The Little Clay Cart | Page 9

2
Stage-director. Enough of this tedious work, which fritters away the

interest of the audience! Let me then most reverently salute the
honorable gentlemen, and announce our intention to produce a drama
called "The Little Clay Cart." Its author was a man
Who vied with elephants in lordly grace; Whose eyes were those of the
chakora bird That feeds on moonbeams; glorious his face As the full
moon; his person, all have heard, Was altogether lovely. First in worth
Among the twice-born was this poet, known As Shudraka far over all
the earth, His virtue's depth unfathomed and alone. 3
[1.14. S.
And again:
The Samaveda, the Rigveda too, The science mathematical, he knew;
The arts wherein fair courtezans excel, And all the lore of elephants as
well. Through Shiva's grace, his eye was never dim; He saw his son a
king in place of him. The difficult horse-sacrifice he tried Successfully;
entered the fiery tide, One hundred years and ten days old, and died. 4
And yet again:
Eager for battle; sloth's determined foe; Of scholars chief, who to the
Veda cling; Rich in the riches that ascetics know; Glad, gainst the
foeman's elephant to show His valor;--such was Shudraka, the king. 5
And in this work of his,
Within the town, Avanti named, Dwells one called Charudatta, famed
No less for youth than poverty; A merchant's son and Brahman, he.
His virtues have the power to move Vasantasena's inmost love; Fair as
the springtime's radiancy, And yet a courtezan is she. 6
So here king Shudraka the tale imparts Of love's pure festival in these
two hearts, Of prudent acts, a lawsuit's wrong and hate, A rascal's
nature, and the course of fate. 7
[He walks about and looks around him.] Why, this music-room of ours

is empty. I wonder where the actors have gone. [Reflecting.] Ah, I
understand.
P. 4.7]
Empty his house, to whom no child was born; Thrice empty his, who
lacks true friends and sure; To fools, the world is empty and forlorn;
But all that is, is empty to the poor. 8
I have finished the concert. And I've been practising so long that the
pupils of my eyes are dancing, and I'm so hungry that my eyes are
crackling like a lotus-seed, dried up by the fiercest rays of the summer
sun. I'll just call my wife and ask whether there is anything for
breakfast or not.
Hello! here I am--but no! Both the particular occasion and the general
custom demand that I speak Prakrit. [Speaking in Prakrit.] Confound it!
I've been practising so long and I'm so hungry that my limbs are as
weak as dried-up lotus-stalks. Suppose I go home and see whether my
good wife has got anything ready or not. [He walks about and looks
around him.] Here I am at home. I'll just go in. [He enters and looks
about.] Merciful heavens! Why in the world is everything in our house
turned upside down? A long stream of rice-water is flowing down the
street. The ground, spotted black where the iron kettle has been rubbed
clean, is as lovely as a girl with the beauty-marks of black cosmetic on
her face. It smells so good that my hunger seems to blaze up and hurts
me more than ever. Has some hidden treasure come to light? or am I
hungry enough to think the whole world is made of rice? There surely
isn't any breakfast in our house, and I'm starved to death. But
everything seems topsyturvy here. One girl is preparing cosmetics,
another is weaving garlands of flowers. [Reflecting.] What does it all
mean? Well, I'll call my good wife and learn the truth. [He looks
toward the dressing-room.] Mistress, will you come here a moment?
[Enter an actress.]
Actress. Here I am, sir.

Director. You are very welcome, mistress.
Actress. Command me, sir. What am I to do?
[3.8. S.
Director. Mistress, I've been practising so long and I'm so hungry that
my limbs are as weak as dried-up lotus-stalks. Is there anything to eat
in the house or not?
Actress. There's everything, sir.
Director. Well, what?
Actress. For instance--there's rice with sugar, melted butter, curdled
milk, rice; and, all together, it makes you a dish fit for heaven. May the
gods always be thus gracious to you!
Director. All that in our house? or are you joking?
Actress. [Aside.] Yes, I will have my joke. [Aloud.] It's in the
market-place, sir.
Director. [Angrily.] You wretched woman, thus shall your own hope be
cut off! And death shall find you out! For my expectations, like a
scaffolding, have been raised so high, only to fall again.
Actress. Forgive me, sir, forgive me! It was only a joke.
Director. But what do these unusual preparations mean? One girl is
preparing