l thieves they be--
Will steal away all virtue's hoarded sum. 1

And further: I have seen that all things are transitory, so that now
I am become the abode of virtues alone.

Who slays the Five Men,[73] and the Female Bane,[74]
By whom protection to the Town[75] is given,
By whom the Outcaste[76] impotent is slain,
He cannot fail to enter into heaven. 2

Though head be shorn and face be shorn,
The heart unshorn, why should man shave him?
But he whose inmost heart is shorn
Needs not the shaven head to save him. 3

I have dyed this robe of mine yellow. And now I will go into the
garden of the king's brother-in-law, wash it in the pond, and go
away as soon as I can. [_He walks about and washes the robe._]

_A voice behind the scenes._ Shtop, you confounded monk, shtop!

_Monk._ [_Discovers the speaker. Fearfully._ ] Heaven help me! Here
is the king's brother-in-law, Sansthanaka. Just because one monk
committed an offense, now, wherever he sees a monk, whether it
is the same one or not, he bores a hole in his nose and drives him
around like a bullock. Where shall a defenseless man find a defender?
But after all, the blessed Lord Buddha is my defender.

[119.90. S.

[_Enter the courtier, carrying a sword, and Sansthanaka._]

_Sansthanaka._ Shtop, you confounded monk, shtop! I'll pound
your head like a red radish[77] at a drinking party. [_He strikes him._]

_Courtier._ You jackass, you should not strike a monk who wears
the yellow robes of renunciation. Why heed him? Look rather
upon this garden, which offers itself to pleasure.

To creatures else forlorn, the forest trees
Do works of mercy, granting joy and ease;
Like a sinner's heart, the park unguarded lies,
Like some new-founded realm, an easy prize. 4

_Monk._ Heaven bless you! Be merciful, servant of the Blessed
One!

_Sansthanaka._ Did you hear that, shir? He's inshulting me.

_Courtier._ What does he say?

_Sansthanaka._ Shays I'm a shervant. What do you take me for?
a barber?

_Courtier._ A servant of the Blessed One he calls you, and this is
praise.

_Sansthanaka._ Praise me shome more, monk!

_Monk._ You are virtuous! You are a brick!

_Sansthanaka._ Shee? He shays I'm virtuous. He shays I'm a brick.
What do you think I am? a materialistic philosopher? or a watering-trough?
or a pot-maker?[7