MÁTHAVYA.—Off with you, you son of a slave! Your nonsense won't go down here, my fine fellow.
[Exit General.
KING [looking at his attendants].—Here, women, take my hunting-dress; and you, Raivataka, keep guard carefully outside.
ATTENDANTS.—We will, sire.
[Exeunt.
MÁTHAVYA.—Now that you have got rid of these plagues, who have been buzzing about us like so many flies, sit down, do, on that stone slab, with the shade of the tree as your canopy, and I will seat myself by you quite comfortably.
KING.—Go you, and sit down first.
MÁTHAVYA.—Come along, then.
[Both walk on a little way, and seat themselves.
KING.—Máthavya, it may be said of you that you have never beheld anything worth seeing: for your eyes have not yet looked upon the loveliest object in creation.