Now cuff him off. He’s off! A kiss for you,
Because you saved my rice. Have you no thanks?
VIJAYA [sings]
Sing you of her, O first few stars,
Whom Brahma, touching with his finger, praises, for you hold
The van of wandering quiet; ere you be too calm and old,
Sing, turning in your cars,
Sing, till you raise your hands and sigh, and from your car heads peer,
With all your whirling hair, and drop tear upon azure tear.
ANASHUYA.