_Sansthanaka._ 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--
_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.
_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.
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
_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 Vasantasena 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,
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 shervant 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
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