The author is not merely admirable in characterization; he is [[136]]master of pathos, as in the parting of Cārudatta from his son who asks the headsman to kill him and let his father go, and above all he abounds in humour and wit; even in the last act Goha, the headman, relieves the tension by the tale of his father who advised him on his death-bed not to slay too quickly the criminal on the off-chance that there might be a revolution or something to save the wretch’s life, and, when after deliverance comes the noble Cārudatta forbids the slaying with steel of the grovelling Saṁsthānaka, Çarvilaka cheerfully remarks that is all right: he will be eaten alive by the dogs instead.
These merits and the wealth of incident of the drama more than compensate for the overluxuriance of the double intrigue, and the lack of unity, which is unquestionable. A demerit in the eyes of the writers on poetics is the absence of elaborate descriptions, but the simple and clear diction of the play adds greatly to its liveliness and dramatic effect, and the poet has perfect command of the power of pithy and forcible expression. The Viṭa effectually rebukes the arrogance and pride of family of Saṁsthānaka:
kiṁ kulenopadiṣṭena çīlam evātra kāraṇam
bhavanti sutarāṁ sphītāḥ sukṣetre kaṇṭakidrumāḥ.
‘Why talk of birth? Character alone counts. In rich soil the thorn trees grow fastest.’ Cārudatta on the point of death asserts his fearlessness:
na bhīto marāṇād asmi kevalaṁ dūṣitaṁ yaçaḥ
viçuddhasya hi me mṛtyuḥ putrajanmasamo bhavet.
‘I fear not death, but my honour is sullied; were that stain removed, death would be as dear as the birth of a son.’ Admirable is his expression of belief in Vasantasenā who may be dead:
prabhavati yadi dharmo dūṣitasyāpi me ’dya: prabalapuruṣavākyair bhāgyadoṣāt kathaṁcit
surapatibhavanasthā yatra tatra sthitā vā: vyapanayatu kalan̄kaṁ svasvabhāvena saiva.