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Or Indradatta? or again, is he

Shon of brave Rāma and of fair Kuntī?

Or Dharmaputra? Ashvatthāman bold?

Perhaps Jatāyu's shelf, that vulture old?

Courtier. Fool! I will tell you who Chārudatta is.

A tree of life to them whose sorrows grow,

Beneath its fruit of virtue bending low;

Father to good men; virtue's touchstone he;

The mirror of the learned; and the sea

Where all the tides of character unite;

A righteous man, whom pride could never blight;

A treasure-house, with human virtues stored;

Courtesy's essence, honor's precious hoard.

He doth to life its fullest meaning give,

So good is he; we others breathe, not live.

Let us be gone.

Sansthānaka. Without Vasantasenā?

Courtier. Vasantasenā has disappeared.

Sansthānaka. How?

Courtier. Like sick men's strength, or like the blind man's sight,

Like the fool's judgment, like the sluggard's might,

Like thoughtless scoundrels' store of wisdom's light,

Like love, when foemen fan our slumbering wrath,

So did she vanish, when you crossed her path.

Sansthānaka. I 'm not going without Vasantasenā.

Courtier. And did you never hear this?

To hold a horse, you need a rein;

To hold an elephant, a chain;

To hold a woman, use a heart;

And if you haven't one, depart.

Sansthānaka. If you're going, go along. I'm not going.

Courtier. Very well. I will go.