_V._ Rightly so; I fear That he will stir the people to rebellion; But since a child is born to him, his mind May turn from dreams to practical affairs. There are some men who care not for themselves, Who scorn high caste, position, wealth and honor, So far as they themselves may be concerned, But they are anxious for their children's fortune, And so Siddhattha soon may change his views. _S._ Let us be patient for a while yet longer. Keep everything unpleasant out of sight, Invite him merry company. Remove His gloomy cousin Devadatta. He tries To reach a state of bliss by fasts, His very play is penance and contrition. _P._ Ananda is a better boon companion, He is not so morose as Devadatta. _S._ Neither is he the right friend for my son. I grant he has a loving disposition, But he is pensive too. Surround Siddhattha With lads such as the gardner's jolly son, Kala Udayin. Like a lark he warbles! Would there were more like him. He jokes and laughs And never makes a sullen face. But tell me How is to-day Kala Udayin's father? _V._ His sickness turns from bad to worse. I fear He cannot live. _S._ [_with concern_] Have him removed from here; Siddhattha likes him much and if he knew Udayin's sorry fate, it might undo All good effects of joyful fatherhood. _V._ The best will be to move him in the night. _S._ Move him by night, and do it soon.--But hush, Yasodhara is coming with her babe. YASODHARA (_Y_) _and two attendant maids, one carries an umbrella, shading the Princess; the other,_ GOPA (_G_), _carries the infant_. _P._ [_meets her and kisses her._] Welcome, thou sweetest flower of our garden, Thou ray of sunshine in Siddhattha's life. _S._ My dearest daughter! how is Rahula? _Y._ My royal father, Rahula is growing, And he increases daily in his weight; To-day he smiled at me most cunningly. I'll lay him down, for he is fast asleep. _All enter the palace. The stage remains empty a moment. Soft, serious music (Buddha's "Hymn of Victory") is heard._ SECOND SCENE. SIDDHATTHA (_B_) _and_ KALA UDAYIN (_K_) _enter_. _K._ My sweet Prince, when you are king you must appoint me court jester. Will you, my good Lord? We two are good contrasts: You full of dignity upon a royal throne, a golden crown upon your head, the scepter in your hand, and I dressed in motley with cap and bells. Heigh ho! That will be jolly. And after all we are so much alike! _B._ A royal crown shall never grace my head. _K._ And why should it not, sweet Prince? _B._ I have a higher aim, a greater mission. What is a kingdom? What are wealth and power? What crown and scepter? They are transient things, I yearn for the Immortal state, Nirvana. _K._ Then wilt thou be a Buddha? Oh, even then will I follow thee. _He kneels down with clasped hands._ Wilt thou a holy Buddha be, O keep me in thy company Though I'm a jester. I'll be good. Let me attain beatitude.