The Little Clay Cart Part 5

_Voices behind the scenes._ Stop, Vasantasena, stop!

[_Enter Vasantasena, pursued by the courtier, by Sansthanaka, and the servant._]

_Courtier._ Vasantasena! Stop, stop!

Ah, why should fear transform your tenderness?

Why should the dainty feet feel such distress, That twinkle in the dance so prettily?

Why should your eyes, thus startled into fear, Dart sidelong looks? Why, like the timid deer Before pursuing hunters, should you flee? 17

_Sansthanaka._ Shtop,[31] Vasantasena, shtop!

Why flee? and run? and shtumble in your turning?

Be kind! You shall not die. Oh, shtop your feet!

With love, shweet girl, my tortured heart is burning.

As on a heap of coals a piece of meat. 18

[10.2 S.

_Servant._ Stop, courtezan, stop!

In fear you flee Away from me, As a summer peahen should; But my lord and master Struts fast and faster, Like a woodc.o.c.k in the wood. 19

_Courtier._ Vasantasena! Stop, stop!

Why should you tremble, should you flee, A-quiver like the plantain tree?

Your garment's border, red and fair, Is all a-s.h.i.+ver in the air; Now and again, a lotus-bud Falls to the ground, as red as blood.

A red realgar[32] vein you seem, Whence, smitten, drops of crimson stream. 20

_Sansthanaka._ Shtop. Vasantasena, shtop!

You wake my pa.s.sion, my desire, my love; You drive away my shleep in bed at night; Both fear and terror sheem your heart to move; You trip and shtumble in your headlong flight.

But Ravana forced Kunti[33] to his will; Jusht sho shall I enjoy you to the fill. 21

_Courtier._ Ah, Vasantasena,

Why should your fleeter flight Outstrip my flying feet?

Why, like a snake in fright Before the bird-king's might, Thus seek to flee, my sweet?

Could I not catch the storm-wind in his flight?

Yet would not seize upon you, though I might. 22

P. 19.9]

_Sansthanaka_. Lishten to me, s.h.i.+r!

Thish whip of robber Love, thish dancing-girl, Eater of fish, deshtroyer of her kin, Thish shnubnose, shtubborn, love-box, courtezan, Thish clothes-line, wanton creature, maid of sin-- I gave her ten shweet names, and shtill She will not bend her to my will. 23

_Courtier_.

As courtier's fingers strike the lute's tense string, The dancing ear-ring smites your wounded cheek.

Why should you flee, with dreadful terror weak, As flees the crane when heaven's thunders ring? 24

_Sansth_.

Your jingling gems, girl, clink like anything; Like Draupadi you flee, when Rama kisshed her.

I'll sheize you quick, as once the monkey-king Sheized Subhadra, Vishvavasu's shweet s.h.i.+shter. 25

_Servant_.

He's the royal protege; Do whatever he may say.

And you shall have good fish and flesh to eat.

For when dogs have all the fish And the flesh that they can wish, Even carrion seems to them no longer sweet. 26

_Courtier_. Mistress Vasantasena,

The girdle drooping low upon your hips Flashes as brilliant as the s.h.i.+ning stars; The wondrous terror of your fleeing mars Your charms; for red realgar, loosened, slips As on an imaged G.o.d, from cheek and lips. 27

_Sansth_.

We're chasing you with all our main and might, As dogs a jackal when they hunt and find it; But you are quick and nimble in your flight, And shteal my heart with all the roots that bind it. 28

[11.23. S.

_Vasantasena._ Pallavaka! Parabhritika!

_Sansthanaka._ Mashter! a man! a man!

_Courtier._ Don't be a coward.

_Vasantasena._ Madhavika! Madhavika!

_Courtier._ [_Laughing._] Fool! She is calling her servants.

_Sansthanaka._ Mashter! Is she calling a woman?

_Courtier._ Why, of course.

_Sansthanaka._ Women! I kill hundreds of 'em. I'm a brave man.

_Vasantasena._ [_Seeing that no one answers._] Alas, how comes it that my very servants have fallen away from me? I shall have to defend myself by mother-wit.

_Courtier._ Don't stop the search.

_Sansthanaka._ Shqueal, Vasantasena, shqueal for your cuckoo Parabhritika, or for your blosshom Pallavaka or for all the month of May! Who's going to save you when I'm chasing you?

Why shpeak of Bhimasena? Or the shon Of Jamadagni, that thrice-mighty one?

The ten-necked ogre? Shon of Kunti fair?

Jusht look at me! My fingers in your hair, Jusht like Duhshasana, I'll tear, and tear. 29

Look, look!