8]

_Courtier._ You jackass, he praises you when he says that you are
virtuous, that you are a brick.

_Sansthanaka._ Well, shir, what did he come here for?

_Monk._ To wash this robe.

_Sansthanaka._ Confound the monk! My shishter's husband gave me
the finesht garden there is, the garden Pushpakaranda. Dogs and
jackals drink the water in thish pond. Now I'm an arishtocrat. I'm
a man, and I don't even take a bath. And here you bring your
shtinking clothes, all shtained with shtale bean-porridge, and wash
'em! I think one good shtroke will finish you.

P. 187.7]

_Courtier._ You jackass, I am sure he has not long been a monk.

_Sansthanaka._ How can you tell, shir?

_Courtier._ It doesn't take much to tell that, See!

His hair is newly shorn; the brow still white;
The rough cloak has not yet the shoulder scarred;
He wears it awkwardly; it clings not tight;
And here above, the fit is sadly marred. 5

_Monk._ True, servant of the Blessed One. I have been a monk but
a short time.

_Sansthanaka._ Then why haven't you been one all your life? [_He
beats him._]

_Monk._ Buddha be praised!

_Courtier._ Stop beating the poor fellow. Leave him alone. Let him
go.

_Sansthanaka._ Jusht wait a minute, while I take counshel.

_Courtier._ With whom?

_Sansthanaka._ With my own heart.

_Courtier._ Poor fellow! Why didn't he escape?

_Sansthanaka._ Blesshed little heart, my little shon and mashter, shall
the monk go, or shall the monk shtay? [_To himself._] Neither go,
nor shtay. [_Aloud._] Well, shir, I took counshel with my heart, and
my heart shays--

_Courtier._ Says what?

_Sansthanaka._ He shall neither go, nor shtay. He shall neither
breathe up, nor breathe down. He shall fall down right here and
die, before you can shay "boo."

_Monk._ Buddha be praised! I throw myself upon your protection.

_Courtier._ Let him go.

[114.24. S.

_Sansthanaka._ Well, on one condition.

_Courtier._ And what is that?

_Sansthanaka._ He musht shling mud in, without making the water
dirty. Or better yet, he musht make the water into a ball, and
shling it into the mud.

_Courtier._ What incredible folly!

The patient earth is burdened by
So many a fool, so many a drone,
Whose thoughts and deeds are all awry--
These trees of flesh, these forms of stone. 6

[_The monk makes faces at Sansthanaka._]

_Sansthanaka._ What does he mean?