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Mádh. [Bending downward, as before.] Great prince! my hands are unable to move; and it is with my lips only that I can mutter a blessing on you. May the king be victorious!

Dushm. [Looking at him and smiling.] Ah! what has crippled thee, friend Mádhavya?

Mádh. You strike my eye with your own hand, and then ask what made it weep.

Dushm. Speak intelligibly. I know not what you mean.

Mádh. Look at yon Vétas tree bent double in the river. Is it crooked, I pray, by its own act, or by the force of the stream?

Dushm. It is bent, I suppose, by the current.

Mádh. So am I by your Majesty.

Dushm. How so, Mádhavya?

Mádh. Does it become you, I pray, to leave the great affairs of your empire, and so charming a mansion as your palace, for the sake of living here like a forester? Can you hold a council in a wood? I, who am a reverend Bráhmen, have no longer the use of my hands and feet: they are put out of joint by my running all day long after dogs and wild beasts. Favour me, I entreat, with your permission to repose but a single day.

Dushm. [Aside.] Such are this poor fellow's complaints; whilst I, when I think of Canna's daughter, have as little relish for hunting as he; how can I brace this bow, and fix a shaft in the string, to shoot at those beautiful deer who dwell