King Suddhodana (S) and his minister Visakha (V) come out of the entrance. Later on Captain Devala (D) and soldiers.

S. Unfortunate, most unfortunate, that Udayin died. Siddhattha will miss the gardener and will ask for him.

V. The Prince loves flowers, and he knows them all by name; he loves trees and shrubs, and praises them for yielding fruit and grain for feeding us without the need of shedding blood.

S. Have the body removed so long as it is dark.

V. The moon is full to-day and must rise in a little while.

S. Double the guards at the gate. I am afraid my son will flee. It would be a disgrace on my house to have him become a mendicant. The kings of Kosala, of Magadha, and all the others look with envy on our sturdy people; they dislike our free institutions and our warlike spirit. They would scoff at us if a Sakya prince had become a monk. But if Siddhattha does flee, I swear by Lord Indra that I shall disown him; I will no longer recognize him as my son. I will disinherit him and make Rahula my heir apparent.

Visakha looks at Suddhodana in amazement.

S. I am serious and I will do it. I swore an oath, and Issara will help me to keep it. Now go to the captain of the guards and do as I bid you.

V. Oh! What a chance for me! Siddhattha will flee, if he be not prevented; he will be disinherited. Rahula is a babe, and it will take twenty years before he grows up to manhood.—[He muses.] I may proceed on different lines, and one of them must certainly lead to success. I may marry the Princess and become the stepfather of the heir apparent, his guardian, the man who has him in his power—Hm! Hm! I need not plan too far ahead. And if that plan did not work, the King of Magadha would make me raja of the Sakyas, if I would recognize him as my liege.

Who is on guard?

D. I am, my Lord, 'tis Captain Devala.

V. 'Tis well. King Suddhodana requests you to double your guard to-night, for he has reasons. Further he wants you to remove the corpse of Udayin, the gardener who died to-day of an infectious disease. Be on your guard, for where a dead body lies there are ghosts—and [in a half whisper] when you see demons or gods, keep yourselves, you and your men, locked up in the guard house, and the spook will pass without harm.

D. Your order shall be punctiliously obeyed.

V. That settles the guard, and should Siddhattha flee he will find no obstacle.

K. The nightingale is a sweet bird, but I like the lark better. The nightingale is more artistic, but his song is melancholy, he is so sentimental! The lark has a mere twitter like my own song, I like the lark better. How beautiful is this summer night; How glorious is the moon; how fragrant are the roses in the garden! It is a most auspicious night, and all breathes happiness.

V. He comes in time, his presence will prosper my plans.

[Kala is lost in thought. Music, from Beethoven's Seventh Symphony, somber and as if coming from a distance, is heard.]

K. [while the music plays] What a strange presentiment is stealing over my soul. Perhaps I was too happy! What does Siddhattha say?

K. What do you carry? Who is this? [he shrieks] My father! [The carriers set the corpse down and Kala sinks down by the bier.] Oh, my father! my dearest father! How did you die? Why did you leave me? Oh, my father! [he sobs].

B. What may the trouble be? I heard a shriek.

K. Oh, my Prince! See here! My father is dead! Now I know the truth as well as you. Now I feel the pain. The time has come for me to lament. I was so happy and I would not believe you.—Oh ye who are happy, think in the hour of happiness that all is subject to suffering, and the hour of suffering will come to you too. Nay more than that, the hour of death will come; it has come to my father, it will come to you and to me, and then my caroling will stop forever. Oh, my poor father!

B. How rarely is thy advent welcome, Death,
E'en this poor gardener who a servant was
His livelong days, leaves in our hearts a gap.
His son lamenteth him, and I not less;
He was my loving friend; my educator,
He had me on his knees so many a time,
To tell me how the flowers will grow and blow,
And how they prosper after rainy days.
May gentle lilies from thy ashes spring,
Decked with the purity of thine own heart,
And with their fragrance give the same delight
That in thy present life thou gavest us.

Oh, fare thee well, thou good and worthy friend,
Oh, fare thee well, but thy departure is
To me a token that my time has come.

Weep not, companion of my childhood days,
But bear in mind the courage of thy mirth.
Remember all the virtues of thy father
And let them live again in thine own heart.
Thou must not yield to weakness and lamenting,
Tend to life's duties: Go and call me Channa,
Bid him to saddle Kanthaka, my steed,
And let him ready be for a night's ride.

The hour has come! and now my last farewell
To thee my wife and Rahula my son.

This is the greatest sacrifice I bring:
I leave behind a crown without regret;
I leave the luxury of wealth and power;
I care for them as though they were but ashes
But I must also leave my wife and child:
Here I must prove the courage of my heart.