About my neck I needs must wear The oleander-wreath; Upon my shoulder I must bear The stake, and in my heart the care Of near-approaching death. I go to-day to meet a dastard's ending, A victim, at the fatal altar bending. 21 _Goha._ My boy, Not we the headsmen are, Though born of headsman race; Thy father's life who mar, These, these are headsmen base. 22 _Rohasena._ Then why do you murder my father? _Goha._ Bless you, 't is the king's orders must bear the blame, not we. _Rohasena._ Kill me, and let father go free. _Goha._ Bless you, may you live long for saying that! _Chārudatta._ [_Tearfully embracing his son._] This treasure--love--this taste of heaven, To rich and poor alike is given; Than sandal better, or than balm, To soothe the heart and give it calm. 23 About my neck I needs must wear The oleander-wreath, Upon my shoulder I must bear The stake, and in my heart the care Of near-approaching death. I go to-day to meet a dastard's ending, A victim, at the fatal altar bending. (21) [_He looks about. Aside._] Their faces with their garments' hem now hiding, They stand afar, whom once I counted friends: Even foes have smiles (16) P. 264.7] _Maitreya._ My good men, let my dear friend Chārudatta go free, and kill me instead. _Chārudatta._ Heaven forbid! [_He looks about. Aside._] Now I understand. for men with Fortune biding; But friends prove faithless when good fortune ends. (16) [_Aloud._] These women, in their palaces who stay, From half-shut windows peering, thus lament, "Alas for Chārudatta! Woe the day!" And pity-streaming eyes on me are bent. (11) _Goha._ Out of the way, gentlemen, out of the way! Why gaze upon the good man so, When shame his living hope lays low? The cord was broken at the well, And down the golden pitcher fell. 24 _Chārudatta._ [_Mournfully._] From thy dear lips, that vied with coral's red, Betraying teeth more bright than moonbeams fair, My soul with heaven's nectar once was fed. How can I, helpless, taste that poison dread, To drink shame's poisoned cup how can I bear? (13) _Ahīnta._ Proclaim the sentence again, man. [_Goha does so._] _Chārud._ So lowly fallen! till shame my virtues blur, Till such an ending seem not loss, but gain! Yet o'er my heart there creeps a saddening pain, To hear them cry abroad "_You_ murdered _her_!" 25 [162.18. S. [_Enter Sthāvaraka, fettered, in the palace tower._]