Part 7

_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Well! Here in the second court the cart-bullocks are tied. They grow fat on mouthfuls of grass and pulse-stalks which are brought them, right and left, by everybody. Their horns are smeared with oil. And here is another, a buffalo, snorting like a gentleman insulted. And here is a ram[53] having his neck rubbed, like a prize-fighter after the fight. And here are others, horses having their manes put in shape. And here in a stall is another, a monkey, tied fast like a thief. [_He looks in another direction._] And here is an elephant, taking from his drivers a cake of rice and drippings and oil. Show me the way, madam.

_Maid._ Come, sir, and enter the third court.

_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Well! Here in the third court are these seats, prepared for young gentlemen to sit on. A half-read

## book is lying on the gaming-table. And the table itself has

its own dice, made out of gems. And here, again, are courtezans and old hangers-on at court, past masters in the war and peace of love, wandering about and holding in their fingers pictures painted in many colors. Show me the way, madam.

P. 117.4]

_Maid._ Come, sir, and enter the fourth court.

_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Well! Here in the fourth court the drums that maiden fingers beat are booming like the thunder; the cymbals are falling, as the stars fall from heaven when their merit is exhausted;[54] the pipe is discoursing music as sweet as the humming of bees. And here, again, is a lute that somebody is holding on his lap like a girl who is excited by jealousy and love, and he is stroking it with his fingers. And here, again, are courtezan girls that sing as charmingly as honey-drunken bees, and they are made to dance and recite a drama with love in it. And water-coolers are hanging in the windows so as to catch the breeze. Show me the way, madam.

_Maid._ Come, sir, and enter the fifth court.

_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Well! Here in the fifth court the overpowering smell of asafetida and oil is attractive enough to make a poor devil's mouth water. The kitchen is kept hot all the time, and the gusts of steam, laden with all sorts of good smells, seem like sighs issuing from its mouth-like doors. The smell of the preparation of all kinds of foods and sauces makes me smack my lips. And here, again, is a butcher's boy washing a mess of chitterlings as if it were an old loin-cloth. The cook is preparing every kind of food. Sweetmeats are being constructed, cakes are being baked. [_To himself._] I wonder if I am to get a chance to wash my feet and an invitation to eat what I can hold. [_He looks in another direction._] There are courtezans and bastard pages, adorned with any number of jewels, just like Gandharvas[55] and Apsarases.[56] Really, this house is heaven. Tell me, who are you bastards anyway?

[70.13. S.

_Pages._ Why, we are bastard pages--

Petted in a stranger's court. Fed on stranger's food, Stranger's money makes us sport-- Not so very good. Stranger women gave us birth. Stranger men begot; Baby elephants in mirth, We're a bastard lot. 28

_Maitreya._ Show me the way, madam.

_Maid._ Come, sir, and enter the sixth court.

_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Well! Here in the sixth court they are working in gold and jewels. The arches set with sapphires look as if they were the home of the rainbow. The jewelers are testing the lapis lazuli, the pearls, the corals, the topazes, the sapphires, the cat's-eyes, the rubies, the emeralds, and all the other kinds of gems. Rubies are being set in gold. Golden ornaments are being fashioned. Pearls are being strung on a red cord. Pieces of lapis lazuli are being cleverly polished. Shells are being pierced. Corals are being ground. Wet bundles of saffron are being dried. Musk is being moistened. Sandalwood is being ground to make sandal-water. Perfumes are being compounded. Betel-leaves and camphor are being given to courtezans and their lovers. Coquettish glances are being exchanged. Laughter is going on. Wine is being drunk incessantly with sounds of glee. Here are men-servants, here are maid-servants, and here are men who forget child and wife and money. When the courtezans, who have drunk the wine from the liquor-jars, give them the mitten, they--drink. Show me the way, madam.

P. 121.5]

_Maid._ Come, sir, and enter the seventh court.

_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Well! Here in the seventh court the mated doves are sitting comfortably in their snug dovecotes, billing and cooing and nothing else, and perfectly happy. And there is a parrot in a cage, chanting like a Brahman with a bellyful of curdled milk and rice. And here, again, is a talking thrush, chattering like a housemaid who spreads herself because somebody noticed her. A cuckoo, her throat still happy from tasting all sorts of fruit-syrups, is cooing like a procuress. Rows of cages are hanging from pegs. Quails are being egged on to fight. Partridges are being made to talk. Caged pigeons are being provoked. A tame peacock that looks as if he was adorned with all sorts of gems is dancing happily about, and as he flaps his wings, he seems to be fanning the roof which is distressed by the rays of the sun. [_He looks in another direction._] Here are pairs of flamingos like moonbeams rolled into a ball, that wander about after pretty girls, as if they wanted to learn how to walk gracefully. And here, again, are tame cranes, walking around like ancient eunuchs. Well, well! This courtezan keeps a regular menagerie of birds. Really, the courtezan's house seems to me like Indra's heaven. Show me the way, madam.

_Maid._ Come, sir, and enter the eighth court.

_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Madam, who is this in the silk cloak, adorned with such astonishingly tautologous ornaments, who wanders about, stumbling and stretching his limbs?

_Maid._ Sir, this is my mistress' brother.

_Maitreya._ What sort of ascetic exercises does a man have to perform, in order to be born as Vasantasena's brother? But no,

He may be shiny, may be greasy, And perfumed may he be. And yet I warn you to go easy; He's a graveyard champak-tree. 29

[_He looks in another direction._] But madam, who is that in the expansive garment, sitting on the throne? She has shoes on her greasy feet.

[72.9. S.

_Maid._ Sir, that is my mistress' mother.

_Maitreya._ Lord! What an extensive belly the dirty old witch has got! I suppose they couldn't put that superb portal on the house till after they had brought the idol in?

_Maid._ Rascal! You must not make fun of our mother so. She is pining away under a quartan ague.

_Maitreya._ [_Bursts out laughing._] O thou blessed quartan ague! Look thou upon a Brahman, even upon me, with this thy favor!

_Maid._ Rascal! May death strike you.

_Maitreya._ [_Bursts out laughing._] Why, wench, a pot-belly like that is better dead.

Drinking brandy, rum, and wine, Mother fell extremely ill. If mother now should peak and pine, A jackal-pack would have its fill. 30

Well, I have seen Vasantasena's palace with its many incidents and its eight courts, and really, it seems as if I had seen the triple heaven in a nut-shell. I haven't the eloquence to praise it. Is this the house of a courtezan, or a piece of Kubera's[57] palace? 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 shephalika, the white jasmine, the jessamine, the navamallika, 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._] And the pond here looks like the morning twilight, for the lilies and red lotuses are as splendid as the rising sun. And again:

The ashoka-tree, whose twigs so merry And crimson flowers have just appeared, Seems like a battling mercenary, With clotting crimson gore besmeared. 31

Good! Now where's your mistress?

P. 126.7]

_Maid._ If you would stop star-gazing, sir, you would see her.

_Maitreya._ [_Perceives Vasantasena and approaches._] Heaven bless you!

_Vasantasena._ [_Speaking in Sanskrit._[58]] Ah, Maitreya! [_Rising._] You are very welcome. Here is a seat. Pray be seated.

_Maitreya._ When you are seated, madam. [_They both seat themselves._]

_Vasantasena._ Is the merchant's son well?

_Maitreya._ Well, madam.

_Vasantasena._ Tell me, good Maitreya,

Do friends, like birds, yet seek a shelter free Beneath the modest boughs of this fair tree, Whose leaves are virtues, confidence its root, Its blossoms honor, good its precious fruit? 32

_Maitreya._ [_Aside._] A good description by a naughty woman. [_Aloud._] They do, indeed.

_Vasantasena._ Tell me, what is the purpose of your coming?

_Maitreya._ Listen, madam. The excellent Charudatta folds his hands[59] and requests--

_Vasantasena._ [_Folding her hands._] And commands--

_Maitreya._ He says he imagined that that golden casket was his own and gambled it away. And nobody knows where the gambling-master has gone, for he is employed in the king's business.

[74.9. S.

_Maid._ Mistress, I congratulate you. The gentleman has turned gambler.

_Vasantasena._ [_Aside._] It was stolen by a thief, and he is so proud that he says he gambled it away. I love him for that.

_Maitreya._ He requests that you will therefore be good enough to accept in its place this necklace of pearls.

_Vasantasena._ [_Aside._] Shall I show him the jewels? [_Reflecting._] No, not yet.

_Maitreya._ Why don't you take this necklace?

_Vasantasena._ [_Laughs and looks at her friend._] Why should I not take the necklace, Maitreya? [_She takes it and lays it away. Aside._] How is it possible that drops of honey fall from the mango-tree, even after its blossoms are gone? [_Aloud._] Sir, pray tell the worthy gambler Charudatta in my name that I shall pay him a visit this evening.

_Maitreya._ [_Aside._] What else does she expect to get out of a visit to our house? [_Aloud._] Madam, I will tell him--[_Aside_ to have nothing more to do with this courtezan. [_Exit._

_Vasantasena._ Take these jewels, girl. Let us go and bring cheer to Charudatta.

_Maid._ But mistress, see! An untimely storm is gathering.

_Vasant._

The clouds may come, the rain may fall forever, The night may blacken in the sky above; For this I care not, nor I will not waver; My heart is journeying to him I love. 33

Take the necklace, girl, and come quickly. [_Exeunt omnes._

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 50: A name of Kama, the god of love.]

[Footnote 51: Used as a refrigerant.]

[Footnote 52: That is to say. You are now a legal wife, while I am still a courtesan.]

[Footnote 53: "Rams in India are commonly trained to fight." WILSON.]

[Footnote 54: Virtuous souls after death may become stars; but when their stellar happiness equals the sum of their acquired merit, they fall to earth again.]

[Footnote 55: The choristers of heaven.]

[Footnote 56: The nymphs of heaven.]

[Footnote 57: The god of wealth.]

[Footnote 58: This shows the excellence of Vasantasena's education. Women, as an almost invariable rule, speak Prakrit.]

[Footnote 59: A gesture of respectful entreaty.]

ACT THE FIFTH

THE STORM

[_The love-lorn Charudatta appears, seated._]

_Charudatta._ [_Looks up._]

An untimely storm[60] is gathering. For see! The peacocks gaze and lift their fans on high; The swans forget their purpose to depart; The untimely storm afflicts the blackened sky, And the wistful lover's heart. 1

And again:

The wet bull's belly wears no deeper dye; In flashing lightning's golden mantle clad, While cranes, his buglers, make the heaven glad, The cloud, a second Vishnu,[61] mounts the sky. 2

And yet again:

As dark as Vishnu's form, with circling cranes To trumpet him, instead of bugle strains, And garmented in lightning's silken robe. Approaches now the harbinger of rains. 3

When lightning's lamp is lit, the silver river Impetuous falls from out the cloudy womb; Like severed lace from heaven-cloaking gloom, It gleams an instant, then is gone forever. 4

Like shoaling fishes, or like dolphins shy, Or like to swans, toward heaven's vault that fly, Like paired flamingos, male and mate together, Like mighty pinnacles that tower on high. In thousand forms the tumbling clouds embrace, Though torn by winds, they gather, interlace, And paint the ample canvas of the sky. 5

The sky is black as Dhritarashtra's face; Proud as the champion of Kuru's race. The haughty peacock shrills his joy abroad; The cuckoo, in Yudhishthira's sad case, Is forced to wander if he would not die; The swans must leave their forest-homes and fly, Like Pandu's sons, to seek an unknown place. 6

[_Reflecting._] It is long since Maitreya went to visit Vasantasena. And even yet he does not come. [_Enter Maitreya._]

[76.20. S.

_Maitreya._ Confound the courtezan's avarice and her incivility! To think of her making so short a story of it! Over and over she repeats something about the affection she feels, and then without more ado she pockets the necklace. She is rich enough so that she might at least have said: "Good Maitreya, rest a little. You must not go until you have had a cup to drink." Confound the courtezan! I hope I 'll never set eyes on her again. [_Wearily._] The proverb is right. "It is hard to find a lotus-plant without a root, a merchant who never cheats, a goldsmith who never steals, a village-gathering without a fight, and a courtezan without avarice." Well, I 'll find my friend and persuade him to have nothing more to do with this courtezan. [_He walks about until he discovers Charudatta._] Ah, my good friend is sitting in the orchard. I 'll go to him. [_Approaching._] Heaven bless you! May happiness be yours.

_Charudatta._ [_Looking up._] Ah, my friend Maitreya has returned. You are very welcome, my friend. Pray be seated.

_Maitreya._ Thank you.

_Charudatta._ Tell me of your errand, my friend.

_Maitreya._ My errand went all wrong.

P. 132.8]

_Charudatta._ What! did she not accept the necklace?

_Maitreya._ How could we expect such a piece of luck? She put her lotus-tender hands to her brow,[62] and took it.

_Charudatta._ Then why do you say "went wrong"?

_Maitreya._ Why not, when we lost a necklace that was the pride of the four seas for a cheap golden casket, that was stolen before we had a bite or a drink out of it?

_Charudatta._ Not so, my friend.

She showed her trust in leaving us her treasure; The price of confidence has no less measure. 7

_Maitreya._ Now look here! I have a second grievance. She tipped her friend the wink, covered her face with the hem of her dress, and laughed at me. And so, Brahman though I am, I hereby fall on my face before you and beg you not to have anything more to do with this courtezan. That sort of society does any amount of damage. A courtezan is like a pebble in your shoe. It hurts before you get rid of it. And one thing more, my friend. A courtezan, an elephant, a scribe, a mendicant friar, a swindler, and an ass--where these dwell, not even rogues are born.

_Charudatta._ Oh, my friend, a truce to all your detraction! My poverty of itself prevents me. For consider:

The horse would gladly hasten here and there, But his legs fail him, for his breath departs. So men's vain wishes wander everywhere, Then, weary grown, return into their hearts. 8

Then too, my friend:

If wealth is thine, the maid is thine, For maids are won by gold;

[_Aside._ And not by virtue cold. _Aloud._]

But wealth is now no longer mine, And her I may not hold. 9

[78.23. S.

_Maitreya._ [_Looks down. Aside._] From the way he looks up and sighs, I conclude that my effort to distract him has simply increased his longing. The proverb is right. "You can't reason with a lover." [_Aloud._] Well, she told me to tell you that she would have to come here this evening. I suppose she isn't satisfied with the necklace and is coming to look for something else.

_Charudatta._ Let her come, my friend. She shall not depart unsatisfied. [_Enter Kumbhilaka._]

_Kumbhilaka._ Listen, good people.

The more it rains in sheets, The more my skin gets wet; The more the cold wind beats, The more I shake and fret. 10

[_He bursts out laughing._]

I make the sweet flute speak from seven holes, I make the loud lute speak on seven strings; In singing, I essay the donkey's roles: No god can match my music when he sings. 11

My mistress Vasantasena said to me "Kumbhilaka, go and tell Charudatta that I am coming." So here I am, on my way to Charudatta's house. [_He walks about, and, as he enters, discovers Charudatta._] Here is Charudatta in the orchard. And here is that wretched jackanapes, too. Well, I'll go up to them. What! the orchard-gate is shut? Good! I'll give this jackanapes a hint. [_He throws lumps of mud._]

_Maitreya._ Well! Who is this pelting me with mud, as if I were an apple-tree inside of a fence?

_Charudatta._ Doubtless the pigeons that play on the roof of the garden-house.

_Maitreya._ Wait a minute, you confounded pigeon! With this stick I'll bring you down from the roof to the ground, like an over-ripe mango. [_He raises his stick and starts to run._]

P. 136.8]

_Charudatta._ [_Holding him back by the sacred cord._] Sit down, my friend. What do you mean? Leave the poor pigeon alone with his mate.

_Kumbhilaka._ What! he sees the pigeon and doesn't see me? Good! I'll hit him again with another lump of mud. [_He does so._]

_Maitreya._ [_Looks about him._] What! Kumbhilaka? I'll be with you in a minute. [_He approaches and opens the gate._] Well, Kumbhilaka, come in. I'm glad to see you.

_Kumbhilaka._ [_Enters._] I salute you, sir.

_Maitreya._ Where do you come from, man, in this rain and darkness?

_Kumbhilaka._ You see, she's here.

_Maitreya._ Who's she? Who's here?

_Kumbhilaka._ She. See? She.

_Maitreya._ Look here, you son of a slave! What makes you sigh like a half-starved old beggar in a famine, with your "shesheshe"?

_Kumbhilaka._ And what makes you hoot like an owl with your "whowhowho"?

_Maitreya._ All right. Tell me.

_Kumbhilaka._ [_Aside._] Suppose I say it this way. [_Aloud._] I'll give you a riddle, man.

_Maitreya._ And I'll give you the answer with my foot on your bald spot.

_Kumbhilaka._ Not till you've guessed it. In what season do the mango-trees blossom?

_Maitreya._ In summer, you jackass.

_Kumbhilaka._ [_Laughing._] Wrong!

_Maitreya._ [_Aside._] What shall I say now? [_Reflecting._] Good! I'll go and ask Charudatta. [_Aloud._] Just wait a moment. [_Approaching Charudatta._] My friend, I just wanted to ask you in what season the mango-trees blossom.

[81.3. S.

_Charudatta._ You fool, in spring, in _vasanta._

_Maitreya._ [_Returns to Kumbhilaka._] You fool, in spring, in _vasanta_.

_Kumbhilaka._ Now I 'll give you another. Who guards thriving villages?

_Maitreya._ Why, the guard.

_Kumbhilaka._ [_Laughing._] Wrong!

_Maitreya._ Well, I'm stuck. [_Reflecting._] Good! I'll ask Charudatta again. [_He returns and puts the question to Charudatta._]

_Charudatta._ The army, my friend, the _sena_.

_Maitreya._ [_Comes back to Kumbhilaka._] The army, you jackass, the _sena_.

_Kumbhilaka._ Now put the two together and say 'em fast.

_Maitreya._ Sena-vasanta.

_Kumbhilaka._ Say it turned around.

_Maitreya._ [_Turns around._] Sena-vasanta.

_Kumbhilaka._ You fool! you jackanapes! Turn the parts of the thing around!

_Maitreya._ [_Turns his feet around._] Sena-vasanta.

_Kumbhilaka._ You fool! Turn the parts of the word around!

_Maitreya._ [_After reflection._] Vasanta-sena.

_Kumbhilaka._ She's here.

_Maitreya._ Then I must tell Charudatta. [_Approaching._] Well, Charudatta, your creditor is here.

_Charudatta._ How should a creditor come into my family?

_Maitreya._ Not in the family perhaps, but at the door. Vasantasena is here.

_Charudatta._ Why do you deceive me, my friend?

_Maitreya._ If you can't trust me, then ask Kumbhilaka here. Kumbhilaka, you jackass, come here.

P. 140.4]

_Kumbhilaka._ [_Approaching._] I salute you, sir.

_Charudatta._ You are welcome, my good fellow. Tell me, is Vasantasena really here?

_Kumbhilaka._ Yes, she's here. Vasantasena is here.

_Charudatta._ [_Joyfully._] My good fellow, I have never let the bearer of welcome news go unrewarded. Take this as your recompense. [_He gives him his mantle._]

_Kumbhilaka._ [_Takes it and bows. Gleefully._] I'll tell my mistress.

[_Exit._

_Maitreya._ Do you see why she comes in a storm like this?

_Charudatta._ I do not quite understand, my friend.

_Maitreya._ I know. She has an idea that the pearl necklace is cheap, and the golden casket expensive. She isn't satisfied, and she has come to look for something more.

_Charudatta._ [_Aside._] She shall not depart unsatisfied.

* * * * *

[_Then enter the love-lorn Vasantasena, in a splendid garment, fit for a woman who goes to meet her lover, a maid with an umbrella, and the courtier._]

_Courtier._ [_Referring to Vasantasena._]

Lakshmi[63] without the lotus-flower is she, Loveliest arrow of god Kama's bow,[64] The sweetest blossom on love's magic tree.

See how she moves, so gracefully and slow! In passion's hour she still loves modesty; In her, good wives their dearest sorrow know.

When passion's drama shall enacted be. When on love's stage appears the passing show, A host of wanderers shall bend them low. Glad to be slaves in such captivity. 12

[82.94. S.

See, Vasantasena, see!

The clouds hang drooping to the mountain peaks, Like a maiden's heart, that distant lover seeks: The peacocks startle, when the thunder booms, And fan the heaven with all their jeweled plumes. 13

And again:

Mud-stained, and pelted by the streaming rain, To drink the falling drops the frogs are fain; Full-throated peacocks love's shrill passion show, And nipa flowers like brilliant candles glow; Unfaithful clouds obscure the hostage moon, Like knaves, unworthy of so dear a boon; Like some poor maid of better breeding bare, The impatient lightning rests not anywhere. 14

_Vasantasena._[65] Sir, what you say is most true. For

The night, an angry rival, bars my way; Her thunders fain would check and hinder me: "Fond fool! with him I love thou shalt not stay, 'T is I, 't is I, he loves," she seems to say, "Nor from my swelling bosom shall he flee." 15

_Courtier._ Yes, yes. That is right. Scold the night.

_Vasantasena._ And yet, sir, why scold one who is so ignorant of woman's nature! For you must remember:

The clouds may rain, may thunder ne'er so bold, May flash the lightning from the sky above; That woman little recks of heat or cold, Who journeys to her love. 16

_Courtier._ But see, Vasantasena! Another cloud,

Sped by the fickle fury of the air-- A flood of arrows in his rushing streams, His drum, the roaring thunder's mighty blare, His banner, living lightning's awful gleams--

Rages within the sky, and shows him bold 'Mid beams that to the moon allegiance owe, Like a hero-king within the hostile hold Of his unwarlike foe. 17

P. 142.9]

_Vasantasena._ True, true. And more than this:

As dark as elephants, these clouds alone Fall like a cruel dart-- With streaks of lightning and with white birds strewn-- To wound my wretched heart. But, oh, why should the heron, bird of doom, With that perfidious sound[66] Of "Rain! Rain! Rain!"--grim summons to the tomb For her who spends her lonely hours in gloom-- Strew salt upon the wound? 18

_Courtier._ Very true, Vasantasena. And yet again: