Śūdraka

“ 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 isn't mistress Vasantasenā—this is Mister Vasantasenā.
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. ”

“ 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?
Chārudatta. 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 continuing the life that you leave unfinished.
Chārudatta. And let me see Rohasena for a single moment.
Maitreya. I will. It is but fitting.
Judge. My good beadle, remove this man. ”

“ Courtier. Fool! I will tell you who Chārudatta is.
A tree of life to them whose 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.
Sansthānaka. Without Vasantasenā?
Courtier. Vasantasenā has disappeared. ”

“ Chārudatta. But how wonderfully Master Rebhila sang!
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. ”

“ Chandanaka. If I make the inspection, that's just the same as if you had made it?
Vīraka. If you make the inspection, that's just the same as if King Pālaka had made it.
Chandanaka. Lift the pole, man! [Vardhamānaka does so.]
Aryaka. [To himself.] Are the policemen about to inspect me? And I have no sword, worse luck! But at least,
Bold Bhīma'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. ”

“ I've had hard luck ever since Chārudatta lost his fortune.
Māthura. Will you pay?
Shampooer. How can I pay? [He falls down. Māthura drags him about.] Good gentlemen, save me, save me! [Enter Darduraka.]
Darduraka. Yes, gambling is a kingdom without a throne.
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. ”

“ 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,
Where bathes an elephant in waters cool,
Who shows naught else above the jungle pool. ⁠6
Maitreya. Well, here is our house. Vardhamānaka, Vardhamānaka, open the door!
Vardhamānaka. I hear Maitreya's voice. Chārudatta 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. [Chārudatta and Maitreya enter and seat themselves.] ”

“ Chārudatta. [To Vasantasenā.] Radanikā, 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.]
Vasantasenā. [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 Chārudatta see.] ”

“ 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 everything seems topsyturvy here. One girl is preparing cosmetics, another is weaving garlands of flowers. ”

“ 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; 'tis 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. [Reflecting.] He is no sinner, this man who seeks my protection and sits in Chārudatta's cart. Besides, he is the friend of good Sharvilaka, who saved my life. On the other hand, there are the king's orders. ”

“ Sansthānaka. Chārudatta! Mashter! I sheek your protection. Protect 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?
[Vasantasena takes the garland of death from Chārudatta's neck, and throws it upon Sansthānaka.]
Sansthānaka. You shlave-wench, be merciful, be merciful! I'll never murder you again. Protect me!
Sharvilaka. Come, take him away! Noble Chārudatta, say what shall be done with the wretch. ”

“ Noble Chārudatta, 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. ”

“ 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
To seize her hair so lovely-long, and bright
⁠As wings of bees, and slay a weeping maid? ⁠28
Sansthānaka. Hello, magishtrates! How can you inveshtigate the cashe with such partiality? Why, even now you let thish shcoundrel Chārudatta shtay on his sheat.
Judge. My good beadle, so be it. [The beadle follows Sansthanaka's suggestion.]
Chārudatta. ”

“ Madanikā. Who may it be that adorns Ujjayinī with the virtues which he has stolen from the object of my mistress' desires?
Vasantasenā. Good, girl, good! I had the same thought in mind.
Madanikā. But to continue, sir—
Shampooer. Madam, he was so compassionate and so generous that now—
Vasantasenā. His riches have vanished?
Shampooer. I didn't say it. How did you guess it, madam?
Vasantasenā. 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.
Madanikā. But sir, what is his name?
Shampooer. ”

“ Chārudatta. 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. Thereupon 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. ”

“ 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 Ujjayinī 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. ”

“ 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 Radanikā go with me, to keep me company.
Chārudatta. Radanikā, you are to accompany Maitreya.
Radanikā. Yes, sir.
Maitreya. Mistress Radanikā, do you take the offering and the candle while I open the side-door. [He does so.]
Vasantasenā. It seems as if the door took pity on me and opened of itself. I will lose no time, but enter. ”

“ Where's your mistress?
Maid. She is here in the orchard. Enter, sir.
Maitreya. [Enters and looks about.] Well! What a beautiful orchard! 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 shephālikā, the white jasmine, the jessamine, the navamallikā, the amaranth, the spring creeper, and all the other flowers have fallen of themselves, and really, it makes Indra's heaven look dingy. [He looks in another direction.] ”

“ Maitreya. [Talking in his sleep.] Look, man. I see something like 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 entered, 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. ”