Charioteer. Your Majesty, I have been holding the horses back because the ground was rough. This checked us and gave the deer a lead. Now we are on level ground, and you will easily overtake him.
King. Then let the reins hang loose.
Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (He counterfeits rapid motion.) Look, your Majesty!
The lines hang loose; the steeds unreined
Dart forward with a will.
Their ears are pricked; their necks are strained;
Their plumes lie straight and still.
They leave the rising dust behind;
They seem to float upon the wind.
King (joyfully). See! The horses are gaining on the deer.
As onward and onward the chariot flies,
The small flashes large to my dizzy eyes.
What is cleft in twain, seems to blur and mate;
What is crooked in nature, seems to be straight.
Things at my side in an instant appear
Distant, and things in the distance, near.
A voice behind the scenes. O King, this deer belongs to the hermitage, and must not be killed.
Charioteer (listening and looking). Your Majesty, here are two hermits, come to save the deer at the moment when your arrow was about to fall.
King (hastily). Stop the chariot.
Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (He does so. Enter a hermit with his pupil.)