[105.11. S.
Aryaka. [Takes it. Joyfully to himself.]
A sword, a sword! My right eye twitches fast.[70]
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 virtues 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 blessèd Sun;
Slay all thy foes, as mighty Pārvatī
Slew Shumbha and Nishumbha—fearfully.27
[Exit Vardhamānaka, with the bullock-cart. Chandanaka looks toward the back of the stage.] Aha! As he goes away, my good friend Sharvilaka is following him. Well, I 've made an enemy of Vīraka, 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.
FOOTNOTES:
[68] A bad omen, in the case of a woman.
[69] Lallādīkṣita says that these horoscopes indicate respectively distress, colic, stupidity, poverty, sorrow, destruction.
[70] A good omen, in the case of a man.
* * *
[105]
ACT THE SEVENTH
ARYAKA'S ESCAPE
[Enter Chārudatta and Maitreya.]
Maitreya.
How beautiful the old garden Pushpakaranda is.
Chārudatta. 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.
Chārudatta. [Seats himself.] How Vardhamānaka lingers, my friend!
Maitreya. I told Vardhamānaka to bring Vasantasenā and come as quickly as he could.
Chārudatta. 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 Vardhamānaka with the bullock-cart, in which Aryaka lies hidden.]
Vardhamānaka. Get up, bullocks, get up!
Aryaka. [Aside.]
And still I fear the spies that serve the king;
Escape is even yet a doubtful thing,
While to my foot these cursèd fetters cling.
Some good man 't is, within whose cart I lie,
Like cuckoo chicks, whose heartless mothers fly,
And crows must rear the fledglings, or they die.3
I have come a long distance from the city. Shall I get out of the[106] cart and seek a hiding-place in the grove? or shall I wait to see the owner of the cart? On second thoughts, I will not hide myself in the grove; for men say that the noble Chārudatta is ever helpful to them that seek his protection. I will not go until I have seen him face to face.
[108.3. S.
'T will bring contentment to that good man's heart
To see me rescued from misfortune's sea.
This body, in its suffering, pain, and smart,
Is saved through his sweet magnanimity.4
Vardhamānaka. Here is the garden. I 'll drive in. [He does so.] Maitreya!
Maitreya. Good news, my friend. It is Vardhamānaka's voice. Vasantasenā must have come.
Chārudatta. Good news, indeed.
Maitreya. You son of a slave, what makes you so late?
Vardhamānaka. Don't get angry, good Maitreya. I remembered that I had forgotten the cushion, and I had to go back for it, and that is why I am late.
Chārudatta. Turn the cart around, Vardhamānaka. Maitreya, my friend, help Vasantasenā to get out.
Maitreya. Has she got fetters on her feet, so that she can't get out by herself? [He rises and lifts the curtain of the cart.] Why, this is n't mistress Vasantasenā—this is Mister Vasantasena.
Chārudatta. A truce to your jests, my friend. Love cannot wait. I will help her to get out myself. [He rises.]
Aryaka. [Discovers him.] Ah, the owner of the bullock-cart! He is attractive not only to the ears of men, but also to their eyes. Thank heaven! I am safe.
Chārudatta. [Enters the bullock-cart and discovers Aryaka.] Who then is this?
As trunk of elephant his arms are long,
His chest is full, his shoulders broad and strong,
[107]His great eyes restless-red;[71]
Why should this man be thus enforced to fight—
So noble he—with such ignoble plight,
His foot to fetters wed?5
P. 180.14]
Who are you, sir?
Aryaka. I am one who seeks your protection, Aryaka, by birth a herdsman.
Chārudatta. Are you he whom King Pālaka took from the hamlet where he lived and thrust into prison?
Aryaka. The same.
Chārudatta.
'T is fate that brings you to my sight;
May I be reft of heaven's light,
Ere I desert you in your hapless plight.6
[Aryaka manifests his joy.]
Chārudatta. Vardhamānaka, remove the fetters from his foot.
Vardhamānaka. Yes, sir. [He does so.] Master, the fetters are removed.
Aryaka. But you have bound me with yet stronger fetters of love.
Maitreya. Now you may put on the fetters yourself. He is free anyway. And it 's time for us to be going.
Chārudatta. Peace! For shame!
Aryaka. Chārudatta, my friend, I entered your cart somewhat unceremoniously. I beg your pardon.
Chārudatta. I feel honored that you should use no ceremony with me.
Aryaka. If you permit it, I now desire to go.
Chārudatta. Go in peace.
Aryaka. Thank you. I will alight from the cart.
Chārudatta. No, my friend. The fetters have but this moment been removed, and you will find walking difficult. In this spot [108]where men seek pleasure, a bullock-cart will excite no suspicion. Continue your journey then in the cart.
[110.4. S.
Aryaka. I thank you, sir.
Chārud. Seek now thy kinsmen. Happiness be thine!
Aryaka. Ah, I have found thee, blessèd kinsman mine!
Chārud. Remember me, when thou hast cause to speak.
Aryaka. Thy name, and not mine own, my words shall seek.
Chārud. May the immortal gods protect thy ways!
Aryaka. Thou didst protect me, in most perilous days.
Chārud. Nay, it was fate that sweet protection lent.
Aryaka. But thou wast chosen as fate's instrument.7
Chārudatta. King Pālaka is aroused, and protection will prove difficult. You must depart at once.
Aryaka. Until we meet again, farewell.[Exit.
Chārud.
From royal wrath I now have much to fear;
It were unwise for me to linger here.
Then throw the fetters in the well; for spies
Serve to their king as keen, far-seeing eyes.8
[His left eye twitches.] Maitreya, my friend, I long to see Vasantasenā. For now, because
I have not seen whom I love best,
My left eye twitches; and my breast
Is causeless-anxious and distressed.9
Come, let us go. [He walks about.] See! a Buddhist monk approaches, and the sight bodes ill. [Reflecting.] Let him enter by that path, while we depart by this.[Exit.
FOOTNOTES:
[71] Lallādīkṣita says that these are signs of royalty.
* * *
[109]
ACT THE EIGHTH
THE STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA
[Enter a monk, with a wet garment in his hand.]
Monk.
Ye ignorant, lay by a store of virtue!
Restrain the belly; watch eternally,
Heeding the beat of contemplation's[72] drum,
For else the senses—fearful thieves they be—
Will steal away all virtue's hoarded sum.1
And further: I have seen that all things are transitory, so that now I am become the abode of virtues alone.
Who slays the Five Men,[73] and the Female Bane,[74]
By whom protection to the Town[75] is given,
By whom the Outcaste[76] impotent is slain,
He cannot fail to enter into heaven.2
Though head be shorn and face be shorn,
The heart unshorn, why should man shave him?
But he whose inmost heart is shorn
Needs not the shaven head to save him.3
I have dyed this robe of mine yellow. And now I will go into the garden of the king's brother-in-law, wash it in the pond, and go away as soon as I can. [He walks about and washes the robe.]
A voice behind the scenes. Shtop, you confounded monk, shtop!
Monk. [Discovers the speaker. Fearfully. ] Heaven help me! Here is the king's brother-in-law, Sansthānaka. Just because one monk committed an offense, now, wherever he sees a monk, whether it is the same one or not, he bores a hole in his nose and drives him around like a bullock. Where shall a defenseless man find a defender? But after all, the blessèd Lord Buddha is my defender.
[119.90. S.
[110]
[Enter the courtier, carrying a sword, and Sansthānaka.]
Sansthānaka. Shtop, you confounded monk, shtop! I'll pound your head like a red radish[77] at a drinking party. [He strikes him.]
Courtier. You jackass, you should not strike a monk who wears the yellow robes of renunciation. Why heed him? Look rather upon this garden, which offers itself to pleasure.
To creatures else forlorn, the forest trees
Do works of mercy, granting joy and ease;
Like a sinner's heart, the park unguarded lies,
Like some new-founded realm, an easy prize.4
Monk. Heaven bless you! Be merciful, servant of the Blessèd One!
Sansthānaka. Did you hear that, shir? He's inshulting me.
Courtier. What does he say?
Sansthānaka. Shays I'm a shervant. What do you take me for? a barber?
Courtier. A servant of the Blessèd One he calls you, and this is praise.
Sansthānaka. Praise me shome more, monk!
Monk. You are virtuous! You are a brick!
Sansthānaka. Shee? He shays I'm virtuous. He shays I'm a brick. What do you think I am? a materialistic philosopher? or a watering-trough? or a pot-maker?[78]
Courtier. You jackass, he praises you when he says that you are virtuous, that you are a brick.
Sansthānaka. Well, shir, what did he come here for?
Monk. To wash this robe.
Sansthānaka. Confound the monk! My shishter's husband gave me the finesht garden there is, the garden Pushpakaranda. Dogs and jackals drink the water in thish pond. Now I'm an arishtocrat. I'm [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.
P. 187.7]
Courtier. You jackass, I am sure he has not long been a monk.
Sansthānaka. How can you tell, shir?
Courtier. It doesn't take much to tell that, See!
His hair is newly shorn; the brow still white;
The rough cloak has not yet the shoulder scarred;
He wears it awkwardly; it clings not tight;
And here above, the fit is sadly marred.5
Monk. True, servant of the Blessèd One. I have been a monk but a short time.
Sansthānaka. Then why haven't you been one all your life? [He beats him.]
Monk. Buddha be praised!
Courtier. Stop beating the poor fellow. Leave him alone. Let him go.
Sansthānaka. Jusht wait a minute, while I take counshel.
Courtier. With whom?
Sansthānaka. With my own heart.
Courtier. Poor fellow! Why didn't he escape?
Sansthānaka. Blesshèd little heart, my little shon and mashter, shall the monk go, or shall the monk shtay? [To himself.] Neither go, nor shtay. [Aloud.] Well, shir, I took counshel with my heart, and my heart shays—
Courtier. Says what?
Sansthānaka. He shall neither go, nor shtay. He shall neither breathe up, nor breathe down. He shall fall down right here and die, before you can shay "boo."
Monk. Buddha be praised! I throw myself upon your protection.
Courtier. Let him go.[112]
[114.24. S.
Sansthānaka. Well, on one condition.
Courtier. And what is that?
Sansthānaka. He musht shling mud in, without making the water dirty. Or better yet, he musht make the water into a ball, and shling it into the mud.
Courtier. What incredible folly!
The patient earth is burdened by
So many a fool, so many a drone,
Whose thoughts and deeds are all awry—
These trees of flesh, these forms of stone.6
[The monk makes faces at Sansthānaka.]
Sansthānaka. What does he mean?
Courtier. He praises you.
Sansthānaka. Praise me shome more! Praise me again! [The monk does so, then exit.]
Courtier. See how beautiful the garden is, you jackass.
See yonder trees, adorned with fruit and flowers,
O'er which the clinging creepers interlace;
The watchmen guard them with the royal powers;
They seem like men whom loving wives embrace.7
Sansthānaka. A good deshcription, shir.
The ground is mottled with a lot of flowers;
The blosshom freight bends down the lofty trees;
And, hanging from the leafy tree-top bowers,
The monkeys bob, like breadfruit in the breeze.8
Courtier. Will you be seated on this stone bench, you jackass?
Sansthānaka. I am sheated. [They seat themselves.] Do you know, shir, I remember that Vasantasenā even yet. She is like an inshult. I can't get her out of my mind.
Courtier. [Aside.] He remembers her even after such a repulse. For indeed,[113]
The mean man, whom a woman spurns,
But loves the more;
The wise man's passion gentler burns,
Or passes o'er.9
P. 190.16]
Sansthānaka. Shome time has passhed, shir, shince I told my shervant Sthāvaraka to take the bullock-cart and come as quick as he could. And even yet he is not here. I 've been hungry a long time, and at noon a man can't go a-foot. For shee!
The shun is in the middle of the shky,
And hard to look at as an angry ape;
Like Gāndhārī, whose hundred shons did die,
The earth is hard dishtresshed and can't eshcape.10
Courtier. True.
The cattle all—their cuds let fall—
Lie drowsing in the shade;
In heated pool their lips to cool,
Deer throng the woodland glade;
A prey to heat, the city street
Makes wanderers afraid;
The cart must shun the midday sun,
And thus has been delayed.11
Sansthānaka. Yesshir,
Fasht to my head the heated shun-beam clings;
Birds, flying creatures, alsho wingèd things
Resht in the branches of the trees, while men,
People, and pershons shigh and shigh again;
At home they tarry, in their houses shtay,
To bear the heat and burden of the day.12
Well, shir, that shervant is n't here yet. I 'm going to shing shomething to passh the time. [He sings.] There, shir, did you hear what I shang?
Courtier. What shall I say? Ah, how melodious![114]
[116.23. S.
Sansthānaka. Why should n't it be malodorous?
Of nut-grass and cumin I make up a pickle,
Of devil's-dung, ginger, and orris, and treacle;
That's the mixture of perfumes I eagerly eat;
Why should n't my voice be remarkably shweet?13
Well, shir, I 'm jusht going to shing again, [He does so.] There, shir, did you hear what I shang?
Courtier. What shall I say? Ah, how melodious!
Sansthānaka. Why should n't it be malodorous?
Of the flesh of the cuckoo I make up a chowder,
With devil's-dung added, and black pepper powder;
With oil and with butter I shprinkle the meat:
Why should n't my voice be remarkably shweet?14
But shir, the shervant is n't here yet.
Courtier. Be easy in your mind. He will be here presently.
[Enter Vasantasenā in the bullock-cart, and Sthāvaraka.]
Sthāvaraka. I 'm frightened. It is already noon. I hope Sansthānaka, the king's brother-in-law, will not be angry. I must drive faster. Get up, bullocks, get up!
Vasantasenā. Alas! That is not Vardhamānaka's voice. What does it mean? I wonder if Chārudatta was afraid that the bullocks might become weary, and so sent another man with another cart. My right eye twitches. My heart is all a-tremble. There is no one in sight. Everything seems to dance before my eyes.
The Little Clay Cart Page 13