Now at this time there was in the great city of Benares, a noble youth named Yasas, son of a rich man, master of one of the city guilds, and on this son his parents had lavished every good thing. He possessed a house of cool shades for summer, and another for the season of the rains. And his houses were full of delicately beautiful dancing girls, jewelled and perfumed, and what pleasure was absent, whether of food or wines, or music or any other?—None indeed, for the rich merchants dwell in luxury resembling that of kings.
And at first all this was good to him and he asked no more; but fulfilled every desire on the instant. There are men so embruted that this will content them until bodily power fails, but the noble youth Yasas was not of these.
And suddenly in the midst of his pleasures deep loathing fell upon him and secret disgust because he had sounded the utmost of pleasure and no more or better remained, and it was like vomit in his mouth, revolting to his soul.
And one night as he lay among his women, and they, abandoned to sleep, surrounded him, lovely as maidens of Mount Sumeru, he leaned against his silken cushions and the hall became hateful to him and he could no more endure it, but rose softly and put on his gilded shoes and went out into the midnight gardens where dripping dew impearled every leaf and blossom and glittered in pure moonlight, and the cool and calm were excellent. And he walked under the black and white light and dark of a long path by trees whose carven leaves hung like sculptured stone in the stillness of the air and their shadows flitted like dreams over his robes and face as he went, meditating upon the unspeakable weariness and distaste that filled him and the uncomforted wretchedness of youth that in all the world can find no good. And he said aloud:
“O my heart, how oppressive it is! O, my soul, the speechless weariness! Who in all the world shall show me any good.”
So, in his walking, he came to the gate of the garden and it stood wide open and the porter lay drowned in sleep, his face hidden from the moonlight, and there was none to see who came or went, and Yasas wandered on through dewy ways and silver pools of moonlight, not knowing where he went, having fled the house because he could no longer endure his despair. And as he came at last to the Deer Park of Isipatana the darkness began to thin for dawn.
And so it was that the Lord had risen from sleep and walked beneath the trees of Isipatana in meditation and he saw a young man coming, and in the great stillness heard him say:
“O my grief, how deep is my wretchedness,” and he pitied him, for he himself had been a rich young man, and he knew his heart.
So, taking his seat, the Blessed One said aloud:
“Sir, you are weary, but I hold in my hand a life that is neither grievous nor wretched. Sit down beside me and hear the Law. This doctrine, Yasas, is not oppressive. This is not afflicting.”