Sansthānaka. Thish very minute I 'm going to shtrangle "him who dwells in your heart," and you too. Shtand shtill, you poor-merchant-man's lover!
Vasantasenā. Oh speak, oh speak again these words that do me honor!
Sansthānaka. Jusht let poor Chārudatta—the shon of a shlave—reshcue you now!
Vasantasenā. He would rescue me, if he saw me.
Sansthānaka.
Is he the king of gods? the royal ape?
Shon of a nymph? or wears a demon's shape?
The kingly deity of wind and rain?
The offshpring of the Pāndu-princes' bane?
A prophet? or a vulture known afar?
A shtatesman? or a beetle? or a shtar?34
P. 212.11]
But even if he was, he could n't reshcue you.
As Sītā in the Bhārata
Was killed by good old Chānakya,
Sho I intend to throttle thee,
As did Jatāyu Draupadī.35
[He raises his arm to strike her.]