Part 6 (1/2)

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

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

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

_Vasantasena._ Sir, I am a weak woman.

_Courtier._ That is why you are still alive.

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

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

my jewels?

P. 24.7]

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

_Vasantasena._ What is then your desire?

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

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

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

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

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

And again:

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

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

[13.22 S.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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