And again:

As the other world is doubtful
And as scandal misses truth,
When you’ve hooked another’s lover,
Best enjoy the fruit of youth.

And once again:

Fate may rob him of his manhood,
He may handsome be or ugly,
Yet a wench, whate’er it cost her,
Entertains her lover snugly.”

“Very fine indeed,” said the weaver’s wife. “But tell me how I am to go when I am tied fast. And here lies my husband — the brute!” “My dear,” said the barber’s wife, “he is helpless with drink and will not wake until the sun’s rays reach him. I will set you free and take your place myself. But you must hurry back when you have entertained your admirer.”

This she did, and a moment later the weaver rose a little mollified, and said drunkenly: “Come, you nagger! If you will stay at home after today and stop nagging, I will set you free.” The barber’s wife said nothing, fearing that her voice would betray her. Even when he repeated his offer, she made no answer. Then he became angry and cut off her nose with a sharp knife. And he said: “Whore! Now you can stay there. I shall not be nice to you again.” So he fell asleep, muttering. Now Godly, having lost his money, was so tormented by hunger that he could not sleep, and was a witness of all that the women did.

Presently the weaver’s wife, after enjoying the full delight of love with her swain, came home and said to the barber’s wife: “Well, are you all right? I hope that brute did not get up while I was gone.” And the barber’s wife answered: “The rest of me is all right. But I’ve lost my nose. Set me free quick, before he wakes up. I want to go home. If not, he will do something worse next time, cut off ears and things.”

So the wench freed the barber’s wife, took her former position, and cried reproachfully: “Oh, you dreadful simpleton! I am a true wife, a model of faithfulness. What man is able to violate or disfigure me? Listen, ye guardian deities of the world!

Earth, heaven, and death, the feeling mind,
Sun, moon, and water, fire and wind,
Both twilights, justice, day and night
Discern man’s conduct, wrong or right.

So, if I am a faithful wife, may these gods make my nose grow again as it was before. More than that, if I have had so much as a secret desire for a strange man, may they reduce me to ashes.”

After this explosion, she said to him directly: “Look, you villain! By virtue of my faithfulness my nose has grown as it was before.” And when he took a torch and examined her, he found her nose as it was originally, and a great pool of blood on the floor. At this he was amazed, released her from the cords, and flattered her with a hundred wheedling endearments.

Now Godly had seen the whole business. And he was amazed and said:

“Learn science with the gods above
Or imps in nether space,
Yet women’s wit will rival it:
How keep them in their place?

Behold the faults with woman born:
Impurity, and heartless scorn,
Untruth, and folly, reckless heat,
Excessive greediness, deceit.

Be not enslaved by women’s charm,
Nor wish them growth in power to harm:
Their slaves, of manly feeling stripped,
Are tame, pet crows whose wings are clipped.

Honey in a woman’s words,
Poison in her breast:
So, although you taste her lip,
Drub her on the chest.

This palace filled with vice, this field where sprouts
Suspicion’s crop, this whirling pool of doubts,
This town of recklessness, sin’s aggregate,
This house where frauds by hundreds lie in wait,
This basketful of riddling sham and quip
O’er guessing which our best and bravest trip,
This woman, this machine, this nectar-bane —
Who set it here, to make religion vain?

A bosom hard is praised, a forehead low,
A fickle glance, a mumbling speech and slow,
Thick hips, a heart that constant tremors move,
A natural twist in hair, and twists in love.
Their virtues are a pack of vices. Then
Let beasts adore the fawn-eyed things, not men.

For reasons good they laugh or weep;
They trust you not, your trust they keep:
These graveyard urns, oh, haunt them not!
Keep kin and conduct free from spot.

The lion o’er whose awful face
Falls fierce the towsled mane,
The elephant upon whose cheeks
Streams ichor’s glistening rain,
The men of wit or courage who
In books or battles gleam,
In presence of their females, all
Turn into cowards supreme.

And once more:

This gunja-fruit (oh, what was God about?)
Is poisonous within, and sweet without.”

In these meditations the night dragged drearily for the holy man. Meanwhile the go-between went home with her nose cut off, and reflected: “What is to be done now? How is this great deficiency to be concealed?”

The night during which she pondered thus, her husband spent in the king’s palace, practicing his trade. At dawn he came home and, being eager to begin his thriving business with the townspeople, he stopped at the door and called to her: “My dear, bring me my razor-case at once. The townspeople need my services.”

Hereupon an idea occurred to the noseless woman. She remained in the house, but sent him a single razor. And the barber, angry because the entire case had not been delivered, flung the razor in her direction. This gave the wench her opportunity. Lifting her hands to heaven, she dashed from the house, screaming with all her might: “Oh, oh, oh! The ruffian! I was always a faithful wife. Look! He cut off my nose. Save me, save me!”

Hereupon the police arrived, thrashed the barber limp, tied him fast, and took him to court with his wife whose nose was gone. And the judges asked him: “Why did you do this ghastly thing to your wife?” Then, his wits being so addled by astonishment that he could give no answer, the jurymen quoted law:

“The guilty man is terrified
By reason of his crime. His pride
Is gone, his powers of speaking fail,
His glances rove, his face is pale.

And again:

The sweat appears upon his brow,
He stumbles on, he knows not how,
His face is pale, and all he utters
Is much distorted; for he stutters.

The culprit always may be found
To shake, and gaze upon the ground:
Observe the signs as best you can
And shrewdly pick the guilty man.

While, on the other hand:

The innocent is self-reliant;
His speech is clear, his glance defiant;
His countenance is calm and free;
His indignation makes his plea.

The prisoner is obviously guilty. The legal penalty for assaulting a woman is death. Let him be impaled.”

But Godly, seeing him led to the place of execution, went to the officers of justice and said: “Gentlemen, you make a mistake in putting this wretched barber to death. His conduct has been correct. Pray listen to these words of mine:

The jackal at the ram-fight;
And we, when tricked by June;
The meddling friend — were playing
A self-defeating tune.”

So the officers said: “How was that, holy sir?” Then Godly related to them the three stories, complete in every detail. And they were all astonished as they listened. They set the barber free, and said:

“Slay not a woman, Brahman, child,
An invalid or hermit mild:
In case of major dereliction,
Disfigurement is the infliction.

Now she has lost her nose through her own act. As additional punishment from the king, let her ears be cut off.” When this had been done, Godly, strengthening his spirit by the two examples, returned to his own monastery.

“And that is why I say:

The jackal at the ram-fight,....

and the rest of it.”

“Well,” said Cheek, “such being the case, what are you and I to do?” And Victor answered: “Even in these circumstances, I shall have a flash of intelligence, showing me how to separate Lively from the king. Besides, he has fallen into serious vice, has our master Rusty. For

Mad folly stings
The greatest kings,
Who then embrace a vice;
But servants’ care
Should check them there
By means of learning nice.”

“Into what vice has our master Rusty fallen?” asked Cheek. And Victor replied: “There are seven vices in the world, namely:

Drink, women, hunting, scolding, dice,
Greed, cruelty: these seven are vice.

These, however, really make a single vice, called ‘attachment,’ with seven subdivisions.” Then Cheek inquired: “Is there only a single fundamental vice, or are there others also?”

And Victor expounded: “There are in the world five situations fundamentally vicious.” And when Cheek asked: “How are they differentiated?” Victor continued: “They are called: (1) deficiency, (2) corruption, (3) attachment, (4) devastation, (5) mistaken policy.

“To begin at the beginning, the vice called ‘deficiency’ means the non-existence of one or another of these: king, counselor, people, fortress, treasure, punitive power, friends.

“Secondly, when subjects, whether foreign or native, become restless, whether individually or en masse, there arises the vicious situation called ‘corruption.’

“‘Attachment’ was explained above, in the words:

Drink, women, hunting,....

and the rest of it. Here there is a love-group (drink, women, hunting, dice) and a wrath-group (scolding, and the rest). A man thwarted in the love-group becomes obnoxious to the wrath-group. The love-group requires no elucidation. The wrath-group, however, threefold as already described, needs some further characterization. ‘Scolding’ is ill-considered imputation of fault on the part of one bent on injuring an antagonist. ‘Cruelty’ means ruthless and unwarranted refinements in putting to death, imprisonment, mutilation. ‘Greed’ is covetousness pushed to a merciless point. These are the seven subdivisions of the vice of attachment.

“Next, there are eight kinds of devastation: by act of God, fire, water, disease, plague, panic, famine, devil-rain (which is a mere name for excessive rain). This disposes of the vice called ‘devastation.’

“Finally, there is mistaken policy. Where a man makes a mistaken use of the six expedients — peace, war, change of base, entrenchment, alliance, duplicity — adopting war instead of peace, or peace instead of war, or making similar mistakes in regard to the other expedients, there we have the vice of mistaken policy.

“Now our master Rusty has fallen into the very first vice, that of deficiency. For he has been so captivated by Lively that he pays not the smallest heed to counselor or any other of the six supports of his throne. He adopts rather completely a vegetarian morality. So what is the use of a lengthy discussion? Rusty must by all means be detached from Lively. No lamp, no light.”

“How will you detach him?” objected Cheek. “You have not the power.” “My dear fellow,” said Victor, “there is a verse to fit the situation, namely:

In cases where brute force would fail,
A shrewd device may still prevail:
The crow-hen used a golden chain,
And so the dreadful snake was slain.”

“How was that?” asked Cheek. And Victor told HOW THE CROW-HEN KILLED THE BLACK SNAKE.

How the Crow-Hen Killed the Black Snake

At last the crow-hen fell at her husband’s feet and said: “My dear lord, a great many children of mine have been eaten by that awful snake. And grief for my loved and lost haunts me until I think of moving. Let us make our home in some other tree. For

No friend like health abounding;
And like disease, no foe;
No love like love of children;
Like hunger-pangs, no woe.

And again:

With fields o’erhanging rivers,
With wife on flirting bent,
Or in a house with serpents,
No man can be content.

We are living in deadly peril.”

At this the crow was dreadfully depressed, and he said: “We have lived in this tree a long time, my dear. We cannot desert it. For

Where water may be sipped, and grass
Be cropped, a deer might live content;
Yet insult will not drive him from
The wood where all his life was spent.

Moreover, by some shrewd device I will bring death upon this villainous and mighty foe.”

“But,” said his wife, “this is a terribly venomous snake. How will you hurt him?” And he replied: “My dear, even if I have not the power to hurt him, still I have friends who possess learning, who have mastered the works on ethics. I will go and get from them some shrewd device of such nature that the villain — curse him! — will soon meet his doom.”

After this indignant speech he went at once to another tree, under which lived a dear friend, a jackal. He courteously called the jackal forth, related all his sorrow, then said: “My friend, what do you consider opportune under the circumstances? The killing of our children is sheer death to my wife and me.”

“My friend,” said the jackal, “I have thought the matter through. You need not put yourself out. That villainous black snake is near his doom by reason of his heartless cruelty. For

Of means to injure brutal foes
You do not need to think,
Since of themselves they fall, like trees
Upon the river’s brink.

And there is a story:

A heron ate what fish he could,
The bad, indifferent, and good;
His greed was never satisfied
Till, strangled by a crab, he died.”

“How was that?” asked the crow. And the jackal told the story of THE HERON THAT LIKED CRAB-MEAT.

The Heron That Liked Crab-Meat

There was once a heron in a certain place on the edge of a pond. Being old, he sought an easy way of catching fish on which to live. He began by lingering at the edge of his pond, pretending to be quite irresolute, not eating even the fish within his reach.

Now among the fish lived a crab. He drew near and said: “Uncle, why do you neglect today your usual meals and amusements?” And the heron replied: “So long as I kept fat and flourishing by eating fish, I spent my time pleasantly, enjoying the taste of you. But a great disaster will soon befall you. And as I am old, this will cut short the pleasant course of my life. For this reason I feel depressed.”

“Uncle,” said the crab, “of what nature is the disaster?” And the heron continued: “Today I overheard the talk of a number of fishermen as they passed near the pond. ‘This is a big pond,’ they were saying, ‘full of fish. We will try a cast of the net tomorrow or the day after. But today we will go to the lake near the city.’ This being so, you are lost, my food supply is cut off, I too am lost, and in grief at the thought, I am indifferent to food today.”

Now when the water-dwellers heard the trickster’s report, they all feared for their lives and implored the heron, saying: “Uncle! Father! Brother! Friend! Thinker! Since you are informed of the calamity, you also know the remedy. Pray save us from the jaws of this death.”

Then the heron said: “I am a bird, not competent to contend with men. This, however, I can do. I can transfer you from this pond to another, a bottomless one.” By this artful speech they were so led astray that they said: “Uncle! Friend! Unselfish kinsman! Take me first! Me first! Did you never hear this?

Stout hearts delight to pay the price
Of merciful self-sacrifice,
Count life as nothing, if it end
In gentle service to a friend.”

Then the old rascal laughed in his heart, and took counsel with his mind, thus: “My shrewdness has brought these fishes into my power. They ought to be eaten very comfortably.” Having thus thought it through, he promised what the thronging fish implored, lifted some in his bill, carried them a certain distance to a slab of stone, and ate them there. Day after day he made the trip with supreme delight and satisfaction, and meeting the fish, kept their confidence by ever new inventions.

One day the crab, disturbed by the fear of death, importuned him with the words: “Uncle, pray save me, too, from the jaws of death.” And the heron reflected: “I am quite tired of this unvarying fish diet. I should like to taste him. He is different, and choice.” So he picked up the crab and flew through the air.

But since he avoided all bodies of water and seemed planning to alight on the sun-scorched rock, the crab asked him: “Uncle, where is that pond without any bottom?” And the heron laughed and said: “Do you see that broad, sun-scorched rock? All the water-dwellers have found repose there. Your turn has now come to find repose.”

Then the crab looked down and saw a great rock of sacrifice, made horrible by heaps of fish-skeletons. And he thought: “Ah me!

Friends are foes and foes are friends
As they mar or serve your ends;
Few discern where profit tends.

Again:

If you will, with serpents play;
Dwell with foemen who betray:
Shun your false and foolish friends,
Fickle, seeking vicious ends.

Why, he has already eaten these fish whose skeletons are scattered in heaps. So what might be an opportune course of action for me? Yet why do I need to consider?

Man is bidden to chastise
Even elders who devise
Devious courses, arrogant,
Of their duty ignorant.

Again:

Fear fearful things, while yet
No fearful thing appears;
When danger must be met,
Strike, and forget your fears.

So, before he drops me there, I will catch his neck with all four claws.”

When he did so, the heron tried to escape, but being a fool, he found no parry to the grip of the crab’s nippers, and had his head cut off.

Then the crab painfully made his way back to the pond, dragging the heron’s neck as if it had been a lotus-stalk. And when he came among the fish, they said: “Brother, why come back?” Thereupon he showed the head as his credentials and said: “He enticed the water-dwellers from every quarter, deceived them with his prevarications, dropped them on a slab of rock not far away, and ate them. But I — further life being predestined — perceived that he destroyed the trustful, and I have brought back his neck. Forget your worries. All the water-dwellers shall live in peace.”

“And that is why I say:

A heron ate what fish he could,....

and the rest of it.”

“My friend,” said the crow, “tell me how this villainous snake is to meet his doom.” And the jackal answered: “Go to some spot frequented by a great monarch. There seize a golden chain or a necklace from some wealthy man who guards it carelessly. Deposit this in such a place that when it is recovered, the snake may be killed.”

So the crow and his wife straightway flew off at random, and the wife came upon a certain pond. As she looked about, she saw the women of a king’s court playing in the water, and on the bank they had laid golden chains, pearl necklaces, garments, and gems. One chain of gold the crow-hen seized and started for the tree where she lived.

But when the chamberlains and the eunuchs saw the theft, they picked up clubs and ran in pursuit. Meanwhile, the crow-hen dropped the golden chain in the snake’s hole and waited at a safe distance.

Now when the king’s men climbed the tree, they found a hole and in it a black snake with swelling hood. So they killed him with their clubs, recovered the golden chain, and went their way. Thereafter the crow and his wife lived in peace.

“And that is why I say:

In cases where brute force would fail,....

and the rest of it. Furthermore:

Some men permit a petty foe
Through purblind heedlessness to grow,
Till he who played a petty rôle
Grows, like disease, beyond control.

Indeed, there is nothing in the world that the intelligent cannot control. As the saying goes:

Intelligence is power. But where
Could power and folly make a pair?
The rabbit played upon his pride
To fool him; and the lion died.”

“How was that?” asked Cheek. And Victor told the story of NUMSKULL AND THE RABBIT.

Numskull and the Rabbit

In a part of a forest was a lion drunk with pride, and his name was Numskull. He slaughtered the animals without ceasing. If he saw an animal, he could not spare him.

So all the natives of the forest — deer, boars, buffaloes, wild oxen, rabbits, and others — came together, and with woe-begone countenances, bowed heads, and knees clinging to the ground, they undertook to beseech obsequiously the king of beasts: “Have done, O King, with this merciless, meaningless slaughter of all creatures. It is hostile to happiness in the other world. For the Scripture says:

A thousand future lives
Will pass in wretchedness
For sins a fool commits
His present life to bless.

Again:

What wisdom in a deed
That brings dishonor fell,
That causes loss of trust,
That paves the way to hell?

And yet again:

The ungrateful body, frail
And rank with filth within,
Is such that only fools
For its sake sink in sin.