Sansthānaka. [Aside.] But the citizens don't believe it. [Aloud.] Chārudatta, you jackanapes, the citizens don't believe it. Shay it with your own tongue, "I murdered Vasantasenā." [Chārudatta remains silent.] Look here, headsmen! The man won't shpeak, the jackanapes Chārudatta. Jusht make him shpeak. Beat him a few times with thish ragged bamboo, or with a chain.
Goha. [Raises his arm to strike.] Come, Chārudatta, speak!
Chārudatta. [Mournfully.]
Now am I sunk so deep in sorrow's sea,
I know no fear, I know no sadness more;
Yet even now one flame still tortures me,
That men should say I slew whom I adore. 33
[Sansthānaka repeats his words.]
Chārudatta. Men of my own city!
A scoundrel I, who bear the blame,
Nor seek in heaven to be blest;
A maid—or goddess—'tis the same—
But he will say the rest. (ix. 30)
Sansthānaka. Killed her!
Chārudatta. So be it.
Goha. It's your turn to kill him, man.
Ahīnta. No, yours.
Goha. Well, let's reckon it out. [He does so at great length.] Well, if it's my turn to kill him, we will just let it wait a minute.
Ahīnta. Why?
Goha. Well, when my father was going to heaven, he said to me, "Son Goha, if it's your turn to kill him, don't kill the sinner too quick."
Ahīnta. But why?
Goha. "Perhaps," said he, "some good man might give the money to set him free. Perhaps a son might be born to the king, and to celebrate the event, all the prisoners might be set free. Perhaps
