Vardhamānaka. Maitreya, you are a Brahman.
Maitreya. Yes, like a slow-worm among all the other snakes, so am I a Brahman among all the other Brahmans.
Vardhamānaka. Maitreya, I will wash your feet after all. [He does so.] Maitreya, this golden casket I was to keep by day, you by night. Take it.[He gives it to Maitreya, then exit.
Maitreya. [Receiving the casket.] The thing is here still. Isn't there a single thief in Ujjayinī to steal the wretch that robs me of my sleep? Listen. I am going to take it into the inner court.
[46.1. S.
Chārud.
Such lax attention we can ill afford.
If we are trusted by a courtezan,
Then, Brahman, prove yourself an honest man,
And guard it safely, till it be restored.7
[He nods, repeating the stanza "The melody of song, the stricken strings:" [page 44.]]
Maitreya. Are you going to sleep?
Chārudatta. Yes, so it seems.
For conquering sleep, descending on mine eyes,
First smites the brow with unresisted blow;
Unseen, elusive, like old age, she tries
To gather strength by weakening her foe.8