and blew out the candle. Suppose you go out by the 
 side-door, Radanika, and I will follow as soon as I have gone into 
 the courtyard and lighted the candle again. [Exit. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Mashter! mashter! I ’m looking for Vasantasena. 
 Courtier. Keep on looking, keep on looking! 
 
 Sansthanaka. [Does so.] Mashter! mashter! I ’ve caught her! I ’ve 
 caught her! 
 
 Courtier. Idiot, you ’ve caught me. 
 
 Sansthanaka. You shtand right here, mashter, and shtay where 
 you ’re put. [He renews the search and seizes the servant .] Mashter! 
 
 1 The five deadly sins are : the slaying of a Brahman, the drinking of wine, theft, adultery 
 with the wife of one’s teacher, and association with one guilty of these crimes. 
 
P. 31.3] 
 
 THE GEMS ARE LEFT BEHIND 
 
 17 
 
 mashter! I ’ve caught her! I Ve caught her! 
 
 Servant. Master, you ’ve caught me, your servant. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Mashter here, shervant here! Mashter, shervant; 
 shervant, mashter. Now shtay where you ’re put, both of you. [ He 
 reneivs the search and seizes Radanika by the hair.'] Mashter! mash- 
 ter ! Thish time I ’ve caught her ! I ’ve caught Vasantasena ! 
 Through the black night she fled, fled she; 
 
 Her garland’s shmell betrayed her; 
 
 Like Chanakya caught Draupadi, 
 
 I caught her hair and shtayed her. 39 
 
 Courtier. Ah, proud to be so young, so fair ! 
 
 Too high thy love must not aspire; 
 
 For now thy blossom-fragrant hair, 
 
 That merits richest gems and rare, 
 
 Serves but to drag thee through the mire. 40 
 
 . Sansth. I ’ve got your head, girl, got it tight, 
 
 By the hair, the locks, and the curls, too. 
 
 Now shcream, shqueak, shqueal with all your might 
 “ Shiva ! Ishvara ! Shankara ! Shambhu ! ” 1 41 
 
 Radanika. [In terror.] Oh, sirs, what does this mean? 
 
 Courtier. You jackass! It’s another voice. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Mashter, the wench has changed her voice, the way a 
 cat changes her voice, when she wants shome cream of curdled milk. 
 Courtier. Changed her voice? Strange! Yet why so strange? 
 
 She trod the stage; she learned the arts; 
 
 She studied to deceive our hearts; 
 
 And now she practises her parts. 42 
 
 [Enter Maitreya.] 
 
 Maitreya. Look! In the gentle evening breeze the flame of the 
 candle is fluttering like the heart of a goat that goes to the altar. 
 [He approaches and discovers Radanika.] Mistress Radanika! 
 
 1 These are all epithets of the same god. 
 
18 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 [17.17 S. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Mashter, mashter! A man! a man! 
 
 Maitreya. This is right, this is perfectly right, that strangers should 
 force their way into the house, just because Charudatta is poor. 
 Radanika. Oh, Maitreya, see how they insult me. 
 
 Maitreya . What! insult you? No, they are insulting us. 
 Radanika. A ery well. They are insulting you, then. 
 
 Maitreya. But they are n’t using violence? 
 
 Radanika. Yes, yes! 
 
 Maitreya. Really? 
 
 Radanika. Really. 
 
 Maitreya. [Raising his staff angrily .] No, sir! Man, a dog will show 
 his teeth in his own kennel, and I am a Brahman ! My staff is crooked 
 as my fortunes, but it can still split a dry bamboo or a rascal’s pate. 
 Courtier. Have mercy, O great Brahman, have mercy. 
 
 Maitreya. [Discovers the courtier.'] He is not the sinner. [Discovers 
 Sansthanaka.] Ah, here is the sinner. Well, you brother-in-law to 
 the king, Sansthanaka, you scoundrel, you coward, this is perfectly 
 proper, isn’t it? Charudatta the good is a poor man now — true, 
 but are not his virtues an ornament to UjjayinI ? And so men break 
 into his house and insult his servants! 
 
 Insult not him, laid low by poverty; 
 
 For none are counted poor by mighty fate: 
 
 Yet he who falls from virtue’s high estate, 
 
 Though he be rich, no man is poor as he. 48 
 
 Courtier. [Betraying his embarrassment.] Have mercy, O great 
 Brahman, have mercy. We intended no insolence; we merely mis- 
 took this lady for another. For 
 
 We sought an amorous maiden, 
 
 Maitreya. What! this one? 
 
 Courtier. Heaven forbid! 
 
 one whose youth 
 
 Is in the guidance of her own sweet will; 
 
P. 3o. 4] 
 
 THE GEMS ARE LEFT BEHIND 
 
 19 
 
 She disappeared ; unconscious of the truth. 
 
 We did what seems a purposed deed of ill. 44 
 
 I pray you, accept this all-in-all of humblest supplication. [He drops 
 his sword, folds his hands, and falls at Maitreya s feet.] 
 
 Maitreya. Good man, rise, rise. When I reviled you, I did not know 
 you. Now I know you and I ask your pardon. 
 
 Courtier. It is I who should ask pardon. I will rise on one condition. 
 Maitreya. And that is — 
 
 Courtier. That you will not tell Charudatta what has happened here. 
 Maitreya. I will be silent. 
 
 Courtier. Brahman, this gracious act of thine 
 I bow my neck to bear; 
 
 For never could this sword of mine 
 
 With virtue’s steel compare. 45 
 
 Sansthanaka. [ Indignantly .] But mashter, what makes you fold 
 your hands sho helplesshly and fall at the feet of thish manikin? 
 Courtier. I was afraid. 
 
 Sansthanaka. What were you afraid of? 
 
 Courtier. Of Charudatta’s virtues. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Virtues? He? You can go into his houshe and not 
 find a thing to eat. 
 
 Courtier. No, no. 
 
 His loving-kindness unto such as we 
 Has brought him low at last; 
 
 From him could no man learn what insults be, 
 
 Or e’er his wealth was past. 
 
 This well-filled pool, that in its summer day 
 Gave others drink, itself is dried away. 46 
 
 Sansthanaka. [Impatiently.'] Who is the shon of a shlave-wench 
 anyway ? 
 
 Brave Shvetaketu is he, Pandu’s child? 
 
 Or Radha’s shon, the ten-necked ogre wild? 
 
20 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 [19.19 S. 
 
 Or Indradatta? or again, is he 
 
 Shon of brave Rama and of fair Kunti? 
 
 Or Dharmaputra? Ashvatthaman bold? 
 
 Perhaps Jatayu’s shelf, that vulture old? 47 
 
 Courtier. Fool! I will tell you who Charudatta is. 
 
 A tree of life to them w r hose sorrows grow, 
 
 Beneath its fruit of virtue bending low; 
 
 Father to good men; virtue’s touchstone he; 
 
 The mirror of the learned ; and the sea 
 Where all the tides of character unite; 
 
 A righteous man, whom pride could never blight; 
 
 A treasure-house, with human virtues stored; 
 Courtesy’s essence, honor’s precious hoard. 
 
 He doth to life its fullest meaning give, 
 
 So good is he; we others breathe, not live. 48 
 
 Let us be gone. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Without Vasantasena? 
 
 Courtier. Vasantasena has disappeared. 
 
 Sansthanaka. How? 
 
 Courtier. Like sick men’s strength, or like the blind man’s sight, 
 Like the fool’s judgment, like the sluggard’s might, 
 Like thoughtless scoundrels’ store of wisdom’s light, 
 Like love, when foemen fan our slumbering wrath, 
 
 So did she vanish, when you crossed her path. 49 
 
 Sansthanaka. I ’m not going without Vasantasena. 
 
 Courtier. And did you never hear this ? 
 
 To hold a horse, you need a rein; 
 
 To hold an elephant, a chain; 
 
 To hold a woman, use a heart; 
 
 And if you have n’t one, depart. 50 
 
 Sansthanaka. If you ’re going, go along. I ’m not going. 
 
 Courtier. Very well. I will go. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
P. 38.2] 
 
 THE GEMS ARE LEFT BEHIND 
 
 21 
 
 Sansthanaka. Mashter's gone, sure enough. [To Maitreya.~] Well, 
 you man with the head that looks like a caret, you manikin, take a 
 sheat, take a sheat. 
 
 Maitreya. We have already been invited to take a seat. 
 Sansthanaka. By whom? 
 
 Maitreya. By destiny. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Shtand up, then, shtand up! 
 
 Maitreya. We shall. 
 
 Sansthanaka. When? 
 
 Maitreya. When fate is kind again. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Weep, then, weep! 
 
 Maitreya. We have wept. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Who made you? 
 
 Maitreya. Poverty. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Laugh, then, laugh! 
 
 Maitreya. Laugh we shall. 
 
 Sansthanaka. When? 
 
 Maitreya. When Charudatta is happy once more. 
 
 Sansthanaka. You manikin, give poor little Charudatta thish mes- 
 shage from me. “Thish wench with golden ornaments and golden 
 jewels, thish female shtage-manager looking after the rehearsal of 
 a new play, thish Yasantasena — she has been in love with you ever 
 shince she went into the park where Kama’s temple shtands. And 
 when we tried to conciliate her by force, she went into your houshe. 
 Now if you shend her away yourshelf and hand her over to me, if 
 you reshtore her at once, without any lawshuit in court, then I ’ll 
 be friends with you forever. But if you don’t reshtore her, there 
 will be a fight to the death.” Remember: 
 
 Shmear a pumpkin-shtalk with cow-dung; 
 
 Keep your vegetables dried ; 
 
 Cook your rice in winter evenings; 
 
22 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 [21.17 S. 
 
 And be sure your meat is fried. 
 
 Then let ’em shtand, and they will not 
 Bothershomely shmell and rot. 51 
 
 Tell it to him prettily, tell it to him craftily. Tell it to him sho that 
 I can hear it as I roosht in the dove-cote on the top of my own 
 palace. If you shay it different, I ’ll chew r your head like an apple 
 caught in the crack of a door. 
 
 Maitreya. Very well. I shall tell him. 
 
 Sansthanaka. [ Aside.] Tell me, shervant. Is mashter really gone? 
 Servant. Yes, sir. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Then we will go as quickly as we can. 
 
 Servant. Then take your sword, master. 
 
 Sansthanaka. You can keep it. 
 
 Servant. Here it is, master. Take your sword, master. 
 Sansthanaka. [Taking it by the wrong end.'] 
 
 My shword, red as a radish shkin, 
 
 Ne’er finds the time to molder; 
 
 Shee how it shleeps its sheath within! 
 
 I put it on my shoulder. 
 
 While curs and bitches yelp at me, I roam, 
 
 Like a hunted jackal, home. 52 
 
 [Sansthanaka and the servant walk about, then exeunt. 
 Maitreya. Mistress Radanika, you must not tell good Charudatta 
 of this outrage. I am sure you would only add to the poor man’s 
 sorrows. 
 
 Radanika. Good Maitreya, you know Radanika. Her lips are sealed. 
 Maitreya. So be it. 
 
 Charudatta. [ To Vasantasena.] Radanika, Rohasena likes the fresh 
 air, but he will be cold in the evening chill. Pray bring him into the 
 house, and cover him with this mantle. [He gives her the mantle.] 
 
P. 42.12] 
 
 THE GEMS ARE LEFT BEHIND 
 
 23 
 
 Vasantasena. [To herself !] See! He thinks I am his servant. [She 
 takes the mantle and perceives its perfume. Ardently to herself ] Oh, 
 beautiful ! The mantle is fragrant with jasmine. His youthful days 
 are not wholly indifferent to the pleasures of the world. [She wraps 
 it about her, without letting Charudatta see.] 
 
 Charudatta. Come, Radanika, take Rohasena and enter the heart 
 of the house. 
 
 Vasantasena. [To herself] Ah me unhappy, that have little part 
 or lot in your heart! 
 
 Charudatta. Come, Radanika, will you not even answ’er? Alas! 
 When man once sees that miserable day, 
 
 When fate almighty sweeps his wealth away, 
 
 Then ancient friendships will no longer hold, 
 
 Then all his former bosom-friends grow cold. 53 
 
 Maitreya. [Drawing near to Radanika.] Sir, here is Radanika. 
 Charudatta. Here is Radanika? Who then is this — 
 
 This unknown lady, by my robe 
 Thus clinging, desecrated, 
 
 Vasantasena. [To herself.] Say rather “consecrated.” 
 
 Charudatta. 
 
 Until she seems the crescent moon, 
 
 With clouds of autumn 1 mated? 54 
 
 But no! I may not gaze upon another’s wife. 
 
 Maitreya. Oh, you need not fear that you are looking at another 
 man’s wife. This is Vasantasena, who has been in love with you 
 ever since she saw you in the garden where Kama’s temple stands. 
 Charudatta. What! this is Vasantasena? [Aside.] 
 
 My love for whom — my fortune spent — 
 
 My wretched self in twain has rent, 
 
 Like coward’s anger, inward bent. 55 
 
 1 Which look pretty, but do not rain. He doubtless means to suggest that the cloak, belong- 
 ing to a strange man, is as useless to Vasantasena as the veil of autumn clouds to the earth. 
 
24 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 [23.19 S. 
 
 Maitreya. My friend, that brother-in-law of the king says — 
 Charudatta. Well? 
 
 Maitreya. “This wench with golden ornaments and golden jewels, 
 this female stage-manager looking after the rehearsal of a new 
 play, this Vasantasena — she has been in love with you ever since 
 she went into the park where Kama’s temple stands. And when we 
 tried to conciliate her by force, she went into your house.” 
 Vasantasena. [To herself. ] “Tried to conciliate me by force” — 
 truly, I am honored by these words. 
 
 Maitreya. “Now if you send her away yourself and hand her over 
 to me, if you restore her at once, without any lawsuit in court, 
 then I ’ll be friends with you forever. Otherwise, there will be a 
 fight to the death.” 
 
 Charudatta. [Contemptuously.'] He is a fool. [To himself.] How is 
 this maiden worthy of the worship that we pay a goddess ! For now 
 
 Although I bade her enter, yet she seeks 
 To spare my poverty, nor enters here; 
 
 Though men are known to her, yet all she speaks 
 
 Contains no word to wound a modest ear. 56 
 
 [Aloud.] Mistress Vasantasena, I have unwittingly made myself 
 guilty of an offense ; for I greeted as a servant one whom I did not 
 recognize. I bend my neck to ask your pardon. 
 
 Vasantasena. It is I who have offended by this unseemly intrusion. 
 I bow my head to seek your forgiveness. 
 
 Maitreya. Yes, with your pretty bows you two have knocked your 
 heads together, till they look like a couple of rice-fields. I also bow 
 my head like a camel colt’s knee and beseech you both to stand 
 up. [He does so, then rises.] 
 
 Charudatta. Very well, let us no longer trouble ourselves with con- 
 ventions. 
 
 Vasantasena. [To herself.] What a delightfully clever hint! But 
 it would hardly be proper to spend the night, considering how I 
 
P. 45.14] 
 
 THE GEMS ARE LEFT BEHIND 
 
 25 
 
 came hither. Well, I will at least say this much. [Aloud.] If I am 
 to receive thus much of your favor, sir, I should be glad to leave 
 these jewels in your house. It was for the sake of the jewels that 
 those scoundrels pursued me. 
 
 Charudatta. This house is not worthy of the trust. 
 
 Vasantasena. You mistake, sir! It is to men that treasures are en- 
 trusted, not to houses. 
 
 Charudatta. Maitreya, will you receive the jewels? 
 
 Vasantasena. I am much indebted to you. [She hands him the 
 jewels .] 
 
 Maitreya. [Receiving them.] Heaven bless you, madam. 
 Charudatta. Fool! They are only entrusted to us. 
 
 Maitreya. [Aside.] Then the thieves may take them, for all I care. 
 Charudatta. In a very short time — 
 
 Maitreya. What she has entrusted to us, belongs to us. 
 Charudatta. I shall restore them. 
 
 Vasantasena. I should be grateful, sir, if this gentleman would 
 accompany me home. 
 
 Charudatta. Maitreya, pray accompany our guest. 
 
 Maitreya. She walks as gracefully as a female swan, and you are 
 the gay flamingo to accompany her. But I am only a poor Brahman, 
 and wherever I go, the people will fall upon me just as dogs will 
 snap at a victim dragged to the cross-roads. 
 
 Charudatta. Very well. I will accompany her myself. Let the 
 torches be lighted, to ensure our safety on the highway. 
 Maitreya. Yardhamanaka, light the torches. 
 
 Vardhamanaka. [Aside to Maitreya.] What! light torches with- 
 out oil? 
 
 Maitreya. [Aside to Charudatta.] These torches of ours are like 
 courtezans who despise their poor lovers. They won’t light up un- 
 less you feed them. 
 
26 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 [25.23 S. 
 
 Charudatta. Enough, Maitreya ! We need no torches. See, we have 
 a lamp upon the king’s highway. 
 
 Attended by her starry servants all, 
 
 And pale to see as a loving maiden’s cheeks, 
 
 Rises before our eyes the moon’s bright ball, 
 
 Whose pure beams on the high-piled darkness fall 
 
 Like streaming milk that dried-up marshes seeks. 57 
 [His voice betraying his passion.'] Mistress Vasantasena, we have 
 reached your home. Pray enter. [ Vasantasena gazes ardently at him, 
 then exit.] Comrade, Vasantasena is gone. Come, let us go home. 
 All creatures from the highway take their flight; 
 
 The watchmen pace their rounds before our sight; 
 
 To forestall treachery, is just and right, 
 
 For many sins find shelter in the night. 58 
 
 [He walks about.] And you shall guard this golden casket by night, 
 and Vardhamanaka by day. 
 
 Maitreya. Very well. [Exeunt arnbo. 
 
ACT THE SECOND 
 THE SHAMPOOER 1 WHO GAMBLED 
 
 Maid [ Enter a maid.~\ 
 
 I AM sent with a message to my mistress by her mother. I must 
 go in and find my mistress. [She walks about and looks around 
 her.~\ There is my mistress. She is painting a picture, and putting 
 her whole heart into it. I must go and speak to her. 
 
 [ Then appear the love-lorn Vasantasena , seated, and Madanika .] 
 Vasantasena. Well, girl, and then — 
 
 Madanika. But mistress, you were not speaking of anything. What 
 do you mean ? 
 
 Vasantasena. Why, what did I say? 
 
 Madanika. You said, “and then” — 
 
 Vasantasena. [Puckering her brows .] Oh, yes. So I did. 
 
 Maid. [. Approaching .] Mistress, your mother sends word that you 
 should bathe and then offer worship to the gods. 
 
 Vasantasena. You may tell my mother that I shall not take the 
 ceremonial bath to-day. A Brahman must offer worship in my place. 
 Maid. Yes, mistress. [Exit. 
 
 Madanika. My dear mistress, it is love, not naughtiness, that asks 
 the question — but what does this mean? 
 
 Vasantasena. Tell me, Madanika. How do I seem to you? 
 Madanika. My mistress is so absent-minded that I know her heart 
 is filled with longing for somebody. 
 
 Vasantasena. Well guessed. My Madanika is quick to fathom 
 another’s heart. 
 
 Madanika. I am very, very glad. Yes, Kama is indeed mighty, and 
 
 1 Perhaps masseur would be more accurate. 
 
28 
 
 ACT THE SECOND 
 
 [28.1 S. 
 
 his great festival is welcome when one is young. But tell me, mis- 
 tress, is it a king, or a king’s favorite, whom you worship ? 
 Vasantasena. Girl, I wish to love, not to worship. 
 
 Madanika. Is it a Brahman that excites your passion, some youth 
 distinguished for very particular learning? 
 
 Vasantasena. A Brahman I should have to reverence. 
 
 Madanika. Or is it some young merchant, grown enormously 
 wealthy from visiting many cities? 
 
 Vasantasena. A merchant, girl, must go to other countries and 
 leave you behind, no matter how much you love him. And the 
 separation makes you very sad. 
 
 Madanika. It is n’t a king, nor a favorite, nor a Brahman, nor a 
 merchant. Who is it then that the princess loves ? 
 
 Vasantasena. Girl! Girl! You went with me to the park where 
 Kama’s temple stands? 
 
 Madanika. Yes, mistress. 
 
 Vasantasena. And yet you ask, as if you were a perfect stranger. 
 Madanika. Now I know. Is it the man who comforted you when 
 you asked to be protected? 
 
 Vasantasena. Well, what was his name? 
 
 Madanika. Why, he lives in the merchants’ quarter. 
 
 Vasantasena. But I asked you for his name. 
 
 Madanika. His name, mistress, is a good omen in itself. His name 
 is Charudatta. 
 
 Vasantasena. [ Joyfully .] Good, Madanika, good. You have guessed 
 it. 
 
 Madanika. [ Aside .] So much for that. [Aloud.] Mistress, they say 
 he is poor. 
 
 Vasantasena. That is the very reason why I love him. For a courte- 
 zan who sets her heart on a poor man is blameless in the eyes of 
 the world. 
 
p.52.14] THE SHAMPOOER WHO GAMBLED 
 
 29 
 
 Madanika. But mistress, do the butterflies visit the mango-tree 
 when its blossoms have fallen? 
 
 V asantasena. That is just why we call that sort of a girl a butterfly. 
 Madanika. W ell, mistress, if you love him, why don’t you go and 
 visit him at once ? 
 
 V asantasena. Girl, if I should visit him at once, then, because he 
 can’t make any return — no, I don't mean that, but it would be 
 hard to see him. 
 
 Madanika. Is that the reason why you left your jewels with him? 
 V asantasena. You have guessed it. 
 
 A voice 1 behind the scenes. Oh, sir, a shampooer owes me ten gold- 
 pieces, and he got away from us. Hold him, hold him! [To the flee- 
 ing shampooer.'] Stop, stop! I see you from here. [Enter hurriedly 
 a frightened shampooer.] 
 
 Shampooer. Oh, confound this gambling business! 
 
 Freed from its tether, the ace— 
 
 I might better say “ass” — how it kicks me! 
 
 And the cast of the dice called the “spear” 
 
 Proves true to its name; for it sticks me. 1 
 
 The keeper’s whole attention 
 Was busy with the score; 
 
 So it took no great invention 
 To vanish through the door. 
 
 But I cannot stand forever 
 In the unprotected street. 
 
 Is there no one to deliver? 
 
 I would fall before his feet. 2 
 
 While the keeper and the gambler are looking somewhere else 
 for me, I’ll just walk backwards into this empty temple and turn 
 goddess. [He makes all sorts of gestures , takes his place, and waits. 
 Enter Mathura and the gambler.] 
 
 1 That of Mathura, the keeper of the gambling-house. 
 
30 
 
 ACT THE SECOND 
 
 [30.1 S. 
 
 Mathura. Oh, sir, a shampooer owes me ten gold-pieces, and he got 
 away from us. Hold him, hold him! Stop, stop! I see you from 
 here. 
 
 Gambler. You may run to hell, if they’ll take you in; 
 
 With Indra, the god, you may stay: 
 
 For there’s never a god can save your skin, 
 
 While Mathura wants his pay. 3 
 
 Mathura. Oh, whither flee you, nimble rambler, 
 
 You that cheat an honest gambler? 
 
 You that shake with fear and shiver, 
 
 All a-tremble, all a-quiver; 
 
 You that cannot trip enough, 
 
 On the level ground and rough; 
 
 You that stain your social station, 
 
 Family, and reputation! 4 
 
 Gambler. [ Examining the foot prints.'] Here he goes. And here the 
 tracks are lost. 
 
 Mathura. [ Gazes at the footprints. Reflectively. ] Look ! The feet are 
 turned around. And the temple has n’t any image. [A fter a mo- 
 ment's thought. ] That rogue of a shampooer has gone into the tem- 
 ple with his feet turned around. 
 
 Gambler. Let’s follow him. 
 
 Mathura. All right. [ They enter the temple and take a good look , 
 then make signs to each other.'] 
 
 Gambler. What! a wooden image? 
 
 Mathura. Of course not. It ’s stone. [He shakes it with all his might, 
 then makes signs.] What do we care? Come, let’s have a game. [He 
 starts to gamble as hard as he can.] 
 
 Shampooer. [Trying with all his might to repress the gambling 
 fever. Aside.] Oh, oh! 
 
 Oh, the rattle of dice is a charming thing. 
 
 When you have n’t a copper left ; 
 
P.56.10] THE SHAMPOOER WHO GAMBLED 
 
 31 
 
 It works like a drum on the heart of a king, 
 
 Of all his realm bereft. 5 
 
 For gamblers leap down a mountain steep — 
 
 I know I shall not play. 
 
 Yet the rattle of dice is as sweet as the peep 
 
 Of nightingales in May. 6 
 
 Gambler. My turn, my turn! 
 
 Mathura. Not much! it’s my turn. 
 
 Shampooer. [ Coming up quickly from behind .] Isn’t it my turn? 
 Gambler. We ’ve got our man. 
 
 Mathura. [Seizing him.] You jail-bird, you re caught. Pay me 
 my ten gold-pieces. 
 
 Shampooer. I ’ll pay you this very day. 
 
 Mathura. Pay me this very minute ! 
 
 Shampooer. I ’ll pay you. Only have mercy! 
 
 Mathura. Come, will you pay me now? 
 
 Shampooer. My head is getting dizzy. [He falls to the gi'ound. The 
 others beat him with all their might. ] 
 
 Mathura. There [drawing the gamblers ring ] you’re bound by 
 the gamblers’ ring. 
 
 Shampooer. [Rises. Despairingly .] What! bound by the gamblers’ 
 ring? Confound it! That is a limit which we gamblers can’t pass. 
 Where can I get the money to pay him ? 
 
 Mathura. Well then, you must give surety. 
 
 Shampooer. I have an idea. [He nudges the gambler.'] I’ll give you 
 half, if you’ll forgive me the other half. 
 
 Gambler. All right. 
 
 Shampooer. [To Mathura.] I’ll give you surety for a half. You 
 might forgive me the other half. 
 
 Mathura. All right. Where ’s the harm ? 
 
 Shampooer. [Aloud.] You forgave me a half, sir? 
 
32 
 
 ACT THE SECOND 
 
 [31.24 S. 
 
 Mathura. Yes. 
 
 Shampooer. [To the gambler.'] And you forgave me a half? 
 Gambler. Yes. 
 
 Shampooer. Then I think I ’ll be going. 
 
 Mathura. Pay me my ten gold-pieces! Where are you going? 
 Shampooer. Look at this, gentlemen, look at this! Here I just gave 
 surety to one of them for a half, and the other forgave me a half. 
 And even after that he is dunning me, poor helpless me ! 
 Mathura. [Seizing him.] My name is Mathura, the clever swindler, 
 and you ’re not going to swindle me this time. Pay up, jail-bird, 
 every bit of my money, and this minute, too. 
 
 Shampooer. How can I pay? 
 
 Mathura. Sell your father and pay. 
 
 Shampooer. Where can I get a father? 
 
 Mathura. Sell your mother and pay. 
 
 Shampooer. Where can I get a mother? 
 
 Mathura. Sell yourself and pay. 
 
 Shampooer. Have mercy! Lead me to the king’s highway. 
 Mathura. Go ahead. 
 
 Shampooer. If it must be. [He walks about.] Gentlemen, will you 
 buy me for ten gold-pieces from this gambling-master? [He sees 
 a passer-by and calls out.] What is that? You wish to know what 
 I can do? I will be your house-servant. What! he has gone without 
 even answering. Well, here ’s another. I ’ll speak to him. [He re- 
 peats his offer.] What! this one too takes no notice of me. He is 
 gone. Confound it! I ’ve had hard luck ever since Charudatta lost 
 his fortune. 
 
 Mathura. Will you pay? 
 
 Shampooer. How can I pay ? [He falls down. Mathura drags him 
 about.] Good gentlemen, save me, save me! [Enter Darduraka.] 
 Darduraka. Yes, gambling is a kingdom without a throne. 
 
p. 61.5] THE SHAMPOOER WHO GAMBLED 
 
 33 
 
 You do not mind defeat at all; 
 
 Great are the sums you spend and win ; ' 
 
 While kingly revenues roll in, 
 
 Rich men, like slaves, before you fall. 7 
 
 And again : 
 
 You earn your coin by gambling, 
 
 Your friends and wife by gambling, 
 
 Your gifts and food by gambling; 
 
 Your last cent goes by gambling. 8 
 
 And again: 
 
 My cash was taken by the trey; 
 
 The deuce then took my health away; 
 
 The ace then set me on the street; 
 
 The four completed my defeat. 9 
 
 {He looks before him.'] Here comes Mathura, our sometime gam- 
 bling-master. Well, as I can’t escape, I think I ’ll put on my veil. 
 {He makes any number of gestures with his cloak, then examines it.] 
 This cloth is sadly indigent in thread; 
 
 This lovely cloth lets in a lot of light; 
 
 This cloth’s protective power is nearly fled; 
 
 This cloth is pretty when it ’s rolled up tight. 10 
 Yet after all, what more could a poor saint do? For you see, 
 
 One foot I ’ve planted in the sky, 
 
 The other on the ground must lie. 1 
 The elevation ’s rather high, 
 
 But the sun stands it. Why can’t I? 11 
 
 Mathura. Pay, pay! 
 
 Shampooer. How can I pay? {Mathura drags him about.] 
 Darduraka. Well, well, what is this I see? {He addresses a by- 
 stander.] What did you say, sir? “This shampooer is being mal- 
 treated by the gambling-master, and no one will save him” ? I ’ll 
 save him myself. {He presses forward.] Stand back, stand back! 
 
 1 A humorously exaggerated reference to Indian ascetic practices. 
 
34 
 
 ACT THE SECOND 
 
 [33.25 S. 
 
 [He takes a look.] Well, if this is n’t that swindler Mathura. And 
 here is the poor saintly shampooer; a saint to be sure, 
 
 Who does not hang with bended head 
 Rigid till set of sun, 
 
 Who does not rub his back with sand 
 Till boils begin to run, 
 
 Whose shins dogs may not browse upon, 
 
 As they pass him in their rambling. 1 
 Why should this tall and dainty man 
 
 Be so in love w T ith gambling? 12 
 
 Well, I must pacify Mathura. [He approaches .] How do you do, 
 Mathura? [Mathura returns the greeting .] 
 
 Darduraka. What does this mean? 
 
 Mathura. He owes me ten gold-pieces. 
 
 Darduraka. A mere bagatelle! 
 
 Mathura. [Pulling the rolled-up cloak from under Darduraka s 
 arm.] Look, gentlemen, look! The man in the ragged cloak calls 
 ten gold-pieces a mere bagatelle. 
 
 Darduraka. My good fool, don’t I risk ten gold-pieces on a cast 
 of the dice? Suppose a man has money — is that any reason why 
 he should put it in his bosom and show it? But you, 
 
 You’ll lose your caste, you’ll lose your soul, 
 
 For ten gold-pieces that he stole, 
 
 To kill a man that’s sound and whole, 
 
 With five good senses in him. 13 
 
 Mathura. Ten gold-pieces may be a mere bagatelle to you, sir. To 
 me they are a fortune. 
 
 Darduraka. Well then, listen to me. Just give him ten more, and 
 let him go to gambling again. 
 
 Mathura. And what then? 
 
 Darduraka. If he w r ins, he will pay you. 
 
 1 See note on page 33. 
 
p.63.12] THE SHAMPOOER WHO GAMBLED 35 
 
 Mathura. And if he does n’t win ? 
 
 Darduraka. Then he won’t pay you. 
 
 Mathura. This is no time for nonsense. If you say that, you can 
 give him the money yourself. My name is Mathura. I ’m a swindler 
 and I play a crooked game, and I’m not afraid of anybody. You 
 are an immoral scoundrel. 
 
 Darduraka. Who did you say was immoral? 
 
 Mathura. You ’re immoral. 
 
 Darduraka. Your father is immoral. [He gives the shampooer a 
 sign to escape. ] 
 
 Mathura. You cur! That is just the way that you gamble. 
 Darduraka. That is the way I gamble? 
 
 Mathura. Come, shampooer, pay me my ten gold-pieces. 
 
 \ 
 
 Shampooer. I ’ll pay you this very day. I ’ll pay at once. [. Mathura 
 drags him about. ] 
 
 Darduraka. Fool! You may maltreat him when I am away, but 
 not before my eyes. 
 
 [. Mathura seizes the shampooer and hits him on the nose. The sham- 
 pooer bleeds, faints, and falls flat. Darduraka approaches and in- 
 terferes. Mathura strikes Darduraka, and Darduraka strikes back . ] 
 Mathura. Oh, oh, you accursed hound! But I’ll pay you for this. 
 Darduraka. My good fool, I was walking peaceably along the 
 street, and you struck me. If you strike me to-morrow in court, 
 then you will open your eyes. 
 
 Mathura. Yes, I’ll open my eyes. 
 
 Darduraka. How will you open your eyes? 
 
 Mathura. [Opening his eyes wide.] This is the way I’ll open my 
 eyes. 
 
 [Darduraka throws dust in Mathura' s eyes, and gives the shampooer 
 a sign to escape. Mathura shuts his eyes and falls down. The sham- 
 pooer escapes.] 
 
36 
 
 ACT THE SECOND 
 
 [35.20 S. 
 
 Darduraka. [Aside.] I have made an enemy of the influential 
 gambling-master Mathura. I had better not stay here. Besides, my 
 good friend Sharvilaka told me that a young herdsman named 
 Aryaka has been designated by a soothsayer as our future king. 
 Now everybody in my condition is running after him. I think I 
 will join myself to him. [Exit. 
 
 Shampooer. [ Trembles as he walks away and looks about him.] Here 
 is a house where somebody has left the side-door open. I will go 
 in. [He enters and perceives V asantasena.] Madam, I throw my- 
 self upon your protection. 
 
 Vasantasena. He who throws himself upon my protection shall be 
 safe. Close the door, girl. [ The maid does so.] 
 
 Vasantasena. What do you fear? 
 
 Shampooer. A creditor, madam. 
 
 Vasantasena. You may open the door now, girl. 
 
 Shampooer. [To himself.] Ah! Her reasons for not fearing a credi- 
 tor are in proportion to her innocence. The proverb is right : 
 
 The man who knows his strength and bears a load 
 Proportioned to that strength, not more nor less, 
 
 Is safe from stumbling and from sore distress, 
 
 Although he wander on a dreary road. 14 
 
 That means me. 
 
 Mathura. [Wiping his eyes. To the gambler.] Pay, pay! 
 
 Gambler. While we were quarreling with Darduraka, sir, the 
 man escaped. 
 
 Mathura. I broke that shampooer’s nose for him with my fist. 
 Come on ! Let ’s trace him by the blood. [ They do so.] 
 
 Gambler. He went into Vasantasenas house, sir. 
 
 Mathura. Then that is the end of the gold-pieces. 
 
 Gambler. Let ’s go to court and lodge a complaint. 
 
p er i] THE SHAMPOOER WHO GAMBLED 
 
 37 
 
 Mathura. The swindler would leave the house and escape. No, we 
 must besiege him and so capture him. 
 
 [ Vasantasena gives Madanika a sign.] 
 
 Madanika. Whence are you, sir? or who are you, sir? or "whose son 
 are you, sir ? or what is your business, sir ? or what are you afraid of? 
 Shampooer. Listen, madam. My birthplace is Pataliputra, madam. 
 I am the son of a householder. I practise the trade of a shampooer. 
 Vasantasena. It is a very dainty art, sir, which you have mastered. 
 Shampooer. Madam, as an art I mastered it. It has now become a 
 mere trade. 
 
 Madanika. Your answers are most disconsolate, sir. Pray continue. 
 Shampooer. Yes, madam. When I was at home, I used to hear 
 travelers tell tales, and I wanted to see new countries, and so I 
 came here. And when I had come here to Ujjayinl, I became the 
 servant of a noble gentleman. Such a handsome, courteous gentle- 
 man ! When he gave money away, he did not boast ; when he was 
 injured, he forgot it. To cut a long story short : he was so courteous 
 that he regarded his own person as the possession of others, and 
 had compassion on all who sought his protection. 
 
 Madanika. Who may it be that adorns Ujjayinl with the virtues 
 which he has stolen from the object of my mistress’ desires? 
 Vasantasena. Good, girl, good! I had the same thought in mind. 
 Madanika. But to continue, sir— 
 
 Shampooer. Madam, he was so compassionate and so generous that 
 now — 
 
 Vasantasena. His riches have vanished ? 
 
 Shampooer. I didn’t say it. How did you guess it, madam? 
 
 V isantasena. What was there to guess? Virtue and money seldom 
 keep company. In the pools from which men cannot drink there 
 is so much the more water. 
 
 Madanika. But sir, what is his name? 
 
38 
 
 ACT THE SECOND 
 
 [37.25 S. 
 
 Shampooer. Madam, who does not know the name of this moon 
 of the whole world? He lives in the merchants’ quarter. He whose 
 name is worthy of all honor is named Charudatta. 
 
 Vasantasena . [ Joyfully rising from her seat.'] Sir, this house is your 
 own. Give him a seat, girl, and take this fan. The gentleman is 
 weary. [ Madanika does as she is hid.] 
 
 Shampooer. [Aside.] What! so much honor because I mentioned 
 Charudatta’s name? Heaven bless you, Charudatta! You are the 
 only man in the world who really lives. All others merely breathe. 
 [He falls at V asantasenas feet.] Enough, madam, enough. Pray 
 be seated, madam. 
 
 Vasantasena. [Seating herself] Where is he who is so richly your 
 creditor, sir? 
 
 Shamp. The good man’s wealth consists in kindly deeds ; 
 
 All other wealth is vain and quickly flies. 
 
 The man who honors not his neighbor’s needs, 
 
 Does that man know what honor signifies? 15 
 
 Vasantasena. But to continue — 
 
 Shampooer. So I became a servant in his employ. And when his 
 wealth was reduced to his virtue, I began to live by gambling. But 
 fate was cruel, and 1 lost ten gold-pieces. 
 
 Mathura. I am ruined ! I am robbed ! 
 
 Shampooer. There are the gambling-master and the gambler, look- 
 ing for me. You have heard my story, madam. The rest is your 
 affair. 
 
 Vasantasena. Madanika, the birds fly everywhither when the tree 
 is shaken in which they have their nests. Go, girl, and give the 
 gambling-master and the gambler this bracelet. And tell them that 
 this gentleman sends it. [She removes a bracelet from her arm, and 
 gives it to Madanika.] 
 
 Madanika. [Receiving the bracelet.] Yes, mistress. [She goes out.] 
 
P.71.2] THE SHAMPOOER WHO GAMBLED 39 
 Mathura. I am ruined ! I am robbed ! 
 
 Madanika. Inasmuch as these two are looking up to heaven, and 
 sighing, and chattering, and fastening their eyes on the door, I 
 conclude that they must be the gambling-master and the gambler. 
 [. Approaching .] I salute you, sir. 
 
 Mathura. May happiness be yours. 
 
 Madanika. Sir, which of you is the gambling-master? 
 
 Math. O maiden, fair but something less than shy. 
 
 With red lip wounded in love’s ardent play, 
 
 On whom is bent that sweet, coquettish eye? 
 
 For whom that lisp that steals the heart away? 16 
 I have n’t got any money. You’ll have to look somewhere else. 
 Madanika. You are certainly no gambler, if you talk that way. 
 Is there any one who owes you money? 
 
 Mathura. There is. He owes ten gold-pieces. What of him? 
 Madanika. In his behalf my mistress sends you this bracelet. No, 
 no! He sends it himself. 
 
 Mathura. [Seizing it joyfully. ] Well, well, you may tell the noble 
 youth that his account is squared. Let him come and seek delight 
 again in gambling. [. Exeunt Mathura and the gambler. 
 
 Madanika. [ Returning to Vasantasena.] Mistress, the gambling- 
 master and the gambler have gone away well-pleased. 
 
 V i asantasena. Go, sir, and comfort your kinsfolk. 
 
 Shampooer. Ah, madam, if it may be, these hands would gladly 
 practise their art in your service. 
 
 Vasantasena. But sir, he for whose sake you mastered the art, 
 who first received your service, he should have your service still. 
 Shampooer. [Aside.] A very pretty way to decline my services. 
 How shall I repay her kindness? [Aloud.] Madam, thus dishon- 
 ored as a gambler, I shall become a Buddhist monk. And so, 
 
40 
 
 ACT THE SECOND 
 
 [40.1 S. 
 
 madam, treasure these words in your memory: “He was a sham- 
 pooer, a gambler, a Buddhist monk.” 
 
 Vasantasena. Sir, you must not act too precipitately. 
 
 Shampooer. Madam, my mind is made up. [He walks about.'] 
 
 I gambled, and in gambling I did fall, 
 
 Till every one beheld me with dismay. 
 
 Now I shall show my honest face to all, 
 
 And walk abroad upon the king’s highway. 17 
 
 [Tumultuous cries behind the scenes.] 
 
 Shampooer. [Listening.] What is this? What is this? [Addressing 
 some one behind the scenes.] What did you say? “Post-breaker, 
 Vasantasena s rogue elephant, is at liberty!” Hurrah! I must go 
 and see the lady’s best elephant. No, no! What have I to do with 
 these things ? I must hold to my resolution. [Eocit. 
 
 [Then enter hastily Karnapuraka, highly delighted, wearing a gor- 
 geous mantle.] 
 
 Karnapuraka. Where is she? Where is my mistress? 
 
 Madanika. Insolent! What can it be that so excites you? You do 
 not see your mistress before your very eyes. 
 
 Karnapuraka. [Perceiving Vasantasena.] Mistress, my service to 
 you. 
 
 Vasantasena. Karnapuraka, your face is beaming. What is it? 
 Karnapuraka. [Proudly.] Oh, mistress! You missed it! You didn’t 
 see Karnapuraka’s heroism to-day! 
 
 Vasantasena. What, Karnapuraka, what? 
 
 Karnapuraka. Listen. Post-breaker, my mistress’ rogue elephant, 
 broke the stake he was tied to, killed his keeper, and ran into the 
 street, making a terrible commotion. You should have heard the 
 people shriek, 
 
 Take care of the babies, as quick as you can, 
 
 And climb up a roof or a tree ! 
 
P. 74.14] 
 
 THE SHAMPOOER WHO GAMBLED 
 
 41 
 
 The elephant rogue wants the blood of a man. 
 
 Escape! Run away! Can’t you see? 18 
 
 And: 
 
 How they lose their ankle-rings ! 
 
 Girdles, set with gems and things. 
 
 Break away from fastenings! 
 
 As they stumble, trip, and blunder, 
 
 See the bracelets snap asunder, 
 
 Each a tangled, pearly wonder! 19 
 
 And that rogue of an elephant dives with his trunk and his feet 
 and his tusks into the city of Ujjayinl, as if it were a lotus-pond 
 in full flower. At last he comes upon a Buddhist monk. 1 And 
 while the man’s staff and his water-jar and his begging-bowl fly 
 every which way, he drizzles water over him and gets him be- 
 tween his tusks. The people see him and begin to shriek again, 
 crying “Oh, oh, the monk is killed!” 
 
 Vasantasena. \Anociously.~\ Oh, what carelessness, what careless- 
 ness! 
 
 Karnapuraka. Don’t be frightened. Just listen, mistress. Then, 
 with a big piece of the broken chain dangling about him, he picked 
 him up, picked up the monk between his tusks, and just then 
 Karnapuraka saw him, I saw him, no, no! the slave who grows 
 fat on my mistress’ rice-cakes saw him, stumbled with his left 
 foot over a gambler’s score, grabbed up an iron pole out of a shop, 
 and challenged the mad elephant — 
 
 Vasantasena. Go on! Go on! 
 
 Karnap. I hit him — in a fit of passion, too — 
 
 He really looked like some great mountain peak. 
 
 And from between those tusks of his I drew 
 
 The sacred hermit meek. 20 
 
 Vasantasena. Splendid, splendid! But go on! 
 
 Karnapuraka. Then, mistress, all Ujjayinl tipped over to one side, 
 
 1 The shampooer, whose transformation is astonishingly sudden. 
 
42 
 
 ACT THE SECOND 
 
 [41.19 S. 
 
 like a ship loaded unevenly, and you could hear nothing but “Hur- 
 rah, hurrah for Karnapuraka!” Then, mistress, a man touched the 
 places where he ought to have ornaments, and, finding that he 
 had n't any, looked up, heaved a long sigh, and threw this mantle 
 over me. 
 
 Vasantasena. Find out, Karnapuraka, whether the mantle is per- 
 fumed with jasmine or not. 
 
 Karnapuraka. Mistress, the elephant perfume is so strong that I 
 can’t tell for sure. 
 
 Vasantasena. Then look at the name. 
 
 Karnapuraka. Here is the name. You may read it, mistress. [He 
 hands her the mantle.] 
 
 Vasantasena. [ Reads.'] Charudatta. [She seizes the mantle eagerly 
 and wraps it about her.] 
 
 Madanika. The mantle is very becoming to her, Karnapuraka. 
 Karnapuraka. Oh, yes, the mantle is becoming enough. 
 Vasantasena. Here is your reward, Karnapuraka. [She gives him 
 a gem.] 
 
 Karnapuraka. [ Taking it and bowing low.] Now the mantle is 
 most wonderfully becoming. 
 
 Vasantasena. Karnapuraka, where is Charudatta now? 
 Karnapuraka. He started to go home along this very street. 
 Vasantasena. Come, girl! Let us go to the upper balcony and see 
 Charudatta. [. Exeunt omnes. 
 
ACT THE THIRD 
 
 THE HOLE IN THE WALL 
 
 [ Enter Charudatta s servant, V ardhamanaka.\ 
 
 Vardh. \ MASTER, kindly and benevolent, 
 
 d\. His servants love, however poor he be. 
 
 The purse-proud, with a will on harshness bent, 
 
 Pays service in the coin of cruelty. 1 
 
 And again : 
 
 A bullock greedy for a feast of corn 
 You never can prevent; 
 
 A wife who wants her lord to wear a horn 
 You never can prevent; 
 
 A man who loves to gamble night and morn 
 You never can prevent; 
 
 And blemishes 1 that with a man are born 
 
 You never can prevent. 2 
 
 It is some time since Charudatta went to the concert. It is past 
 midnight, and still he does not come. I think I will go into the 
 outer hall and take a nap. [He does so.] 
 
 [Enter Charudatta and Maitreya .] 
 
 Charudatta. How beautifully Rebhila sang! The lute is indeed a 
 pearl, a pearl not of the ocean. 
 
 Gently the anxious lover’s heart befriending, 
 
 Consoling when true lovers may not meet, 
 
 To love-lorn souls the dearest comforts sending, 
 
 It adds to sweetest love its more of sweet. 3 
 
 Maitreya. W ell then, let ’s go into the house. 
 
 Charudatta. But how wonderfully Master Rebhila sang! 
 
 1 This refers to Charudatta’s generosity, which continues after his wealth has vanished. 
 
44 
 
 ACT THE THIRD 
 
 [44. 1 S. 
 
 Maitreya. There are just two things that always make me laugh. 
 One is a woman talking Sanskrit, and the other is a man who tries 
 to sing soft and low. Now when a woman talks Sanskrit, she is like 
 a heifer with a new rope through her nose; all you hear is “soo, 
 soo, soo.” And when a man tries to sing soft and low, he reminds 
 me of an old priest muttering texts, while the flowers in his chaplet 
 dry up. No, I don't like it! 
 
 Charudatta. My friend, Master Rebhila sang most wonderfully 
 this evening. And still you are not satisfied. 
 
 The notes of love, peace, sweetness, could I trace, 
 
 The note that thrills, the note of passion too, 
 
 The note of woman’s loveliness and grace — 
 
 Ah, my poor -words add nothing, nothing new! 
 
 But as the notes in sweetest cadence rang, 
 
 I thought it -was my hidden love -who sang. 4 
 
 The melody of song, the stricken strings 
 In undertone that half-unconscious clings, 
 
 More clearly sounding -when the passions rise, 
 
 But ever sweeter as the music dies. 
 
 Words that strong passion fain would say again, 
 
 Yet checks their second utterance — in vain; 
 
 For music sweet as this fives on, until 
 I walk as hearing sweetest music still. 5 
 
 Maitreya. But see, my friend ! The very dogs are sound asleep in 
 the shops that look out on the market. Let us go home. [He looks 
 before him.'] Look, look ! The blessed moon seems to give place to 
 darkness, as she descends from her palace in heaven. 
 
 Charudatta. True. 
 
 The moon gives place to darkness as she dips 
 Behind the -western mountain ; and the tips 
 Of her uplifted horns alone appear, 
 
 Like two sharp-pointed tusks uplifted clear, 
 
P. 82.1] 
 
 THE HOLE IN THE WALL 
 
 45 
 
 Where bathes an elephant in waters cool, 
 
 Who shows naught else above the jungle pool. 6 
 
 Maitreya. Well, here is our house. Yardhamanaka, Yardhamanaka, 
 open the door! 
 
 Yardhamanaka. I hear Maitreya’s voice. Charudatta has returned. 
 I must open the door for him. [He does so.] Master, I salute you. 
 Maitreya, I salute you too. The couch is ready. Pray be seated. 
 [Charudatta and Maitreya enter and scat themselves .] 
 
 Maitreya. Yardhamanaka, call Radanika to wash our feet. 
 Charudatta. [Compassionately . ] She sleeps. Do not wake her. 
 Yardhamanaka. I will bring the water, Maitreya, and you may 
 wash Charudatta’s feet. 
 
 Maitreya. [Angrily. ~] Look, man. He acts like the son of a slave 
 that he is, for he is bringing water. But he makes me wash your 
 feet, and I am a Brahman. 
 
 Charudatta. Good Maitreya, do you bring the water, and Vardha- 
 manaka shall wash my feet. 
 
 Yardhamanaka. Yes, Maitreya. Do you bring the water. [Maitreya 
 does so. Yardhamanaka zvashes Charudatta s feet, then moves aicay.~\ 
 Charudatta. Let water be brought for the Brahman’s feet. 
 Maitreya. What good does water do my feet? I shall have to roll 
 in the dirt again, like a beaten ass. 
 
 Yardhamanaka. Maitreya, you are a Brahman. 
 
 Maitreya. Yes, like a slow-worm among all the other snakes, so 
 am I a Brahman among all the other Brahmans. 
 
 Yardhamanaka. Maitreya, I will wash your feet after all. [He does 
 50.] Maitreya, this golden casket I was to keep by day, you by 
 night. Take it. [He gives it to Maitreya, then exit. 
 
 Maitreya. [Receiving the casket .] The thing is here still. Is n’t there 
 a single thief in UjjayinI to steal the wretch that robs me of my 
 sleep ? Listen. I am going to take it into the inner court. 
 
46 
 
 ACT THE THIRD 
 
 [46.1 S. 
 
 Charud. Such lax attention we can ill afford. 
 
 If we are trusted by a courtezan, 
 
 Then, Brahman, prove yourself an honest man, 
 
 And guard it safely, till it be restored. 7 
 
 [He nods, repeating the stanza “The melody of song, the stricken 
 strings : ” page 44.] 
 
 Maitreya. Are you going to sleep? 
 
 Charudatta. Yes, so it seems. 
 
 For conquering sleep, descending on mine eyes, 
 
 First smites the brow with unresisted blow; 
 
 Unseen, elusive, like old age, she tries 
 
 To gather strength by weakening her foe. 8 
 
 Maitreya. Then let’s go to sleep. [He does ,vo.] 
 
 [Enter Sharvilaka .*] 
 
 Sharv. I made an entrance for my body’s round 
 
 By force of art and arms, a path to deeds ! 
 
 I skinned my sides by crawling on the ground, 
 
 Like a snake that sloughs the skin no longer sound ; 
 
 And now I go where my profession leads. 9 
 
 [He gazes at the sky. Joyfully. ] See! The blessed moon is setting. 
 For well I know, 
 
 My trade would fain from watchmen’s eyes be shrouded; 
 
 Valiant, I force the dwelling of another. 
 
 But see, the stars in deepest dark are clouded, 
 
 And the night shields me like a careful mother. 10 
 I made a breach in the orchard wall and entered. And now I 
 must force my way into the inner court as well. 
 
 Yes, let men call it vulgar, if they will, 
 
 The trade that thrives while sleeps the sleepyhead ; 
 
 Yes, knavery, not bravery, call it still, 
 
 To overreach confiding folk a-bed. 
 
 1 The following scene satirizes the Hindu love of system and classification. 
 
P. 85.9] 
 
 THE HOLE IN THE WALL 
 
 47 
 
 Far better blame and hissing, fairly won, 
 
 Than the pay of genuflecting underlings; 
 
 This antique path was trod by Drona’s son, 
 
 Who slew the sleeping, unsuspecting kings. 11 
 
 But where shall I make the breach? 
 
 Where is the spot which falling drops decayed? 
 
 For each betraying sound is deadened there. 
 
 No yawning breach should in the walls be made, 
 
 So treatises on robbery declare. 
 
 Where does the palace crumble? Where the place 
 That niter-eaten bricks false soundness wear? 
 
 Where shall I ’scape the sight of woman’s face? 
 
 Fulfilment of my wishes waits me there. 12 
 
 [He feels the tea//.] Here is a spot weakened by constant sun and 
 sprinkling and eaten by saltpeter rot. And here is a pile of dirt 
 thrown up by a mouse. Now heaven be praised! My venture pro- 
 spers. This is the first sign of success for Skanda’s 1 sons. Now first 
 of all, how shall I make the breach? The blessed Bearer of the 
 Golden Lance 2 has prescribed four varieties of breach, thus: if 
 the bricks are baked, pull them out; if they are unbaked, cut 
 them ; if they are made of earth, wet them ; if they are made of 
 wood, split them. Here we have baked bricks ; ergo, pull out the 
 bricks. 
 
 Now what shall be the shape I give the breach? 
 
 A “lotus,” “cistern,” “crescent moon,” or “sun”? 
 “Oblong,” or “cross,” or “bulging pot”? for each 
 The treatises permit. Which one? which one? 
 
 And where shall I display my sovereign skill, 
 
 That in the morning men may wonder still? 13 
 
 In this wall of baked bricks, the “bulging pot” would be effective. 
 I will make that. 
 
 1 The patron saint of thieves. 
 
 2 An epithet of Skanda. 
 
48 
 
 ACT THE THIRD 
 
 [47.16 S. 
 
 At other walls that I have pierced by night, 
 
 And at my less successful ventures too, 
 
 The crowd of neighbors gazed by morning light, 
 
 Assigning praise or blame, as was my due. 14 
 
 Praise to the boon-conferring god, to Skanda of immortal youth ! 
 Praise to him, the Bearer of the Golden Lance, the Brahman’s 
 god, the pious! Praise to him, the Child of the Sun ! Praise to him, 
 the teacher of magic, whose first pupil I am! For he found plea- 
 sure in me and gave me magic ointment. 
 
 With which so I anointed be, 
 
 No watchman’s eye my form shall see; 
 
 And edged sword that falls on me 
 
 From cruel wounds shall leave me free. 15 
 
 [He anoints himself.'] Alas, I have forgotten my measuring line. 
 [Reflecting.] Aha! This sacred cord 1 shall be my measuring line. 
 Yes, the sacred cord is a great blessing to a Brahman, especially to 
 one like me. For, you see, 
 
 With this he measures, ere he pierce a wall, 
 
 And picks the lock, when jewels are at stake. 
 
 It serves as key to bolted door and hall, 
 
 As tourniquet for bite of worm and snake. 16 
 
 The measuring is done. I begin my task. [He does so, then takes a 
 look.] My breach lacks but a single brick. Alas, I am bitten by a 
 snake. [He binds his finger with the sacred cord, and manifests the 
 workings of poison.] I have applied the remedy, and now I am re- 
 stored. [He continues his work, then gazes.] Ah, there burns a can- 
 dle. See! 
 
 Though jealous darkness hems it round, 
 
 The golden-yellow candle from its place 
 Shines through the breach upon the ground, 
 
 Like a streak of gold upon the touchstone’s face. 17 
 
 1 The sacrificial cord, which passes over the left shoulder and under the right arm, is worn con- 
 stantly by members of the three upper castes. 
 
P. 87.9] 
 
 THE HOLE IN THE WALL 
 
 49 
 
 [He returns to his work.'] The breach is finished. Good! I enter. 
 But no, I will not enter yet. I will shove a dummy in. [He does 
 ^ 0 .] Ah, no one is there. Praise be to Skanda! [He enters and looks 
 about.] See! Two men asleep. Come, for my own protection I will 
 open the door. But the house is old and the door squeaks. I must 
 look for water. Now where might water be? [He looks about, finds 
 water, and sprinkles the door. Anxiously.] I hope it will not fall 
 upon the floor and make a noise. Come, this is the way. [He puts 
 his back against the door and opens it cautiously.] Good! So much 
 for that. Now I must discover whether these two are feigning 
 sleep, or whether they are asleep in the fullest meaning of the 
 term. [He tries to terrifiy them, and notes the effect.] Yes, they must 
 be asleep in the fullest meaning of the term. F or see ! 
 
 Their breath first calmly rises, ere it sink; 
 
 Its regularity all fear defies. 
 
 Unmoving in their socket-holes, the eyes 
 Are tightly closed, and never seem to wink. 
 
 The limbs relaxed, at ease the bodies lie, 
 
 I see their feet beyond the bedstead peep, 
 
 The lighted candle vexes not the eye ; 
 
 It would, if they were only feigning sleep. 18 
 
 [He looks about kirn.] What! a drum? And here is a flute. And 
 here, a snare-drum. And here, a lute. And reed-pipes. And yon- 
 der, manuscripts. Is this the house of a dancing-master? But no! 
 When I entered, I was convinced that this was a palatial residence. 
 Now then, is this man poor in the fullest meaning of the term, or, 
 from fear of the king or of thieves, does he keep his property 
 buried? Well, my own property is buried, too. But I will scatter 
 the seeds that betray subterranean gold. [He does 50.] The scat- 
 tered seeds nowhere swell up. Ah, he is poor in the fullest mean- 
 ing of the term. Good ! I go. 
 
 Maitreya. [Talking in his sleep.] Look, man. I see something like 
 
50 
 
 ACT THE THIRD 
 
 [4.9.7 s. 
 
 a hole in the wall. I see something like a thief. You had better 
 take this golden casket. 
 
 Sharvilaka. I wonder if the man has discovered that I have en- 
 tered, and is showing off his poverty in order to make fun of me. 
 Shall I kill him, or is the poor devil talking in his sleep ? [He takes 
 a look. ] But see! This thing wrapped in a ragged bath-clout, now 
 that I inspect it by the light of my candle, is in truth a jewel- 
 casket. Suppose I take it. But no! It is hardly proper to rob a 
 man of good birth, who is as poor as I am. I go. 
 
 Maitreya. My friend, by the wishes of cows and Brahmans 1 1 con- 
 jure you to take this golden casket. 
 
 Sharvilaka. One may not disregard the sacred wish of a cow and 
 the wish of a Brahman. I will take it. But look ! There burns the 
 candle. I keep about me a moth for the express purpose of extin- 
 guishing candles. I will let him enter the flame. This is his place 
 and hour. May this moth which I here release, depart to flutter 
 above the flame in varying circles. The breeze from the insect’s 
 wings has translated the flame into accursed darkness. Or shall I 
 not rather curse the darkness brought by me upon my Brahmanic 
 family? For my father was a man who knew the four Vedas, who 
 would not accept a gift; and I, Sharvilaka, his son, and a Brah- 
 man, I am committing a crime for the sake of that courtezan girl 
 Madanika. Vow I will grant the Brahman’s wish. [He reaches out 
 for the casket. ] 
 
 Maitreya. How cold your fingers are, man! 
 
 Sharvilaka. What carelessness ! My fingers are cold from touch- 
 ing water. Well, I will put my hand in my armpit. [He vcarms 
 his left hand and takes the easket.~\ 
 
 Maitreya. Have you got it ? 
 
 Sharvilaka. I could not refuse a Brahman’s request. I have it. 
 
 1 Sacred creatures. 
 
51 
 
 p. 89. 9 ] THE HOLE IN THE WALL 
 
 Maitreya. Now I shall sleep as peacefully as a merchant who has 
 sold his wares. 
 
 Sharvilaka. O great Brahman, sleep a hundred years! Alas that a 
 Brahman family should thus be plunged in darkness for the sake 
 of Madanika, a courtezan! Or better, I myself am thus plunged 
 in darkness. 
 
 A curse on poverty, I say! 
 
 ’T is stranger to the manly will ; 
 
 This act that shuns the light of day 
 
 I curse indeed, but do it still. 19 
 
 Well then, I must go to Vasantasenas house to buy Madanika s 
 freedom. [He walks about and looks around him.'] Ah, I think I 
 hear footsteps. I hope they are not those of policemen. Never mind. 
 I will pretend to be a pillar, and wait. But after all, do policemen 
 exist for me, for Sharvilaka? Why, I am 
 
 A cat for crawling, and a deer for flight, 
 
 A hawk for rending, and a dog for sight 
 To judge the strength of men that wake or sleep, 
 
 A snake, when ’t is advisable to creep, 
 
 Illusion’s self, to seem a saint or rogue, 
 
 Goddess of Speech in understanding brogue; 
 
 A light in blackest night, in holes a lizard I can be, 
 
 A horse on terra firma, and a ship upon the sea. 20 
 
 And again: 
 
 Quick as a snake, and steady as a hill; 
 
 In flight the prince of birds can show no greater skill; 
 
 In searching on the ground I am as keen as any hare, 
 
 In strength I am a lion, and a wolf to rend and tear. 21 
 
 Radanika. [Entering.] Dear me! Vardhamanaka went to sleep 
 in the outer court, and now he is not there. Well, I will call 
 Maitreya. [She walks about.] 
 
52 
 
 ACT THE THIRD 
 
 [51.1 S. 
 
 Sharvilaka. [. Prepares to strike down Radanika, but first takes a 
 look.] What! a woman? Good! I go. [Exit. 
 
 Radanika. [ Recoiling in terror .] Oh, oh, a thief has cut a hole in 
 the wall of our house and is escaping. I must go and wake Mai- 
 treya. [She approaches Maitreya .] Oh, Maitreya, get up, get up! 
 A thief has cut a hole in the wall of our house and has escaped. 
 Maitreya. [Rising.] What do you mean, wench? “A hole in the 
 wall has cut a thief and has escaped”? 
 
 Radanika. Poor fool! Stop your joking. Don’t you see it? 
 Maitreya. What do you mean, wench? “It looks as if a second 
 door had been thrown open” ? Get up, friend Charudatta, get up ! 
 A thief has made a hole in the wall of our house and has escaped. 
 Charudatta. Yes, yes! A truce to your jests! 
 
 Maitreya. But it isn’t a jest. Look! 
 
 Charudatta. Where? 
 
 Maitreya. Why, here. 
 
 Charudatta. [Gazing.] What a very remarkable hole ! 
 
 The bricks are drawn away below, above; 
 
 The top is narrow, but the center wide ; 
 
 As if the great house-heart had burst with pride, 
 Fearing lest the unworthy share its love. 22 
 
 To think that science should be expended on a task like this! 
 Maitreya. My friend, this hole must have been made by one of 
 two men; either by a stranger, or else for practice by a student 
 of the science of robbery. For what man here in UjjayinI does 
 not know how much wealth there is in our house? 
 
 Charud. Stranger he must have been who made the breach, 
 
 His customed harvest in my house to reap ; 
 
 He has not learned that vanished riches teach 
 A calm, untroubled sleep. 
 
P. 92.4] 
 
 THE HOLE IN THE WALL 
 
 53 
 
 He saw the sometime greatness of my home 
 And forced an entrance; for his heart did leap 
 With short-lived hope ; now he must elsewhere roam, 
 And over broken hopes must sorely weep. 23 
 
 Just think of the poor fellow telling his friends: “I entered the 
 house of a merchant’s son, and found — nothing.” 
 
 Maitreya. Do you mean to say that you pity the rascally robber? 
 Thinks he — “Here ’s a great house. Here ’s the place to carry off 
 a jewel-casket or a gold-casket.” [He remembers the casket. De- 
 spondently. Aside.} Where is that golden casket? [He remembers 
 the events of the night. Aloud.} Look, man! You are always say- 
 ing “Maitreya is a fool, Maitreya is no scholar.” But I certainly 
 acted wisely in handing over that golden casket to you. If I 
 had n’t, the son of a slave would have carried it off. 
 
 Charudatta. A truce to your jests ! 
 
 Maitreya. Just because I ’m a fool, do you suppose I don’t even 
 know the place and time for a jest? 
 
 Charudatta. But when did this happen ? 
 
 Maitreya. Why, when I told you that your fingers were cold. 
 Charudatta. It might have been. [He searches about. Joyfully.} 
 My friend, I have something pleasant to tell you. 
 
 Maitreya. What ? Was n’t it stolen ? 
 
 Charudatta. Yes. 
 
 Maitreya. What is the pleasant news, then ? 
 
 Charudatta. The fact that he did not go away disappointed. 
 Maitreya. But it was only entrusted to our care. 
 
 Charudatta. What! entrusted to our care? [He swoons.} 
 Maitreya. Come to yourself, man. Is the fact that a thief stole what 
 was entrusted to you, any reason why you should swoon? 
 Charudatta. [Coming to himself.} Ah, my friend, 
 
54 
 
 ACT THE THIRD 
 
 [53.5 S. 
 
 Who will believe the truth? 
 
 Suspicion now is sure. 
 
 This world will show no ruth 
 
 To the inglorious poor. 24 
 
 Alas! If envious fate before 
 
 Has wooed my wealth alone, 
 
 Why should she seek my store 
 
 Of virtue as her own ? 25 
 
 Maitreya. I intend to deny the whole thing. Who gave anybody 
 anything? who received anything from anybody? who was a wit- 
 ness ? 
 
 Charudatta. And shall I tell a falsehood now? 
 
 No ! I will beg until I earn 
 
 The wherewithal my debt to pay. 
 
 Ignoble falsehood I will spurn, 
 
 That steals the character away. 26 
 
 Radanika. I will go and tell his good wife. [She goes out, returning 
 with Charudatta s wife . ] 
 
 Wife. [. Anxiously. ] Oh! Is it true that my lord is uninjured, and 
 Maitreya too ? 
 
 Radanika. It is true, mistress. But the gems which belong to the 
 courtezan have been stolen. [Charudatta s wife swoons. ] O my good 
 mistress! Come to yourself! 
 
 Wife. [Recovering. ] Girl, how can you say that my lord is unin- 
 jured? Better that he were injured in body than in character. For 
 now the people of UjjayinI will say that my lord committed this 
 crime because of his poverty. [She looks up and sighs. ] Ah, mighty 
 Fate! The destinies of the poor, uncertain as the water-drops which 
 fall upon a lotus-leaf, seem to thee but playthings. There remains 
 to me this one necklace, which I brought with me from my mo- 
 ther’s house. But my lord would be too proud to accept it. Girl, 
 call Maitreya hither. 
 
P. 95. T] 
 
 THE HOLE IN THE WALL 
 
 55 
 
 Radanika. Yes, mistress. [She approaches Maitreya .] Maitreya, 
 my lady summons you. 
 
 Maitreya. Where is she? 
 
 Radanika. Here. Come! 
 
 Maitreya. [ Approaching .] Heaven bless you! 
 
 Wife. I salute you, sir. Sir, will you look straight in front of you? 
 Maitreya. Madam, here stands a man who looks straight in front 
 of him. 
 
 Wife. Sir, you must accept this. 
 
 Maitreya. Why? 
 
 Wife. I have observed the Ceremony of the Gems. And on this 
 occasion one must make as great a present as one may to a Brah- 
 man. This I have not done, therefore pray accept this necklace. 
 Maitreya. [ Receiving the necklace. ] Heaven bless you! I will go 
 and tell my friend. 
 
 Wife. You must not do it in such a way as to make me blush, 
 Maitreya. [Exit. 
 
 Maitreya. [In astonishment .] What generosity! 
 
 Charudatta. How Maitreya lingers ! I trust his grief is not leading 
 him to do what he ought not. Maitreya, Maitreya! 
 
 Maitreya. [. Approaching .] Here I am. Take that. [He displays the 
 necklace. ] 
 
 Charudatta. What is this? 
 
 Maitreya. Why, that is the reward you get for marrying such a 
 wife. 
 
 Charudatta. What ! my wife takes pity on me ? Alas, now am I 
 poor indeed! 
 
 When fate so robs him of his all, 
 
 That on her pity he must call, 
 
 The man to woman’s state doth fall, 
 
 The woman is the man. 
 
 27 
 
56 
 
 ACT THE THIRD 
 
 [55.9 S. 
 
 But no, I am not poor. For I have a wife 
 
 Whose love outlasts my wealthy day; 
 
 In thee a friend through good and ill; 
 
 And truth that naught could take away: 
 
 Ah, this the poor man lacketh still. 28 
 
 Maitreya, take the necklace and go to Vasantasena. Tell her in 
 my name that we have gambled away the golden casket, forget- 
 ting that it was not our own ; that we trust she will accept this 
 necklace in its place. 
 
 Maitreya. But you must not give away this necklace, the pride of 
 the four seas, for that cheap thing that was stolen before we had 
 a bite or a drink out of it. 
 
 Charudatta. Not so, my friend. 
 
 She showed her trust in leaving us her treasure ; 
 
 The price of confidence has no less measure. 29 
 
 Friend, I conjure you by this gesture, not to return until you 
 have delivered it into her hands. Yardhamanaka, do you speedily 
 
 Fill up the opening with the selfsame bricks; 
 
 Thus will I thwart the process of the law, 
 
 For the blemish of so great a scandal sticks. 30 
 
 And, friend Maitreya, you must show your pride by not speaking 
 too despondently. 
 
 Maitreya. How can a poor man help speaking despondently? 
 Charudatta, Poor I am not, my friend. For I have a wife 
 Whose love outlasts my wealthy day; 
 
 In thee a friend through good and ill ; 
 
 And truth that naught could take away: 
 
 Ah, this the poor man lacketh still. ( 28 ) 
 
 Go then, and after performing rites of purification, I will offer 
 my morning prayer. [Exeunt omnes. 
 
ACT THE FOURTH 
 MADANIKA AND SHARVILAKA 
 
 M a i(l [ Enter a maid.] 
 
 I AM entrusted with a message for my mistress by her mother. 
 
 Here is my mistress. She is gazing at a picture and is talking 
 with Madanika. I will go to her. [She walks about. Then enter 
 Vasantasena, as described, and Madanika .] 
 
 Vasantasena. Madanika girl, is this portrait really like Charu- 
 datta ? 
 
 Madanika. Very like. 
 
 Vasantasena. How do you know? 
 
 Madanika. Because my mistress’ eyes are fastened so lovingly 
 upon it. 
 
 Vasantasena. Madanika girl, do you say this because courtezan 
 courtesy demands it? 
 
 Madanika. But mistress, is the courtesy of a girl who lives in a 
 courtezan’s house, necessarily false? 
 
 Vasantasena. Girl, courtezans meet so many kinds of men that 
 they do learn a false courtesy. 
 
 Madanika. But when the eyes of my mistress find such delight in 
 a thing, and her heart too, what need is there to ask the reason? 
 Vasantasena. But I should not like to have my friends laugh at me. 
 Madanika. You need not be afraid. Women understand women. 
 
 Maid. [Approaching.] Mistress, your mother sends word that a 
 covered cart is waiting at the side-door, and that you are to take 
 a drive. 
 
 Vasantasena. Tell me, is it Charudatta who invites me? 
 
 Maid. Mistress, the man who sent ornaments worth ten thousand 
 gold-pieces with the cart — 
 
58 
 
 ACT THE FOURTH 
 
 [58.6 S. 
 
 Vasantasena. Is who? 
 
 Maid. Is the king’s brother-in-law, Sansthanaka. 
 
 Vasantasena. [Indignantly.'] Go! and never come again on such 
 an errand. 
 
 Maid. Do not be angry, mistress. I was only sent with the message. 
 Vasantasena. But it is the message which makes me angry. 
 Maid. But what shall I tell your mother? 
 
 Vasantasena. Tell my mother never to send me another such 
 message, unless she wishes to kill me. 
 
 Maid. As you will. [Exit.] [Enter Sharvilaka.] 
 
 Sharv. Blame for my sin I laid upon the night; 
 
 I conquered sleep and watchmen of the king; 
 
 But darkness wanes, and in the sun’s clear light 
 
 My light is like the moon’s — a faded thing. 1 
 
 And again: 
 
 Whoever cast at me a passing look. 
 
 Or neared me, anxious, as they quickly ran, 
 
 All such my laden soul for foes mistook; 
 
 For sin it was wherein man’s fear began. 2 
 
 Well, it was for Madanika’s sake that I did the deed of sin. 
 
 I paid no heed to any one who talked with serving-men ; 
 
 The houses ruled by women-folk — these I avoided most; 
 And when policemen seemed to have me almost in their ken, 
 
 I stood stock-still and acted just exactly like a post. 
 
 A hundred such manoeuvres did I constantly essay, 
 
 And by such means succeeded in turning night to day. 3 
 [He walks about.] 
 
 Vasantasena. Girl, lay this picture on my sofa and come back at 
 once with a fan. 
 
 Madanika. Yes, mistress. [Exit with the picture. 
 
 Sharvilaka. This is Vasantasena’s house. I will enter. [He does so.] 
 
P. 101.11] 
 
 MADANIKA AND SHARV1LAKA 
 
 59 
 
 I wonder where I can find Madanika. [ Enter Madanika with the 
 fan. Sharvilaka discovers her.] Ah, it is Madanika. 
 
 Surpassing Madana 1 himself in charm, 
 
 She seems the bride of Love, in human guise; 
 
 Even while my heart the flames of passion harm, 
 
 She brings a sandal 2 coolness to my eyes. 4 
 
 Madanika ! 
 
 Madanika. [Discovers Sharvilaka.'] Oh, oh, oh, Sharvilaka! I am so 
 glad, Sharvilaka. Where have you been? 
 
 Sharvilaka. I will tell you. [They gaze at each other passionately.] 
 Vasantasena. How Madanika lingers ! I wonder where she is. [She 
 looks through a bull's-eye window.] Why, there she stands, talking 
 with a man. Her loving glance does not waver, and she gazes as 
 if she would drink him in. I imagine he must be the man who 
 wishes to make her free. Well, let her stay, let her stay. Never in- 
 terrupt anybody’s happiness. I will not call her. 
 
 Madanika. Tell me, Sharvilaka. [Sharvilaka looks about him un- 
 easily.] What is it, Sharvilaka? You seem uneasy. 
 
 Sharvilaka. I will tell you a secret. Are we alone? 
 
 Madanika. Of course we are. 
 
 Vasantasena. What! a deep secret? I will not listen. 
 
 Sharvilaka. Tell me, Madanika. Will Vasantasena take a price for 
 your freedom? 
 
 Vasantasena. The conversation has to do with me? Then I will 
 hide behind this window and listen. 
 
 Madanika. I asked my mistress about it, Sharvilaka, and she said 
 that if she could have her way, she would free all her servants for 
 nothing. But Sharvilaka, where did you find such a fortune that 
 you can think of buying my freedom from my mistress? 
 Sharvilaka. A victim to my pauper plight, 
 
 And your sweet love to win, 
 
 1 A name of Kama, the god of love. 
 
 2 Used as a refrigerant. 
 
60 
 
 ACT THE FOURTH 
 
 [60.16 S. 
 
 For you, my timid maid, last night 
 
 I did the deed of sin. 5 
 
 Vasantasena. His face is tranquil. It would be troubled, if he had 
 sinned. 
 
 Madanika. Oh, Sharvilaka! For a mere nothing — fora woman — 
 you have risked both things ! 
 
 Sharvilaka. What things? 
 
 Madanika. Your life and your character. 
 
 Sharvilaka. My foolish girl, fortune favors the brave. 
 
 Madanika. Oh, Sharvilaka! Your character was without a stain. 
 You did n’t do anything very bad, did you, when for my sake you 
 did the deed of sin? 
 
 Sharv. The gems that magnify a woman’s charm, 
 
 As flowers the creeping plant, I do not harm. 
 
 I do not rob the Brahman of his pelf, 
 
 Nor seize the sacrificial gold myself. 
 
 I do not steal the baby from the nurse. 
 
 Simply because I need to fill my purse. 
 
 Even as a thief, I strive with main and might 
 For just distinction ’twixt the wrong and right. 6 
 
 And so you may tell Yasantasena this : 
 
 These ornaments were made for you to don, 
 
 Or so it seems to me; 
 
 But as you love me, never put them on 
 
 Where other folks may see. 7 
 
 Madanika. But Sharvilaka, ornaments that nobody may see, and 
 a courtezan — the two things do not hang together. Give me the 
 jewels. I want to see them. 
 
 Sharvilaka. Here they are. [He gives them to her with some un- 
 easiness.'] 
 
 Madanika. [Examining the jewels.] It seems to me I have seen 
 these before. Tell me. Where did you get them? 
 
P. 104.15] 
 
 MADANIKA AND SHARVILAKA 
 
 61 
 
 Sharvilaka. What does that matter to you, Madanika ? Take them. 
 Madanika. [Angrily.'] If you can t trust me, why do you wish to 
 buy my freedom? 
 
 Sharvilaka. Well, this morning I heard in the merchants’ quarter 
 that the merchant Charudatta — 
 
 [ Vasantasena and Madanika swoon.] 
 
 Sharvilaka. Madanika! Come to yourself! Why is it that now 
 Your figure seems to melt in limp despair, 
 
 Your eyes are wildly rolling here and there? 
 
 That when I come, sweet girl, to make you free, 
 
 You fall to trembling, not to pitying me? 8 
 
 Madanika. [ Coming to herself .] O you reckless man ! When you 
 did what you ought not to have done for my sake, you did n’t kill 
 anybody or hurt anybody in that house? 
 
 Shai'vilaka. Madanika, Sharvilaka does not strike a terrified man 
 or a man asleep. I did not kill anybody nor hurt anybody. 
 Madanika. Really? 
 
 Sharvilaka. Really. 
 
 Vasantasena. [Recovering consciousness.'] Ah, I breathe again. 
 Madanika. Thank heaven! 
 
 Sharvilaka. [Jealously.] What does this “Thank heaven” mean, 
 Madanika? 
 
 I sinned for you, when love had made me pine, 
 Although my house was good since time began; 
 
 Love took my virtue, but my pride is mine. 
 
 You call me friend and love another man? 9 
 
 [Meaningly.] A noble youth is like a goodly tree ; 
 
 His wealth, the fruit so fair; 
 
 The courtezan is like a bird ; for she 
 
 Pecks him and leaves him bare. 10 
 
 Love is a fire, whose flame is lust, 
 
 Whose fuel is gallantry. 
 
62 
 
 ACT THE FOURTH 
 
 [62.16 S. 
 
 Wherein our youth and riches must 
 
 Thus sacrificed be. 11 
 
 Vasantasena . [With a smiled] His excitement is a little out of 
 place. 
 
 Sharvilaka. Yes! 
 
 Those men are fools, it seems to me, 
 
 Who trust to women or to gold; 
 
 For gold and girls, ’t is plain to see, 
 
 Are false as virgin snakes and cold. 12 
 
 Love not a woman; if you ever do, 
 
 She mocks at you, and plays the gay deceiver: 
 
 Yet if she loves you, you may love her too; 
 
 But if she does n’t, leave her. 13 
 
 Too true it is that 
 
 A courtezan will laugh and cry for gold; 
 
 She trusts you not, but waits your trustful hour. 
 
 If virtue and a name are yours, then hold! 
 
 Avoid her as you would a graveyard flower. 14 
 
 And again : 
 
 As fickle as the billows of the sea, 
 
 Glowing no longer than the evening sky, 
 
 A woman takes your gold, then leaves you free; 
 
 You ’re worthless, like cosmetics, when you re dry. 15 
 Yes, women are indeed fickle. 
 
 One man perhaps may hold her heart in trust, 
 
 She lures another with coquettish eyes, 
 
 Sports with another in unseemly lust, 
 
 Another yet her body satisfies. 16 
 
 As some one has well said : 
 
 On mountain-tops no lotuses are grown; 
 
 The horse’s yoke no ass will ever bear; 
 
 Rice never springs from seeds of barley sown ; 
 
 A courtezan is not an honest fair. 
 
 17 
 
P. 107.11] 
 
 MADANIKA AND SHARVILAKA 
 
 63 
 
 Accursed Charudatta, you shall not live! [He takes a few steps.] 
 Madanika. [ Seizing the hem of his garment.] O you foolish man! 
 Your anger is so ridiculous. 
 
 Sharvilaka. Ridiculous? how so? 
 
 Madanika. Because these jewels belong to my mistress. 
 Sharvilaka. And what then? 
 
 Madanika. And she left them with that gentleman. 
 
 Sharvilaka. What for? 
 
 Madanika. [ Whispers.] That ’s why. 
 
 Sharvilaka. [Sheepishly.] Confound it! 
 
 The sun was hot one summer day; 
 
 I sought the shadow, there to stay: 
 
 Poor fool ! the kindly branch to pay, 
 
 I stole its sheltering leaves away. 18 
 
 Vasantasena. How sorry he seems. Surely, he did this thing in 
 ignorance. 
 
 Sharvilaka. What is to be done now, Madanika? 
 
 Madanika. Your own wit should tell you that. 
 
 Sharvilaka. No. For you must remember, 
 
 Nature herself gives women wit; 
 
 Men learn from books a little bit. 19 
 
 Madanika. Sharvilaka, if you will take my advice, restore the 
 jewels to that righteous man. 
 
 Sharvilaka. But Madanika, what if he should prosecute me? 
 Madanika. No cruel heat comes from the moon. 
 
 Vasantasena. Good, Madanika, good! 
 
 Sharvilaka. Madanika, 
 
 For what I did, I feel no grief nor fear; 
 
 Why tell me of this good man’s virtues high ? 
 
 Shame for my baseness touches me more near ; 
 
 What can this king do to such rogues as I ? 
 
 20 
 
64 
 
 ACT THE FOURTH 
 
 [64.16 S. 
 
 Nevertheless, your suggestion is inconsistent with prudence. You 
 must discover some other plan. 
 
 Madanika. Yes, there is another plan. 
 
 Vasantasena. I wonder what it will be. 
 
 Madanika. Pretend to be a servant of that gentleman, and give 
 the jewels to my mistress. 
 
 Sharvilaka. And what then? 
 
 Madanika. Then you are no thief, Charudatta has discharged his 
 obligation, and my mistress has her jewels. 
 
 Sharvilaka. But isn't this course too reckless? 
 
 Madanika. I tell you, give them to her. Any other course is too 
 reckless. 
 
 Vasantasena. Good, Madanika, good! Spoken like a free woman. 
 Sharvilaka. Risen at last is wisdom’s light, 
 
 Because I followed after you; 
 
 When clouds obscure the moon by night, 
 
 ’T is hard to find a guide so true. 21 
 
 Madanika. Then you must wait here a moment in Kama’s shrine, 
 while I tell my mistress that you have come. 
 
 Sharvilaka. I will. 
 
 Madanika. [. Approaches Vasantasena.'] Mistress, a Brahman has 
 come from Charudatta to see you. 
 
 Vasantasena. But girl, how do you know that he comes from 
 Charudatta? 
 
 Madanika. Should I not know my own, mistress ? 
 
 Vasantasena. [ Shaking her head and smiling. Aside.] Splendid ! 
 [Aloud.] Bid him enter. 
 
 Madanika. Yes, mistress. [Approaching Sharvilaka.] Enter, Shar- 
 vilaka. 
 
 Sharvilaka. [Approaches. With some embarrassment.] My greet- 
 ings to you. 
 
P. 110.8] 
 
 MADANIKA AND SHARVILAKA 
 
 65 
 
 V asantasena. I salute you, sir. Pray be seated. 
 
 Sharvilaka. The merchant sends this message: “My house is so 
 old that it is hard to keep this casket safe. Pray take it back.” 
 [He gives it to Madanika, and starts to leaved 
 Vasantasena. Sir, will you undertake a return commission of mine? 
 Sharvilaka. [ Aside. ] Who will carry it? [Aloud.] And this com- 
 mission is — 
 
 Vasantasena. You will be good enough to accept Madanika. 
 Sharvilaka. Madam, I do not quite understand. 
 
 Vasantasena. But I do. 
 
 Sharvilaka. How so? 
 
 Vasantasena. Charudatta told me that I was to give Madanika to 
 the man who should return these jewels. You are therefore to 
 understand that he makes you a present of her. 
 
 Sharvilaka. [A side. \ Ah, she sees through me. [Aloud.~\ Good, 
 Charudatta, good ! 
 
 On virtue only set your heart’s desire; 
 
 The righteous poor attain to heights whereto 
 The wicked wealthy never may aspire. 22 
 
 And again : 
 
 On virtue let the human heart be set; 
 
 To virtue nothing serves as check or let. 
 
 The moon, attaining unattainable, is led 
 By virtue to her seat on Shiva’s head. 23 
 
 Vasantasena. Is my driver there? [Enter a servant with a bullock- 
 cart .] 
 
 Servant. Mistress, the cart is ready. 
 
 Vasantasena. Madanika girl, you must show me a happy face. 
 You are free. Enter the bullock-cart. But do not forget me. 
 Madanika. [ Weeping.'] My mistress drives me away. [She falls at 
 her feet.] 
 
 Vasantasena. You are now the one to whom honor should be 
 
66 
 
 ACT THE FOURTH 
 
 [66.17 S. 
 
 paid. 1 Go then, enter the cart. But do not forget me. 
 
 Sharvilaka. Heaven bless you! and you, Madanika, 
 
 Turn upon her a happy face. 
 
 And hail with bended head the grace 
 That gives you now the name of wife, 
 
 As a veil to keep you safe through life. 24 
 
 [He enters the bullock-cart with Madanika, and starts away. ] 
 
 A voice behind the scenes. Men ! Men! We have the following 
 orders from the chief of police: “A soothsayer has declared that 
 a young herdsman named Aryaka is to become king. Trusting to 
 this prophecy, and alarmed thereat, King Palaka has taken him 
 from his hamlet, and thrown him into strict confinement. There- 
 fore be watchful, and every man at his post.” 
 
 Sharvilaka. [Listening.'] What! King Palaka has imprisoned my 
 good friend Aryaka? And here I am, a married man. Confound it! 
 But no, 
 
 Two things alone — his friend, his wife — 
 
 Deserve man’s love below; 
 
 A hundred brides may forfeit life 
 
 Ere he should suffer so. 25 
 
 Good ! I will get out. [He does so.] 
 
 Madanika. [Folding her hands. Tearfully.] My lord, if you must, 
 at least bring me first to your parents. 
 
 Sharvilaka. Yes, my love, I will. I had the same thought in mind. 
 [To the servant.] My good fellow, do you know the house of the 
 merchant Rebhila? 
 
 Servant. Certainly. 
 
 Sharvilaka. Bring my wife thither. 
 
 Servant. Yes, sir. 
 
 Madanika. If you desire it, dear. But dear, you must be very 
 careful. [Exit. 
 
 1 That is to say, You are now a legal wife, while I am still a courtezan. 
 
 
P. 113.6] 
 
 MADANIKA AND SHARVILAKA 
 
 67 
 
 Sharvilaka. Now as for me, 
 
 I 'll rouse my kin, the kitchen cabinet, 
 
 Those high in fame by strength of good right arm, 
 
 And those who with the king’s contempt have met, 
 
 And royal slaves, to save my friend from harm: 
 
 Like old Yaugandharayana 
 
 For the good king Udayana. 26 
 
 And again: 
 
 My friend has causeless been confined 
 By wicked foes of timid kind; 
 
 I fly, I fly to free him soon, 
 
 Like the eclipse-oppressed moon. [Exit.] 27 
 
 Maid. [Entering.'] Mistress, I congratulate you. A Brahman has 
 come with a message from Charudatta. 
 
 Vasantasena. Ah, this is a joyful day. Show him every mark of 
 respect, girl, and have him conducted hither by one of the pages. 
 Maid. Yes, mistress. [Exit. 
 
 [Enter Maitreya with a page.] 
 
 Maitreya. Well ! Ravana, the king of the demons, travels with his 
 chariot that they call the “Blossom.” He earned it by his penances. 
 Now I am a Brahman, and though I never performed any penances, 
 I travel with another sort of a blossom — a woman of the town. 
 Maid. Sir, will you inspect our gateway. 
 
 Maitreya. [Gazes admiringly.] It has just been sprinkled and 
 cleaned and received a coat of green. The threshold of it is pretty 
 as a picture with the offerings of all sorts of fragrant flowers. It 
 stretches up its head as if it wanted to peep into the sky. It is 
 adorned with strings of jasmine garlands that hang down and toss 
 about like the trunk of the heavenly elephant. It shines with its 
 high ivory portal. It is lovely with any number of holiday banners 
 that gleam red as great rubies and wave their coquettish fingers as 
 
68 
 
 ACT THE FOURTH 
 
 [68.16 S. 
 
 they flutter in the breeze and seem to invite me to enter. Both 
 sides are decorated with holiday water-jars of crystal, which are 
 charming with their bright-green mango twigs, and are set at the 
 foot of the pillars that sustain the portal. The doors are of gold, 
 thickly set with diamonds as hard to pierce as a giant’s breast. 
 It actually wearies a poor devil’s envy. Yes, Vasantasena’s house- 
 door is a beautiful thing. Really, it forcibly challenges the atten- 
 tion of a man who does n’t care about such things. 
 
 Maid. Come, sir, and enter the first court. 
 
 Maitreya. [ Enters and looks about.] Well! Here in the first court 
 are rows of balconies brilliant as the moon, or as sea-shells, or as 
 lotus-stalks; whitened by handfuls of powder strewn over them; 
 gleaming with golden stairways inlaid with all sorts of gems : they 
 seem to gaze down on Ujjayini with their round faces, the crystal 
 windows, from which strings of pearls are dangling. The porter sits 
 there and snoozes as comfortably as a professor. The crows which 
 they tempt with rice-gruel and curdled milk will not eat the 
 offering, because they can’t distinguish it from the mortar. Show 
 me the way, madam. 
 
 Maid. Come, sir, and enter the second court. 
 
 Maitreya. [. Enters and looks about.] Well! Here in the second 
 court the cart-bullocks are tied. They grow fat on mouthfuls of 
 grass and pulse-stalks which are brought them, right and left, by 
 everybody. Their horns are smeared with oil. And here is another, 
 a buffalo, snorting like a gentleman insulted. And here is a ram 1 
 having his neck rubbed, like a prize-fighter after the fight. And 
 here are others, horses having their manes put in shape. And here 
 in a stall is another, a monkey, tied fast like a thief. [He looks in 
 another direction.] And here is an elephant, taking from his drivers 
 a cake of rice and drippings and oil. Show me the way, madam. 
 Maid. Come, sir, and enter the third court. 
 
 Maitreya. [. Enters and looks about.] Well ! Here in the third court 
 
 1 “Rams in India are commonly trained to fight.” Wilson. 
 
P. 117.4] 
 
 MADANIKA AND SHARVILAKA 
 
 69 
 
 are these seats, prepared for young gentlemen to sit on. A half- 
 read book is lying on the gaming-table. And the table itself has 
 its own dice, made out of gems. And here, again, are courtezans 
 and old hangers-on at court, past masters in the war and peace of 
 love, wandering about and holding in their fingers pictures painted 
 in many colors. Show me the way, madam. 
 
 Maid. Come, sir, and enter the fourth court. 
 
 Maitreya. [Enters and looks about.] Well! Here in the fourth 
 court the drums that maiden fingers beat are booming like the 
 thunder ; the cymbals are falling, as the stars fall from heaven when 
 their merit is exhausted ; 1 the pipe is discoursing music as sweet 
 as the humming of bees. And here, again, is a lute that somebody 
 is holding on his lap like a girl who is excited by jealousy and 
 love, and he is stroking it with his fingers. And here, again, are 
 courtezan girls that sing as charmingly as honey-drunken bees, 
 and they are made to dance and recite a drama with love in it. 
 And water-coolers are hanging in the windows so as to catch the 
 breeze. Show me the way, madam. 
 
 Maid. Come, sir, and enter the fifth court. 
 
 Maitreya. [Enters and looks about.] Well! Here in the fifth court 
 the overpowering smell of asafetida and oil is attractive enough 
 to make a poor devil’s mouth water. The kitchen is kept hot all 
 the time, and the gusts of steam, laden with all sorts of good 
 smells, seem like sighs issuing from its mouth-like doors. The 
 smell of the preparation of all kinds of foods and sauces makes me 
 smack my lips. And here, again, is a butcher’s boy washing a mess 
 of chitterlings as if it were an old loin-cloth. The cook is prepar- 
 ing every kind of food. Sweetmeats are being constructed, cakes 
 are being baked. [To himself.] I wonder if I am to get a chance to 
 wash my feet and an invitation to eat what I can hold. [He looks 
 in another direction.] There are courtezans and bastard pages, 
 
 1 Virtuous souls after death may become stars; but when their stellar happiness equals the 
 sum of their acquired merit, they fall to earth again. 
 
70 
 
 ACT THE FOURTH 
 
 [70.13 S. 
 
 adorned with any number of jewels, just like Gandharvas 1 and 
 Apsarases. 2 Really, this house is heaven. Tell me, who are you 
 bastards anyway? 
 
 Pages. Why, we are bastard pages — 
 
 Petted in a stranger’s court, 
 
 Fed on stranger’s food, 
 
 Stranger’s money makes us sport — 
 
 Not so very good. 
 
 Stranger women gave us birth, 
 
 Stranger men begot; 
 
 Baby elephants in mirth, 
 
 We ’re a bastard lot. 28 
 
 Maitreya. Show me the way, madam. 
 
 Maid. Come, sir, and enter the sixth court. 
 
 Maitreya. [. Enters and looks about.'] Well! Here in the sixth 
 court they are working in gold and jewels. The arches set with 
 sapphires look as if they were the home of the rainbow. The jew- 
 elers are testing the lapis lazuli, the pearls, the corals, the topazes, 
 the sapphires, the cat’s-eyes, the rubies, the emeralds, and all the 
 other kinds of gems. Rubies are being set in gold. Golden orna- 
 ments are being fashioned. Pearls are being strung on a red cord. 
 Pieces of lapis lazuli are being cleverly polished. Shells are being 
 pierced. Corals are being ground. W et bundles of saffron are be- 
 ing dried. Musk is being moistened. Sandalwood is being ground 
 to make sandal-water. Perfumes are being compounded. Betel- 
 leaves and camphor are being given to courtezans and their lovers. 
 Coquettish glances are being exchanged. Laughter is going on. 
 Wine is being drunk incessantly with sounds of glee. Here are 
 men-servants, here are maid-servants, and here are men who for- 
 get child and wife and money. When the courtezans, who have 
 drunk the wine from the liquor-jars, give them the mitten, they — 
 drink. Show me the way, madam. 
 
 1 The choristers of heaven. 
 
 2 The nymphs of heaven. 
 
P. 121.5] 
 
 MADANIKA AND SHARVILAKA 
 
 71 
 
 Maid. Come, sir, and enter the seventh court. 
 
 Maitreya. [Enters and looks about.] Well! Here in the seventh 
 court the mated doves are sitting comfortably in their snug dove- 
 cotes, billing and cooing and nothing else, and perfectly happy. 
 And there is a parrot in a cage, chanting like a Brahman with a 
 bellyful of curdled milk and rice. And here, again, is a talking 
 thrush, chattering like a housemaid who spreads herself because 
 somebody noticed her. A cuckoo, her throat still happy from tast- 
 ing all sorts of fruit-syrups, is cooing like a procuress. Rows of 
 cages are hanging from pegs. Quails are being egged on to fight. 
 Partridges are being made to talk. Caged pigeons are being pro- 
 voked. A tame peacock that looks as if he was adorned with all 
 sorts of gems is dancing happily about, and as he flaps his wings, 
 he seems to be fanning the roof which is distressed by the rays 
 of the sun. [He looks in another direction .] Here are pairs of fla- 
 mingos like moonbeams rolled into a ball, that wander about after 
 pretty girls, as if they wanted to learn how to walk gracefully. 
 And here, again, are tame cranes, walking around like ancient 
 eunuchs. Well, well! This courtezan keeps a regular menagerie of 
 birds. Really, the courtezan’s house seems to me like Indra’s hea- 
 ven. Show me the way, madam. 
 
 Maid. Come, sir, and enter the eighth court. 
 
 Maitreya. [Enters and looks about.'] Madam, who is this in the 
 silk cloak, adorned with such astonishingly tautologous ornaments, 
 who wanders about, stumbling and stretching his limbs? 
 
 Maid. Sir, this is my mistress’ brother. 
 
 Maitreya. What sort of ascetic exercises does a man have to per- 
 form, in order to be born as Vasantasena’s brother ? But no, 
 
 He may be shiny, may be greasy, 
 
 And perfumed may he be. 
 
 And yet I warn you to go easy; 
 
 He’sa graveyard champak-tree. 
 
 29 
 
72 
 
 ACT THE FOURTH 
 
 [72.9 S. 
 
 [He looks in another direction.'] But madam, who is that in the 
 expansive garment, sitting on the throne? She has shoes on her 
 greasy feet. 
 
 Maid. Sir, that is my mistress’ mother. 
 
 Maitreya. Lord ! What an extensive belly the dirty old witch has 
 got ! I suppose they could n’t put that superb portal on the house 
 till after they had brought the idol in ? 
 
 Maid. Rascal ! Y ou must not make fun of our mother so. She is 
 pining away under a quartan ague. 
 
 Maitreya. [Bursts out laughing.] O thou blessed quartan ague! 
 Look thou upon a Brahman, even upon me, with this thy favor! 
 Maid. Rascal ! May death strike you. 
 
 Maitreya. [Bursts out laughing.] Why, wench, a pot-belly like 
 that is better dead. 
 
 Drinking brandy, rum, and wine, 
 
 Mother fell extremely ill. 
 
 If mother now should peak and pine, 
 
 A jackal-pack would have its fill. 30 
 
 Well, I have seen Yasantasena’s palace with its many incidents 
 and its eight courts, and really, it seems as if I had seen the triple 
 heaven in a nut-shell. I have n’t the eloquence to praise it. Is this 
 the house of a courtezan, or a piece of Kubera’s 1 palace? Where ’s 
 your mistress? 
 
 Maid. She is here in the orchard. Enter, sir. 
 
 Maitreya. [Enters and looks about.] Well! What a beautiful or- 
 chard ! There are any number of trees planted here, and they are 
 covered with the most wonderful flowers. Silken swings are hung 
 under the thick-set trees, just big enough for a girl to sit in. The 
 golden jasmine, the shephalika, the white jasmine, the jessamine, 
 the navamallika, the amaranth, the spring creeper, and all the other 
 flowers have fallen of themselves, and really, it makes Indra’s hea- 
 
 1 The god of wealth. 
 
P. 126.7] 
 
 MADANIKA AND SHARVILAKA 
 
 73 
 
 ven look dingy. {He looks in another direction.'] And the pond here 
 looks like the morning twilight, for the lilies and red lotuses are 
 as splendid as the rising sun. And again: 
 
 The ashoka-tree, whose twigs so merry 
 And crimson flowers have just appeared, 
 
 Seems like a battling mercenary, 
 
 With clotting crimson gore besmeared. 31 
 
 Good! Now where’s your mistress? 
 
 31aid. If you would stop star-gazing, sir, you would see her. 
 Maitreya. {Perceives Vasantasena and approaches.] Heaven bless 
 you! 
 
 Vasantasena. {Speaking in Sanskrit. 1 ] Ah, Maitreya! {Rising.] You 
 are very welcome. Here is a seat. Pray be seated. 
 
 Maitreya. When you are seated, madam. {They both seat them- 
 selves.] 
 
 Vasantasena. Is the merchant’s son well? 
 
 Maitreya. Well, madam. 
 
 Vasantasena. Tell me, good Maitreya, 
 
 Do friends, like birds, yet seek a shelter free 
 Beneath the modest boughs of this fair tree, 
 
 Whose leaves are virtues, confidence its root, 
 
 Its blossoms honor, good its precious fruit ? 32 
 
 Maitreya. {Aside.] A good description by a naughty woman. 
 {Aloud.] They do, indeed. 
 
 Vasantasena. Tell me, what is the purpose of your coming? 
 Maitreya. Listen, madam. The excellent Charudatta folds his 
 hands 2 and requests — 
 
 Vasantasena. {Folding her hands.] And commands — 
 
 Maitreya. He says he imagined that that golden casket was his 
 own and gambled it away. And nobody knows where the gambling- 
 
 1 This shows the excellence of Vasantasena’s education. Women, as an almost invariable rule, 
 speak Prakrit. 2 A gesture of respectful entreaty. 
 
74 
 
 ACT THE FOURTH 
 
 [74.9 S. 
 
 master has gone, for he is employed in the king’s business. 
 
 Maid. Mistress, I congratulate you. The gentleman has turned 
 gambler. 
 
 Vasantasena. [Aside.] It was stolen by a thief, and he is so proud 
 that he says he gambled it away. I love him for that. 
 
 Maitreya. He requests that you will therefore be good enough to 
 accept in its place this necklace of pearls. 
 
 Vasantasena. [Aside.] Shall I show him the jewels? [Reflecting.] 
 No, not yet. 
 
 Maitreya. Why don’t you take this necklace? 
 
 Vasantasena. [Laughs and looks at her friend .] Why should I not 
 take the necklace, Maitreya? [She takes it and lays it away. Aside.] 
 How is it possible that drops of honey fall from the mango-tree, 
 even after its blossoms are gone? [Aloud.] Sir, pray tell the worthy 
 gambler Charudatta in my name that I shall pay him a visit this 
 evening. 
 
 Maitreya. [Aside.] What else does she expect to get out of a visit 
 to our house? [Aloud.] Madam, I will tell him — [aside] to have 
 nothing more to do with this courtezan. [Exit. 
 
 Vasantasena. Take these jewels, girl. Let us go and bring cheer 
 to Charudatta. 
 
 Maid. But mistress, see! An untimely storm is gathering. 
 
 Vasant. The clouds may come, the rain may fall forever, 
 
 The night may blacken in the sky above; 
 
 For this I care not, nor I will not waver; 
 
 My heart is journeying to him I love. 33 
 
 Take the necklace, girl, and come quickly. [Exeunt omnes. 
 
ACT THE FIFTH 
 THE STORM 
 
 [The love-lorn Charudatta appears, seated.'] 
 
 Charudatta. [Looks up.] 
 
 AN untimely storm 1 is gathering. For see! 
 
 The peacocks gaze and lift their fans on high ; 
 
 The swans forget their purpose to depart ; 
 
 The untimely storm afflicts the blackened sky, 
 
 And the wistful lover’s heart. 1 
 
 And again: 
 
 The wet bull’s belly wears no deeper dye; 
 
 In flashing lightning’s golden mantle clad, 
 
 While cranes, his buglers, make the heaven glad, 
 
 The cloud, a second Vishnu, 2 mounts the sky. 2 
 
 And yet again: 
 
 As dark as Vishnu’s form, with circling cranes 
 To trumpet him, instead of bugle strains, 
 
 And garmented in lightning’s silken robe. 
 Approaches now the harbinger of rains. 3 
 
 When lightning’s lamp is lit, the silver river 
 Impetuous falls from out the cloudy womb; 
 
 Like severed lace from heaven-cloaking gloom, 
 
 It gleams an instant, then is gone forever. 4 
 
 Like shoaling fishes, or like dolphins shy, 
 
 Or like to swans, toward heaven’s vault that fly, 
 
 Like paired flamingos, male and mate together. 
 
 Like mighty pinnacles that tower on high, 
 
 1 In Indian love-poetry, the rainy season is the time when lovers most ardently long to be 
 united. 2 In allusion to Vishnu’s name, Krishna, “black.” 
 
76 
 
 ACT THE FIFTH 
 
 [76.20 S. 
 
 In thousand forms the tumbling clouds embrace, 
 Though torn by winds, they gather, interlace, 
 
 And paint the ample canvas of the sky. 5 
 
 The sky is black as Dhritarashtra’s face; 
 
 Proud as the champion of Kuru’s race, 
 
 The haughty peacock shrills his joy abroad; 
 
 The cuckoo, in Yudhishthira’s sad case, 
 
 Is forced to wander if he would not die; 
 
 The swans must leave their forest-homes and fly, 
 
 Like Pandu’s sons, to seek an unknown place. 6 
 
 [ Reflecting .] It is long since Maitreya went to visit Vasantasena. 
 And even yet he does not come. [ Enter Maitreya .] 
 
 Maitreya. Confound the courtezan’s avarice and her incivility ! To 
 think of her making so short a story of it! Over and over she 
 repeats something about the affection she feels, and then without 
 more ado she pockets the necklace. She is rich enough so that 
 she might at least have said: “Good Maitreya, rest a little. You 
 must not go until you have had a cup to drink.” Confound the 
 courtezan! I hope I’ll never set eyes on her again. [ Wearily .] 
 The proverb is right. “ It is hard to find a lotus-plant without a 
 root, a merchant who never cheats, a goldsmith who never steals, 
 a village-gathering without a fight, and a courtezan without ava- 
 rice.” Well, I ’ll find my friend and persuade him to have nothing 
 more to do with this courtezan. [He walks about until he discovers 
 Charudatta .] Ah, my good friend is sitting in the orchard. I ’ll 
 go to him. [. Approaching .] Heaven bless you! May happiness be 
 yours. 
 
 Charudatta. [Looking up.] Ah, my friend Maitreya has returned. 
 You are very welcome, my friend. Pray be seated. 
 
 Maitreya. Thank you. 
 
 Charudatta. Tell me of your errand, my friend. 
 
 Maitreya. My errand went all wrong. 
 
P. 132.8] 
 
 THE STORM 
 
 77 
 
 Charudatta. What! did she not accept the necklace? 
 
 Maitreya. How could we expect such a piece of luck? She put 
 her lotus-tender hands to her brow, 1 and took it. 
 
 Charudatta. Then why do you say “went wrong ”? 
 
 Maitreya. Why not, when we lost a necklace that was the pride 
 of the four seas for a cheap golden casket, that was stolen before 
 we had a bite or a drink out of it ? 
 
 Charudatta. Not so, my friend. 
 
 She showed her trust in leaving us her treasure ; 
 
 The price of confidence has no less measure. 7 
 
 Maitreya. Now look here! I have a second grievance. She tipped 
 her friend the wink, covered her face with the hem of her dress, 
 and laughed at me. And so. Brahman though I am, I hereby fall 
 on my face before you and beg you not to have anything more 
 to do with this courtezan. That sort of society does any amount 
 of damage. A courtezan is like a pebble in your shoe. It hurts 
 before you get rid of it. And one thing more, my friend. A cour- 
 tezan, an elephant, a scribe, a mendicant friar, a swindler, and an 
 ass — where these dwell, not even rogues are born. 
 
 Charudatta. Oh, my friend, a truce to all your detraction! My 
 poverty of itself prevents me. For consider: 
 
 The horse would gladly hasten here and there, 
 
 But his legs fail him, for his breath departs. 
 
 So men’s vain wishes wander everywhere, 
 
 Then, weary grown, return into their hearts. 8 
 
 Then too, my friend: 
 
 If wealth is thine, the maid is thine, 
 
 For maids are won by gold; 
 
 [Aside. And not by virtue cold. Aloud . ] 
 
 But wealth is now no longer mine, 
 
 And her I may not hold. 9 
 
 1 A gesture of respect. 
 
78 
 
 ACT THE FIFTH 
 
 [78.25 S. 
 
 Maitreya . [Looks down. Aside .] From the way he looks up and 
 sighs, I conclude that my effort to distract him has simply in- 
 creased his longing. The proverb is right. “You can’t reason with 
 a lover.” [. Aloud .] Well, she told me to tell you that she would 
 have to come here this evening. I suppose she is n’t satisfied with 
 the necklace and is coming to look for something else. 
 Charudatta. Let her come, my friend. She shall not depart un- 
 satisfied. [ Enter Kumbhllaka .] 
 
 
 Kumbhllaka. Listen, good people. 
 
 The more it rains in sheets, 
 
 The more my skin gets wet; 
 
 The more the cold wind beats, 
 
 The more I shake and fret. 10 
 
 [He bursts out laughing.'] 
 
 I make the sweet flute speak from seven holes, 
 
 I make the loud lute speak on seven strings ; 
 
 In singing, I essay the donkey’s roles : 
 
 No god can match my music when he sings. 11 
 
 My mistress Yasantasena said to me “Kumbhllaka, go and tell 
 Charudatta that I am coming.” So here I am, on my way to Cha- 
 rudatta’s house. [He walks about, and, as he enters, discovers Cha- 
 rudatta.] Here is Charudatta in the orchard. And here is that 
 wretched jackanapes, too. Well, I’ll go up to them. What! the 
 orchard-gate is shut? Good! I’ll give this jackanapes a hint. [He 
 throivs lumps of mud.] 
 
 Maitreya. Well ! Who is this pelting me with mud, as if I were 
 an apple-tree inside of a fence? 
 
 Charudatta. Doubtless the pigeons that play on the roof of the 
 
 * 
 
 garden-house. 
 
 Maitreya. Wait a minute, you confounded pigeon! With this 
 stick I ’ll bring you down from the roof to the ground, like an 
 over-ripe mango. [He raises his stick and starts to run.] 
 
P. 136.8] 
 
 THE STORM 
 
 79 
 
 Charudatta. [ Holding him back by the sacred cord.] Sit down, my 
 friend. What do you mean ? Leave the poor pigeon alone with his 
 mate. 
 
 Kumbhilaka. What ! he sees the pigeon and doesn’t see me ? Good! 
 I ’ll hit him again with another lump of mud. [He does so.] 
 Maitreya. [Looks about him.] What! Kumbhilaka? I’ll be with you 
 in a minute. [He approaches and opens the gate.] Well, Kumbhi- 
 laka, come in. I ’m glad to see you. 
 
 Kumbhilaka. [Enters.] I salute you, sir. 
 
 Maitreya. Where do you come from, man, in this rain and dark- 
 ness? 
 
 Kumbhilaka. You see, she’s here. 
 
 Maitreya. Who’s she? Who’s here? 
 
 Kumbhilaka. She. See? She. 
 
 Maitreya. Look here, you son of a slave ! What makes you sigh 
 like a half-starved old beggar in a famine, with your “shesheshe”? 
 Kumbhilaka. And what makes you hoot like an owl with your 
 “whowhowho”? 
 
 Maitreya. All right. Tell me. 
 
 Kumbhilaka. [Aside.] Suppose I say it this way. [Aloud.] I ’ll give 
 you a riddle, man. 
 
 Maitreya. And I ’ll give you the answer with my foot on your 
 bald spot. 
 
 Kumbhilaka. Not till you’ve guessed it. In what season do the 
 mango-trees blossom? 
 
 Maitreya. In summer, you jackass. 
 
 Kumbhilaka. [Laughing.] Wrong! 
 
 Maitreya. [Aside.] What shall I say now? [Reflecting.] Good! I’ll 
 go and ask Charudatta. [Aloud.] Just wait a moment. [Approach- 
 ing Charudatta.] My friend, I just wanted to ask you in what 
 season the mango-trees blossom. 
 
80 
 
 ACT THE FIFTH 
 
 [81.3 S. 
 
 Charudatta. You fool, in spring, in vasanta. 
 
 Maitreya. [Returns to Kumbhilaka .] You fool, in spring, in va- 
 santa. 
 
 Kumbhilaka. Now 1 11 give you another. Who guards thriving 
 villages ? 
 
 Maitreya. Why, the guard. 
 
 Kumbhilaka. [. Laughing .] Wrong! 
 
 Maitreya. Well, I ’m stuck. [Reflecting.'] Good ! 1 11 ask Charudatta 
 again. [He returns and puts the question to Charudatta.] 
 Charudatta. The army, my friend, the sena. 
 
 Maitreya. [Comes back to Kumbhilaka.] The army, you jackass, the 
 
 senci. 
 
 Kumbhilaka. Now put the two together and say ’em fast. 
 Maitreya. Sena-vasanta. 
 
 Kumbhilaka. Say it turned around. 
 
 Maitreya. [Turns around.] Sena-vasanta. 
 
 Kumbhilaka. You fool! you jackanapes! Turn the parts of the thing 
 around! 
 
 Maitreya. [Turns his feet around.] Sena-vasanta. 
 
 Kumbhilaka. You fool! Turn the parts of the word around! 
 Maitreya. [After reflection.] Vasanta-sena. 
 
 Kumbhilaka. She ’s here. 
 
 Maitreya. Then I must tell Charudatta. [Approaching.] Well, 
 Charudatta, your creditor is here. 
 
 Charudatta. How should a creditor come into my family? 
 Maitreya. Not in the family perhaps, but at the door. Vasantasena 
 is here. 
 
 Charudatta. Why do you deceive me, my friend ? 
 
 Maitreya. If you can t trust me, then ask Kumbhilaka here. 
 Kumbhilaka, you jackass, come here. 
 
P. 140.4] 
 
 THE STORM 
 
 81 
 
 Kumbhllaka. [. Approaching .] I salute you, sir. 
 
 Charudatta. You are welcome, my good fellow. Tell me, is Va- 
 santasena really here? 
 
 Kumbhllaka. Yes, she ’s here. Vasantasena is here. 
 
 Charudatta. [Joyfully.] My good fellow, I have never let the 
 bearer of welcome news go unrewarded. Take this as your recom- 
 pense. [He gives him his mantle.] 
 
 Kumbhllaka. [Takes it and bows. Gleefully.] I ’ll tell my mistress. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Maitreya. Do you see why she comes in a storm like this? 
 Charudatta. I do not quite understand, my friend. 
 
 Maitreya. I know. She has an idea that the pearl necklace is 
 cheap, and the golden casket expensive. She is n’t satisfied, and 
 she has come to look for something more. 
 
 Charudatta. [Aside.] She shall not depart unsatisfied. 
 
 [Then enter the love-lorn Vasantasena, in a splendid garment, fit 
 for a woman who goes to meet her lover, a maid with an umbrella, 
 and the courtier.] 
 
 Courtier. [Referring to Vasantasena.] 
 
 Lakshml 1 without the lotus-flower is she, 
 
 Loveliest arrow of god Kama’s bow, 2 
 The sweetest blossom on love’s magic tree. 
 
 See how she moves, so gracefully and slow! 
 
 In passion’s hour she still loves modesty; 
 
 In her, good wives their dearest sorrow know. 
 
 When passion’s drama shall enacted be, 
 
 When on love’s stage appears the passing show, 
 
 A host of wanderers shall bend them low, 
 
 Glad to be slaves in such captivity. 12 
 
 1 The goddess of wealth and beauty, usually represented with a lotus. 
 
 2 Kama’s (Cupid’s) arrows are flowers. 
 
82 
 
 ACT THE FIFTH 
 
 [82.24 S. 
 
 See, Vasantasena, see! 
 
 The clouds hang drooping to the mountain peaks. 
 
 Like a maiden’s heart, that distant lover seeks: 
 
 The peacocks startle, when the thunder booms. 
 
 And fan the heaven with all their jeweled 
 And again: 
 
 Mud-stained, and pelted by the streaming rain, 
 
 To drink the falling drops the frogs are fain; 
 
 Full-throated peacocks love’s shrill passion show, 
 
 And nipa flowers like brilliant candles glow; 
 
 Unfaithful clouds obscure the hostage moon, 
 
 Like knaves, unworthy of so dear a boon; 
 
 Like some poor maid of better breeding bare, 
 
 The impatient lightning rests not anywhere. 14 
 
 Vasantasena } Sir, what you say is most true. For 
 The night, an angry rival, bars my way; 
 
 Her thunders fain would check and hinder me: 
 
 “Fond fool! with him I love thou shalt not stay, 
 
 ’Tis I, ’t is I, he loves,” she seems to say, 
 
 “Nor from my swelling bosom shall he flee.” 15 
 
 Courtier. Yes, yes. That is right. Scold the night. 
 
 Vasantasena. And yet, sir, why scold one who is so ignorant of 
 woman’s nature? For you must remember: 
 
 The clouds may rain, may thunder ne’er so bold, 
 
 May flash the lightning from the sky above; 
 
 That woman little recks of heat or cold, 
 
 Who journeys to her love. 16 
 
 Courtier. But see, Vasantasena! Another cloud, 
 
 Sped by the fickle fury of the air — 
 
 A flood of arrows in his rushing streams, 
 
 His drum, the roaring thunder’s mighty blare, 
 
 His banner, living lightning’s awful gleams — 
 
 1 Throughout this scene, Vasantasena’s verses are in Sanskrit. Compare note 1 on page 73. 
 
 plumes. 13 
 
P. 142.*)] 
 
 THE STORM 
 
 83 
 
 Rages within the sky, and shows him bold 
 ’Mid beams that to the moon allegiance owe, 
 
 Like a hero-king within the hostile hold 
 
 Of his un warlike foe. 17 
 
 Vasantasena. True, true. And more than this: 
 
 As dark as elephants, these clouds alone 
 Fall like a cruel dart — 
 
 With streaks of lightning and with white birds strewn — 
 
 To wound my wretched heart. 
 
 But, oh, why should the heron, bird of doom, 
 
 With that perfidious sound 1 
 Of “Rain! Rain! Rain!” — grim summons to the tomb 
 For her who spends her lonely hours in gloom — 
 
 Strew salt upon the wound? 18 
 
 Courtier. Very true, Vasantasena. And yet again: 
 
 It seems as if the sky would take the guise 
 Of some fierce elephant to service bred ; 
 
 The lightning like a waving streamer flies, 
 
 And white cranes serve to deck his mighty head. 19 
 
 Vasantasena. But look, sir, look ! 
 
 Clouds, black as wet tamala-leaves, the ball 
 Of heaven hide from our sight ; 
 
 Rain-smitten homes of ants decay and fall 
 Like beasts that arrows smite ; 
 
 Like golden lamps within a lordly hall 
 Wander the lightnings bright; 
 
 As when men steal the wife of some base thrall, 
 
 Clouds rob the moon of light. 20 
 
 Courtier. See, Vasantasena, see! 
 
 Clouds, harnessed in the lightning’s gleams, 
 
 Like charging elephants dash by ; 
 
 1 The cry of the heron resembles the Sanskrit word for “ rain.” Indian love-poetry often paints 
 the sorrow, even unto death, of her whose beloved does not return before the rainy season. 
 
84 
 
 ACT THE FIFTH 
 
 [84.14 S. 
 
 At Indra’s bidding, pour their streams, 
 
 Until with silver cords it seems 
 
 That earth is linked with sky. 21 
 
 And look yonder! 
 
 As herds of buffaloes the clouds are black ; 
 
 The winds deny them ease; 
 
 They fly on lightning wings and little lack 
 Of seeming troubled seas. 
 
 Smitten with falling drops, the fragrant sod, 
 
 Upon whose bosom greenest grasses nod, 
 
 Seems pierced with pearls, each pearl an arrowy rod. 22 
 Vasantasena. And here is yet another cloud. 
 
 The peacock’s shrill-voiced cry 
 Implores it to draw nigh; 
 
 And ardent cranes on high 
 Embrace it lovingly. 
 
 The wistful swans espy 
 The lotus-sweeter sky; 
 
 The darkest colors lie 
 
 On heaven clingingly. 28 
 
 Courtier. True. For see! 
 
 A thousand lotuses that bloom by night, 
 
 A thousand blooming when the day is bright, 
 
 Nor close nor ope their eyes to heaven’s sight; 
 
 There is no night nor day. 
 
 The face of heaven, thus shrouded in the night, 
 
 Is only for a single instant bright. 
 
 When momentary lightning gives us sight; 
 
 Else is it dark alway. 
 
 Now sleeps the world as still as in the night 
 Within the house of rain where naught is bright, 
 
P. 143.-20] 
 
 THE STORM 
 
 85 
 
 Where hosts of swollen clouds seem to our sight 
 
 One covering veil of gray. 24 
 
 Vasantasena. True. And see! 
 
 The stars are lost like mercies given 
 To men of evil heart; 
 
 Like lonely-parted wives, the heaven 
 Sees all her charms depart. 
 
 And, molten in the cruel heat 
 Of Indra’s bolt, it seems 
 As if the sky fell at our feet 
 
 In liquid, flowing streams. 25 
 
 And yet again: 
 
 The clouds first darkly rise, then darkly fall, 
 
 Send forth their floods of rain, and thunder all ; 
 
 Assuming postures strange and manifold, 
 
 Like men but newly blest with wealth untold. 26 
 
 Courtier. True. 
 
 The heaven is radiant with the lightning’s glare; 
 
 Its laughter is the cry of myriad cranes; 
 
 Its voice, the bolts that whistle through the air; 
 
 Its dance, that bow whose arrows are the rains. 
 
 It staggers at the winds, and seems to smoke 
 With clouds, which form its black and snaky cloak. 27 
 Vasantasena. O shameless, shameless sky! 
 
 To thunder thus, while I 
 To him I love draw nigh. 
 
 Why do thy thunders frighten me and pain? 
 
 Why am I seized upon by hands of rain ? 28 
 
 O Indra, mighty Indra! 
 
 Did I then give thee of my love before, 
 
 That now thy clouds like mighty lions roar? 
 
 Ah no ! Thou shouldst not send thy streaming rain, 
 
 To fill my journey to my love with pain. 
 
 29 
 
86 
 
 ACT THE FIFTH 
 
 [85.25 S. 
 
 Remember : 
 
 For Ahalyas sweet sake thou once didst lie; 
 
 Thou knowest lover’s pain. 
 
 As thou didst suffer then, now suffer I ; 
 
 O cruel, cease thy rain. 30 
 
 And yet: 
 
 Thunder and rain and lighten hundredfold 
 Forth from thy sky above; 
 
 The woman canst thou not delay nor hold 
 
 Who journeys to her love. 31 
 
 Let thunders roar, for men were cruel ever; 
 
 But oh, thou maiden lightning! didst thou never 
 
 Know pains that maidens know? 32 
 
 Courtier. But mistress, do not scold the lightning. She is your 
 friend, 
 
 This golden cord that trembles on the breast 
 Of great Airavata ; 1 upon the crest 
 Of rocky hills this banner all ablaze; 
 
 This lamp in Indra’s palace; but most blest 
 
 As telling where your most beloved stays. 33 
 
 Vasantasena. And here, sir, is his house. 
 
 Courtier. You know all the arts, and need no instruction now. 
 Yet love bids me prattle. When you enter here, you must not 
 show yourself too angry. 
 
 Where anger is, there love is not; 
 
 Or no ! except for anger hot, 
 
 There is no love. 
 
 Be angry ! make him angry then ! 
 
 Be kind! and make him kind again — 
 
 The man you love. 34 
 
 So much for that. Who is there? Let Charudatta know, that 
 
 1 The elephant of Indra. Indra is the god of the thunderstorm. 
 
P. 146.17] 
 
 THE STORM 
 
 87 
 
 While clouds look beautiful, and in the hour 
 Fragrant with nlpa and kadamba flower, 
 
 She comes to see her lover, very wet, 
 
 With dripping locks, but pleased and loving yet. 
 
 Though lightning and though thunder terrifies, 
 
 She comes to see you; ’t is for you she sighs. 
 
 The mud still soils the anklets on her feet, 
 
 But in a moment she will have them sweet. 35 
 
 Charudatta. [ Listening .] My friend, pray discover what this means. 
 Maitreya. Yes, sir. [He approaches Vasantasena . Respectfully .] 
 Heaven bless you ! 
 
 Vasantasena. I salute you, sir. I am very glad to see you. [To the 
 courtier.] Sir, the maid with the umbrella is at your service. 
 Courtier. [ Aside .] A very clever way to get rid of me. [Aloud . ] 
 Thank you. And mistress Vasantasena, 
 
 Pride and tricks and lies and fraud 
 Are in your face; 
 
 False playground of the lustful god. 
 
 Such is your face ; 
 
 The wench’s stock in trade, in fine, 
 
 Epitome of joys divine, 
 
 I mean, your face — 
 
 For sale! the price is courtesy. 
 
 I trust you ’ll find a man to buy 
 
 Your face. [Exit.] 36 
 
 Vasantasena. Good Maitreya, where is your gambler? 
 
 Maitreya. [Aside.] “Gambler”? Ah, she ’s paying a compliment to 
 my friend. [Aloud.] Madam, here he is in the dry orchard. 
 Vasantasena. But sir, what do you call a dry orchard? 
 
 Maitreya. Madam, it ’s a place where there ’s nothing to eat or 
 drink. [Vasantasena smiles.] Pray enter, madam. 
 
 Vasantasena. [Aside to her maid.] What shall I say when I enter? 
 
88 
 
 ACT THE FIFTH 
 
 [87.17 S. 
 
 Maid. “Gambler, what luck this evening?” 
 
 Vasantasena. Shall I dare to say it ? 
 
 Maid. When the time comes, it will say itself. 
 
 Maitreya. Enter, madam. 
 
 Vasantasena. [ Enters , approaches Charudatta, and strikes him with 
 the flowers which she holds.] Well, gambler, what luck this evening? 
 Charudatta. [Discovers her.] Ah, Vasantasena is here. [He rises 
 joyfully.'] Oh, my beloved, 
 
 My evenings pass in watching ever, 
 
 My nights from sighs are never free; 
 
 This evening cannot else than sever — 
 
 In bringing you — my grief and me. 37 
 
 You are very, very welcome. Here is a seat. Pray be seated. 
 Maitreya. Here is a seat. Be seated, madam. [Vasantasena sits, 
 then the others.] 
 
 Charudatta. But see, my friend. 
 
 The dripping flower that decks her ear, droops down, 
 
 And one sweet breast 
 
 Anointed is, like a prince who wears the crown, 
 
 With ointment blest. 38 
 
 My friend, Vasantasena’s garments are wet. Let other, and most 
 beautiful, garments be brought. 
 
 Maitreya. Yes, sir. 
 
 Maid. Good Maitreya, do you stay here. I will wait upon my mis- 
 tress. [She does so.] 
 
 Maitreya. [Aside to Charudatta.] My friend, I d just like to ask 
 the lady a question. 
 
 Charudatta. Then do so. 
 
 Maitreya. [Aloud.] Madam, what made you come here, when it 
 is so stormy and dark that you can’t see the moon ? 
 
 Maid. Mistress, the Brahman is very plain-spoken. 
 
P. 148.17] 
 
 THE STORM 
 
 89 
 
 Vasantasena. You might better call him clever. 
 
 Maid . My mistress came to ask how much that pearl necklace is 
 worth. 
 
 Maitreya. [ Aside to Charudatta.] There! I told you so. She thinks 
 the pearl necklace is cheap, and the golden casket is expensive. 
 She is n’t satisfied. She has come to look for something more. 
 Maid. For my mistress imagined that it was her own, and gambled 
 it away. And nobody knows where the gambling-master has gone, 
 for he is employed in the king’s business. 
 
 Maitreya. Madam, you are simply repeating what somebody said 
 before. 
 
 Maid. While we are looking for him, pray take this golden cas- 
 ket. [She displays the casket. Maitreya hesitates.'] Sir, you examine 
 it very closely. Did you ever see it before? 
 
 Maitreya. No, madam, but the skilful workmanship captivates 
 the eye. 
 
 Maid. Your eyes deceive you, sir. This is the golden casket. 
 Maitreya. [Joyfully.] Well, my friend, here is the golden casket, 
 the very one that thieves stole from our house. 
 
 Charudatta. My friend. 
 
 The artifice we tried before, 
 
 Her stolen treasure to restore, 
 
 Is practised now on us. But no, 
 
 I cannot think ’t is really so. 39 
 
 Maitreya. But it is so. I swear it on my Brahmanhood. 
 Charudatta. This is welcome news. 
 
 Maitreya. [Aside to Charudatta.] I ’m going to ask where they 
 found it. 
 
 Charudatta. I see no harm in that. 
 
 Maitreya. [Whispers in the maid's ear.] There! 
 
 Maid. [ Whispers in Maitreya' s ear.] So there! 
 
90 
 
 ACT THE FIFTH 
 
 [89.19 S. 
 
 Charudatta. What is it? and why are we left out? 
 
 Maitreya. [ Whispers in Charudatta s car.'] So there ! 
 
 Charudatta. My good girl, is this really the same golden casket? 
 Maid. Yes, sir, the very same. 
 
 Charudatta. My good girl, I have never let the bearer of welcome 
 news go unrewarded. Take this ring as your recompense. [He 
 looks at his finger, notices that the ring is gone, and betrays his 
 embarrassment.] 
 
 Vasantasena. [To herself.] I love you for that. 
 
 Charudatta. [Aside to Maitreya .] Alas, 
 
 When in this world a man has lost his all, 
 
 Why should he set his heart on longer life? 
 
 His angers and his favors fruitless fall, 
 
 His purposes and powers are all at strife. 40 
 
 Like wingless birds, dry pools, or withered trees, 
 
 Like fangless snakes — the poor are like to these. 41 
 
 Like man-deserted houses, blasted trees, 
 
 Like empty wells — the poor are like to these. 
 
 For them no pleasant hours serve happy ends; 
 
 They are forgotten of their sometime friends. 42 
 
 Maitreya. But you must not grieve thus beyond reason. [He 
 bursts out laughing. Aloud.] Madam, please give me back my 
 bath-clout. 
 
 Vasantasena. Charudatta, it was not right that you should show 
 your distrust of me by .sending me this pearl necklace. 
 Charudatta. [ With an embarrassed smile.] But remember, Vasanta- 
 sena, 
 
 Who will believe the truth? 
 
 Suspicion now is sure. 
 
 This world will show no ruth 
 To the inglorious poor. 
 
 43 
 
P. 152.4] 
 
 THE STORM 
 
 91 
 
 Maitreya. Tell me, girl, are you going to sleep here to-night? 
 Maid. [Laughing.] But good Maitreya, you show yourself most 
 remarkably plain-spoken now. 
 
 Maitreya. See, my friend, the rain enters again in great streams, 
 as if it wanted to drive people away when they are sitting com- 
 fortably together. 
 
 Charudatta. You are quite right. 
 
 The falling waters pierce the cloud, 
 
 As lotus-shoots the soil; 
 
 And tears the face of heaven shroud, 
 
 Who weeps the moon’s vain toil. 44 
 
 And again: 
 
 In streams as pure as thoughts to good men given, 
 
 But merciless as darts that Aijun hurls, 
 
 And black as Baladeva’s cloak, the heaven 
 
 Seems to pour out all Indra’s hoarded pearls. 45 
 
 See, my beloved, see! 
 
 The heaven is painted with the blackest dye, 
 
 And fanned by cool and fragrant evening airs ; 
 
 Red lightning, glad in union, clasps the sky 
 With voluntary arms, and shows on high 
 
 The love that maiden heart to lover bears. 46 
 
 [Vasantasena betrays her passion, and throws her arms about 
 Charudatta. Charudatta feels her touch, and embraces her.] 
 Charudatta. More grimly yet, O thunder, boom ; 
 
 For by thy grace and power 
 My love-distracted limbs now bloom 
 Like the kadamba flower. 
 
 Her dear touch all my being thrills, 
 
 And love my inmost spirit fills. 47 
 
 Maitreya. Confound you, storm! You are no gentleman, to 
 frighten the lady with the lightning. 
 
92 
 
 ACT THE FIFTH 
 
 [91.20 S. 
 
 Charudatta. Do not rebuke the storm, my friend. 
 
 Let ceaseless rain a hundred years endure, 
 
 The lightning quiver, and the thunder peal; 
 
 For what I deemed impossible is sure: 
 
 Her dear-loved arms about my neck I feel. 48 
 
 And oh, my friend, 
 
 He only knows what riches are, 
 
 Whose love comes to him from afar, 
 
 Whose arms that dearest form enfold, 
 
 While yet with rain ’t is wet and cold. 49 
 
 Vasantasena, my beloved, 
 
 The masonry is shaken; and so old 
 
 The awning, that ’t will not much longer hold. 
 
 Heavy with water is the painted wall, 
 
 From which dissolving bits of mortar fall. 50 
 
 [He looks up.~\ The rainbow! See, my beloved, see! 
 
 See how they yawn, the cloudy jaws of heaven, 
 
 As by a tongue, by forked lightning riven; 
 
 And to the sky great Indra’s fiery bow 
 In lieu of high-uplifted arms is given. 51 
 
 Come, let us seek a shelter. [He rises and walks about.~\ 
 
 On palm-trees shrill, 
 
 On thickets still, 
 
 On boulders dashing, 
 
 On waters splashing, 
 
 Like a lute that, smitten, sings, 
 
 The rainy music rings. 52 
 
 [Exeunt omnes. 
 
ACT THE SIXTH 
 
 THE SWAPPING OF THE BULLOCK-CARTS 
 
 Maid [ Enter a maid.] 
 
 I S N’T my mistress awake yet? Well, I must go in and wake 
 her. [ She walks about. Vasantasena appears, dressed, but still 
 asleep. The maid discovers her.] It is time to get up, mistress. The 
 morning is here. 
 
 Vasantasena. [Awakening.] What! is the night over? is it morn- 
 ing? 
 
 Maid. For us it is morning. But for my mistress it appears to be 
 night still. 
 
 Vasantasena. But girl, where is your gambler? 
 
 Maid. Mistress, after giving Vardhamanaka his orders, Charu- 
 datta went to the old garden Pushpakaranda. 
 
 Vasantasena. What orders? 
 
 Maid. To have the bullock-cart ready before daylight; for, he 
 said, Vasantasena was to come — 
 
 Vasantasena. Where, girl? 
 
 Maid. Where Charudatta is. 
 
 Vasantasena. [. Embraces the maid.] I did not have a good look at 
 him in the evening. But to-day I shall see him face to face. Tell 
 me, girl. Have I found my way into the inner court? 
 
 Maid. You have found your way not only into the inner court, 
 but into the heart of every one who lives here. 
 
 Vasantasena. Tell me, are Charudatta’s servants vexed? 
 
 Maid. They will be. 
 
 Vasantasena. When? 
 
 Maid. When my mistress goes away. 
 
 Vasantasena. But not so much as I shall be. [ Persuasively .] Here, 
 
94 
 
 ACT THE SIXTH 
 
 [94.3 S. 
 
 girl, take this pearl necklace. You must go and give it to my lady 
 sister, his good wife. And give her this message : “ W orthy Charu- 
 datta’s virtues have won me, made me his slave, and therefore your 
 slave also. And so I hope that these pearls may adorn your neck.” 
 Maid. But mistress, Charudatta will be angry with you. 
 Vasantasena. Go. He will not be angry. 
 
 Maid. [ Takes the necklace.] Yes, mistress. [She goes out, then re- 
 turns .] Mistress, his lady wife says that her lord made you a pre- 
 sent of it, and it would not be right for her to accept it. And fur- 
 ther, that you are to know that her lord and husband is her most 
 excellent adornment. 
 
 [ Enter Radanika, with Charudatta' s little son.] 
 Radanika. Come, dear, let ’s play with your little cart. 
 
 Rohasena. [ Peevishly .] I don’t like this little clay cart, Radanika. 
 Give me my gold cart. 
 
 Radanika. [Sighing wearily .] How should we have anything to do 
 with gold now, my child ? When your papa is rich again, then you 
 shall have a gold cart to play with. But I ’ll amuse him by taking 
 him to see Vasantasena. [ She approaches Vasantasena .] Mistress, 
 my service to you. 
 
 Vasantasena. I am glad to see you, Radanika. But whose little 
 boy is this ? He wears no ornaments, yet his dear little face makes 
 my heart happy. 
 
 Radanika. This is Charudatta’s son, Rohasena. 
 
 Vasantasena. [ Stretches out her arms.] Come, my boy, and put 
 your little arms around me. [She takes him on her lap.] He looks 
 just like his father. 
 
 Radanika. More than looks like him, he is like him. At least I 
 think so. His father is perfectly devoted to him. 
 
 Vasantasena. But w'hat is he crying about? 
 
 Radanika. He used to play with a gold cart that belongs to the 
 son of a neighbor. But that was taken away, and when he asked 
 
P.158.10] SWAPPING THE BULLOCK-CARTS 
 
 95 
 
 for it, I made him this little clay cart. But when I gave it to him, 
 he said “I don’t like this little clay cart, Radanika. Give me my 
 gold cart.” 
 
 Vasantasena. Oh, dear! To think that this little fellow has to suffer 
 because others are wealthy. Ah, mighty Fate ! the destinies of men, 
 uncertain as the water-drops which fall upon a lotus-leaf, seem to 
 thee but playthings! [ Tearfully .] Don’t cry, my child. You shall 
 have a gold cart to play with. 
 
 Rohasena. Who is she, Radanika? 
 
 Vasantasena. A slave of your father’s, won by his virtues. 
 Radanika. My child, the lady is your mother. 
 
 Rohasena. That’s a lie, Radanika. If the lady is my mother, why 
 does she wear those pretty ornaments ? 
 
 V asantasena. My child, your innocent lips can say terrible things. 
 [She removes her ornaments. Weeping .] Now I am your mother. 
 You shall take these ornaments and have a gold cart made for you. 
 Rohasena. Go away! I won’t take them. You’re crying. 
 
 V asantasena. [ Wiping away her tears .] I ’ll not cry, dear. There ! 
 go and play. [She Jills the clay cart with her jewels.'] There, dear, 
 you must have a little gold cart made for you. 
 
 [Exit Radanika, with Rohasena. 
 [Enter Vardhamanaka, driving a bullock-cart.] 
 Vardhamanaka. Radanika, Radanika! Tell mistress Vasantasena 
 that the covered cart is standing ready at the side-door. 
 Radanika. [Entering.] Mistress, Vardhamanaka is here, and he 
 says that the cart is waiting at the side-door. 
 
 Vasantasena. He must wait a minute, girl, while I get ready. 
 Rad. Wait a minute, Vardhamanaka, while she gets ready. [Exit. 
 V ardhamanaka. Hello, I ’ve forgotten the cushion. I must go and 
 get it. But the nose-rope makes the bullocks skittish. I suppose I 
 had better take the cart along with me. [Exit. 
 
96 
 
 ACT THE SIXTH 
 
 [96.14 S. 
 
 Vasantasena. Bring me my things, girl. I must make myself ready. 
 [She does so.] 
 
 [Enter , driving a bullock-cart, Sthavar aka, servant to Sansthanaka.] 
 Sthavaraka. Sansthanaka, the king’s brother-in-law, said to me 
 “Take a bullock-cart, Sthavaraka, and come as quick as you can 
 to the old garden Pushpakaranda.” Well, I ’m on my way there. 
 Get up, bullocks, get up! [He drives about and looks around '.] 
 Why, the road is blocked with villagers’ carts. What am I to do 
 now? [Haughtily.'] Get out of my way, you! Get out of my way! 
 [He listens.] What’s that? you want to know whose cart this is? 
 This cart belongs to Sansthanaka, the king’s brother-in-law. So 
 get out of my way — and this minute, too! [He looks about.] Why, 
 here ’s a man going in the other direction as fast as he can. He is 
 trying to hide like a runaway gambler, and he looks at me as if I 
 were the gambling-master. I wonder who he is. But then, what 
 business is it of mine? I must get there as soon as I can. Get out 
 of my way, you villagers, get out of my way ! What ’s that ? you 
 want me to wait a minute and put a shoulder to your wheel ? Con- 
 found you! A brave man like me, that serves Sansthanaka, the 
 king’s brother-in-law, put a shoulder to your wheel ? After all, the 
 poor fellow is quite alone. I ’ll do it. I ’ll stop my cart at the side- 
 door to Charudatta’s orchard. [He does so.] I ’m coming! [Exit. 
 Maid. Mistress, I think I hear the sound of wheels. The cart 
 must be here. 
 
 Vasantasena. Come, girl. My heart grows impatient. Go with me 
 to the side-door. 
 
 Maid. Follow me, mistress. 
 
 Vasantasena. [Walks about.] You have earned a rest, girl. 
 
 Maid. Thank you, mistress. [Exit. 
 
 Vasantasena. [Feels her right eye twitch 1 as she enters the cart.] 
 
 1 A bad omen, in the ease of a woman. 
 
p. 162 . 8 ] SWAPPING THE BULLOCK-CARTS 
 
 97 
 
 Why should my right eye twitch now? But the sight of Charu- 
 datta will smooth away the bad omen. [ Enter Sthavaraka.] 
 
 Sthavaraka. I ve cleared the carts out of the way, and now I ’ll 
 go ahead. [ He mounts and drives away. To himself !] The cart has 
 grown heavy. But I suppose it only seems so, because I got tired 
 helping them with that wheel. Well, I ’ll go along. Get up, bul- 
 locks, get up ! 
 
 A voice behind the scenes. Police ! Police ! Every man at his post ! 
 The young herdsman has just broken jail, killed the jailer, bro- 
 ken his fetters, escaped, and run away. Catch him! Catch him! 
 
 [Enter, in excited haste, Ary aka, an iron chain on one foot. Cover- 
 ing his face, he walks about.] 
 
 Sthavaraka. [To himself.] There is great excitement in the city. I 
 must get out of the way as fast as I possibly can. [Exit. 
 
 Ary aka. I leave behind me that accursed sea 
 Of human woe and human misery, 
 
 The prison of the king. 
 
 Like elephants that break their chains and flee, 
 
 I drag a fettered foot most painfully 
 
 In flight and wandering. 1 
 
 King Palaka was frightened by a prophecy, took me from the 
 hamlet where I lived, fettered me, and thrust me into a solitary 
 cell, there to await my death. But with the help of my good friend 
 Sharvilaka I escaped. [He sheds tears.] 
 
 If such my fate, no sin is mine at least, 
 
 That he should cage me like a savage beast. 
 
 A man may fight with kings, though not with fate — 
 
 And yet, can helpless men contend with great? 2 
 
 Whither shall I go with my wretchedness? [He looks about.] Here 
 is the house of some good man who has n’t locked the side-door. 
 
 The house is old, the door without a lock, 
 
 The hinges all awry. 
 
98 
 
 ACT THE SIXTH 
 
 [98.18 S. 
 
 Some man, no doubt, who feels misfortune’s shock 
 
 As cruelly as I. 3 
 
 I will enter here and wait. 
 
 A voice behind the scenes. Get up, bullocks, get up ! 
 
 Ary aka. [Listening . ] Ah, a bullock-cart is coming this way. 
 
 If this should prove to be a picnic rig, 
 
 Its occupants not peevishly inclined; 
 
 Some noble lady’s waiting carriage trig; 
 
 Or rich man’s coach, that leaves the town behind — 
 And if it empty be, fate proving kind, 
 
 T would seem a godsend to my anxious mind. 4 
 
 [Enter Vardhamanaka with the bullock-cart .] 
 
 V ardhamanaka. There, I ’ve got the cushion. Radanika, tell mis- 
 tress Vasantasena that the cart is ready and waiting for her to get 
 in and drive to the old garden Pushpakaranda. 
 
 Aryaka. [. Listening .] This is a courtezan’s cart, going out of the 
 city. Good, I ’ll climb in. [He approaches cautiously .] 
 Vardhamanaka. [Hears him coming .] Ah, the tinkling of ankle- 
 rings! The lady is here. Mistress, the nose-rope makes the bul- 
 locks skittish. You had better climb in behind. [Aryaka does so.] 
 The ankle-rings tinkle only when the feet are moving, and the 
 sound has ceased. Besides, the cart has grown heavy. I am sure the 
 lady must have climbed in by this time. I ’ll go ahead. Get up, 
 bullocks, get up ! [He drives about. Enter Vlraka.] 
 
 Vlraka. Come, come! Jaya, Jayamana, Chandanaka, Mangala, 
 Phullabhadra, and the rest of you ! 
 
 So calm, when the herdsman, slipping his tether, 
 
 Breaks jail and the heart of the king together ? 5 
 
 Here! You stand at the east gate of the main street, you at the 
 west, you at the south, you at the north. I ’ll climb up the broken 
 wall here with Chandanaka and take a look. Come on, Chanda- 
 naka, come on! This way! [Enter Chandanaka, in excitement .] 
 
P. 166 . 5 ] SWAPPING THE BULLOCK-CARTS 
 
 99 
 
 Chandanaka. Come, come ! Yiraka, Vishalya, Bhimangada, Danda- 
 kala, Dandashura, and the rest of you! 
 
 Come quick, my reliables! Work! Now begin! 
 
 Lest the old king go out, and a new king come in. 6 
 
 Search gardens, and dives, and the town, and the street, 
 
 The market, the hamlet, wherever you meet 7 
 
 With what looks suspicious. Now, Yiraka, say. 
 
 Who saved the young herdsman that just broke away? 8 
 Who was born when the sun in his eighth mansion stood, 
 
 Or the moon in her fourth, or when Jupiter could 
 
 Be seen in his sixth, or when Saturn was resting 
 
 In his ninth, in her sixth house when Venus was nesting, 
 
 Or Mars in his fifth ? 1 Who will dare to be giving 
 The herdsman protection, while I am still living? 9, 10 
 Vfraka. Chandanaka, you mercenary! 
 
 I swear on your heart, he ’s been long out of prison, 
 
 For the herdsman escaped ere the sun was half risen. 11 
 V ardhamanaka. Get up, bullocks, get up! 
 
 Chandanaka. [Discovers him.'] Look, man, look ! 
 
 A covered cart is moving in the middle of the road; 
 Investigate it, whose it is, and where it takes its load! 12 
 Vlraka. [Discovers him.] Here, driver, stop your cart! Whose cart 
 is this? who is in it? where is it going? 
 
 Vardhamanaka. This is Charudatta’s cart. Mistress Vasantasena 
 is in it. I am taking her to the old garden Pushpakaranda to meet 
 Charudatta. 
 
 Vlraka. [Approaches Chandanaka.] The driver says it is Charu- 
 datta’s cart; that Vasantasena is in it; that he is taking her to the 
 old garden Pushpakaranda. 
 
 Chandanaka. Then let it pass. 
 
 Vlraka. Without inspection? 
 
 1 Lalladlkshita says that these horoscopes indicate respectively distress, colic, stupidity, pov- 
 erty, sorrow, destruction. 
 
100 
 
 ACT THE SIXTH 
 
 [101.3 S. 
 
 Chandanaka. Certainly. 
 
 Viraka. On whose authority? 
 
 Chandanaka. On Charudatta’s. 
 
 Viraka. Who is Charudatta, or who is Vasantasena, that the cart 
 should pass without inspection? 
 
 Chandanaka. Don't you know Charudatta, man? nor Vasantasena? 
 If you don’t know Charudatta, nor Vasantasena, then you don’t 
 know the moon in heaven, nor the moonlight. 
 
 Who does n’t know this moon of goodness, virtue’s lotus- 
 flower, 
 
 This gem of four broad seas, this savior in man’s luckless 
 hour? 13 
 
 These two are wholly worshipful, our city’s ornaments, 
 Vasantasena, Charudatta, sea of excellence. 14 
 
 Viraka. Well, well, Chandanaka! Charudatta? Vasantasena ? 
 
 I know them perfectly, as well as I know anything; 
 
 But I do not know my father when I ’m serving of my king. 15 
 
 Ary aka. [To himself !] In a former existence the one must have 
 been my enemy, the other my kinsman. For see! 
 
 Their business is the same; their ways 
 Unlike, and their desire: 
 
 Like flames that gladden wedding days, 
 
 And flames upon the pyre. 16 
 
 Chandanaka. You are a most careful captain whom the king- 
 trusts. I am holding the bullocks. Make your inspection. 
 
 Viraka. You too are a corporal whom the king trusts. Make the 
 inspection yourself. 
 
 Chandanaka. If I make the inspection, that ’s just the same as if 
 you had made it? 
 
 Viraka. If you make the inspection, that’s just the same as if 
 King Palaka had made it. 
 
P. 171.5] 
 
 SWAPPING THE BULLOCK-CARTS 
 
 101 
 
 Chandanaka. Lift the pole, man! [ Vardhamanaka does so.] 
 Aryaka. [To himself !] Are the policemen about to inspect me? 
 And I have no sword, worse luck ! But at least, 
 
 Bold Bhima’s spirit I will show; 
 
 My arm shall be my sword. 
 
 Better a warrior’s death than woe 
 
 That cells and chains afford. 17 
 
 But the time to use force has not yet come. [ Chandanaka enters 
 the cart and looks about.] I seek your protection. 
 
 Chandanaka. [Speaking in Sanskrit.] He who seeks protection 
 shall be safe. 
 
 Aryaka. Whene’er he fight, that man will suffer hurts, 
 
 Will be abandoned of his friends and kin, 
 
 Becomes a mock forever, who deserts 
 One seeking aid; ’t is an unpardoned sin. 18 
 
 Chandanaka. What ! the herdsman Aryaka ? Like a bird that flees 
 from a hawk, he has fallen into the hand of the fowler. [Reflect- 
 ing.] He is no sinner, this man who seeks my protection and sits 
 in Charudatta’s cart. Besides, he is the friend of good Sharvilaka, 
 who saved my life. On the other hand, there are the king’s orders. 
 What is a man to do in a case like this ? W ell, what must be, must 
 be. I promised him my protection just now. 
 
 He who gives aid to frightened men, 
 
 And joys his neighbor’s ills to cure, 
 
 If he must die, he dies; but then, 
 
 His reputation is secure. 19 
 
 [He gets down uneasily.] I saw the gentleman — [correcting him- 
 self] I mean, the lady Vasantasena, and she says “Is it proper, is 
 it gentlemanly, when I am going to visit Charudatta, to insult me 
 on the highway?” 
 
 Viraka. Chandanaka, I have my suspicions. 
 
 Chandanaka. Suspicions? How so? 
 
102 
 
 ACT THE SIXTH 
 
 [103.2 S. 
 
 Vir. You gurgled in your craven throat; it seems a trifle shady. 
 
 You said “I saw the gentleman,” and then “I saw the lady.” 
 That ’s why I ’m not satisfied. 
 
 Clmndanaka. What’s the matter with you, man? We southerners 
 don’t speak plain. We know a thousand dialects of the barbari- 
 ans — the Khashas, the Khattis, the Kadas, the Kadatthobilas, the 
 Karnatas, the Karnas, the Pravaranas, the Dravidas, the Cholas, 
 the Chinas, the Barbaras, the Kheras, the Khanas, the Mukhas, the 
 Madhughatas, and all the rest of ’em, and it all depends on the way 
 we feel whether we say “he” or “she,” “gentleman” or “lady.” 
 Viraka. Can’t I have a look, too? It’s the king’s orders. And the 
 king trusts me. 
 
 Chandanaka. I suppose the king does n’t trust me! 
 
 Viraka. Isn't it His Majesty’s command? 
 
 Chandanaka. [ Aside .] If people knew that the good herdsman es- 
 caped in Charudatta’s cart, then the king would make Charudatta 
 suffer for it. What ’s to be done? [ Reflecting .] I ’ll stir up a quarrel 
 the way they do down in the Carnatic. [Aloud!] Well, Viraka, I 
 made one inspection myself — my name is Chandanaka — and you 
 want to do it over again. Who are you ? 
 
 Viraka. Confound it! Who are you, anyway? 
 
 Chandanaka. An honorable and highly respectable person, and you 
 don’t remember your own family. 
 
 Viraka. [. Angrily .] Confound you! What is my family? 
 Chandanaka. Who speaks of such things? 
 
 Viraka. Speak! 
 
 Chandanaka. I think I ’d better not. 
 
 I know your family, but I won't say ; 
 
 ’T would not be modest, such things to betray; 
 
 What good ’s a rotten apple anyway? 21 
 
 Viraka. Speak, speak! [ Chandanaka makes a significant gesture.] 
 Confound you! What does that mean? 
 
P.175.1] SWAPPING THE BULLOCK-CARTS 
 
 103 
 
 Chand. A broken whetstone in one hand — a thing 
 That looks like scissors in the other wing — 
 
 To trim the scrubby beards that curl and cling, 
 
 And you — why, you ’re a captain of the king ! 22 
 
 Vlraka. Well, Chandanaka, you highly respectable person, you 
 don’t remember your own family either. 
 
 Chandanaka. Tell me. What is the family I belong to, I, Chan- 
 danaka, pure as the moon? 
 
 Vlraka. Who speaks of such things? 
 
 Chandanaka. Speak, speak! [Vlraka makes a significant gesture.] 
 Confound you ! What does that mean ? 
 
 Vlraka. Listen. 
 
 Your house is pure; your father is a drum, 
 
 Your mother is a kettledrum, you scum! 
 
 Your brother is a tambourine — turn, turn! 
 
 And you — why, you ’re a captain of the king! 23 
 
 Chandanaka. [ Wrathfidly .] I, Chandanaka, a tanner ! You can look 
 at the cart. 
 
 Vlraka. You! driver! turn the cart around. I want to look in. 
 [Vardhamanaka does so. Vlraka starts to climb in. Chandanaka 
 seizes him violently by the hair , throws him down, and kicks him.] 
 Vlraka. [Rising. JVrathfiully.] Confound you ! I was peaceably go- 
 ing about the king’s business, when you seized me violently by the 
 hair and kicked me. So listen! If I don’t have you drawn and 
 quartered in the middle of the court-room, my name ’s not Vlraka. 
 Chandanaka. All right. Go to court or to a hall of justice. What 
 do I care for a puppy like you? 
 
 Vlraka. I will. [Exit. 
 
 Chandanaka. [Looks about him.] Go on, driver, go on! If anybody 
 asks you, just say “The cart has been inspected by Chandanaka 
 and Vlraka.” Mistress Vasantasena, let me give you a passport. 
 [He hands Aryaka a sword.] 
 
104 
 
 ACT THE SIXTH 
 
 [105.11 S. 
 
 Ary aka. [Takes it. Joyfully to himself. ] 
 
 A sword, a sword ! My right eye twitches fast. 1 
 Now all is well, and I am safe at last. 24 
 
 Chandanaka. Madam, 
 
 As I have given you a passage free. 
 
 So may I live within your memory. 
 
 To utter this, no selfish thoughts could move; 
 
 Ah no, I speak in plenitude of love. 25 
 
 Aryaka. Chandanaka is rich in A r irtues pure; 
 
 My friend is he — Fate willed it — true and tried. 
 
 I 'll not forget Chandanaka, be sure. 
 
 What time the oracle is justified. 26 
 
 Chand. May Shiva, Vishnu, Brahma, Three in One, 
 
 Protect thee, and the Moon, and blessed Sun; 
 
 Slay all thy foes, as mighty Parvati 
 
 Slew Shumbha and Nishumbha — fearfully. 27 
 
 [Exit Vardhamanaka, with the bullock-ca?'t. Chandanaka looks to- 
 ward the back of the staged] Aha ! As he goes away, my good friend 
 Sharvilaka is following him. Well, I ’ve made an enemy of Vlraka, 
 the chief constable and the king’s favorite ; so I think I too had 
 better be following him, with all my sons and brothers. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 1 A good omen, in the ease of a man. 
 
ACT THE SEVENTH 
 
 ARY AKA’S ESCAPE 
 
 , r .. [Enter Charudatta and Maitreya.] 
 
 Maitreya. L J J 
 
 H OW beautiful the old garden Pushpakaranda is. 
 
 Charudatta. You are quite right, my friend. For see! 
 
 The trees, like merchants, show their wares; 
 
 Each several tree his blossoms bears, 
 
 While bees, like officers, are flitting, 
 
 To take from each what toll is fitting. 1 
 
 Maitreya. This simple stone is very attractive. Pray be seated. 
 
 Charudatta. [Seats himself.'] How Vardhamanaka Ungers, my friend! 
 
 Maitreya. I told Vardhamanaka to bring Vasantasena and come 
 
 as quickly as he could. 
 
 Charudatta. Why then does he linger? 
 
 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 Vardhamanaka with the bullock-cart, in which Aryaka lies 
 hidden.] 
 
 Vardhamanaka. 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 cursed 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 
 
106 
 
 ACT THE SEVENTH 
 
 [108.3 S. 
 
 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 my- 
 self in the grove; for men say that the noble Charudatta is ever 
 helpful to them that seek his protection. I will not go until I have 
 seen him face to face. 
 
 ’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 
 
 Vardhamanaka. Here is the garden. I ’ll drive in. [He does so.] 
 Maitreya ! 
 
 Maitreya. Good news, my friend. It is Vardhamanaka’s voice. 
 Vasantasena must have come. 
 
 Charudatta. Good news, indeed. 
 
 Maitreya. You son of a slave, what makes you so late? 
 Vardhamanaka. 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. 
 
 Charudatta. Turn the cart around, Vardhamanaka. Maitreya, my 
 friend, help Vasantasena 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 isn’t mistress Vasantasena — this is Mister Vasantasena. 
 Charudatta. A truce to your jests, my friend. Love cannot w r ait. 
 I will help her to get out myself. [He rises.] 
 
 Ary aka. [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. 
 
 Charudatta. [Enters the bullock-cart and discovers Ary aka.] Who 
 then is this? 
 
 As trunk of elephant his arms are long, 
 
 His chest is full, his shoulders broad and strong, 
 
P. 180.14] 
 
 ARYAKA’S ESCAPE 
 
 107 
 
 His great eyes restless-red; 1 
 Why should this man be thus enforced to fight — 
 
 So noble he — with such ignoble plight. 
 
 His foot to fetters wed ? 5 
 
 Who are you, sir? 
 
 Aryaka. I am one who seeks your protection, Aryaka, by birth a 
 herdsman. 
 
 Charudatta. Are you he whom King Palaka took from the ham- 
 let where he lived and thrust into prison ? 
 
 Aryaka. The same. 
 
 CJiarudatta. 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.] 
 
 CJiarudatta. Vardhamanaka, remove the fetters from his foot. 
 VardJiamanaka. Yes, sir. [He does so.] Master, the fetters are re- 
 moved. 
 
 A ryaka. 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. 
 
 CJiarudatta. Peace! For shame! 
 
 Aryaka. Charudatta, my friend, I entered your cart somewhat 
 unceremoniously. I beg your pardon. 
 
 CJiarudatta. I feel honored that you should use no ceremony with 
 me. 
 
 Aryaka. If you permit it, I now desire to go. 
 
 CJiarudatta. Go in peace. 
 
 Aryaka. Thank you. I will alight from the cart. 
 
 Charudatta. No, my friend. The fetters have but this moment 
 been removed, and you will find walking difficult. In this spot 
 
 1 Lalladikshita says that these are signs of royalty. 
 
108 
 
 ACT THE SEVENTH 
 
 [110.4 S. 
 
 where men seek pleasure, a bullock-cart will excite no suspicion. 
 Continue your journey then in the cart. 
 
 Ary aka. I thank you, sir. 
 
 Charud. Seek now thy kinsmen. Happiness be thine! 
 
 Aryaka. Ah, I have found thee, blessed kinsman mine! 
 
 Charud. Remember me, when thou hast cause to speak. 
 
 Aryaka. Thy name, and not mine own, my words shall seek. 
 Charud. May the immortal gods protect thy ways ! 
 
 Aryaka. Thou didst protect me, in most perilous days. 
 
 Charud. Nay, it was fate that sweet protection lent. 
 
 Aryaka. But thou wast chosen as fates instrument. 7 
 
 Charudatta. King Palaka is aroused, and protection will prove 
 difficult. You must depart at once. 
 
 Aryaka. Until we meet again, farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Charud. 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 Yasanta- 
 sena. 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 ap- 
 proaches, and the sight bodes ill. [ Reflecting .] Let him enter by 
 that path, while we depart by this. [Exit. 
 
ACT THE EIGHTH 
 
 THE STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA 
 [Enter a monk, with a wet garment in his hand.~\ 
 
 Monk. 
 
 Y E ignorant, lay by a store of virtue ! 
 
 Restrain the belly; watch eternally. 
 
 Heeding the beat of contemplation’s 1 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, 2 and the Female Bane, 3 
 By whom protection to the Town 4 is given, 
 
 By whom the Outcaste 5 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, Sansthanaka. 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 de- 
 fender? But after all, the blessed Lord Buddha is my defender. 
 
 1 An allusion to the practice by which the Buddhists induced a state of religious ecstasy. 
 2 The five senses. 3 Ignorance. 4 The body. 5 The conceit of individuality. 
 
110 
 
 ACT THE EIGHTH 
 
 [119.20 S. 
 
 [Enter the courtier, carrying a sword, and Sansthanaka.] 
 Sansthanaka. Shtop, you confounded monk, shtop! I’ll pound 
 your head like a red radish 1 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 Blessed 
 One! 
 
 Sansthanaka. Did you hear that, shir? He ’s inshulting me. 
 Courtier. What does he say? 
 
 Sansthanaka. Shays I’m a shervant. What do you take me for? 
 a barber? 
 
 Courtier. A servant of the Blessed One he calls you, and this is 
 praise. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Praise me shome more, monk! 
 
 Monk. You are virtuous! You are a brick! 
 
 Sansthanaka. Shee? He shays I ’m virtuous. He shays I’ma brick. 
 What do you think I am? a materialistic philosopher? or a water- 
 ing-trough ? or a pot-maker ? 2 
 
 Courtier. You jackass, he praises you when he says that you are 
 virtuous, that you are a brick. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Well, shir, what did he come here for? 
 
 Monk. To wash this robe. 
 
 Sansthanaka. 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 
 
 1 Used as an appetizer. 
 
 2 The elaborate puns of this passage can hardly be reproduced in a translation. 
 
P. 187.7] 
 
 STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA 
 
 111 
 
 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. 
 
 Courtier . You jackass, I am sure he has not long been a monk. 
 Sansthanaka. How can you tell, shir? 
 
 Courtier. It does n’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 
 
 3Ionk. True, servant of the Blessed One. I have been a monk but 
 a short time. 
 
 Sansthanaka. 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- 
 
 Sansthanaka. Jusht wait a minute, while I take counshel. 
 Courtier. With whom? 
 
 Sansthanaka. With my own heart. 
 
 Courtier. Poor fellow ! Why did n’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. 
 
112 
 
 ACT THE EIGHTH 
 
 [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 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 
 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 jackass? 
 Sansthanaka. I am sheated. [ They seat themselves.] Do you know, 
 shir, I remember that Yasantasena 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, 
 
p. 190.16] STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA 
 
 113 
 
 The mean man, whom a woman spurns, 
 
 But loves the more; 
 
 The wise man’s passion gentler burns. 
 
 Or passes o’er. 9 
 
 Sansthanaka. Shome time has passhed, shir, shince I told my sher- 
 vant 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 
 
 Sansthancika. 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 shome- 
 thing to passh the time. [He sings.] There, shir, did you hear 
 what I shang? 
 
 Courtier. What shall I say? Ah, how melodious! 
 
114 
 
 ACT THE EIGHTH 
 
 [116.23 S. 
 
 Sansthanaka. 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! 
 
 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 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 Vasantasena in the bullock-cart, and Sthavaraka.] 
 Sthavaraka. I ’m frightened. It is already noon. I hope Sanstha- 
 naka, 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. 
 Courtier. How do you know? 
 
 Sansthanaka. Can’t you shee? It shqueaks like an old hog. 
 Courtier. [Perceives the cart.'] Quite true. It is here. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Sthavaraka, my little shon, my shlave, are you here? 
 Sthavaraka. Yes, sir. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Is the cart here? 
 
P. 194.9] 
 
 STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA 
 
 115 
 
 Sthavaraka. Yes, sir. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Are the bullocks here? 
 
 Sthavaraka. Yes, sir. 
 
 Sansthanaka. And are you here? 
 
 Sthavaraka. [. Laughing .] Yes, master, I am here too. 
 Sansthanaka. Then drive the cart in. 
 
 Sthavaraka. By which road ? 
 
 Sansthanaka. Right here, where the wall is tumbling down. 
 Sthavaraka. Oh, master, the bullocks will be killed. The cart will 
 go to pieces. And I, your servant, shall be killed. 
 
 Sansthanaka. 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. 
 
 Sthavaraka. Everything will be replaced — except me. 
 Sansthanaka. Let the whole thing go to pieces. Drive in over the 
 wall. 
 
 Sthavaraka. 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. 
 Sansthanaka. The bullocks not shplit in two? and the ropes not 
 killed? and you too not killed? 
 
 Sthavaraka. No, sir. 
 
 Sansthanaka. 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.] 
 
 Sansthanaka. 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. 
 
116 
 
 ACT THE EIGHTH 
 
 [119.8 S. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Even if I do shay sho, you ought to be polite enough 
 to shay “After you, mashter.” 
 
 Courtier. After you, then. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Now I ’ll enter. Sthavaraka, my little shon, my 
 shlave, turn the cart around. 
 
 Sthavaraka. [ Does so.] Enter, master. 
 
 Sansthanaka. [. Enters and looks about, then hastily gets out in ter- 
 ror, and Jails on the courtiers 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 Sthavaraka with the smock on it. 
 Sansthanaka. Sthavaraka, my little shon, my shlave, are you 
 alive? 
 
 Sthavaraka. Yes, sir. 
 
 Sansthanaka. 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 
 
 Vasantasena. [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 ? 
 Sansthanaka. Thish old shervant is afraid and he w r on’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] STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA 
 
 117 
 
 Sansthanaka. 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 Vasantasena. 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 Vasantasena.] Ah, Vasantasena! This is neither right, 
 nor worthy of you. 
 
 Your pride rejected him before, 
 
 Yet now for gold, and for your mother’s will 
 Vasantasena. 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 1 you to “ serve the man you love, and him you 
 hate”? 
 
 Vasantasena. 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 
 Sansthanaka.] Jackass, there is indeed a witch who makes her 
 home in the cart. 
 
 Sansthanaka. But shir, if a witch is living there, why are n’t you 
 robbed? And if it’s a thief, why aren’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 UjjayinI, 
 what harm would that do ? 
 
 Sansthanaka. And if we did, what then? 
 
 1 See page 13. 
 
118 
 
 ACT THE EIGHTH 
 
 [121.7 S. 
 
 Courtier. Then we should have some exercise, and should avoid 
 tiring the bullocks. 
 
 Sansthanaka. All right. Sthavaraka, 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 Yasantasena, come to visit 
 you. 
 
 Vasantasena. Heaven forbid ! 
 
 Sansthanaka. [Gleefully.] Oh, oh! To visit me, an arishtocrat, a 
 man, a regular Yasudeva? 
 
 Courtier. Yes. 
 
 Sansthanaka. 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! 
 
 Sansthanaka. I ’ll fall at her feet myshelf. [He approaches Vasanta- 
 sena.] 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 
 
 Vasantasena. [Angrily.] Leave me ! Your words are an insult! [She 
 spurns him with her foot.] 
 
 Sansthanaka. [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 
 
 Sthavaraka, you shlave, where did you pick her up ? 
 
 Sthavaraka. Master, the highway was blocked by villagers’ wagons. 
 So I stopped my cart near Charudatta’s orchard, and got out. And 
 
p. 201.14] STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA 
 
 119 
 
 while I was helping a villager with his wagon, I suppose she mis- 
 took this cart for another, and climbed in. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Oho! she mishtook my cart for another? and didn’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! 
 Vasantasena. Truly, you honor me when you say that I came to 
 see Charudatta. Now what must be, must be. 
 
 Sansthanaka. 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 Jatayu Bali’s fair. 
 
 The monkey Bali’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, Vasantasena! [Va- 
 santasena alights and stands apart.\ 
 
 Sansthanaka. [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. [A loud.\ AYell, 
 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? 
 
 Sansthanaka. Do me a favor. 
 
120 
 
 ACT THE EIGHTH 
 
 [123.11 S. 
 
 Courtier. Certainly. Anything, unless it be a sin. 
 
 Sansthanaka. There ’s not a shmell of a shin in it, shir. Not a per- 
 fume! 
 
 Courtier. Speak, then. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Murder Vasantasena. 
 
 Courtier. [ Stopping his ea?'s.~\ 
 
 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 
 Sansthanaka. I ’ll give you a boat. And beshides, in thish deserted 
 garden, who’ll shee you murdering her? 
 
 Courtier. The regions ten , 1 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 
 Sansthanaka. Well then, put your cloak over her and murder her. 
 Courtier. You fool! You scoundrel! 
 
 Sansthanaka. The old hog is afraid of a shin. Never mind. I ’ll per- 
 shuade Sthavaraka, my shlave. Sthavaraka, my little shon, my 
 shlave, I ’ll give you golden bracelets. 
 
 Sthavaraka. And I ’ll wear them. 
 
 Sansthanaka. I ’ll have a golden sheat made for you. 
 
 Sthavaraka. And I ’ll sit on it. 
 
 Sansthanaka. I ’ll give you all my leavings. 
 
 Sthavaraka. And I ’ll eat them. 
 
 Sansthanaka. I ’ll make you the chief of all my shervants. 
 Sthavaraka. Master, I ’ll be the chief. 
 
 Sansthanaka. You only have to attend to what I shay. 
 Sthavaraka. Master, I will do anything, unless it be a sin. 
 
 1 The four cardinal points, the four intermediate points, the zenith, and the nadir. 
 
121 
 
 P.805.12] STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA 
 
 Sansthanaka. There ’s not a shmell of a shin in it. 
 
 Sthavaraka. Then speak, master. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Murder Vasantasena. 
 
 Sthavaraka. Oh, master, be merciful! Unworthy as I am, I brought 
 this worthy lady hither, because she mistook this bullock-cart for 
 another. 
 
 Sansthanaka. You shlave, ain’t I your mashter? 
 
 Sthavaraka. Master of my body, not of my character. Be merciful, 
 master, be merciful! I am afraid. 
 
 Sansthanaka. You ’re my shlave. Who are you afraid of? 
 Sthavaraka. Of the other world, master. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Who is thish “other world”? 
 
 Sthavaraka. Master, it is a rewarder of righteousness and sin. 
 Sansthanaka. What is the reward of righteoushness ? 
 
 Sthavaraka. To be like my master, with plenty of golden orna- 
 ments. 
 
 Sansthanaka. What is the reward of shin ? 
 
 Sthavaraka. To be like me, eating another man’s bread. That is 
 why I will do no sin. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Sho you won’t murder her? [He heats him with all 
 his might.'] 
 
 Sthavaraka. 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 
 
 Vasantasena. Sir, I throw myself upon your protection. 
 
 Courtier. Pardon him, jackass! Well done, Sthavaraka! 
 
 Does this poor, miserable slave 
 Seek virtue’s meed beyond the grave? 
 
122 
 
 ACT THE EIGHTH 
 
 [125.14 S. 
 
 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 
 
 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 
 
 Sansthanaka. [ 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. 
 
 Sthavaraka. Yes, master. [To Vasantasena.] Madam, I have no 
 further power. [Exit. 
 
 Sansthanaka. [Girds up his loins.] Wait a minute, Vasantasena, 
 wait a minute. I want to murder you. 
 
 Courtier. You will kill her before my eyes? [He seizes him by the 
 throat.] 
 
 Sansthanaka. [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 Vasantasena. That’s the idea. [Aloud.] Shir, I 
 was bom 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] STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA 123 
 
 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 
 Sansthanaka. She ’s ashamed to confessh her love when you ’re here. 
 Please go. My shervant Sthavaraka has gone too after getting a 
 beating. He may be running away. Catch him, shir, and come back 
 with him. 
 
 Courtier. [ Aside .] 
 
 Vasantasena is too proud to own, 
 
 While I am near, her love for one so crude; 
 
 So now I leave her here with him alone; 
 
 Love’s confidences long for solitude. 30 
 
 [. Aloud .] Very well. I go. 
 
 Vasantasena. [ Seizing the hem of his garment.'] Did I not throw 
 myself upon your protection? 
 
 Courtier. Do not fear, Vasantasena. Jackass, Vasantasena is a 
 pledge, committed to your hand. 
 
 Sansthanaka. All right. Jusht let her be committed to my hand. 
 It ’s a pledge that I ’ll execute. 
 
 Courtier. Are you honest? 
 
 Sansthanaka. Honesht. 
 
 Courtier. [ Takes a few steps.] No! If I go, the wretch might kill 
 her. I will conceal myself for a moment, and see what he intends 
 to do. [He stands apart.] 
 
 Sansthanaka. Good ! I ’ll murder her. But no ! Perhaps thish tricky 
 trickshter, thish Brahman, thish old jackal, has gone and hidden 
 himshelf ; he might raise a howl like the jackal he is. I ’ll jusht do 
 thish to deceive him. [He gathers flowers and adorns himself] 
 Vasantasena, my love, my love ! Come ! 
 
 Courtier. Yes, he has turned lover. Good! I am content. I will 
 go. [Exit. 
 
124 
 
 ACT THE EIGHTH 
 
 [127.12 S. 
 
 Sansthanaka. I ’ll give you gold, I ’ll call you shweet; 
 
 My turbaned head adores your feet. 
 
 Why not love me, my clean-toothed girl? 
 
 Why worship such a pauper churl? 31 
 
 Vasantasena. How can you ask? [She bows her head and recites 
 the following verses.'] 
 
 O base and vile ! O wretch ! What more ? 
 
 Why tempt me now with gold and power? 
 
 The honey-loving bees adore 
 
 The pure and stainless lotus flower. 32 
 
 Though poverty may strike a good man low, 
 
 Peculiar honor waits upon his woe; 
 
 And t is the glory of a courtezan 
 
 To set her love upon an honest man. 33 
 
 And I, who have loved the mango-tree, I cannot cling to the 
 locust-tree. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Wench, you make that poor little Charudatta into 
 a mango-tree, and me you call a locusht-tree, not even an acacia ! 
 That s the way you abuse me, and even yet you remember Cha- 
 rudatta. 
 
 Vasantasena. Why should I not remember him who dwells in my 
 heart? 
 
 Sansthanaka. Thish very minute I ’m going to shtrangle “him 
 who dwells in your heart,” and you too. Shtand shtill, you poor- 
 merchant-man’s lover! 
 
 Vasantasena. Oh speak, oh speak again these words that do me 
 honor! 
 
 Sansthanaka. Jusht let poor Charudatta — the shon of a shlave — 
 reshcue you now ! 
 
 Vasantasena. He would rescue me, if he saw me. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Is he the king of gods? the royal ape? 
 
 Shon of a nymph? or wears a demon’s shape? 
 
P.212.11] STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA 
 
 125 
 
 The kingly deity of wind and rain? 
 
 The offshpring of the Pandu-princes’ bane? 
 
 A prophet? or a vulture known afar? 
 
 A shtatesman? or a beetle? or a shtar? 34 
 
 But even if he was, he could n’t reshcue you. 
 
 As Sita in the Bharata 
 
 Was killed by good old Chanakya, 
 
 Sho I intend to throttle thee, 
 
 As did Jatayu Draupadi. 35 
 
 [He raises his arm to strike her.] 
 
 Vasantasena. Mother! where are you? Oh, Charudatta! my heart’s 
 longing is unfulfilled, and now I die! I will scream for help. No! 
 It would bring shame on Vasantasena, should she scream for help. 
 Heaven bless Charudatta! 
 
 Sansthanaka. Does the wench shpeak that rashcal’s name even 
 yet? [He seizes her by the throat .] Remember him, wench, remem- 
 ber him ! 
 
 Vasantasena. Heaven bless Charudatta! 
 
 Sansthanaka. Die, wench ! [He strangles her. Vasantasena loses con- 
 sciousness, and falls motionless .] 
 
 Sansthanaka. [Gleefully.] 
 
 Thish bashketful of shin, thish wench, 
 
 Thish foul abode of impudence — 
 
 She came to love, she shtayed to blench, 
 
 For Death’s embrace took every sense. 
 
 But why boasht I of valorous arms and shtout? 
 
 She shimply died because her breath gave out. 
 
 Like Sita in the Bharata, she lies. 
 
 Ah, mother mine! how prettily she dies. 36 
 
 She would not love me, though I loved the wench ; 
 
 I shaw the empty garden, set the shnare, 
 
126 
 
 ACT THE EIGHTH 
 
 [129.4 S. 
 
 And frightened her, and made the poor girl blench. 
 
 My brother! Oh, my father! Thisli is where 
 You misshed the shight of heroism shtout; 
 
 Your brother and your shon here blosshomed out 
 Into a man; like Mother DraupadT, 
 
 You were not there, my bravery to shee. 37 
 
 Good! The old jackal will be here in a minute. I ’ll shtep ashide 
 and wait. [ He does so.] [ Enter the courtier, with Sthavaraka.] 
 
 Courtie?'. I have persuaded the servant Sthavaraka to come back, 
 and now I will look for the jackass. [He walks about and looks 
 around him.'] But see ! A tree has fallen by the roadside, and killed 
 a woman in its fall. O cruel! How couldst thou do this deed of 
 shame? And when I see that a woman was slain by thy fatal fall, 
 I too am felled to the earth. Truly, my heart’s fear for A^asanta- 
 sena was an evil omen. Oh, heaven grant that all may yet be well! 
 [He approaches Sansthanaka.] Jackass, I have persuaded your ser- 
 vant Sthavaraka to return. 
 
 Sansthanaka. How do you do, shir? Sthavaraka, my little shon, 
 my shlave, how do you do ? 
 
 Sthavaraka. Well, thank you. 
 
 Courtier. Give me my pledge. 
 
 Sansthanaka. What pledge? 
 
 Courtier. Vasantasena. 
 
 Sansthanaka. She ’s gone. 
 
 Courtier. Where ? 
 
 Sansthanaka. Right after you. 
 
 Courtier. [Doubtfully.] No, she did not go in that direction. 
 Sansthanaka. In what direction did you go? 
 
 Courtier. Toward the east. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Well, she went shouth. 1 
 Courtier. So did I. 
 
 1 The region of Yama, god of death. 
 
127 
 
 P.216.2] STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA 
 
 Sanst kanaka. She went north. 
 
 Courtier. This is nonsense. My heart is not satisfied. Speak the 
 truth. 
 
 Sansthanaka. I shwear by your head, shir, and my own feet. You 
 may be easy in your heart. I murdered her. 
 
 Courtier. [Despairingly. ] You really killed her? 
 
 Sansthanaka. If you don’t believe my words, then shee the firsht 
 heroic deed of Sansthanaka, the king’s brother-in-law. [He jioints 
 out the body. ] 
 
 Courtier. Alas! Ah, woe is me! [He falls in a swoon.] 
 Sansthanaka. Hee, hee! The gentleman is calm enough now! 
 Sthavaraka. Oh, sir! Come to yourself! I am the first murderer, 
 for I brought the bullock-cart hither without looking into it. 
 Courtier. [Comes to himself. Mournfully.'] Alas, Yasantasena! 
 
 The stream of courtesy is dried away, 
 
 And happiness to her own land doth flee. 
 
 Sweet gem of gems, that knew love’s gentle play, 
 
 Love’s mart and beauty’s! Joy of men like me! 
 
 Thy mirth-shored stream, that kind and healing river — 
 Alas! is perished, lost, and gone forever! 38 
 
 [Tearfully.] Ah, woe is me! 
 
 What sin is yet to come, or woe, 
 
 Now thou hast done this deed of hate? 
 
 Like sin’s foul self, hast thou laid low 
 
 The sinless goddess of our state. 39 
 
 [Aside.] Ah! Perhaps the wretch means to lay this sin to my 
 charge. I must go hence. [He walks about. Sansthanaka approaches 
 and holds him back.] Scoundrel! Touch me not. I have done with 
 you. I go. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Aha! Firsht you murder Yasantasena, then you 
 abuse me, and now where will you run to ? And sho a man like me 
 has n’t anybody to protect him. 
 
128 
 
 ACT THE EIGHTH 
 
 [131.8 S. 
 
 Courtier. Y ou are an accursed scoundrel ! 
 
 Sansth. 1 11 give you countless wealth, a piece of gold, 
 
 A copper, and a cap, to have and hold. 
 
 And sho the fame of thish great deed shall be 
 A common property, and shan’t touch me. 40 
 
 Courtier. A curse upon you! Yours, and yours only, be the deed. 
 Sthavarcika. Heaven avert the omen! [Sansthanaka bursts out 
 laughing.'] 
 
 Courtier. Be enmity between us ! Cease your mirth ! 
 
 Damned be a friendship that so shames my worth! 
 Never may I set eyes on one so low! 
 
 I fling you off, an unstrung, broken bow. 41 
 
 Sansthanaka. Don’t be angry. Come, let ’s go and play in the pond. 
 Courtier. Unstained my life, and yet it seems to me 
 
 Your friendship stains, and mocks my sinlessness. 
 You woman-murderer! How could I be 
 A friend to one whom women ever see 
 
 With eyes half-closed in apprehension’s stress ? 42 
 
 [Mournfully.] Vasantasena, 
 
 When thou, sweet maid, art born again, 
 
 Be not a courtezan reborn, 
 
 But in a house which sinless men, 
 
 And virtuous, and good, adorn. 43 
 
 Sansthanaka. Firsht you murder Vasantasena in my old garden 
 Pushpakaranda, and now where will you run to? Come, defend 
 yourshelf in court before my shishter’s husband! [He holds him, 
 back.] 
 
 Courtier. Enough, you accursed scoundrel! [He draws his sword.] 
 Sansthanaka. [Recoiling in terror.] Sheared, are you? Go along, 
 then. 
 
 Courtier. [Aside.] It would be folly to remain here. Well, I will 
 go and join myself to Sharvilaka, Chandanaka, and the rest. [Exit. 
 
P. 219.5] 
 
 STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA 
 
 129 
 
 Sansthanaka. Go to hell. Well, my little shon Sthavaraka, what 
 kind of a thing is thish that I ’ve done? 
 
 Sthavaraka. Master, you have committed a terrible crime. 
 Sansthanaka. Shlave! What do you mean by talking about a crime? 
 Well, I ’ll do it thish way. [He takes various ornaments from his 
 person. ] Take these gems. I give ’em to you. Whenever I want to 
 wear them, I ’ll take them back again, but the resht of the time 
 they are yours. 
 
 Sthavaraka. They should be worn only by my master. What have 
 I to do with such things? 
 
 Sansthanaka. Go along! Take these bullocks, and wait in the tower 
 of my palace until I come. 
 
 Sthavaraka. Yes, master. [Exit. 
 
 Sansthanaka. The gentleman has made himshelf invisible. He 
 wanted to save himshelf. And the shlave I ’ll put in irons in the pal- 
 ace tower, and keep him there. And sho the shecret will be shafe. 
 I ’ll go along, but firsht I ’ll take a look at her. Is she dead, or shall 
 I murder her again? [He looks at Easantasena.] Dead as a door- 
 nail! Good! I ’ll cover her with thish cloak. No, it has my name 
 on it. Shome honesht man might recognize it. Well, here are shome 
 dry leaves that the wind has blown into a heap. I ’ll cover her 
 with them. [He does so, then pauses to reflect.'] Good ! I ’ll do it 
 thish way. I ’ll go to court at once, and there I ’ll lodge a complaint. 
 I ’ll shay that the merchant Charudatta enticed Yasantasena into 
 my old garden Pushpakaranda, and killed her for her money. 
 
 Yesh, Charudatta musht be shlaughtered now, 
 
 And I ’ll invent the plan, forgetting pity; 
 
 The shacrificing of a sinless cow 
 
 Is cruel in the kindesht-hearted city. 44 
 
 Now I ’m ready to go. [He starts to go away, but perceives some- 
 thing that frightens him.] Goodnessh gracioush me! Wherever I 
 go, thish damned monk comes with his yellow robes. I bored a hole 
 
130 
 
 ACT THE EIGHTH 
 
 [133.8 S. 
 
 in his nose once and drove him around, and he hates me. Perhaps 
 he ’ll shee me, and will tell people that I murdered her. How shall 
 I eshcape? [He looks about. ] Aha! I ’ll jump over the wall where 
 it is half fallen down, and eshcape that way. 
 
 I run, I run, I go, 
 
 In heaven, on earth below, 
 
 In hell, and in Ceylon, 
 
 Hanumat’s peaks upon — 
 
 Like Indra’s self, I go. [Exit.'] 45 
 
 [Enter hurriedly the Buddhist monk, ex-shampooer.] 
 
 Monk. I ’ve washed these rags of mine. Shall I let them dry on a 
 branch ? no, the monkeys would steal them. On the ground ? the 
 dust would make them dirty again. Well then, where shall I spread 
 them out to dry? [He looks about.] Ah, here is a pile of dry leaves 
 which the wind has blown into a heap. I ’ll spread them out on 
 that. [He does so.] Buddha be praised! [He sits down.] Now I will 
 repeat a hymn of the faith. 
 
 Who slays the Five Men, and the Female Bane, 
 
 By whom protection to the Town is given, 
 
 By whom the Outcaste impotent is slain. 
 
 He cannot fail to enter into heaven. (2) 
 
 After all, what have I to do with heaven, before I have paid my 
 debt to Vasantasena, my sister in Buddha? She bought my free- 
 dom for ten gold-pieces from the gamblers, and since that day I 
 regard myself as her property. [He looks about.] What was that? 
 a sigh that arose from the leaves ? It cannot be. 
 
 The heated breezes heat the leaves, 
 
 The wetted garment wets the leaves, 
 
 And so, I guess, the scattered leaves 
 Curl up like any other leaves. 46 
 
 [Vasantasena begins to recover consciousness, and stretches out her 
 hand.] 
 
P.222.12] STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA 
 
 131 
 
 Monk. Ah, there appears a woman’s hand, adorned with beautiful 
 gems. What! a second hand? [He examines it with the greatest 
 care.] It seems to me, I recognize this hand. Yes, there is no doubt 
 about it. Surely, this is the hand that saved me. But I must see for 
 myself. [He uncovers the body, looks at it, and recognizes it.] It is 
 my sister in Buddha. [Vasantasena pants for water.] Ah, she seeks 
 water, and the pond is far away. What shall I do? An idea! I will 
 hold this robe over her and let it drip upon her. [He does so. Va- 
 santasena recovers consciousness, and raises herself. The monk fans 
 her with his garment.] 
 
 Vasantasena. Who are you, sir? 
 
 Monk. Has my sister in Buddha forgotten him whose freedom 
 she bought for ten gold-pieces? 
 
 Vasantasena. I seem to remember, but not just as you say. It 
 were better that I had slept never to waken. 
 
 Monk. What happened here, sister in Buddha? 
 
 Vasantasena. [Despairingly.] Nothing but what is fitting — for a 
 courtezan. 
 
 Monk. Sister in Buddha, support yourself by this creeper 1 that 
 clings to the tree, and rise to your feet. [He bends down the creeper. 
 Vasantasena takes it in her hand, and rises.] 
 
 Monk. In yonder monastery dwells one who is my sister in the 
 faith. There shall my sister in Buddha be restored before she re- 
 turns home. You must walk very slowly, sister. [He walks about 
 and looks around him.] Make way, good people, make way ! This is 
 a young lady, and I am a monk, yet my conduct is above reproach. 
 
 The man whose hands, whose lips are free from greed, 
 Who curbs his senses, he is man indeed. 
 
 He little recks, if kingdoms fall or stand ; 
 
 For heaven is in the hollow of his hand. 47 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 1 A monk may not touch a woman. 
 
ACT THE NINTH 
 THE TRIAL 
 
 Beadle. 
 
 [Enter a beadle.] 
 
 HE magistrates said to me “ Come, beadle, go to the court- 
 
 room, and make ready the seats.” So now I am on my way 
 to set the court-room in order. [He walks about and looks around 
 him.'] Here is the court-room. I will enter. [He enters , sweeps, and 
 puts a seat in its place.] There! I have tidied up the court-room 
 and put the seats in readiness, and now I will go and tell the ma- 
 gistrates. [He walks about and looks around him.] But see! Here 
 comes that arrant knave, the king’s brother-in-law. I will go away 
 without attracting his attention. [He stands apart. Enter San- 
 sthanaka, in gorgeous raiment.] 
 
 Sansth. I bathed where water runs and flows and purls; 
 
 I shat within a garden, park, and grove 
 With women, and with females, and with girls, 
 
 My hair is shometimes done up tight, you shee; 
 
 In locks, or curls, it hangs my forehead o’er ; 
 Shometimes ’t is matted, shometimes hanging free ; 
 
 And then again, I wear a pompadour. 
 
 I am a wonder, I ’m a wondrous thing, 
 
 And the husband of my shishter is the king. 2 
 
 And beshides, I ’ve found a big hole, like a worm that has crawled 
 into the knot of a lotush-root, and is looking for a hole to creep 
 out at. Now who was I going to accuse of thish wicked deed? [He 
 recalls something.] Oh, yesh ! I remember. I was going to accuse 
 poor Charudatta of thish wicked deed. Beshides, he ’s poor. They ’ll 
 believe anything about him. Good ! I ’ll go to the court-room and 
 lodge a public complaint against Charudatta, how he shtrangled 
 
 Whose lovely limbs with grace angelic move. 
 
 1 
 
P. 226.10] 
 
 THE TRIAL 
 
 133 
 
 Vasantasena and murdered her. Sho now I ’m on my way to the 
 court-room. [He walks about and looks around him.] Here is the 
 court-room. I ’ll go in. [He enters and looks about.] Well, here are 
 the sheats, all arranged. While I ’m waiting for the magistrates, 
 I 'll jusht sit down a minute on the grass. [He does so.] 
 
 Beadle. [Walks about in another direction, and looks before him.] 
 Here come the magistrates. I will go to them. [He does so.] 
 [Enter the judge, accompanied by a gild-warden, a clerk, and others.] 
 Judge. Gild-warden and clerk! 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. We await your bidding. 
 
 Judge. A trial depends to such an extent upon others that the task 
 of the magistrates — the reading of another’s thoughts — is most 
 difficult. 
 
 Men often speak of deeds that no man saw, 
 
 Matters beyond the province of the law; 
 
 Passion so rules the parties that their lies 
 Hide their offenses from judicial eyes; 
 
 This side and that exaggerate a thing, 
 
 Until at last it implicates the king; 
 
 To sum it up: false blame is easy won, 
 
 A true judge little praised, or praised by none. 3 
 And again: 
 
 Men often point to sins that no man saw, 
 
 And in their anger scorn the patient law; 
 
 In court-rooms even the righteous with their lies 
 Hide their offenses from judicial eyes ; 
 
 And those who did the deed are lost to view, 
 
 Who sinned with plaintiff and defendant too; 
 
 To sum it up: false blame is easy won, 
 
 A true judge little praised, or praised by none. 4 
 For the judge must be 
 
 Learned, and skilled in tracing fraud’s sly path, 
 
 And eloquent, insensible to wrath; 
 
134 
 
 ACT THE NINTH 
 
 [137.24 S. 
 
 To friend, foe, kinsman showing equal grace, 
 
 Reserving judgment till he know the case; 
 
 Untouched by avarice, in virtue sound, 
 
 The weak he must defend, the knave confound ; 
 
 An open door to truth, his heart must cling 
 To others’ interests, yet shun each thing 
 That might awake the anger of the king. 5 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. And do men speak of defects in your 
 virtue? If so, then they speak of darkness in the moonlight. 
 Judge. My good beadle, conduct me to the court-room. 
 
 Beadle. Follow me, Your Honor. [ They walk about.'] Here is the 
 court-room. May the magistrates be pleased to enter. [ All enter.] 
 Judge. My good beadle, do you go outside and learn who desires 
 to present a case. 
 
 Beadle. Yes, sir. [He goes out.] Gentlemen, the magistrates ask if 
 there is any here who desires to present a case. 
 
 Sansthanaka. [Gleefully.] The magistrates are here. [He struts 
 about.] I desire to present a cashe, I, an arishtocrat, a man, a Va- 
 sudeva, the royal brother-in-law, the brother-in-law of the king. 
 Beadle. [In alarm.] Goodness! The king’s brother-in-law is the first 
 who desires to present a case. Well ! Wait a moment, sir. I will in- 
 form the magistrates at once. [He approaches the magistrates.] Gen- 
 tlemen, here is the king’s brother-in-law who has come to court, 
 desiring to present a case. 
 
 Judge. What ! the king’s brother-in-law is the first who desires to 
 present a case? Like an eclipse at sunrise, this betokens the ruin 
 of some great man. Beadle, the court will doubtless be very busy 
 to-day. Go forth, my good man, and say “Leave us for to-day. 
 Your suit cannot be considered.” 
 
 Beadle. Yes, Your Honor. [He goes out , and approaches San- 
 sthanaka.] Sir, the magistrates send word that you are to leave 
 them for to-day; that your suit cannot be considered. 
 
P. 229.15] 
 
 THE TRIAL 
 
 135 
 
 Sansthanaka. [ Wrathfully.] Confound it! Why can’t my shuit be 
 conshidered? If it isn’t conshidered, then I ’ll tell my brother-in- 
 law, King Palaka, my shishter’s husband, and I ’ll tell my shishter 
 and my mother too, and I ’ll have thish judge removed, and an- 
 other judge appointed. [He starts to go away.'] 
 
 Beadle. Oh, sir! Brother-in-law of the king! Wait a moment. I 
 will inform the magistrates at once. [He returns to the judge.] The 
 brother-in-law of the king is angry, and says — [He repeats San- 
 sthanaka's words.] 
 
 Judge. This fool might do anything. My good man, tell him to 
 come hither, that his suit will be considered. 
 
 Beadle. [Approaching Sansthanaka.] Sir, the magistrates send 
 word that you are to come in, that your suit will be considered. 
 Pray enter, sir. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Firsht they shay it won’t be conshidered, then they 
 shay it will be conshidered. The magishtrates are sheared. What- 
 ever I shay, I ’ll make ’em believe it. Good ! I ’ll enter. [He enters 
 and approaches the magistrates.] I am feeling very well, thank you. 
 Whether you feel well or not — that depends on me. 
 
 Judge. [Aside.] Well, well! We seem to have a highly cultivated 
 plaintiff. [Aloud.] Pray be seated. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Well! Thish floor belongs to me. I ’ll sit down wher- 
 ever I like. [To the gild-warden.] I’ll sit here. [To the beadle.] 
 Why should n’t I sit here? [He lays his hand on the judge's head.] 
 I ’ll sit here. [He sits down on the floor.] 
 
 Judge. You desire to present a case? 
 
 Sansthanaka. Of courshe. 
 
 Judge. Then state the case. 
 
 Sansthanaka. I ’ll whishper it. I was born in the great family of 
 a man as glorioush as a wine-glass. 
 
 My father’s father of the king — in law; 
 
 The king, he is my daddy’s son-in-law; 
 
136 
 
 ACT THE NINTH 
 
 [140. 1 S. 
 
 And I am brother to the king — in law; 
 
 And the husband of my shishter is the king. 6 
 
 Judge. All this we know. 
 
 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. 7 
 
 State your case. 
 
 Sansthanaka. I will, but even if I was guilty, he would n’t do 
 anything to me. Well, my shishter’s husband liked me, and gave 
 me the besht garden there is, the old garden Pushpakaranda, to 
 play in and look after. And there I go every day to look at it, to 
 keep it dry, to keep it clean, to keep it blosshoming, to keep it 
 trimmed. But fate decreed that I shaw — or rather, I didn’t shee 
 — the proshtrate body of a woman. 
 
 Judge. Ho you know who the unfortunate woman was? 
 Sansthanaka. Hello, magishtrates ! Why shouldn’t I know? A 
 woman like that! the pearl of the city! adorned with a hundred 
 golden ornaments! Shomebody’s unworthy shon enticed her into 
 the old garden Pushpakaranda when it was empty, and for a 
 mere trifle- — for her money! — shtrangled Vasantasena and killed 
 her. But I did n’t — [He breaks off, and puts his hand over his 
 mouth.] 
 
 Judge. What carelessness on the part of the city police! Gild- 
 warden and clerk, write down the words “I didn’t,” as the first 
 article in the case. 
 
 Clerk. Yes, sir. [He does so.] Sir, it is written. 
 
 Sansthanaka. [Aside.] Goodnessh! Now I ’ve ruined myshelf, like 
 a man that shwallows a cake of rice and milk in a hurry. Well, 
 I ’ll get out of it thish way. [Aloud.] Well, well, magishtrates! I 
 was jusht remarking that I didn’t shee it happen. What are you 
 making thish hullabaloo about? [He wipes out the written words 
 with his foot.] 
 
P. 233.3] 
 
 THE TRIAL 
 
 137 
 
 Judge. How do you know that she was strangled — and for her 
 money ? 
 
 Sansthanaka. Hello! Why shouldn’t I think sho, when her neck 
 was shwollen and bare, and the places where you wear jewels 
 did n’t have any gold on them? 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. That seems plausible. 
 
 Sansthanaka. [ Aside .] Thank heaven! I breathe again. Hooray! 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. Upon whom does the conduct of this 
 case depend? 
 
 Judge. The case has a twofold aspect. 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. How so? 
 
 Judge. We have to consider the allegations, then the facts. Now 
 the investigation of the allegations depends upon plaintiff and de- 
 fendant. But the investigation of the facts must be carried out by 
 the wisdom of the judge. 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. Then the conduct of the case depends 
 upon the presence of Vasantasena’s mother? 
 
 Judge. Precisely. My good beadle, summon Vasantasena’s mother, 
 without, however, giving her cause for anxiety. 
 
 Beadle. Yes, Your Honor. [He goes out, and returns with the 
 mother of the courtezan.'] Follow me, madam. 
 
 Mother. My daughter went to the house of a friend to enjoy her 
 youth. But now comes this gentleman — long life to him! — and 
 says “Come! The judge summons you.” I find myself quite be- 
 wildered. My heart is palpitating. Sir, will you conduct me to the 
 court-room? 
 
 Beadle. Follow me, madam. [They walk about.] Here is the court- 
 room. Pray enter, madam. [They enter.] 
 
 Mother. [Approaching.] Happiness be yours, most worthy gentle- 
 men. 
 
 Judge. My good woman, you are very welcome. Pray be seated. 
 
138 
 
 ACT THE NINTH 
 
 [141.24 S. 
 
 Mother. Thank you. [She seats herself !] 
 
 Sansthdnaka. [. Abusively .] You re here, are you, you old bawd? 
 Judge. Tell me. Are you Vasantasena’s mother? 
 
 Mother. I am. 
 
 Judge. Whither has Vasantasena gone at this moment? 
 
 Mother. To the house of a friend. 
 
 Judge. What is the name of her friend? 
 
 Mother. [ Aside. ] Hear me! Really, this is very embarrassing. 
 [Aloud. Any one else might ask me this, but not a judge. 
 
 Judge. Pray do not be embarrassed. The conduct of the case puts 
 the question. 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. The conduct of the case puts the ques- 
 tion. You incur no fault. Speak. 
 
 Mother. What! the conduct of the case? If that is so, then lis- 
 ten, worthy gentlemen. There lives in the merchants’ quarter the 
 grandson of the merchant Yinayadatta, the son of Sagaradatta, 
 a man whose name is a good omen in itself — that name is Cha- 
 rudatta. In his house my daughter enjoys her youth. 
 Sansthdnaka. Hid you hear that? Write those words down. My 
 contention is with Charudatta. 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. It is no sin for Charudatta to be her 
 friend. 
 
 Judge. The conduct of this case demands the presence of Charu- 
 datta. 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. Exactly. 
 
 Judge. Hhanadatta, write as the first article in the case “Vasanta- 
 sena went to the house of Charudatta.” But must we summon the 
 worthy Charudatta also? No, the conduct of the case summons 
 him. Go, my good beadle, summon Charudatta, — but gently, with- 
 out haste, without giving him cause for anxiety, respectfully, as it 
 were incidentally, — with the words “The judge wishes to see you.” 
 
P. 236.11] 
 
 THE TRIAL 
 
 139 
 
 Beadle. Yes, Your Honor. [He goes out, then returns with Charu- 
 datta.] Follow me, sir. 
 
 Charudatta. [ Thought / ully. ] 
 
 My character and kin are known 
 Unto the king who rules our state; 
 
 And in this summons there is shown 
 
 A doubt begotten of my wretched fate. 8 
 
 [Reflectively. Aside.] 
 
 Ah! Were there those, the man to recognize 
 Who met me on the road, from bondage freed? 
 
 Or did the king, who sees through cunning spies, 
 
 Learn that my cart was lent him in his need ? 
 
 Why should I else be forced to tread the street, 
 
 Like one accused of crime, my judge to meet? 9 
 
 But why consider thus? I must go to the court-room. My good 
 beadle, conduct me to the court. 
 
 Beadle. Follow me, sir. [They walk about.] 
 
 Charudatta. [Apprehensively.] And what means this? 
 
 Hear how the gloomy raven hoarsely croaks ; 
 
 The slaves of justice summon me again ; 
 
 My left eye twitches ; these repeated strokes 
 
 Of threatened evil frighten me and pain. 10 
 
 Beadle. Follow me, sir, gently and without haste. 
 
 Charudatta. [ Walks about and looks before him.] 
 
 Upon the withered tree, a crow 
 Turns to the sun; 
 
 His left eye falls on me. Ah, woe! 
 
 My doubt is done. 11 
 
 [He looks in another direction.] But see! a snake! 
 
 His eye is fixed upon me; and his back 
 Flashes like antimony’s lustrous black; 
 
140 
 
 ACT THE NINTH 
 
 [143.21 S. 
 
 His long tongue quivers; four white fangs appear; 
 
 His belly swells and coils. He slumbered here, 
 
 This prince of serpents, till I crossed his path, 
 
 And now he darts upon me in his wrath. 12 
 
 And more than this: 
 
 I slip, although the ground has felt no rain; 
 
 My left eye, and my left arm throb again; 
 
 Another bird is screaming overhead; 
 
 All bodes a cruel death, and hope is fled. 13 
 
 Surely, the gods will grant that all may yet be well. 
 
 Beadle. Follow me, sir. Here is the court-room. Pray enter. 
 Charudatta. [. Enters and looks about.] How wonderfully splendid 
 is the court-room. For it seems an ocean, 
 
 Whose waters are the king’s advisers, deep 
 In thought; as waves and shells it seems to keep 
 The attorneys ; and as sharks and crocodiles 
 It has its spies that stand in waiting files; 
 
 Its elephants and horses 1 represent 
 The cruel ocean-fish on murder bent; 
 
 As if with herons of the sea, it shines 
 With screaming pettifoggers’ numerous lines; 
 
 While in the guise of serpents, scribes are creeping 
 Upon its statecraft-trodden shore: the court 
 The likeness of an ocean still is keeping, 
 
 To which all harmful-cruel beasts resort. 14 
 
 Come! [As he enters , he strikes his head against the door. Reflec- 
 tively .] Alas! This also? 
 
 My left eye throbs; a raven cries; 
 
 A serpent coils athwart my path. 
 
 My safety now with heaven lies. 15 
 
 But I must enter. [He does so.] 
 
 1 Elephants were employed as executioners ; and, according to Laliadikshita, the horses served 
 the same purpose. 
 
P. 238.16] 
 
 THE TRIAL 
 
 141 
 
 Judge. This is Charudatta. 
 
 A countenance like his, with clear-cut nose, 
 
 Whose great, wide-opened eye frank candor shows, 
 
 Is not the home of wantonness; 
 
 With elephants, with horses, and with kine, 
 
 The outer form is inner habit’s sign; 
 
 With men no less. 16 
 
 Charudatta. My greetings to the officers of justice. Officials, I sa- 
 lute you. 
 
 Judge. [Betraying his agitation. ] You are very welcome, sir. My 
 good beadle, give the gentleman a seat. 
 
 Beadle. [Brings a seat.] Here is a seat. Pray be seated, sir. [Charu- 
 datta seats himself.] 
 
 Sansthanaka. [Angrily.] You’re here, are you, you woman-mur- 
 derer? Well! Thish is a fine trial, thish is a jusht trial, where they 
 give a sheat to thish woman-murderer. [Haughtily.] But it’s all 
 right. They can give it to him. 
 
 Judge. Charudatta, have you any attachment, or affection, or 
 friendship, with this lady’s daughter? 
 
 Charudatta. What lady? 
 
 Judge. This lady. [He indicates Vasantasena s mother.] 
 Charudatta. [Bising.] Madam, I salute you. 
 
 Mother. Long life to you, my son! [Aside.] So this is Charudatta. 
 My daughter’s youth is in good hands. 
 
 Judge. Sir, is the courtezan your friend? [Charudatta betrays his 
 embarrassment .] 
 
 Sansthanaka. He tries to hide the deed he did ; 
 
 He lies, from shame or fear; 
 
 He murdered her, of her got rid 
 For gold, and thinks the deed is hid; 
 
 Not sho his mashter here. 
 
 17 
 
[145.18 S. 
 
 142 ACT THE NINTH 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. Speak, Charudatta. Do not be ashamed. 
 This is a lawsuit. 
 
 Charudatta. [ In embarrassment.'] Officials, how can I testify that 
 a courtezan is my friend? But at worst, it is youth that bears the 
 blame, not character. 
 
 Judge. The case is hard; then banish shame, 
 
 Though it oppress your heart; 
 
 Speak truth with fortitude, and aim 
 
 To set deceit apart. 18 
 
 Do not be embarrassed. The conduct of the case puts the question. 
 Charudatta. Officer, with whom have I a lawsuit? 
 
 Sansthanaka. [Arrogantly.] With me! 
 
 Charudatta. A lawsuit with you is unendurable! 
 
 Sansthanaka. Well, well, woman-murderer! You murder a woman 
 like Vasantasena who used to wear a hundred gems, and now you 
 try deceitful deceivings to hide it ! 
 
 Charudatta. You are a fool. 
 
 Judge. Enough of him, good Charudatta. Speak the truth. Is the 
 courtezan your friend ? 
 
 Charudatta. She is. 
 
 Judge. Sir, where is Vasantasena? 
 
 Charudatta. She has gone home. 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. How did she go? When did she go? Who 
 accompanied her? 
 
 Charudatta. [Aside.] Shall I say that she went unobserved? 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. Speak, sir. 
 
 Charudatta. She went home. What more shall I say? 
 Sansthanaka. She was enticed into my old garden Pushpakaranda, 
 and was shtrangled for her money. Now will you shay that she 
 went home? 
 
 Charudatta. Man, you are crazy. 
 
P. 241.19] 
 
 THE TRIAL 
 
 143 
 
 The very clouds of heaven wet not you ; 
 
 Your lips are like the blue-jay’s wing-tip worn, 
 
 Yes, full as fickle with their speech untrue, 
 
 And like the winter lotus lustre-lorn. 19 
 
 Judge. [Aside.] 
 
 Take the Himalayan hills within your hand, 
 
 And swim from ocean strand to ocean strand, 
 
 And hold within your grasp the fleeting wind: 
 
 Then may you think that Charudatta sinned. 20 
 
 [Aloud.] This is the noble Charudatta. How could he commit 
 this crime? [He repeats the verse “A countenance like his:”^a^ 
 Ul.] 
 
 Sansthanaka. Why thish partiality in a lawshuit? 
 
 Judge. Away, you fool! 
 
 Illiterate, you gloss the Sacred Law, 
 
 And still your tongue uninjured find? 
 
 The midday sun with steadfast eye you saw, 
 
 And are not straightway stricken blind? 
 
 You thrust your hand into the blazing fire. 
 
 And draw it forth, unscathed and sound? 
 
 Drag Charudatta’s virtue in the mire, 
 
 Nor sink beneath this yawning ground? 21 
 
 How could the noble Charudatta commit a crime? 
 
 Of all the riches of the mighty sea 
 Only the swelling waters now are left, 
 
 Because, without consideration, he— 
 
 For others’ good — himself of all has reft. 
 
 And should this high-souled man, this store-house where 
 All gems of virtue gather and unite, 
 
 For lucre’s sake, so foul a trespass dare 
 
 That in it even his foe could not delight? 22 
 
 Mother. You scoundrel! When the golden casket that was left 
 
r 
 
 144 ACT THE NINTH [w.ies. 
 
 with him as a pledge was stolen by thieves at night, he gave in 
 place of it a pearl necklace that was the pride of the four seas. 
 And he should now, for a mere trifle — for her money! — do this 
 sin? Oh, my child, come back to me, my daughter! [She weeps.] 
 Judge. Noble Charudatta, did she go on foot, or in a bullock- 
 cart? 
 
 Charudatta. I did not see her when she went. Therefore I do not 
 know whether she went on foot, or in a bullock-cart. 
 
 [Enter V Irak a, in anger.] 
 
 Vlraka. My anger was so prodded to the quick 
 By that dishonoring, insulting kick, 
 
 And so I brooded, till at last the night 
 Unwilling yielded to the dawning light. 23 
 
 So now I will go to the court-room. [He enters.] May happiness 
 be the lot of these honorable gentlemen. 
 
 Judge. Ah, it is Vlraka, the captain of the guard. Vlraka, what 
 is the purpose of your coming? 
 
 Vlraka. Well! I was looking for Aryaka, in all the excitement 
 about his escape from prison. I had my suspicions about a covered 
 bullock-cart that was coming, and wanted to look in. “You’ve 
 made one inspection, man, I must make another,” said I, and then 
 I was kicked by the highly respectable Chandanaka. You have 
 heard the matter, gentlemen. The rest is your affair. 
 
 Judge. My good man, do you know to whom the bullock-cart 
 belonged ? 
 
 Vlraka. To this gentleman here, Charudatta. And the driver said 
 that Vasantasena was in it, and was on her way to have a good 
 time in the old garden Pushpakaranda. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Lishten to that, too ! 
 
 Judge. This moon, alas, though spotless-bright, 
 
 Is now eclipsed, and robbed of light; 
 
P. 244.8] 
 
 THE TRIAL 
 
 145 
 
 The bank is fallen; the waves appear 
 
 Befouled, that once were bright and clear. 24 
 
 Viraka, we will investigate your case here later. Mount the horse 
 that stands before the court-room door, go to the garden Push- 
 pakaranda, and see whether a woman has perished there or not. 
 Viraka. Yes, sir. [He goes out, then returns .] I have been there. 
 And I saw the body of a woman, torn by wild beasts. 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. How do you know that it was the body 
 of a woman? 
 
 Viraka. That I perceived from the traces of hair and arms and 
 hands and feet. 
 
 Judge. Alas for the difficulties which are caused by the actions 
 of men ! 
 
 The more one may apply his skill, 
 
 The harder is the matter still ; 
 
 Plain are indeed the law’s demands, 
 
 Yet judgment insecurely stands 
 As some poor cow on shifting sands. 25 
 
 Charudatta. [Aside.'] 
 
 As bees, when flowers begin to blow, 
 
 Gather to sip the honey, so 
 
 When man is marked by adverse fate, 
 
 Misfortunes enter every gate. 26 
 
 Judge. Noble Charudatta, speak truth! 
 
 Charudatta. A mean and jealous creature, passion-blind, 
 
 Sets all his soul, some fatal means to find 
 To slay the man he envies ; shall his lies 
 By evil nature prompted, win the prize? 
 
 No! he is unregarded by the wise. 27 
 
 And more than this: 
 
 The creeper’s beauty would I never blight, 
 
 Nor pluck its flowers; should I not be afraid 
 
146 
 
 ACT THE NINTH 
 
 [149.15 S. 
 
 To seize her hair so lovely-long, and bright 
 
 As wings of bees, and slay a weeping maid ? 28 
 
 Sansthanaka. Hello, magistrates ! How can you investigate the 
 cashe with such partiality? Why, even now you let thish shcoun- 
 drel Charudatta stay on his sheat. 
 
 Judge. My good beadle, so be it. [ The beadle follows Sanstha- 
 naka s suggestion .] 
 
 Charudatta. Consider, magistrates, consider what you are doing! 
 [He leaves his seat, and sits on the floor.] 
 
 Sansthanaka. [. Dancing about gleefully. Aside.] Fine! The shin 
 that I did falls on another man’s head. Sho I ’ll sit where Charu- 
 datta was. [He does so.] Look at me, Charudatta, and confessh 
 that you murdered her. 
 
 Charudatta. Magistrates ! 
 
 A mean and jealous creature, passion-blind, 
 
 Sets all his soul, some fatal means to find 
 To slay the man he envies; shall his lies. 
 
 By evil nature prompted, win the prize? 
 
 No! he is unregarded by the wise. (27) 
 
 [Sighing. Aside.] 
 
 My friend Maitreya! Oh, this cruel blow! 
 
 My wife, thou issue of a spotless strain! 
 
 My Rohasena! Here am I, laid low 
 By sternest fate ; and thou, thou dost not know 
 That all thy childish games are played in vain. 
 
 Thou playest, heedless of another’s pain ! 29 
 
 But Maitreya I sent to Vasantasena, that he might bring me tid- 
 ings of her, and might restore the jewels which she gave my child, 
 to buy him a toy cart. Why then does he linger? 
 
 [Enter Maitreya with the gems.] 
 
 Maitreya. Charudatta bade me go to Vasantasena, to return her 
 
P. 246.19] 
 
 THE TRIAL 
 
 147 
 
 jewels, and he said to me: “Maitreya, Vasantasena adorned my 
 dear Rohasena with her own jewels, and sent him thus to his 
 mother. It was fitting that she should give him the jewels, but 
 not that we should receive them. Therefore restore them to her.” 
 So now I will go to Vasantasena s house. [He walks about and 
 looks around, then speaks to a person behind the scenes .] Ah, it is 
 Master Rebhila. Oh, Master Rebhila, why do you seem so ex- 
 ceedingly troubled? [He listens.] What! do you mean to say that 
 my dear friend Charudatta has been summoned to court? That 
 can hardly be an insignificant matter. [He reflects .] I will go to 
 Vasantasenas house later, but now I will go to the court-room. 
 [He walks about and looks around .] Here is the court-room. I will 
 go in at once. [He enters .] May happiness be the lot of the magis- 
 trates. Where is my friend? 
 
 Judge. Here. 
 
 Maitreya. My friend, I wish you happiness. 
 
 Charudatta. It will be mine. 
 
 Maitreya. And peace. 
 
 Charudatta. That too will be mine. 
 
 Maitreya. My friend, why do you seem so exceedingly troubled? 
 And why were you summoned? 
 
 Charudatta. My friend, 
 
 A scoundrel I, who bear the blame, 
 
 Nor seek in heaven to be blest; 
 
 A maid— or goddess — ’t is the same — 
 
 But he will say the rest. 30 
 
 Maitreya. What? what? 
 
 Charudatta. [ Whispers .] That is it. 
 
 Maitreya. Who says that? 
 
 Charudatta. [Indicating Sansthanaka.] This poor fellow is the in- 
 strument that fate uses to accuse me. 
 
148 
 
 ACT THE NINTH 
 
 [151.12 S. 
 
 Maitreya. [ Aside to Charudatta.] Why don't you simply say that 
 she went home? 
 
 Charudatta. Though I say it, it is not believed, so unfortunate is 
 my condition. 
 
 Maitreya. But gentlemen! He adorned the city of Ujjayini with 
 mansions, cloisters, parks, temples, pools, and fountains, and he 
 should be mad enough to commit such a crime — and for a mere 
 trifle? [IV rathfully.] You offspring of a loose wench, you brother- 
 in-law of the king, Sansthanaka, you libertine, you slanderer, you 
 buffoon, you gilded monkey, say it before me! This friend of mine 
 does n’t even draw a flowering jasmine creeper to himself, to ga- 
 ther the blossoms, for fear that a twig might perhaps be injured. 
 How should he commit a crime like this, which heaven and earth 
 call accursed? Just wait, you son of a bawd! Wait till I split your 
 head into a hundred pieces with this staff of mine, as crooked as 
 your heart. 
 
 Sansthanaka. [Angrily.] Lishten to that, gentlemen! I have a 
 quarrel, or a lawshuit, with Charudatta. What right has a man 
 with a pate that looks like a caret, to shplit my head into a hun- 
 dred pieces? Not much ! You confounded rashcal ! [Maitreya raises 
 his staff and repeats his words. Sansthanaka rises angi'ily and strikes 
 him. Maitreya stf'ikes back. During the scuffle the jewels fall from 
 Maitreya s girdle.] 
 
 Sansthanaka. [Picks up the jewels and examines them. Excitedly.'] 
 Look, gentlemen, look! These are the poor girl’s jewels! [Pointing 
 to Charudatta.] For a trifle like thish he murdered her, and killed 
 her too. [The magistrates all bow their heads.] 
 
 Charudatta. [Aside to Maitreya.] 
 
 ’T is thus my fate would vent its gall, 
 
 That at this moment they should fall. 
 
 These gems — and with them, I. 
 
 Maitreya. But why don't you simply tell the truth ? 
 
 31 
 
P. 250.1] 
 
 Charudatta. My friend. 
 
 THE TRIAL 
 
 149 
 
 The king perceives with blinded eye, 
 Nor on the truth that eye will bend; 
 
 Though telling all, I cannot fly 
 A wretched and inglorious end. 
 
 32 
 
 Judge. Alas! Alas! 
 
 With Mars strives Jupiter, and dies; 
 Beside them both there seems to rise 
 A comet-planet 1 in the skies. 
 
 33 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. [Looking at the casket. To Vasantasenas 
 mother.'] Madam, pray examine this golden casket attentively, to 
 see whether it be the same or not. 
 
 Mother. [Examining the casket.] It is similar, but not the same. 
 Sansthanaka. Oh, you old bawd! You confessh it with your eyes, 
 and deny it with your lips. 
 
 Mother. Away, you scoundrel! 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. Speak carefully. Is it the same or not? 
 Mother. Sir, the craftsman’s skill captivates the eye. But it is not 
 the same. 
 
 Judge. My good woman, do you know these jewels? 
 
 Mother. No, I said. No! I don’t recognize them; but perhaps they 
 were made by the same craftsman. 
 
 Judge. Gild-warden, see! 
 
 Gems often seem alike in many ways, 
 
 When the artist’s mind on form and beauty plays; 
 
 For craftsmen imitate what they have seen, 
 
 And skilful hands remake what once has been. 34 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. Do these jewels belong to Charudatta? 
 Charudatta. Never! 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. To whom then? 
 
 1 This refers to the fallen jewels. 
 
150 
 
 ACT THE NINTH 
 
 [153.12 S. 
 
 Charudatta. To this lady’s daughter. 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. How did she lose them? 
 
 Charudatta. She lost them. Yes, so much is true. 
 
 Gild-warden and Clerk. Charudatta, speak the truth in this mat- 
 ter. For you must remember. 
 
 Truth brings well-being in its train; 
 
 Through speaking truth, no evils rise; 
 
 Truth, precious syllable! — Refrain 
 
 From hiding truth in lies. 35 
 
 Charudatta. The jewels, the jewels! I do not know. But I do know 
 that they were taken from my house. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Firsht you take her into the garden and murder 
 her. And now you hide it by tricky trickinessh. 
 
 Judge. Noble Charudatta, speak the truth! 
 
 Merciless lashes wait to smite 
 
 This moment on thy tender flesh; 
 
 And we — we can but think it right. 36 
 
 Charudatta. Of sinless sires I boast my birth, 
 
 And sin in me was never found; 
 
 Yet if suspicion taints my worth, 
 
 What boots it though my heart be sound? 37 
 [A side. \ And yet I know not what to do with life, so I be robbed 
 of Vasantasena. \Aloud.~\ Ah, why waste words? 
 
 A scoundrel I, who bear the blame, 
 
 Nor think of earth, nor heaven blest; 
 
 That sweetest maid, in passion’s flame — 
 
 But he will say the rest. 38 
 
 Sansthanaka. Killed her! Come, you shay it too. “I killed her." 
 Charudatta. You have said it. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Lishten, my mashters, lishten! He murdered her! No 
 one but him! Doubt is over. Let punishment be inflicted on the 
 body of thish poor Charudatta. 
 
P. 253.1] 
 
 THE TRIAL 
 
 151 
 
 Judge. Beadle, we must do as the king’s brother-in-law says. 
 Guardsmen, lay hold on this Charudatta. \The guardsmen do 50 .] 
 Mother. Be merciful, good gentlemen, be merciful! [She repeats 
 what she had said before, beginning “When the golden casket:” 
 page 143.] If my daughter is killed, she is killed. Let him live for 
 me — bless him! And besides, a lawsuit is a matter between plain- 
 tiff and defendant. I am the real plaintiff. So let him go free ! 
 Sansthanaka. You shlave, get out of the way! What have you got 
 to shay about him ? 
 
 Judge. Go, madam. Guardsmen, conduct her forth. 
 
 Mother. Oh, my child, my son ! [Exit weeping. 
 
 Sansthanaka. [Aside.] I ’ve done shomething worthy of my shelf. 
 Now 1 11 go. [Exit. 
 
 Judge. Noble Charudatta, the decision lies with us, but the rest 
 depends on the king. And yet, beadle, let King Palaka be reminded 
 of this : 
 
 The Brahman who has sinned, our laws declare, 
 
 May not be slain, but banished from the realm, 
 
 And with his wealth entire abroad may fare. 39 
 
 Beadle. Yes, Your Honor. [He goes out, then reenters in tears.] 
 Oh, sirs, I was with the king. And King Palaka says: “Inasmuch 
 as he killed Vasantasena for such a trifle, these same jewels shall 
 be hung about his neck, the drum shall be beaten, he shall be con- 
 ducted to the southern burying-ground, and there impaled.” And 
 whoever else shall commit such a crime, shall be punished with 
 the like dreadful doom. 
 
 Charudatta. Oh, how wanton is this act of King Palaka! Never- 
 theless, 
 
 Although his counsellors may plunge a king 
 Into injustice’ dangers great. 
 
 Yet he will reap the woe and suffering; 
 
 And ’t is a righteous fate. 
 
 And more than this : 
 
 40 
 
152 
 
 ACT THE NINTH 
 
 [155.10 S. 
 
 They who pervert the king’s true bent, 
 
 The white crow’s part who play, 
 
 Have slain their thousands innocent, 
 
 And slay, and slay, and slay. 41 
 
 My friend Maitreya, go, greet the mother of my son in my name 
 for the last time. And keep my son Rohasena free from harm. 
 Maitreya. When the root is cut away, how can the tree be saved? 
 Charudatta. No, not so. 
 
 When man departs to worlds above, 
 
 In living son yet liveth he; 
 
 Bestow on Rohasena love 
 
 No less than that thou gavest me. 42 
 
 Maitreya. Oh, my friend ! I will prove myself your friend by con- 
 tinuing the life that you leave unfinished. 
 
 Charudatta. And let me see Rohasena for a single moment. 
 Maitreya. I will. It is but fitting. 
 
 Judge. My good beadle, remove this man. [ The beadle does so.] 
 Who is there ? Let the headsmen receive their orders. [ The guards- 
 men loose their hold on Charudatta, and all of them go out.] 
 Beadle. Come with me, sir. 
 
 Charudatta. [Mournfully repeats the verse, page 146, beginning 
 “My friend Maitreya!” Then, as if speaking to one not present.] 
 
 If you had proved my conduct by the fire, 
 
 By water, poison, scales, and thus had known 
 That I deserved that saws should bite my bone. 
 
 My Brahman’s frame, more could I not desire. 
 
 You trust a foeman, slay me thus? ’T is well. 
 
 With sons, and sons’ sons, now you plunge to hell ! 43 
 
 I come! I come! [Exeunt omnes. 
 
ACT THE TENTH 
 
 THE END 
 
 [ Enter Charudatta, accompanied by two headsmen .] 
 
 Headsmen. fr'HEN think no longer of the pain; 
 
 A In just a second you ’ll be slain. 
 
 We understand the fashions new 
 To fetter you and kill you too. 
 
 In chopping heads we never fail, 
 
 Nor when the victim we impale. 1 
 
 Out of the way, gentlemen, out of the way! This is the noble 
 Charudatta. 
 
 The oleander on his brow, 
 
 In headsmen’s hands you see him now; 
 
 Like a lamp whose oil runs nearly dry, 
 
 His light fades gently, ere it die. 2 
 
 Charudatta. [Gloomily.] 
 
 My body wet by tear-drops falling, falling; 
 
 My limbs polluted by the clinging mud; 
 
 Flowers from the graveyard torn, my wreath appalling; 
 
 For ghastly sacrifice hoarse ravens calling, 
 
 And for the fragrant incense of my blood. 3 
 
 Headsmen. Out of the way, gentlemen, out of the way! 
 
 Why gaze upon the good man so ? 
 
 The ax of death soon lays him low. 
 
 Yet good men once sought shelter free, 
 
 Like birds, upon this kindly tree. 4 
 
 Come, Charudatta, come! 
 
 Charudatta. Incalculable are the ways of human destiny, that I 
 am come to such a plight! 
 
 Red marks of hands in sandal paste 
 O’er all my body have been placed; 
 
154 
 
 ACT THE TENTH 
 
 [157.19 S. 
 
 The man, with meal and powder strewn, 
 
 . Is now to beast of offering grown. 5 
 
 [He gazes intently before him.'] Alas for human differences! 
 [Mournfully.] 
 
 For when they see the fate that I must brave, 
 
 With tears for death’s poor victim freely given, 
 
 The citizens cry “shame,” yet cannot save, — 
 
 Can only pray that I attain to heaven. 6 
 
 Headsmen. Out of the way, gentlemen, out of the way! Why do 
 you gaze upon him? 
 
 God Indra moving through the sky, 1 
 The calving cow, the falling star, 
 
 The good man when he needs must die, — 
 
 These four behold not from afar. 7 
 
 Goha. Look, Ahinta! Look, man! 
 
 While he, of citizens the best, 
 
 Goes to his death at fate’s behest, 
 
 Does heaven thus weep that he must die ? 
 
 Does lightning paint the cloudless sky ? 8 
 
 Ahinta. Goha, man, 
 
 The heaven weeps not that he must die, 
 
 Nor lightning paints the cloudless sky; 
 
 Yet streams are falling constantly 
 
 From many a woman’s clouded eye. 9 
 
 And again : 
 
 While this poor victim to his death is led, 
 
 No man nor woman here but sorely weeps; 
 
 And so the dust, by countless tear-drops fed, 
 
 Thus peacefully upon the highway sleeps. 10 
 
 Charudatta. [ Gazes intently. Mournfully.] 
 
 These women, in their palaces who stay, 
 
 From half-shut windows peering, thus lament, 
 
 1 That is, the lightning. 
 
P. 258.12] 
 
 THE END 
 
 155 
 
 “Alas for Charudatta! Woe the day!” 
 
 And pity-streaming eyes on me are bent. 11 
 
 Headsmen. Come, Charudatta, come! Here is the place of procla- 
 mation. Beat the drum and proclaim the sentence. 
 
 Listen, good people, listen! This is the noble Charudatta, son 
 of Sagaradatta, and grandson of the merchant Yinayadatta. This 
 malefactor enticed the courtezan Vasantasena into the deserted 
 old garden Pushpakaranda, and for a mere trifle murdered her by 
 strangling. He was taken with the booty, and confessed his guilt. 
 Therefore are we under orders from King Palaka to execute him. 
 And if any other commit such a crime, accursed in this world and 
 the next, him too King Palaka condemns to the like punishment. 
 Charudatta. [Despondently. Aside . ] 
 
 By hundred sacrifices purified, 
 
 My radiant name 
 
 W as once proclaimed by countless altars’ side. 
 
 And knew no blame. 
 
 Now comes my hour of death, and evil men 
 Of baser fame 
 
 In public spots proclaim it once again, 
 
 But linked with shame. 12 
 
 [He looks up and stops his ears. ] Vasantasena! Oh, my beloved! 
 
 From thy dear lips, that vied with coral’s red, 
 
 Betraying teeth more bright than moonbeams fair, 
 
 My soul with heaven’s nectar once was fed. 
 
 How can I, helpless, taste that poison dread, 
 
 To drink shame’s poisoned cup how can I bear? 13 
 Headsmen. Out of the way, gentlemen, out of the way! 
 
 This treasure-house, with pearls of virtue stored, 
 
 This bridge for good men o’er misfortune’s river, 
 
 This gem now robbed of all its golden hoard, 
 
 Departs our town to-day, departs forever. 
 
 And again : 
 
 14 
 
156 
 
 ACT THE TENTH 
 
 [159.15 S. 
 
 Whom fortune favors, find 
 That all the world is kind ; 
 
 Whose happy days are ended. 
 
 Are rarely thus befriended. 15 
 
 Charudatta. [ Looks about him.] 
 
 Their faces with their garments’ hem now hiding, 
 
 They stand afar, whom once I counted friends: 
 
 Even foes have smiles for men with Fortune biding; 
 
 But friends prove faithless when good fortune ends. 16 
 Headsmen. They are out of the way. The street is cleared. Lead 
 on the condemned criminal. 
 
 Charudatta. [Sighing.] 
 
 My friend Maitreya! Oh, this cruel blow! 
 
 My wife, thou issue of a spotless strain! 
 
 My Rohasena! Here am I, laid low 
 By sternest fate; and thou, thou dost not know 
 That all thy childish games are played in vain. 
 
 Thou playest, heedless of another’s pain! (ix. 29) 
 
 Voices behind the scenes. My father! Oh, my friend! 
 
 Charudatta. [Listens. Mournfully.] You are a leader in your own 
 caste. I would beg a favor at your hands. 
 
 Headsmen. From our hands you would receive a favor? 
 Charudatta. Heaven forbid! Yet a headsman is neither so wanton 
 nor so cruel as King Palaka. That I may be happy in the other 
 world, I ask to see the face of my son. 
 
 Headsinen. So be it. 
 
 A voice behind the scenes. My father! oh, my father! [Charudatta 
 hears the words, and mournfully repeats his request.] 
 
 Headsmen. Citizens, make way a moment. Let the noble Charu- 
 datta look upon the face of his son. [ Turning to the back of the 
 stage.] This way, sir! Come on, little boy! 
 
P. 261.15] 
 
 THE END 
 
 157 
 
 [Enter Maitreya, with Rohasena .] 
 
 Maitreya. Make haste, my boy, make haste! Your father is being 
 led to his death. 
 
 Rohasena. My father! oh, my father! 
 
 Maitreya. Oh, my friend! Where must I behold you now? 
 Charudatta. [. Perceives his son and his friend .] Alas, my son! Alas, 
 Maitreya! [. Mournfully .] Ah, woe is me! 
 
 Long, too long, shall I thirst in vain 
 Through all my sojourn dread; 
 
 This vessel 1 small will not contain 
 
 The water for the dead. 17 
 
 What may I give my son? [He looks at himself, and perceives the 
 sacrificial cord.~\ Ah, this at least is mine. 
 
 The precious cord that Brahmans hold 
 Is unadorned with pearls and gold ; 
 
 Yet, girt therewith, they sacrifice 
 To gods above and fathers 2 old. 18 
 
 [He gives Rohasena the cord . ] 
 
 Goha. Come, Charudatta! Come, man! 
 
 Ahlnta. Man, do you name the noble Charudatta’s name, and for- 
 get the title? Remember: 
 
 In happy hours, in death, by night, by day, 
 
 Roving as free as a yet unbroken colt, 
 
 Fate wanders on her unrestricted way. 19 
 
 And again: 
 
 Life will depart his body soon ; 
 
 Shall our reproaches bow his head ? 
 
 Although eclipse may seize the moon, 
 
 We worship while it seems but dead. 20 
 
 Rohasena. Oh, headsmen, where are you leading my father? 
 
 1 Rohasena is himself conceived as the receptacle of the water which a son must pour as a 
 drink-offering to his dead father. 2 The Manes or spirits of the blessed dead. 
 
158 
 
 ACT THE TENTH 
 
 [161.10 S. 
 
 Charudatta. My darling. 
 
 About my neck I needs must wear 
 The oleander- wreath ; 
 
 Upon my shoulder I must bear 
 The stake, and in my heart the care 
 Of near-approaching death. 
 
 I go to-day to meet a dastard’s ending, 
 
 A victim, at the fatal altar bending. 21 
 
 Goha. My boy, 
 
 Not we the headsmen are, 
 
 Though born of headsman race; 
 
 Thy father’s life who mar, 
 
 These, these are headsmen base. 22 
 
 Rohasena. Then why do you murder my father? 
 
 Goha. Bless you, ’t is the king’s orders must bear the blame, not we. 
 Rohasena. Kill me, and let father go free. 
 
 Goha. Bless you, may you live long for saying that! 
 
 Charudatta. [ Tearfully embracing his son.'] 
 
 This treasure — love — this taste of heaven, 
 
 To rich and poor alike is given; 
 
 Than sandal better, or than balm, 
 
 To soothe the heart and give it calm. 28 
 
 About my neck I needs must wear 
 The oleander-wreath. 
 
 Upon my shoulder I must bear 
 The stake, and in my heart the care 
 Of near-approaching death. 
 
 I go to-day to meet a dastard’s ending, 
 
 A victim, at the fatal altar bending. (21) 
 
 [He looks about. Aside.] 
 
 Their faces with their garments’ hem now hiding. 
 
 They stand afar, whom once I counted friends: 
 
P. 264.7] 
 
 THE END 
 
 159 
 
 Even foes have smiles (16) 
 
 Mciitreya. My good men, let my dear friend Charudatta go free, 
 and kill me instead. 
 
 Charudatta . Heaven forbid! [ He looks about. Aside!] Now I un- 
 derstand. 
 
 for men with Fortune biding; 
 
 But friends prove faithless when good fortune ends. (16) 
 [A loud.] These women, in their palaces who stay, 
 
 From half-shut windows peering, thus lament, 
 “Alas for Charudatta! Woe the day!” 
 
 And pity-streaming eyes on me are bent. (11) 
 
 Goha. Out of the way, gentlemen, out of the way! 
 
 Why gaze upon the good man so, 
 
 When shame his living hope lays low? 
 
 The cord was broken at the well, 
 
 And down the golden pitcher fell. 24 
 
 Charudatta. [. Mournfully .] 
 
 From thy dear lips, that vied with coral’s red. 
 
 Betraying teeth more bright than moonbeams fair, 
 My soul with heaven’s nectar once was fed. 
 
 How can I, helpless, taste that poison dread, 
 
 To drink shame’s poisoned cup how can I bear? (13) 
 
 Ahinta. Proclaim the sentence again, man. [ Goha does so.] 
 
 Charud. So lowly fallen ! till shame my virtues blur, 
 
 Till such an ending seem not loss, but gain! 
 
 Yet o’er my heart there creeps a saddening pain, 
 
 To hear them cry abroad “ You murdered her!" 25 
 
 [ Enter Sthavar aka, fettered, in the palace tower .] 
 Sthavaraka. [ After listening to the proclamation. In distress.] 
 What! the innocent Charudatta is being put to death? And my 
 master has thrown me into chains! Well, I must shout to them. 
 — Listen, good gentlemen, listen ! It was I, wretch that I am, who 
 
160 
 
 ACT THE TENTH 
 
 [162.18 S. 
 
 carried Vasantasena to the old garden Pushpakaranda, because 
 she mistook my bullock-cart for another. And then my master, 
 Sansthanaka, found that she would not love him, and it was he, 
 not this gentleman, who murdered her by strangling. — But they 
 are so far away that no one hears me. What shall I do? Shall I cast 
 myself down? [He reflects .] If I do, then the noble Charudatta 
 will not be put to death. Yes, through this broken window I will 
 throw myself down from the palace tower. Better that I should 
 meet my end, than that the noble Charudatta should iperish, this 
 tree of life for noble youths. And if I die in such a cause, I have 
 attained heaven. [He throws himself down.] W onderful ! I did not 
 meet my end, and my fetters are broken. So I will follow the 
 sound of the headsmen’s voices. [He discovers the headsmen, and 
 hastens forward .] Headsmen, headsmen, make way ! 
 
 Headsmen. For whom shall we make way? 
 
 Sthavaraka. Listen, good gentlemen, listen! It was I, wretch that 
 I am, who carried Vasantasena to the old garden Pushpakaranda, 
 because she mistook my bullock-cart for another. And then my 
 master, Sansthanaka, found that she would not love him, and it 
 was he, not this gentleman, who murdered her by strangling. 
 Charudatta. Thank heaven! 
 
 But who thus gladdens this my latest morn, 
 When in Time’s snare I struggle all forlorn, 
 A streaming cloud above the rainless corn ? 
 
 26 
 
 Listen ! do you hear what I say ? 
 
 Death have I never feared, but blackened fame ; 
 My death were welcome, coming free from shame, 
 As were a son, new-born to bear my name. 
 
 27 
 
 And again: 
 
 That small, weak fool, whom I have never hated, 
 Stained me with sin wherewith himself was mated, 
 An arrow, with most deadly poison baited. 
 
 28 
 
 Headsmen. Are you telling the truth, Sthavaraka ? 
 
P. <266.13] 
 
 THE END 
 
 161 
 
 Sthavaraka. I am. And to keep me from telling anybody, he cast 
 me into chains, and imprisoned me in the tower of his palace. 
 
 [. Enter Sansthanaka.] 
 
 Sansthanaka. [ Gleefully .] 
 
 I ate a shour and bitter dish 
 
 Of meat and herbs and shoup and fish ; 
 
 I tried at home my tongue to tickle 
 
 With rice-cakes plain, and rice with treacle. 29 
 
 [He listens .] The headsmen’s voices ! They shound like a broken 
 brass cymbal. I hear the music of the fatal drum and the kettle- 
 drums, and sho I shuppose that that poor man, Charudatta, is 
 being led to the place of execution. I musht go and shee it. It is 
 a great delight to shee my enemy die. Beshides, I ’ve heard that 
 a man who shees his enemy being killed, is sure not to have shore 
 eyes in his next birth. I acted like a worm that had crept into the 
 knot of a lotush-root. I looked for a hole to crawl out at, and 
 brought about the death of thish poor man, Charudatta. N ow I ’ll 
 climb up the tower of my own palace, and have a look at my 
 own heroic deeds. [He does so and looks about.] Wonderful what 
 a crowd there is, to shee that poor man led to his death! What 
 would it be when an arishtocrat, a big man like me, was being 
 led to his death ? [He gazes.] Look ! There he goes toward the 
 shouth, adorned like a young shteer. But why was the proclama- 
 tion made near my palace tower, and why was it shtopped ? [He 
 looks about.] Why, my shlave Sthavaraka is gone, too. I hope he 
 has n’t run away and betrayed the shecret. I musht go and look for 
 him. [He descends and approaches the crowd.] 
 
 Sthavaraka. [Discovers him.] There he comes, good masters ! 
 Headsmen. Give way! Make room! And shut the door! 
 
 Be silent, and say nothing more! 
 
 Here comes a mad bull through the press, 
 
 Whose horns are sharp with wickedness. 
 
 30 
 
162 
 
 ACT THE TENTH 
 
 [164.16 S. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Come, come, make way! [He approaches .] Sthava- 
 raka, my little shon, my shlave, come, let ’s go home. 
 
 Sthavaraka. You scoundrel! Are you not content with the murder 
 of Yasantasena? Must you try now to murder the noble Charu- 
 datta, that tree of life to all who loved him ? 
 
 Sansthanaka. I am beautiful as a pot of jewels. I kill no woman ! 
 Bystanders. Oho! you murdered her, not the noble Charudatta. 
 Sansthanaka. Who shays that? 
 
 Bystanders. [Pointing to Sthavaraka .] This honest man. 
 Sansthanaka. [Fearfully. Aside .] Merciful heavens! Why didn’t 
 I chain that shlave Sthavaraka fasht? Why, he was a witnessh of 
 my crime. [He reflects .] I ’ll do it thish way. [A loud.] Lies, lies, 
 good gentlemen. Why, I caught the shlave shtealing gold, and I 
 pounded him, and murdered him, and put him in chains. He hates 
 me. What he shays can’t be true. [He secretly hands Sthavaraka 
 a bracelet, and whispers .] Sthavaraka, my little shon, my shlave, 
 take thish and shay shomething different. 
 
 Sthavaraka. [Takes it.] Look, gentlemen, look! Why, he is trying 
 to bribe me with gold. 
 
 Sansthanaka. [Snatches the bracelet from him.] That ’s the gold that 
 I put him in chains for. [Angrily.] Look here, headsmen! I put 
 him in charge of my gold-chest, and when he turned thief, I mur- 
 dered him and pounded him. If you don’t believe it, jusht look 
 at his back. 
 
 Headsmen. [Doing so.] Yes, yes. When a servant is branded that 
 way, no wonder he tells tales. 
 
 Sthavaraka. A curse on slavery! A slave convinces nobody. 
 [31ournfully.] Noble Charudatta, I have no further power. [He 
 falls at Charudatta s feet.] 
 
 Charudatta. [Mournfully.] 
 
 Rise, rise! Kind soul to good men fallen on pain! 
 
 Brave friend who lendest such unselfish aid ! 
 
P. 270.15] 
 
 THE END 
 
 163 
 
 Thy greatest toil to save me was in vain, 
 
 For fate would not. Thy duty now is paid. 31 
 
 Headsmen. Beat your servant, master, and drive him away. 
 Sansthanaka. Out of the way, you! [He drives Sthavaraka away.] 
 Come, headsmen, what are you waiting for? Kill him. 
 
 Headsmen. Kill him yourself, if you are in a hurry. 
 
 Rohasena. Oh, headsmen, kill me and let father go free. 
 Sansthanaka. Yesh, shon and father, kill them both. 
 
 Charudatta. This fool might do anything. Go, my son, to your 
 mother. 
 
 Rohasena. And what should I do then ? 
 
 Charud. Go with thy mother to a hermitage; 
 
 No moment, dear, delay; 
 
 Lest of thy father’s fault thou reap the wage, 
 
 And tread the selfsame way. 32 
 
 And you, my friend, go with him. 
 
 Maitreya. Oh, my friend, have you so known me as to think that 
 I can live without you ? 
 
 Charudatta. Not so, my friend. Your life is your own. You may 
 not throw it away. 
 
 Maitreya. [Aside.] True. And yet I cannot live apart from my 
 friend. And so, when I have taken the boy to his mother, I will 
 follow my friend even in death. [Aloud.] Yes, my friend, I will 
 take him to her at once. [He embraces Charudatta, then falls at 
 his feet. Rohasena does the same, weeping.] 
 
 Sansthanaka. Look here ! Did n’t I tell you to kill Charudatta, and 
 his shon, too? [At this, Charudatta betrays fear.] 
 
 Headsmen. W e have n’t any orders from the king to kill Charu- 
 datta, and his son, too. Run away, boy, run away! [They drive 
 Rohasena away.] Here is the third place of proclamation. Beat the 
 drum! [They proclaim the sentence again.] 
 
164 
 
 ACT THE TENTH 
 
 [167.1 S. 
 
 Sansthanaka. [Aside.'] But the citizens don’t believe it. [Aloud.] 
 Charudatta, you jackanapes, the citizens don’t believe it. Shay it 
 with your own tongue, “I murdered Vasantasena.” [Charudatta re- 
 mains silent.] Look here, headsmen! The man won’t shpeak, the 
 jackanapes Charudatta. Jusht make him shpeak. Beat him a few 
 times with thish ragged bamboo, or with a chain. 
 
 Goha. [Raises his arm to strike.] Come, Charudatta, speak ! 
 Charudatta. [Mournfully.] 
 
 Now am I sunk so deep in sorrow’s sea, 
 
 I know no fear, I know no sadness more; 
 
 Yet even now one flame still tortures me, 
 
 That men should say I slew whom I adore. 33 
 [Sansthanaka repeats his words.] 
 
 Charudatta. Men of my own city! 
 
 A scoundrel I, who bear the blame, 
 
 Nor seek in heaven to be blest; 
 
 A maid — or goddess — t is the same — 
 
 But he will say the rest. (ix. 30) 
 
 Sansthanaka. Killed her! 
 
 Charudatta. So be it. 
 
 Goha. It ’s your turn to kill him, man. 
 
 Ahlnta. No, yours. 
 
 Goha. Well, let ’s reckon it out. [He does so at great length.] Well, 
 if it ’s my turn to kill him, we will just let it wait a minute. 
 Ahlnta. Why? 
 
 Goha. Well, when my father was going to heaven, he said to me, 
 “ Son Goha, if it s your turn to kill him, don’t kill the sinner too 
 quick.” 
 
 Ahlnta. But why? 
 
 Goha. “Perhaps,” said he, “some good man might give the money 
 to set him free. Perhaps a son might be born to the king, and to 
 celebrate the event, all the prisoners might be set free. Perhaps 
 
P. 274.8] 
 
 THE END 
 
 1G5 
 
 an elephant might break loose, and the prisoner might escape in 
 the excitement. Perhaps there might be a change of kings, and all 
 the prisoners might be set free.” 
 
 Sansthanaka. What? What? A change of kings? 
 
 Goha. W ell, let ’s reckon it out, whose turn it is. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Oh, come! Kill Charudatta at once. [He takes Stha- 
 varaka, and withdraws a little .] 
 
 Headsmen. Noble Charudatta, it is the king’s commandment that 
 bears the blame, not we headsmen. Think then of what you needs 
 must think. 
 
 Charudatta. Though slandered by a cruel fate, 
 
 And stained by men of high estate, 
 
 If that my virtue yet regarded be, 
 
 Then she who dwells with gods above 
 Or wheresoever else — my love — 
 
 By her sweet nature wipe the stain from me! 34 
 Tell me. Whither would you have me go? 
 
 Goha. [Pointing ahead.] Why, here is the southern burying- 
 ground, and when a criminal sees that, he says good-by to life in 
 a minute. For look! 
 
 One half the corpse gaunt jackals rend and shake, 
 
 And ply their horrid task; 
 
 One half still hangs impaled upon the stake, 
 
 Loud laughter’s grinning mask. 35 
 
 Charudatta. Alas! Ah, woe is me! [In his agitation he sits down.] 
 Sansthanaka. I won't go yet. I ’ll jusht shee Charudatta killed. [He 
 walks about, gazing.] Well, well! He shat down. 
 
 Goha. Are you frightened, Charudatta? 
 
 Charudatta. [Rising hastily.] Fool! 
 
 Death have I never feared, but blackened fame; 
 
 My death were welcome, coming free from shame, 
 
 As were a son, new-born to bear my name. 
 
 (27) 
 
166 
 
 ACT THE TENTH 
 
 [169.3 S. 
 
 Goha. Noble Charudatta, the moon and the sun dwell in the vault 
 of heaven, yet even they are overtaken by disaster. How much 
 more, death-fearing creatures, and men! In this world, one rises 
 only to fall, another falls only to rise again. But from him who has 
 risen and falls, his body drops like a garment. Lay these thoughts 
 to heart, and be strong. [To Ahlnta.] Here is the fourth place of 
 proclamation. Let us proclaim the sentence. [They do so once 
 again.] 
 
 Charudatta. Vasantasena! Oh, my beloved! 
 
 From thy dear lips, that vied with coral’s red, 
 
 Betraying teeth more bright than moonbeams fair, 
 
 My soul with heaven’s nectar once was fed. 
 
 How can I, helpless, taste that poison dread, 
 
 To drink shame’s poisoned cup how can I bear? (13) 
 
 [Enter, in gi'eat agitation, Vasantasena and the Buddhist monk.] 
 Monk. Strange! My monkish life did me yeoman service when it 
 proved necessary to comfort Vasantasena, so untimely wearied, and 
 to lead her on her way. Sister in Buddha, whither shall I lead you? 
 Vasantasena. To the noble Charudatta’s house. Revive me with 
 the sight of him, as the night-blooming water-lily is revived by 
 the sight of the moon. 
 
 Monk. [Aside.] By which road shall I enter? [He reflects.] The 
 king’s highway — I’ll enter by that. Come, sister in Buddha! 
 Here is the king’s highway. [Listening.] But what is this great 
 tumult that I hear on the king’s highway? 
 
 Vasantasena. [Looking before her.] Why, there is a great crowd 
 of people before us. Pray find out, sir, what it means. All Ujjayinl 
 tips to one side, as if the earth bore an uneven load. 
 
 Goha. And here is the last place of proclamation. Beat the drum! 
 Proclaim the sentence! [They do so.] Now, Charudatta, wait! 
 Don’t be frightened. You will be killed very quickly. 
 
P. 277.12] 
 
 THE END 
 
 167 
 
 Charudatta. Ye blessed gods! 
 
 Monk. [ Listens . In terror .] Sister in Buddha, Charudatta is being 
 led to his death for murdering you. 
 
 Vasantasena. [In terror. ] Alas! For my wretched sake the noble 
 Charudatta put to death ? Quick, quick ! Oh, lead me thither ! 
 Monk. Hasten, oh, hasten, sister in Buddha, to comfort the noble 
 Charudatta while he yet lives. Make way, gentlemen, make way ! 
 Vasantasena. Make way, make way! 
 
 Goha. Noble Charudatta, it is the king’s commandment that bears 
 the blame. Think then of what you needs must think. 
 Charudatta. Why waste words? 
 
 Though slandered by a cruel fate, 
 
 And stained by men of high estate, 
 
 If that my virtue yet regarded be, 
 
 Then she who dwells with gods above 
 Or wheresoever else — my love — 
 
 By her sweet nature wipe the stain from me! (34) 
 Goha. [. Drawing his sword.] Noble Charudatta, lie flat and be 
 quiet. With one stroke we will kill you and send you to heaven. 
 [Charudatta does so. Goha raises his arm to strike. The sword falls 
 from his hand.] What is this? 
 
 I fiercely grasped within my hand 
 My thunderbolt-appalling brand; 
 
 Why did it fall upon the sand ? 36 
 
 But since it did, I conclude that the noble Charudatta is not to 
 die. Have mercy, O mighty goddess of the Sahya hills! If only 
 Charudatta might be saved, then hadst thou shown favor to our 
 headsman caste. 
 
 Ahinta. Let us do as we were ordered. 
 
 Goha. Well, let us do it. [They make ready to impale Charudatta.] 
 
168 
 
 ACT THE TENTH 
 
 [170.23 S. 
 
 Charud. Though slandered by a cruel fate, 
 
 And stained by men of high estate, 
 
 If that my virtue yet regarded be, 
 
 Then she who dwells with gods above 
 Or wheresoever else — my love — 
 
 By her sweet nature wipe the stain from me! (34) 
 
 Monk and Vasantasen a. [ Perceiving what is being done.] Good 
 gentlemen! Hold, hold! 
 
 Vasantasena. Good gentlemen ! I am the wretch for whose sake 
 he is put to death. 
 
 Goha. [ Perceiving her.] 
 
 Who is the woman with the streaming hair 
 
 That smites her shoulder, loosened from its bands ? 
 
 She loudly calls upon us to forbear, 
 
 And hastens hither with uplifted hands. 37 
 
 Vasantasena. Oh, Charudatta! What does it mean? [She falls on 
 his breast. ] 
 
 Monk. Oh, Charudatta! What does it mean? [He falls at his feet.] 
 Goha. [Anxiously withdrawing .] Vasantasena? — At least, we did 
 not kill an innocent man. 
 
 Monk. [Rising.] Thank heaven ! Charudatta lives. 
 
 Goha. And shall live a hundred years! 
 
 Vasantasena. [Joyfully.] And I too am brought back to life again. 
 Goha. The king is at the place of sacrifice. Let us report to him 
 what has taken place. [The two headsmen start to go away.] 
 Sansthanaka. [Perceives Vasantasena. In terror.] Goodnessh ! who 
 brought the shlave back to life? Thish is the end of me. Good! 
 I ’ll run away. [He runs away.] 
 
 Goha. [Returning.] Well, did n’t we have orders from the king to 
 put the man to death who murdered Vasantasena? Let us hunt 
 for the king’s brother-in-law. [Exeunt the tivo headsmen. 
 
P. 281 . 1 ] 
 
 THE END 
 
 109 
 
 Charudatta. [In amazement .] 
 
 Who saves me from the uplifted weapon’s scorn, 
 
 When in Death’s jaws I struggled all forlorn, 
 
 A streaming cloud above the rainless corn? 38 
 
 [He gazes at her.] 
 
 Is this Vasantasena’s counterfeit? 
 
 Or she herself, from heaven above descended? 
 
 Or do I but in madness see my sweet? 
 
 Or has her precious life not yet been ended ? 39 
 
 Or again : Did she return from heaven, 
 
 That I might rescued be ? 
 
 Was her form to another given? 
 
 Is this that other she? 40 
 
 Vasantasena. [Rises tearfully and falls at kis feet.] O noble Cha- 
 rudatta, I am indeed the wretch for whose sake you are fallen 
 upon this unworthy plight. 
 
 Voices behind the scenes. A miracle, a miracle ! Vasantasena lives. 
 [The bystanders repeat the words.] 
 
 Charudatta. [Listens, then rises suddenly, embraces Vasantasena, 
 and closes his eyes. In a voice trembling with emotion.] My love! 
 You are Vasantasena! 
 
 Vasantasena. That same unhappy woman. 
 
 Charudatta. [Gazes upon her. Joyfully.] Can it be? Vasantasena 
 herself? [In utter happiness.] 
 
 Her bosom bathed in streaming tears, 
 
 When in Death’s power I fell, 
 
 Whence is she come to slay my fears, 
 
 Like heavenly magic’s spell? 41 
 
 Vasantasena! Oh, my beloved! 
 
 Unto my body, whence the life was fleeting, 
 
 And all for thee, thou knewest life to give. 
 
 Oh, magic wonderful in lovers’ meeting! 
 
 What power besides could make the dead man live? 42 
 
170 
 
 ACT THE TENTH 
 
 [172.17 S. 
 
 But see, my beloved! 
 
 My blood-red garment seems a bridegroom’s cloak, 
 Death’s garland seems to me a bridal wreath; 
 
 My love is near. 
 
 And marriage music seems the fatal stroke 
 Of drums that heralded my instant death ; 
 
 For she is here. 43 
 
 Vasantasena. You with your utter kindliness, what can it be that 
 you have done? 
 
 Charudatta. My beloved, he said that 1 had killed you. 
 
 For ancient hatred’s sake, my mighty foe, 
 
 Hell’s victim now, had almost laid me low. 44 
 
 Vasantasena. [Stopping her ears.] Heaven avert the omen ! It was 
 he, the king’s brother-in-law, who killed me. 
 
 Charudatta. [. Perceiving the monk.'] But who is this ? 
 
 Vasantasena. When that unworthy wretch had killed me, this 
 worthy man brought me back to life. 
 
 Charudatta. Who are you, unselfish friend ? 
 
 Monk. You do not remember me, sir. I am that shampooer, who 
 once was happy to rub your feet. When I fell into the hands of 
 certain gamblers, this sister in Buddha, upon hearing that I had 
 been your servant, bought my freedom with her jewels. There- 
 upon I grew tired of the gambler’s life, and became a Buddhist 
 monk. Now this lady made a mistake in her bullock-cart, and so 
 came to the old garden Pushpakaranda. But when that unworthy 
 wretch learned that she would not love him, he murdered her by 
 strangling. And I found her there. 
 
 Loud voices behind the scenes. 
 
 Unending victory to Shiva be, 
 
 Who Daksha’s offering foiled; 
 
 And victory may Karttikeya see. 
 
 Who Krauncha smote and spoiled ; 
 
P. 283.11] 
 
 THE END 
 
 171 
 
 And victory to Aryaka the king — 
 
 His mighty foe he kills — 
 
 Far over all the earth’s expansive ring, 
 
 That earth her joyous flag abroad may fling, 
 
 The snowy banner of Kailasa’s hills. 45 
 
 [ Enter hurriedly Sharvilaka .] 
 
 Sharv. Yes, Palaka, the royal wretch, I slew, 
 
 Anointing Aryaka good king and true ; 
 
 And now, like sacrificial flowers, I wed 
 The king’s commandment to my bended head, 
 
 To give sad Charudatta life anew. 46 
 
 The foe whose powers and friends had fled, he slew, 
 Consoled and comforted his subjects true; 
 
 And earth’s broad sovereignty has gladly wed 
 His power, and bent to him her lowly head, 
 
 Who toward his foe plays Indra’s part anew. 47 
 
 [He looks before him.'] Ah! There he will be found, where the 
 people are thus gathered together. Oh, that this deed of King 
 Aryaka might be crowned with the rescued life of noble Charu- 
 datta ! [He quickens his steps.] Make way, you rascals ! [He discovers 
 Charudatta. Joyfully.] Is Charudatta yet living, and Vasantasena? 
 Truly, our sovereign’s wishes are fulfilled. 
 
 Now, thanks to heaven, from sorrow’s shoreless sea 
 I see him saved by her he loved, set free 
 By that sweet bark, that knew her course to steer 
 With virtue’s tackle and with goodness’ gear. 
 
 He seems the moon, whose light shines clear at last. 
 When all the sad eclipse is overpast. 48 
 
 Yet how shall I approach him, who have so grievously sinned 
 against him? But no! Honesty is always honorable. [He ap- 
 proaches and folds his hands. Aloud.] O noble Charudatta! 
 Charudatta. Who are you, sir? 
 
172 ACT THE TENTH [miss. 
 
 Sharvilaka. I forced your house in manner base, 
 
 And stole the gems there left behind; 
 
 But though this sin oppress my mind, 
 
 I throw myself upon your grace. 49 
 
 Charudatta. Not so, my friend. Thereby you showed your faith 
 in me. [He embraces him .] 
 
 Sharvilaka. And one thing more: 
 
 The very noble Aryaka, 
 
 To save his family and name, 
 
 Has slain the wretched Palaka, 
 
 A victim at the altar’s flame. 50 
 
 Charudatta. What say you? 
 
 Sharvilaka. ’T was your cart helped him on his way, 
 
 Who sought the shelter of your name ; 
 
 He slew King Palaka to-day, 
 
 A victim at the altar’s flame. 51 
 
 Charudatta. Sharvilaka, did you set free that Aryaka, whom Pa- 
 laka took from his hamlet, and confined without cause in the tower? 
 Sharvilaka. I did. 
 
 Charudatta. This is indeed most welcome tidings. 
 
 Sharvilaka. Scarcely was your friend Aryaka established in Ujja- 
 yinl, when he bestowed upon you the throne of Kushavati, on 
 the bank of the Vena. May you graciously receive this first token 
 of his love. [He turns around .] Come, lead hither that rascal, that 
 villain, the brother-in-law of the king! 
 
 Voices behind the scenes. We will, Sharvilaka. 
 
 Sharvilaka. Sir, King Aryaka declares that he won this kingdom 
 through your virtues, and that you are therefore to have some 
 benefit from it. 
 
 Charudatta. The kingdom won through my virtues? 
 
 Voices behind the scenes. Come on, brother-in-law of the king, and 
 
THE END 
 
 P. 285.18] 
 
 173 
 
 reap the reward of your insolence. [Enter Sansthanaka, guarded , 
 with his hands tied behind his back.] 
 
 Sansthanaka. Goodnessh gracious! 
 
 It came to pass, I ran away 
 Like any ass, and had my day. 
 
 They drag me round, a prishoner, 
 
 As if they ’d found a naughty cur. 52 
 
 [He looks about him.] They crowd around me, though I ’m a rela- 
 tive of the king’s. To whom shall I go for help in my helplessh- 
 nessh ? [He reflects.] Good ! I ’ll go to the man who gives help and 
 shows mercy to the shuppliant. [He approaches.] Noble Charu- 
 datta, protect me, protect me ! [He falls at Ms feet.] 
 
 Voices behind the scenes. Noble Charudatta, leave him to us! let 
 us kill him ! 
 
 Sansthanaka. [To Charudatta.] O helper of the helplessh, protect 
 me! 
 
 Charudatta. [Mercifully.] Yes, yes. He who seeks protection shall 
 be safe. 
 
 Sharvilaka. [Impatiently.] Confound him! Take him away from 
 Charudatta! [To Charudatta.] Tell me. What shall be done with 
 the wretch? 
 
 Shall he be bound and dragged until he dies? 
 
 Shall dogs devour the scoundrel as he lies ? 
 
 If he should be impaled, ’t would be no blunder, 
 
 Nor if we had the rascal sawn asunder. 53 
 
 Charudatta. Will you do as I say? 
 
 Sharvilaka. How can you doubt it? 
 
 Sansthanaka. Charudatta ! Mashter ! I sheek your protection. Pro- 
 tect me, protect me ! Do shomething worthy of yourshelf. I ’ll 
 never do it again! 
 
 Voices of citizens behind the scenes. Kill him! Why should the 
 wretch be allowed to live? 
 
174 
 
 ACT THE TENTH 
 
 [176.8 S. 
 
 [ Vasantasena takes the garland of death from Charudatta' s neck, 
 and throws it upon Sansthanaka.^ 
 
 Sansthanaka. You shlave- wench, be merciful, be merciful! I’ll 
 never murder you again. Protect me ! 
 
 Sharvilaka. Come, take him away! Noble Charudatta, say w r hat 
 shall be done with the wretch. 
 
 Charudatta. Will you do as I say? 
 
 Sharvilaka. How can you doubt it? 
 
 Charudatta. Really? 
 
 Sharvilaka. Really. 
 
 Charudatta. Then let him be immediately — 
 
 Sharvilaka. Killed? 
 
 Charudatta. No, no ! Set free. 
 
 Sharvilaka. What for? 
 
 Charud. The humbled foe who seeks thine aid, 
 
 Thou mayst not smite with steely blade — 
 Sharvilaka. All right. We will have the dogs eat him alive. 
 Charudatta. No, no! 
 
 Be cruelty with kindness paid. 54 
 
 Sharvilaka. Wonderful! What shall I do? Tell me, sir. 
 Charudatta. Why, set him free. 
 
 Sharvilaka. It shall be done. 
 
 Sansthanaka. Hooray ! I breathe again. [Exit, with the guards. 
 Sharvilaka. Mistress Vasantasena, the king is pleased to bestow 
 upon you the title “wedded wife.” 
 
 Vasantasena. Sir, I desire no more. 
 
 Sharvilaka. [Places the veil 1 upon Vasantasena. To Charudatta .] 
 Sir, what shall be done for this monk ? 
 
 Charudatta. Monk, what do you most desire? 
 
 Monk. When I see this example of the uncertainty of all things, 
 
 1 A token of honorable marriage. Compare page 66. 
 
P. 292.16] 
 
 THE END 
 
 175 
 
 I am twice content to be a monk. 
 
 Charudatta. His purpose is not to be changed, my friend. Let him 
 be appointed spiritual father over all the monasteries in the land. 
 Sharvilaka. It shall be done. 
 
 Monk . It is all that I desire. 
 
 Vasantasena. Now I am indeed brought back to life. 
 
 Sharvilaka. What shall be done for Sthavaraka ? 
 
 Charudatta. Let the good fellow be given his freedom. Let those 
 headsmen be appointed chiefs of all the headsmen. Let Chandanaka 
 be appointed chief of all the police in the land. Let the brother- 
 in-law of the king continue to act exactly as he acted in the past. 
 Sharvilaka. It shall be done. Only that man — leave him to me, 
 and I ’ll kill him. 
 
 Charudatta. He who seeks protection shall be safe. 
 
 The humbled foe who seeks thine aid, 
 
 Thou mayst not smite with steely blade. 
 
 Be cruelty with kindness paid. (54) 
 
 Sharvilaka. Then tell me what I may yet do for you. 
 
 Charudatta. Can there be more than this? 
 
 I kept unstained my virtue’s even worth, 
 
 Granted my enemy his abject suit; 
 
 Friend Aryaka destroyed his foeman’s root, 
 
 And rules a king o’er all the steadfast earth. 
 
 This dear-loved maiden is at last mine own. 
 
 And you united with me as a friend. 
 
 And shall I ask for further mercies, shown 
 
 To me, who cannot sound these mercies’ end? 58 
 
 Fate plays with us like buckets at the well. 
 
 Where one is filled, and one an empty shell, 
 
 Where one is rising, while another falls ; 
 
 And shows how life is change — now heaven, now hell. 59 
 Yet may the wishes of our epilogue be fulfilled. 
 
176 
 
 ACT THE TENTH 
 
 [178.9 S. 
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 May kine yield streaming milk, the earth her grain, 
 And may the heaven give never-failing rain, 
 
 The winds waft happiness to all that breathes, 
 
 And all that lives, live free from every pain. 
 
 In paths of righteousness may Brahmans tread, 
 
 And high esteem their high deserving wed ; 
 
 May kings in justice’ ways be ever led, 
 
 And earth, submissive, bend her grateful head. 
 
 60 
 
 [. Exeunt omnes.~\ 
 
A LIST OF PASSAGES 
 
 IN WHICH THE TRANSLATION DEPARTS FROM PARAB’S TEXT 
 
 35.15 : Here nirmitah is apparently a mere misprint for nirjitah. 
 
 4)5.11 : The addition of utthedha tti seems almost necessary. 
 
 53.10; 54.9; 55.11; 62.7; 66.7 : In these passages I have substituted “sham- 
 pooer” for “gambler,” to prevent confusion of the shampooer with the un- 
 named gambler. 
 
 57.13 : I have added the stage-direction dyutakaramandaDm krtva. 
 
 67.5 : Read kam for kim. 
 
 72.9 : Read ajjo bandhuanam samassasidum for Parab’s ajja bandhuano samas- 
 sasadu. 
 
 73.5 : We should probably read blhaccham ( bibhatsam ) for vihattham. 
 
 87.3 : The words cikitsarn krtva seem to be part of the text, not of the stage- 
 direction. 
 
 97.13 : I regard nayasya as one word, not two (na yasya). 
 
 100.12 : Read raksdn for raksydn. 
 
 114.5 : Read iiaaranari - for narandrl-. 
 
 125.8-11 : These lines I have omitted. 
 
 126.4 : Read accharla- (of carya-) for accharldi-. 
 
 170.8 : Read eka- for ekd-. 
 
 178.11 : Read vaddhamanao for vaddhamanaa. 
 
 184.9 : Read a ( ca ) for ka. 
 
 217.15 : Whatever favodiam may be, I have translated it in accordance with 
 Lalladiksita’s gloss, savestikam. 
 
 226.2 : Apparently khala- is a misprint for khana-. 
 
 238.10 : Read -ruciram for -racitam. 
 
 259.16 : Read udviksya for udvijya. 
 
 262.4 ; Read -bhajanam for -bhojanam. 
 
 262.14: Read padicchidam ( pratistam ) for padicchidum. 
 
 265.6 : Read tvaya for may a. 
 
 284.14 : The words atha va plainly belong to the text, not to the stage-direction. 
 
 287.2 : I take panrah as part of the stage-direction. 
 
 288.3—292.9 : This passage I have omitted: compare page xii. 
 
Harvard Oriental Series 
 
 EDITED, WITH THE COOPERATION OF VARIOUS SCHOLARS, BY 
 CHARLES ROCKWELL LANMAN 
 
 PROFESSOR OF SANSKRIT IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY 
 
 Published by Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts 
 
 United States of America 
 
 %* A copy of any one of these volumes , postage paid, may he obtained directly anywhere within 
 the limits of the Universal Postal Union by sending a Postal Order for the price as given below, 
 to The Publication Agent of Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts, United States 
 of America. 
 
 *„* The price per volume of the royal octavos is one dollar and fifty cents ( $ 1.50 ) = 6 shillings 
 and 2 pence = 6 marks and 27 pfennigs — 7 francs or lire and 70 centimes — 5 kroner and 58 
 iyre = 3 florins and 70 cents Netherlandish. From this, the approximate equivalents of the other 
 prices may be estimated. The precise equivalents may be learned at any post-office that issues 
 money-orders. 
 
 Volume I. — The Jataka-mala: or Bodhisattva-avadana-mala, by 
 Arya-^ura; edited by Hendrik Kern, Professor in the University of Leiden, 
 Netherlands. 1891. Royal 8vo, bound in cloth, xiv-f 254 pages, price $1.50. 
 
 This is the editio princeps of a collection of Buddhist stories in Sanskrit. The text is printed in 
 N agar! characters. An English translation of this work, by Professor Speyer, has been pub- 
 lished in Professor Max Muller’s Sacred Books of the Buddhists, London, Henry Frowde, 1895. 
 
 Volume II. — The Samkhya-pravacana-bhasya: or Commentary 
 on the exposition of the Sankhya philosophy, by Vijnana-bhiksu : edited by 
 Richard Garbe, Professor in the University of Tubingen. 1895. Royal 8vo, 
 bound in buckram, xiv-f-196 pages, price $1.50. 
 
 This volume contains the original Sanskrit text of the Sankhya Aphorisms and of Vijnana’s 
 Commentary, all printed in Roman letters. It is of especial interest in that Vijiiana, not ac- 
 cepting the atheistic doctrine of the original Sankhya, here comes out as a defender of down- 
 right theism. A German translation of the whole work was published by Professor Garbe in 
 the Abhandlungen f Hr die Kunde des Morgenlandes , vol. ix., Leipzig, Brockhaus, 1889. “In 
 spite of all the false assumptions and the errors of which Vijnana-bhiksu is undoubtedly guilty, 
 his Commentary ... is after all the one and only work which instructs us concerning many 
 particulars of the doctrines of what is, in my estimation, the most significant system of phi- 
 losophy that India has produced.” — Editor's Preface. 
 
 Volume III. — Buddhism in Translations. By Henry Clarke 
 Warren. 1896. 8vo, buckram, xx-f 520 pages, price $1.20. 
 
 This is a series of extracts from Pali writings, done into English, and so arranged as to give 
 a general idea of Ceylonese Buddhism. The work consists of over a hundred selections, com- 
 prised in five chapters of about one hundred pages each. Of these, chapters ii., iii., and iv. are 
 
 [ 1 1 
 
on Buddhist doctrine, and concern themselves respectively with the philosophical conceptions 
 that underlie the Buddhist religious system, with the doctrine of Karma and rebirth, and with 
 the scheme of salvation from misery. Chapter i. gives the account of the previous existences 
 of Gotama Buddha and of his life in the last existence up to the attainment of Buddhaship ; 
 while the sections of chapter v. are about Buddhist monastic life. 
 
 Volume IV. — Raja-^ekhara’s Karpura-manjari, a drama by the 
 Indian poet Raja-^ekhara (about 900 a.d.): critically edited in the original 
 Prakrit, with a glossarial index and an essay on the life and writings of the 
 poet, by Dr. Stex Konow, of the University of Christiania, Norway; and trans- 
 lated into English with notes by Professor Laxmax. 1901. Royal 8vo, buck- 
 ram, xxviii + 289 pages, price SI. 50. 
 
 Here for the first time in the history of Indian philology we have the text of a Prakrit play 
 presented to us in strictly correct Prakrit. Dr. Konow is a pupil of Professor Pischel of Berlin, 
 whose Prakrit grammar has made his authority upon this subject of the very highest. The 
 proofs have had the benefit of Professor Pischel’s revision. The importance of the play is pri- 
 marily linguistic rather than literary. 
 
 Volumes V. and VI. — The Brhad-Devata, attributed to ^aunaka, 
 
 a summary of the deities and myths of the Rig- Veda: critically edited in the 
 original Sanskrit with an introduction and seven appendices, and translated 
 into English with critical and illustrative notes, by Arthur A. Macdoxell, 
 Boden Professor of Sanskrit in the University of Oxford, and Fellow of Balliol 
 College. 1904. Royal 8vo, buckram, xxxvi + 198 andxvi-f 334 pages, price per 
 volume SI. 50. 
 
 Volume V. (or Part I.) contains the introduction and text and appendices. Volume VI. (or Part 
 II.) contains the translation and notes. The arrangement of the material in two volumes is such 
 that the student can have the text of any given passage, together with the translation of that 
 passage and the critical apparatus and the illustrative notes thereto appurtenant, all opened 
 out before his eyes at one time, without having constantly to turn from one part of the volume 
 to another, as is necessary with the usual arrangement of such matter. 
 
 Volumes VII. and VIII. — Atharva-Veda Samhita, translated, 
 
 with a critical and exegetical commentary, by William Dwight Whitxey, late 
 Professor of Sanskrit in Yale University. Revised and brought nearer to com- 
 pletion and edited bv Charles Rockwell Laxmax, Professor of Sanskrit in 
 Harvard University. 1905. Royal 8vo, buckram, clxii + 1044 ( = 1206) pages, 
 price of the two volumes $5.00. 
 
 This work includes, in the first place, critical notes upon the text, giving the various readings 
 of the manuscripts, and not alone of those collated by Whitney in Europe, but also of those 
 of the apparatus used by S. P. Pandit in the great Bombay edition. Second, the readings of 
 the Paippalada or Cashmere version, furnished by the late Professor Roth. Further, notice of 
 the corresponding passages in all the other Vedic texts, with report of the various readings. 
 Further, the data of the Hindu scholiast respecting authorship, divinity, and meter of each 
 verse. Also, references to the ancillary literature, especially to the well-edited Kaucjika and 
 Vaitana Sutras, with account of the ritualistic use therein made of the hymns or parts of hymns, 
 so far as this appears to cast any light upon their meaning. Also, extracts from the printed 
 commentary. And, finally, a simple literal translation, with introduction and indices. Prefixed 
 to the work proper is an elaborate critical and historical introduction. 
 
Volume IX. — The Little Clay Cart (Mrcchakatika), a Hindu 
 
 drama attributed to King Shudraka, translated from the original Sanskrit and 
 Prakrits into English prose and verse by Arthur William Ryder, Ph. D., 
 Instructor in Sanskrit in Harvard University. 1905. Royal 8vo, buckram, xxx 
 + 177 pages, price $1.50. 
 
 Volume X. — A Vedic Concordance: being an alphabetic index 
 
 to every line of every stanza of every hymn of the published Vedic literature, 
 
 and to every sacrificial and ritual formula thereof. By Maurice Bloomfield, 
 
 Professor of Sanskrit and Comparative Philology in Johns Hopkins University. 
 
 The work, with which Bloomfield has been busy for over a dozen years, will form a royal 
 quarto of about 1100 pages. Of these, fully 800 are already printed (June, 1905); the com- 
 pletely revised manuscript of the remainder is at the press ; and it is hoped that the printing 
 will be finished soon after Jan. 1, 1906. For an account of the work, see the last page of vol. iv. 
 of this Series. The Concordance will serve as a register of the varietas lectionis for the texts 
 of the Vedic literature, and thus prove to be an auxiliary of the very first importance in the 
 work of making new editions of the Vedic texts ; and many subsidiary uses of Bloomfield’s col- 
 lections will suggest themselves to scholars. 
 
 In Preparation 
 
 No promise of a definite time for the completion and appearance of any of the following 
 works will under any circumstances be given; they are nevertheless in such a state of ad- 
 vancement that some public announcement concerning them may properly be made. 
 
 Buddha-ghosa’s Way of Purity ( Visuddhi-magga ), a systematic 
 treatise of Buddhist doctrine by Buddha-ghosa (about 400 a. d.): critically 
 edited in the original Pali by the late Henry Clarke Warren, of Cambridge, 
 Massachusetts. 
 
 The “Way of Purity,” which has been for fifteen centuries one of the “books of power” in 
 the East, is, as Childers says, “ a truly great work, written in terse and lucid language, and show- 
 ing a marvelous grasp of the subject.” Mr. Warren published an elaborate analysis of the en- 
 tire treatise in the Journal of the Pali Text Society for 1891-93, pages 76-164. His plan was to 
 issue a scholarly edition of the Pali text of the work, with full but well-sifted critical apparatus, 
 a complete English translation, an index of names, and other useful appendices, and to trace 
 back to their sources all the quotations which Buddha-ghosa constantly makes from the writ- 
 ings of his predecessors. The text, it is hoped, may be published without too much further 
 labor on the part of the editor of the Series. 
 
 Mr. Warren died in January, 1899, in the forty-fifth year of his age. Accounts of his life and 
 work may be found in the (New York) Nation for Jan. 12, 1899; in the Harvard Graduates' 
 Magazine for March, 1899 ; in the Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society for April, 1899 (with a 
 list of his writings) ; in the (Chicago) Open Court for June, 1899 ; or in the Journal of the Amer- 
 ican Oriental Society, vol. xx., second half. 
 
 Buddha-ghosa’s Way of Purity, a systematic treatise of Buddhist 
 doctrine, translated into English from the original Pali of H. C. Warren’s 
 edition, by the late Henry Clarke Warren and Charles Rockwell Lanman. 
 Mr. Warren had made a large part (about one third) of the translation. With this part as a 
 
help and guide, the editor of the Series hopes to complete the version and to publish it as soon 
 as is feasible. The text and translation will perhaps take three or four volumes. 
 
 The Pancha-tantra, according to the recension of the Jaina monk 
 Purna-bhadra (about 1200 a.d.), critically edited in the original Sanskrit bv 
 Dr. Johannes Hertel, of the Royal Gymnasium of Doebeln in Saxony, and 
 Dr. Richard Schmidt, of the University of Halle. 
 
 The basis of Doctor Schmidt’s excellent version of the Pancha-tantra was a text prepared by 
 him from several European manuscripts. In the meantime, Doctor Hertel has procured a very 
 large amount of manuscript material from India, chiefly from Poona, has subjected the same 
 to searching critical study, and is embodying his results, so far as they concern the actual 
 readings, in a thorough revision of the printer’s copy of the text. The other results of his 
 labors have been published in several periodicals, especially the Berichte der Kon. Sdchsischen 
 Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften for April, 1902, and in recent volumes of the Zeitschrift der 
 Deutschen Morgenlandischen Gesellschaft (Ivi., lvii., lviii., lix.). The Cjarada-MS., numbered viii. 
 145 in the Catalogue of the Deccan College MSS. and containing the Tantra-akhyayika or 
 Kashmirian recension of the Pancha-tantra, has proved to be of such great importance for 
 the history of this branch of Sanskrit literature that Doctor Hertel has published it ( Abhand - 
 lungen of the Saxon Society, vol. xxii., 1904), not as a definitive text-edition, but as part of 
 a literary-historical investigation and as one of the essential preliminaries for the edition of 
 Purna-bhadra’s recension to be issued in the Harvard Series. It appears that the last-named 
 recension is a fusion of the Tantra-akhyayika and the so-called Textus Simplicior of the Pancha- 
 tantra. 
 
 The Pancha-tantra, translated into English from the original 
 Sanskrit of the recension of Purna-bhadra, by Paul Elmer More, sometime 
 Assistant in Sanskrit in Harvard University, now of the Editorial Staff of the 
 New York Evening Post. 
 
 This version, prepared several years ago from Doctor Schmidt’s manuscript copy by Mr. More, 
 has yet to be so revised as to bring it into conformity with the meantime thoroughly revised 
 text of Purna-bhadra’s recension. Apart from the intrinsic interest and merit of the stories of 
 which the Pancha-tantra consists, this translation makes an especial appeal to students of 
 Indian antiquities, of folk-lore, and of the history of popular tales. 
 
 History of the Beast-fable of India, with especial reference to the 
 Pancha-tantra and to the related literature of Southwestern Asia and of Me- 
 dieval Europe, bv Dr. Johannes Hertel of the Royal Gymnasium of Doebeln 
 in Saxony. 
 
 Although this volume is primarily designed to be an introduction to Purna-bhadra’s Pancha- 
 tantra, its scope is nevertheless such that it may with propriety be entitled a History of the 
 Beast-fable of India. The definitive arrangement of the material is not yet settled, but the gen- 
 eral plan may be given under six headings. 
 
 I. Brief outline of the incidents of each story, together ■with a reference for each story to its 
 precise place in the original Sanskrit text, the method of citation to be such that the same 
 reference will apply with equal facility to either the text or the translation or the apparatus 
 criticus or the commentary. 
 
 II. Tabular conspectus of strophes and stories contained in forms of the Pancha-tantra 
 anterior to Purna-bhadra. 
 
 III. Apparatus criticus. 1. Account of the MSS. collated. 2. A piece of the text printed in 
 several parallel forms side by side (Tantra-akhyayika, Simplicior, Ornatior) as a specimen, 
 to illustrate the relative value of the several MSS. and Purna-bhadra’s way of constructing his 
 recension. 3. Readings of the MSS. Bh, bh, A, P, p, etc. 
 
 [ ^ ] 
 
IV. Introduction to the text of Purna-bhadra. A. First part, extending to the death, in 1881, 
 of Benfey. 1. Editions: Kosegarten’s ; Kielhorn-Biihler’s ; other Indian editions. 2. Transla- 
 tions: of Benfey, Lancereau, Pavolini, Fritze, Galanos. 3. Semitic recensions and their effluxes. 
 4. Benfey 's results as contained in his Pantscliatantra of 1859 and his Introduction to Bickell’s 
 Old Syriac Kalilag und Damnatj of 1876. B. Second part, from the death of Benfey. 5. Bibli- 
 ography of the various treatises. 6. History of the Sanskrit Pancha-tantra. Form, age, and name 
 of the original Pancha-tantra. 7. The Brahmanical recensions of the work: Gunadhya, Nepa- 
 lese fragment, etc.; Tantra-akhyayika; Southern Pancha-tantra. 8. Jaina recensions: so-called 
 Simplicior, its age, etc.'; so-called Ornatior, author, age, etc.; Megha-vijaya ; later recensions; 
 mixed recensions. 9. Buddhist recension, Tantra-akhyana. 
 
 V. Notes to the several stories of Purna-bhadra’s text. Parallels in the Jataka, etc. Refer- 
 ences to Benfey. 
 
 VI. Indices. 1. Of names. 2. Of things. 3. Of verses. 4. Of meters. 
 
 The (^akuntala, a Hindu drama by Kalidasa : the Bengali recension 
 critically edited in the original Sanskrit and Prakrits by Richard Pischel, 
 Professor of Sanskrit in the University of Berlin. 
 
 Thirty years ago Pischel made his first edition of this master-piece of the Hindu drama. Mean- 
 time he has published, as a very important part of the Biihler-Kielhorn Grundriss der Indo- 
 Arischen Philologie , his elaborate Grammatik der Prakrit Sprachen. In the way of experience 
 and study, therefore, his equipment as an editor of this play is peculiarly complete. As for the 
 externals of paper and print and binding, it is intended that this edition shall be got up in a 
 manner to correspond with its scholarly character and with the intrinsic merit of the play; and 
 it is to be sold at a very moderate price. 
 
 The (^akuntala, translated into English from the edition of Pro- 
 fessor Pischel, with an exegetical and illustrative commentary, by Arthur Wil- 
 liam Ryder. 
 
 Whereas Dr. Ryder’s version of The Little Clay Cart (vol. ix. of this Series) was primarily a 
 literary one and aimed to avoid technicalities, his work upon the Qakuntala is primarily philo- 
 logical, and of it the technical commentary is an essential part. In this comment he hopes to 
 include the most or all that is of substantive importance in the observations of his predecessors 
 whether Occidental or Hindu ; to treat the relation of the subject-matter of the play to the 
 older forms thereof as seen in the Epos and the J ataka ; to bring out the double meanings and 
 the various other Hindu “embellishments” of the play; to note the parallelisms in poetic 
 thought or diction or technique between the Qakuntala and the other works of Kalidasa and 
 of the Indian literature ; to illustrate the allusions to the mythology and antiquities of India by 
 citations translated from the best native authorities ; to show, throughout, the relation of this 
 play as a work of art to the Hindu canons of dramaturgy ; and at least to assemble the data 
 for the solution of the important critical question whether the (^akuntala may not have served 
 as the model play upon which the earlier of those canons were based. 
 
 The Commentary (Yoga-bhashya) on Patahjali’s aphorisms of the 
 Yoga philosophy, translated from the original Sanskrit into English, with in- 
 dices of quotations and of philosophical terms, by Dr. James Haughton Woods, 
 Instructor in Philosophy in Harvard University. 
 
 Of the six great philosophical systems of India, we can hardly say that more than two, the 
 Sankhya and the Vedanta, have been made accessible to Occidental students by translations 
 of authoritative Sanskrit works. For Shankara’s Comment on the aphorisms of the Vedanta 
 system, we have Deussen’s translation into German and Thibaut’s into English. For the San- 
 khya, we are indebted to the labors of Wilson and Garbe and Ganganath Jha for versions of 
 the Karika and of the Tattva-kaumudT. The Yoga system is confessedly next in importance ; 
 and the Yoga-bhashya, ascribed to Vyasa, is the best and most thorough exposition of its fun- 
 
 1 5 ] 
 
damental doctrines. It is also the oldest ; Garbe refers it to the seventh century of our era, and 
 the evidence adduced by Takakusu of Tokyo may prove it to be considerably earlier. 
 
 In the preparation of his translation, Dr. Woods has had the benefit of Deussen’s criticism ; 
 and he has revised his work under the oversight of Gangadhara Shastrin and of his pupils in 
 Benares; and he has constantly consulted Vaehaspatimi<jra’s sub-comment on the Yoga-bha- 
 shya, and, as occasion required, the Yoga-varttika of Vijnana-bhikshu and other works of 
 more modern scholiasts. It is hoped that this work will throw light upon the early history of 
 the Maha-yana school of Buddhism. 
 
 The Talavakara or Jaiminlya Brahmana of the Sama Veda: criti- 
 cally edited in the original Sanskrit, with a translation into English, by Hanns 
 Oertel, Professor of Linguistics and Comparative Philology in Yale University. 
 
 In 1877, A. C. Burnell brought this Brahmana to the notice of European scholars. Soon after, 
 he procured manuscripts, and turned them over to Professor Whitney. With the aid of pupils, 
 Whitney made a transliterated copy of one, and himself collated the copy with the others. 
 Since 1891, off and on, Oertel has been at work upon the restoration of the corrupt text of this 
 Brahmana, and has published considerable parts of it in the Journal of the American Oriental 
 Society (vol’s xv., xvi., xviii., xix., xxiii., and xxvi.) and elsewhere. It is his intention to add 
 to his translation systematic references to the parallel passages from the other Brahmanas. 
 
Books for the Study of Indo-Iranian Languages 
 
 (Sanskrit, Prakrit, Pali, Avestan) 
 
 Literatures, Religions, and Antiquities 
 
 Published by Messrs. Ginn & Company 
 
 Boston, New York, Chicago, and London 
 
 Whitney’s Sanskrit Grammar. A Sanskrit Grammar, including 
 both the classical language, and the older dialects, of Veda and Brahmana. By 
 William Dwight Whitney, [late] Professor of Sanskrit and Comparative Phi- 
 lology in Yale University. Third (reprinted from the second, revised and ex- 
 tended) edition. 1896. 8vo. xxvi-{-552 pages. Cloth: Mailing price, $3.20. 
 Paper: $2.90. 
 
 Cappeller’s Sanskrit-English Dictionary. A Sanskrit-English Dic- 
 tionary. Based upon the St. Petersburg Lexicons. By Carl Cappeller, Professor 
 at the University of Jena. Royal 8vo. Cloth, viii + 672 pages. By mail, $6.25. 
 
 Lanman’s Sanskrit Reader. A Sanskrit Reader: with Vocabulary 
 and Notes. By Charles Rockwell Lanman, Professor of Sanskrit in Harvard 
 University. For use in colleges and for private study. Royal 8vo. Complete: 
 Text, Notes, and Vocabulary, xxiv + 405 pages. Cloth: Mailing price, $2.00. 
 Text alone, for use in examinations, 106 pages. Cloth: Mailing price, 85 cents. 
 Notes alone, viii + 109 pages. Cloth: Mailing price, 85 cents. 
 
 This Reader is constructed with special reference to the needs of those who have to use it with- 
 out a teacher. The text is in Oriental characters. The selections are from the Maha-bharata, 
 Hitopade^a, Katha-sarit-sagara, Laws of Manu, the Rigveda, the Brahmanas, and the Sutras. 
 The Sanskrit words of the Notes and Vocabulary are in English letters. The Notes render 
 ample assistance in the interpretation of difficult passages. 
 
 Sanskrit Text in English Letters. Parts of Nala and Hitopadeya 
 in English Letters. Prepared by Charles R. Lanman. Royal 8vo. Paper, vi -f- 44 
 pages. Mailing price, 30 cents. 
 
 The Sanskrit text of the first forty-four pages of Lanman’s Reader, reprinted in English char- 
 acters. 
 
 Perry’s Sanskrit Primer. A Sanskrit Primer: based on the Leit- 
 faden fur den Elementarcursus des Sanskrit of Prof. Georg Buhler of Vienna. 
 By Edward Delavan Perry, Professor of Greek in Columbia University, New 
 York. 1885. 8vo. xii-f 230 pages. Mailing price, $1.60. 
 
 1 7 ] 
 
Kaegi's Rigveda. The Rigveda:the Oldest Literature of the Indians. 
 By Adolf Kaegi, Professor in the University of Zurich. Authorized translation 
 [from the German], with additions to the notes, by Robert Arrowsmith, Ph.D. 
 1886. 8vo. Cloth, viii + 198 pages. Mailing price, $1.65. 
 
 Hopkins’s Religions of India. The Religions of India. By Edward 
 Washburn Hopkins, Professor of Sanskrit in Yale University. 1895. 12mo. 
 Cloth, xvi + 612 pages. Mailing price, $2.20. 
 
 This is the first of Professor Morris Jastrow’s Series of Handbooks on the History of Religions. 
 The book gives an account of the religions of India in the chronological order of their devel- 
 opment. Extracts are given from Vedic, Brahmanie, Jain, Buddhistic, and later sectarian lit- 
 eratures. 
 
 Jackson’s Avesta Reader. Avesta Reader : First Series. Easier texts, 
 notes, and vocabulary. By A. V. Williams Jackson. 1893. 8vo. Cloth. viii-fll2 
 pages. Mailing price, $1.85. 
 
 The selections include passages from Yasna, Visparad, Yashts, and Vendidad, and the text 
 is based on Geldner’s edition. The book is intended for beginners. 
 

PK2971 .H33 v.9 
 
 The little clay cart (Mrcchakatika) a 
 
 Princeton Theological Seminary-Speer Library 
 
 III 
 
 1 1012 00027 7212