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 woodcock in the wood. 19
Courtier. Vasantasenā! 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-shiver in the air;
Now and again, a lotus-bud
Falls to the ground, as red as blood.
A red realgar[1] vein you seem,
Whence, smitten, drops of crimson stream. 20
Sansthānaka. Shtop, Vasantasenā, shtop!
You wake my passion, 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 Rāvana forced Kuntī[2] to his will;
Jusht sho shall I enjoy you to the fill. 21
Courtier. Ah, Vasantasenā,
Why should your fleeter flight
Outstrip my flying feet?
Why, like a snake in fright
Before the bird-king's might,
