CHILD.—Open your mouth, my young lion, I want to count your teeth.
FIRST ATTENDANT.—You naughty child, why do you tease the animals? Know you not that we cherish them in this hermitage as if they were our own children? In good sooth, you have a high spirit of your own, and are beginning already to do justice to the name Sarva-damana (All-taming), given you by the hermits.
KING.—Strange! My heart inclines towards the boy with almost as much affection as if he were my own child. What can be the reason? I suppose my own childlessness makes me yearn towards the sons of others.
SECOND ATTENDANT.—This lioness will certainly attack you if you do not release her whelp.
CHILD [laughing].—Oh! indeed! let her come. Much I fear her, to be sure. [Pouts his under-lip in defiance.
KING.—The germ of mighty courage lies concealed
Within this noble infant, like a spark
Beneath the fuel, waiting but a breath
To fan the flame and raise a conflagration.
FIRST ATTENDANT.—Let the young lion go, like a dear child, and I will give you something else to play with.
CHILD.—Where is it? Give it me first. [Stretches out his hand.
KING [looking at his hand].—How's this? His hand exhibits one of those mystic marks which are the sure prognostic of universal empire. See!