Chārudatta. My darling,
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, 'tis 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,
