Sansthānaka. She went north.
Courtier. This is nonsense. My heart is not satisfied. Speak the truth.
Sansthānaka. I shwear by your head, shir, and my own feet You may be easy in your heart. I murdered her.
Courtier. [Despairingly.] You really killed her?
Sansthānaka. If you don't believe my words, then shee the firsht heroic deed of Sansthānaka, the king's brother-in-law. [He points out the body.]
Courtier. Alas! Ah, woe is me! [He falls in a swoon.]
Sansthānaka. Hee, hee! The gentleman is calm enough now!
Sthāvaraka. Oh, sir! Come to yourself! I am the first murderer, for I brought the bullock-cart hither without looking into it.
Courtier. [Comes to himself. Mournfully.] Alas, Vasantasenā!
The stream of courtesy is dried away,
And happiness to her own land doth flee.
Sweet gem of gems, that knew love's gentle play,
Love's mart and beauty's! Joy of men like me!
Thy mirth-shored stream, that kind and healing river—
Alas! is perished, lost, and gone forever! 38
[Tearfully.] Ah, woe is me!
What sin is yet to come, or woe,
Now thou hast done this deed of hate?
Like sin's foul self, hast thou laid low
The sinless goddess of our state. 39
[Aside.] Ah! Perhaps the wretch means to lay this sin to my charge. I must go hence. [He walks about. Sansthānaka approaches and holds him back.] Scoundrel! Touch me not. I have done with you. I go.
Sansthānaka. Aha! Firsht you murder Vasantasenā, then you abuse me, and now where will you run to? And sho a man like me hasn't anybody to protect him.
