Sansthānaka. Come, come, make way! [He approaches.] Sthāvaraka, my little shon, my shlave, come, let's go home.
Sthāvaraka. You scoundrel! Are you not content with the murder of Vasantasenā? Must you try now to murder the noble Charudatta, that tree of life to all who loved him?
Sansthānaka. I am beautiful as a pot of jewels. I kill no woman!
Bystanders. Oho! you murdered her, not the noble Chārudatta.
Sansthānaka. Who shays that?
Bystanders. [Pointing to Sthāvaraka.] This honest man.
Sansthānaka. [Fearfully. Aside.] Merciful heavens! Why didn't I chain that shlave Sthāvaraka fasht? Why, he was a witnessh of my crime. [He reflects.] I'll do it thish way. [Aloud.] Lies, lies, good gentlemen. Why, I caught the shlave shtealing gold, and I pounded him, and murdered him, and put him in chains. He hates me. What he shays can't be true. [He secretly hands Sthāvaraka a bracelet, and whispers.] Sthāvaraka, my little shon, my shlave, take thish and shay shomething different.
Sthāvaraka. [Takes it.] Look, gentlemen, look! Why, he is trying to bribe me with gold.
Sansthānaka. [Snatches the bracelet from him.] That's the gold that I put him in chains for. [Angrily.] Look here, headsmen! I put him in charge of my gold-chest, and when he turned thief, I murdered him and pounded him. If you don't believe it, jusht look at his back.
Headsmen. [Doing so.] Yes, yes. When a servant is branded that way, no wonder he tells tales.
Sthāvaraka. A curse on slavery! A slave convinces nobody. [Mournfully.] Noble Chārudatta, I have no further power. [He falls at Chārudatta' s feet.]
Chārudatta. [Mournfully.]
Rise, rise! Kind soul to good men fallen on pain!
