Viçākhadatta’s diction is admirably forcible and direct; the martial character of his dramas reflects itself in the clearness and rapidity of his style, which eschews the deplorable compounds which disfigure Bhavabhūti’s works. An artist in essentials, he uses images, metaphors, and similes with tasteful moderation; alone of the later dramatists, he realizes that he is writing a drama, not composing sets [428] of elegant extracts. Hence is explained the paucity of citations from him in the anthologies, which naturally find little to their purpose in an author of a more manly strain than is usual in the drama. It is significant that the Subhāṣitāvali cites but two stanzas, under his name, as Viçākhadeva, both pretty but undistinguished; the second [429] is graceful: sendracāpaiḥ çṛtā meghair nipatannirjharā nagāḥ varṇakambalasaṁvītā babhur mattadvipā iva. ‘The mountains, with their leaping waterfalls, girt with rainbow clouds, shone like rutting elephants clad in raiment of bright hue.’ More characteristic is the terse and effective phraseology in which he describes the dilemma of Malayaketu when his mind has been poisoned against Rākṣasa: [430] bhaktyā Nandakulānurāgadṛḍhayā Nandānvayālambinā kiṁ Cāṇakyanirākṛtena kṛtinā Mauryeṇa saṁdhāsyate sthairyam bhaktiguṇasya vā vigaṇayan satyasandho bhavet ity ārūḍhakulālacakram iva me cetaç ciram bhrāmyati. ‘His loyalty was founded on his love for the family of Nanda, it rested on a scion of that house; now that the cunning Maurya is severed from Cāṇakya, will he make terms with him? Or, faithful ever in loyalty, will he keep his pact with me? Perplexed with these thoughts my mind revolves as on a potter’s wheel.’ There is effective gravity in the manner in which the aged chamberlain handles the regular topic of his failing powers in old age: [431] rūpādīn viṣayān nirūpya karaṇair yair ātmalābhas tvayā labdhas teṣv api cakṣurādiṣu hatāḥ svārthāvabodhakriyāḥ an̄gāni prasabhaṃ tyajanti paṭutām ājñāvidheyāni me nyastam mūrdhni padaṁ tavaiva jarayā tṛṣṇe mudhā tāmyasi. ‘Sight, alas, and the other organs, wherewith aforetime I was wont to grasp for myself the sights and objects of desire which I beheld, have lost their power of action. My limbs obey me not and suddenly have lost their cunning; thy foot is placed on my head, old age; vainly, O desire, dost thou weary thyself.’ Rākṣasa’s name inevitably demands the usual play on its sense of demoniac, but Malayaketu’s feeling redeems the use from triviality: [432] mitram mamāyam iti nirvṛtacittavṛttim viçrambhatas tvayi niveçitasarvakāryam tātaṁ nipātya saha bandhujanākṣitoyair anvarthasaṃjña nanu Rākṣasa rākṣaso ’si? ‘My father’s mind rested secure in thy friendship; in his confidence he entrusted to thee the whole burden of his affairs; when, then, thou didst bring him low midst the tears of all his kin, didst thou not act, O Rākṣasa, like the demon whose name thou dost bear?’