I have dyed this robe of mine yellow. And now I will go into the garden of the king's brother-in-law, wash it in the pond, and go away as soon as I can. [_He walks about and washes the robe._] _A voice behind the scenes._ Shtop, you confounded monk, shtop! _Monk._ [_Discovers the speaker. Fearfully._ ] Heaven help me! Here is the king's brother-in-law, Sansthānaka. Just because one monk committed an offense, now, wherever he sees a monk, whether it is the same one or not, he bores a hole in his nose and drives him around like a bullock. Where shall a defenseless man find a defender? But after all, the blessèd Lord Buddha is my defender. [119.90. S. [_Enter the courtier, carrying a sword, and Sansthānaka._] _Sansthānaka._ Shtop, you confounded monk, shtop! I'll pound your head like a red radish[77] at a drinking party. [_He strikes him._] _Courtier._ You jackass, you should not strike a monk who wears the yellow robes of renunciation. Why heed him? Look rather upon this garden, which offers itself to pleasure. To creatures else forlorn, the forest trees Do works of mercy, granting joy and ease; Like a sinner's heart, the park unguarded lies, Like some new-founded realm, an easy prize. 4 _Monk._ Heaven bless you! Be merciful, servant of the Blessèd One! _Sansthānaka._ Did you hear that, shir? He's inshulting me. _Courtier._ What does he say? _Sansthānaka._ Shays I'm a shervant. What do you take me for? a barber? _Courtier._ A servant of the Blessèd One he calls you, and this is praise. _Sansthānaka._ Praise me shome more, monk! _Monk._ You are virtuous! You are a brick! _Sansthānaka._ Shee? He shays I'm virtuous. He shays I'm a brick. What do you think I am? a materialistic philosopher? or a watering-trough? or a pot-maker?[78] _Courtier._ You jackass, he praises you when he says that you are virtuous, that you are a brick. _Sansthānaka._ Well, shir, what did he come here for? _Monk._ To wash this robe. _Sansthānaka._ Confound the monk! My shishter's husband gave me the finesht garden there is, the garden Pushpakaranda. Dogs and jackals drink the water in thish pond. Now I'm an arishtocrat. I'm a man, and I don't even take a bath. And here you bring your shtinking clothes, all shtained with shtale bean-porridge, and wash 'em! I think one good shtroke will finish you. P. 187.7] _Courtier._ You jackass, I am sure he has not long been a monk. _Sansthānaka._ How can you tell, shir? _Courtier._ It doesn't take much to tell that, See! His hair is newly shorn; the brow still white; The rough cloak has not yet the shoulder scarred; He wears it awkwardly; it clings not tight; And here above, the fit is sadly marred. 5 _Monk._ True, servant of the Blessèd One. I have been a monk but a short time. _Sansthānaka._ Then why haven't you been one all your life? [_He beats him._] _Monk._ Buddha be praised!