Now, Charioteer, see me kill the deer. [_Takes aim_.
A VOICE [_behind the scenes_].--Hold, O King! this deer belongs to our
hermitage. Kill it not! kill it not!
CHARIOTEER [_listening and looking_].--Great King, some hermits have
stationed themselves so as to screen the antelope at the very moment of
its coming within range of your arrow.
KING [_hastily_].--Then stop the horses.
CHARIOTEER.--I obey. [_Stops the chariot_.
_Enter a Hermit, and two others with him_.
HERMIT [_raising his hand_].--This deer, O King, belongs to our
hermitage. Kill it not! kill it not!
Now heaven forbid this barbed shaft descend
Upon the fragile body of a fawn,
Like fire upon a heap of tender flowers!
Can thy steel bolts no meeter quarry find
Than the warm life-blood of a harmless deer?
Restore, great Prince, thy weapon to its quiver;
More it becomes thy arms to shield the weak,
Than to bring anguish on the innocent.
KING.--'Tis done. [_Replaces the arrow in its quiver_.
HERMIT.--Worthy is this action of a Prince, the light of Puru's race.
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