_Mathavya._ Ah, my friend, my hands cannot move to greet you with the accustomed salutation! I can do no more than command my lips to wish your Majesty success. _King._ Why, what has paralyzed your limbs? _Mathavya._ You might as well ask me how it is my eye waters after you have poked your finger into it! _King._ I don’t understand what you mean. Explain yourself. _Mathavya._ My dear friend, is that straight reed you see yonder bent crooked by its own act, or by the force of the current? _King._ The current of the river is the cause, I suppose. _Mathavya._ Yes, just as you are the cause of my crippled limbs. _King._ How so? _Mathavya._ Here you are, living the life of a savage in a desolate, forlorn region, while the government of the country is taking care of itself. And poor I am no longer master of my own legs, but have to follow you about day after day in your hunting for wild beasts, till all my bones ache and get out of joint. Please, my dear friend, do let us have one day’s rest!--“_Sakuntala._” UNKNOWN AUTHOR _THE CREATION OF WOMAN_ In the beginning, when Twashtri came to the creation of women, he found that he had exhausted his materials in the making of man, and that no solid elements were left. In this dilemma, after profound meditation, he did as follows: He took the rotundity of the moon, and the curves of creepers and the clinging of tendrils, and the trembling of grass, and the slenderness of the reed, and the bloom of flowers, and the lightness of leaves, and the tapering of the elephant’s trunk, and the glances of deer, and the joyous gaiety of sunbeams, and the weeping of clouds, and the fickleness of the winds, and the timidity of the hare, and the vanity of the peacock, and the softness of the parrot’s bosom, and the hardness of adamant, and the cruelty of the tiger, and the hot glow of fire, and the coldness of snow, and the chattering of jays, and the cooing of the dove, and the hypocrisy of the crane, and the fidelity of the drake. Compounding all these together, he made woman, and gave her to man. But after a week man came to him, and said: “Lord, this creature that you have given me makes my life miserable. She chatters incessantly, and teases me beyond endurance, never leaving me alone. She requires attention every moment, takes up all my time, weeps about nothing, and is always idle. So I have come to give her back again, as I cannot live with her.” Then Twashtri said, “Very well,” and took her back. After another week man came to him again, saying: “Lord, I find that my life is lonely since I surrendered that creature. I remember how she used to dance and sing to me, and look at me out of the corner of her eye, and play with me, and cling to me. Her laughter was music; she was beautiful to look at, and soft to touch. Pray give her back to me again.” And Twashtri said, “Very well,” and returned woman to man.