, the
_sena_.

_Kumbhilaka._ Now put the two together and say 'em fast.

_Maitreya._ Sena-vasanta.

_Kumbhilaka._ Say it turned around.

_Maitreya._ [_Turns around._] Sena-vasanta.

_Kumbhilaka._ You fool! you jackanapes! Turn the parts of the thing
around!

_Maitreya._ [_Turns his feet around._] Sena-vasanta.

_Kumbhilaka._ You fool! Turn the parts of the word around!

_Maitreya._ [_After reflection._] Vasanta-sena.

_Kumbhilaka._ She's here.

_Maitreya._ Then I must tell Charudatta. [_Approaching._] Well,
Charudatta, your creditor is here.

_Charudatta._ How should a creditor come into my family?

_Maitreya._ Not in the family perhaps, but at the door. Vasantasena
is here.

_Charudatta._ Why do you deceive me, my friend?

_Maitreya._ If you can't trust me, then ask Kumbhilaka here.
Kumbhilaka, you jackass, come here.

P. 140.4]

_Kumbhilaka._ [_Approaching._] I salute you, sir.

_Charudatta._ You are welcome, my good fellow. Tell me, is Vasantasena
really here?

_Kumbhilaka._ Yes, she's here. Vasantasena is here.

_Charudatta._ [_Joyfully._] My good fellow, I have never let the
bearer of welcome news go unrewarded. Take this as your recompense.
[_He gives him his mantle._]

_Kumbhilaka._ [_Takes it and bows. Gleefully._] I'll tell my mistress.

[_Exit._

_Maitreya._ Do you see why she comes in a storm like this?

_Charudatta._ I do not quite understand, my friend.

_Maitreya._ I know. She has an idea that the pearl necklace is
cheap, and the golden casket expensive. She isn't satisfied, and
she has come to look for something more.

_Charudatta._ [_Aside._] She shall not depart unsatisfied.

* * * * *

[_Then enter the love-lorn Vasantasena, in a splendid garment, fit
for a woman who goes to meet her lover, a maid with an umbrella,
and the courtier._]

_Courtier._ [_Referring to Vasantasena._]

Lakshmi[63] without the lotus-flower is she,
Loveliest arrow of god Kama's bow,[64]
The sweetest blossom on love's magic tree.

See how she moves, so gracefully and slow!
In passion's hour she still loves modesty;
In her, good wives their dearest sorrow know.

When passion's drama shall enacted be.
When on love's stage appears the passing show,
A host of wanderers shall bend them low.
Glad to be slaves in such captivity. 1