北斗之譏 The Jibe of the Dipper Sutra
那魔聞得行者口中念誦，道：「師父，我是好人家兒孫，做了道士。今日不幸，遇著虎狼之厄，我不是妖怪。」行者道：「你既怕虎狼，怎麼不念北斗經？」三藏正然上馬，聞得此言，罵道：「這個潑猴！『救人一命，勝造七級浮屠。』你馱他馱兒便罷了，且講甚麼『北斗經』、『南斗經』。」那魔闻得行者口中念诵，道：「师父，我是好人家儿孙，做了道士。今日不幸，遇著虎狼之厄，我不是妖怪。」行者道：「你既怕虎狼，怎么不念北斗经？」三藏正然上马，闻得此言，骂道：「这个泼猴！『救人一命，胜造七级浮屠。』你驮他驮儿便罢了，且讲甚么『北斗经』、『南斗经』。」
逐句解 Line by line
The demon, hearing Pilgrim muttering under his breath, said: “Master, I'm the descendant of a good family who became a Daoist.
念誦 (niàn sòng), “to mutter, to recite under one's breath.” 兒孫 (ér sūn), “children and grandchildren, descendants” — here 兒 is the full noun ér, “offspring,” not the suffix er. The demon appeals over Pilgrim's head to the master.
“Today, by ill luck, I met with the calamity of tigers and wolves. I am no monster.”
遇著 (yù zháo), “chanced to meet” — the resultative 著 (zháo). 虎狼之厄 (hǔ láng zhī è), “a disaster of tigers and wolves.” The fiend protests his innocence, still working the master's sympathy.
Pilgrim said: “If you're so afraid of tigers and wolves, why don't you recite the Dipper Sutra?”
北斗經 (běi dǒu jīng), the “Sutra of the Northern Dipper,” a Daoist scripture invoked for protection; 斗 read dǒu, the Dipper constellation. Pilgrim's taunt exposes the “Daoist” who knows none of his own liturgy.
Tripitaka, just then mounting his horse, heard these words and scolded: “This wretched ape!”
正然 (zhèng rán), “just at that moment.” 潑猴 (pō hóu), “wretched monkey, reckless ape,” the master's habitual rebuke of Pilgrim. He mistakes his disciple's probing for mere cruelty.
“To save a single life outweighs the raising of a seven-storied pagoda! Just carry him and have done — what's all this talk of Dipper Sutras, north or south?”
救人一命，勝造七級浮屠, “to save one life surpasses building a seven-tiered stupa,” a Buddhist maxim on the merit of rescue; 浮屠 (fú tú), a pagoda. 北斗…南斗, the Northern and Southern Dippers — both 斗 read dǒu.
Pilgrim's mutterings goad the demon into fresh protestations of innocence — a good family, a wrongful accusation, no monster at all — and Pilgrim answers with a shrewd trap: if this is a true Daoist so afraid of beasts, why does he not recite the Northern Dipper Sutra, the very scripture of his supposed calling? The taunt would expose the impostor, who of course knows no such thing.
But the barb lands on the wrong ears. Tripitaka, mounting his horse, hears only what sounds like his disciple's cruelty and scolds him with the maxim that saving one life outweighs building a pagoda — “just carry him and have done.” The master's very piety shields the fiend from exposure, and the comic irony deepens: Pilgrim's cleverest thrust is parried not by the demon but by the compassion of the man he is trying to protect. The Southern Dipper, conjured to match the Northern, is the master's exasperated flourish.