FIRST CONSTABLE.—Oh! then I suppose the King took you for some fine Bráhman, and made you a present of it?
FISHERMAN.—Only hear me. I am but a poor fisherman, living at Śakrávatára———
SECOND CONSTABLE.—Scoundrel, who ever asked you, pray, for a history of your birth and parentage?
SUPERINTENDENT [to one of the Constables].—Súchaka, let the fellow tell his own story from the beginning. Don't interrupt him.
BOTH CONSTABLES.—As you please, master. Go on, then, sirrah, and say what you've got to say.
FISHERMAN.—You see in me a poor man, who supports his family by catching fish with nets, hooks, and the like.
SUPERINTENDENT [laughing].—A most refined occupation, certainly!
FISHERMAN.—Blame me not for it, master.
The father's occupation, though despised
By others, casts no shame upon the son,
And he should not forsake it. Is the priest
Who kills the animal for sacrifice
Therefore deemed cruel? Sure a lowborn man
May, though a fisherman, be tender-hearted.
SUPERINTENDENT.—Well, well; go on with your story.