Jímútaváhana (with tears).
Alas! the love of offspring! I should think that after seeing this sorrow of hers, arising from affection for her son, even the enemy of the Nágas, whose heart is pitiless, will feel pity.
Śankhachúda.
O mother, away with your fear, this is not the enemy of the Nágas. See the difference between this holy one, whose appearance indicates a beauteous nature, and Garuda, with his fierce beak smeared with clots of blood, which have dropped whilst he was piercing the brains of the mighty Nágas.
Old Woman.
In truth, through fear of thy death, I regard this whole world as Garuda.
Jímútaváhana.
O mother, what need of saying it again and again? Will not I accomplish his deliverance?
Old Woman (clasping her hands on her head).
My son, live long!
Jímútaváhana.
Mother, give me this distinguishing badge of a condemned one. I will put it on and offer to the son of Vinatá my own body as food, to save the life of thy son.
Old Woman (stopping her ears).
God forbid! Thou also art a son equally with Śank-
