Sansthānaka. [Girds up his loins.] Wait a minute, Vasantasenā, wait a minute. I want to murder you.
Courtier. You will kill her before my eyes? [He seizes him by the throat.]
Sansthānaka. [Falls to the ground.] Shir, you 're murdering your mashter. [He loses consciousness, but recovers.]
I always fed him fat with meat,
And gave him butter too, to eat;
Now for the friend in need I search;
Why does he leave me in the lurch?28
[After reflection.] Good! I have an idea. The old jackal gave her a hint by shaking his head at her. Sho I 'll shend him away, and then I 'll murder Vasantasenā. That's the idea. [Aloud.] Shir, I was born in a noble family as great as a wine-glass. How could I do that shin I shpoke about? I jusht shaid it to make her love me.
P. 209.3]
Courtier. Why should you boast of this your noble birth?
'T is character that makes the man of worth;
But thorns and weeds grow rank in fertile earth.29
Sansthānaka. She 's ashamed to confessh her love when you 're here. Please go. My shervant Sthāvaraka has gone too after getting a beating. He may be running away. Catch him, shir, and come back with him.
Courtier. [Aside.]