The Little Clay Cart Part 37

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 Vasantasena.

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:

[Footnote 71: Lalladik?ita says that these are signs of royalty.]

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 h.o.a.rded 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, 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 defender?

But after all, the blessed Lord Buddha is my defender.

[119.90. S.

[_Enter the courtier, carrying a sword, and Sansthanaka._]

_Sansthanaka._ Shtop, you confounded monk, shtop! I'll pound your head like a red radish[77] at a drinking party. [_He strikes him._]

_Courtier._ You jacka.s.s, 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'm a brick.

What do you think I am? a materialistic philosopher? or a watering-trough?

or a pot-maker?[78]

_Courtier._ You jacka.s.s, 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 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 jacka.s.s, I am sure he has not long been a monk.

_Sansthanaka._ 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 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.