You do not mind defeat at all;
Great are the sums you spend and win;
While kingly revenues roll in,
Rich men, like slaves, before you fall 7
And again:
You earn your coin by gambling,
Your friends and wife by gambling,
Your gifts and food by gambling;
Your last cent goes by gambling. 8
And again:
My cash was taken by the trey;
The deuce then took my health away;
The ace then set me on the street;
The four completed my defeat. 9
[He looks before him.] Here comes Māthura, our sometime gambling-master. Well, as I can't escape, I think I'll put on my veil. [He makes any number of gestures with his cloak, then examines it.]
This cloth is sadly indigent in thread;
This lovely cloth lets in a lot of light;
This cloth's protective power is nearly fled;
This cloth is pretty when it's rolled up tight. 10
Yet after all, what more could a poor saint do? For you see,
One foot I've planted in the sky,
The other on the ground must lie.[1]
The elevation's rather high,
But the sun stands it. Why can't I? 11
Māthura. Pay, pay!
Shampooer. How can I pay? [Māthura drags him about.]
Darduraka. Well, well, what is this I see? [He addresses a bystander.] What did you say, sir? "This shampooer is being maltreated by the gambling-master, and no one will save him"? I'll save him myself. [He presses forward.] Stand back, stand back!
- ↑ A humorously exaggerated reference to Indian ascetic practices.
