脫衣下井 Stripping to Go Down the Well
八戒道:「哥呀,你但幹事,便要留根。」行者道:「我怎留根?」八戒道:「這是一眼井,你在寺裡早說是井中有寶貝,我卻帶將兩條綑包袱的繩來,怎麼作個法兒,把老豬放下去。如今空手,這裡面東西,怎麼得下去上來耶?」行者道:「你下去麼?」八戒道:「正是要下去,只是沒繩索。」行者笑道:「你脫了衣服,我與你個手段。」八戒道:「有甚麼好衣服?解了這直裰子就是了。」八戒道:「哥呀,你但干事,便要留根。」行者道:「我怎留根?」八戒道:「这是一眼井,你在寺里早说是井中有宝贝,我却带将两条捆包袱的绳来,怎么作个法儿,把老猪放下去。如今空手,这里面东西,怎么得下去上来耶?」行者道:「你下去么?」八戒道:「正是要下去,只是没绳索。」行者笑道:「你脱了衣服,我与你个手段。」八戒道:「有甚么好衣服?解了这直裰子就是了。」
逐句解 Line by line
Bajie said: 'Brother, whenever you set about a thing, you always leave a loose end.'
但幹事,便要留根: 'whenever you do a job you leave a root dangling.' It is an untidiness metaphor from weeding — pull a plant and leave the root and the trouble comes back — and Bajie means that his brother never thinks a thing through.
The Pilgrim said: 'How have I left a loose end?'
He knows exactly how, and asks anyway. 行 = xíng.
Bajie said: 'This is a well; had you said back at the temple that there was treasure in a well, I'd have brought along the two ropes we tie our bundles with, and we could have worked out some way to let Old Pig down.'
一眼井: 'one eye of well,' since a well takes the counting-word for eyes and springs. 帶將: would have brought along (將 = jiāng). 法兒: a device, a way of doing it (兒 the light ending). 井中: 中 = zhōng. Had you said 'well,' says the pig reasonably, I'd have packed rope.
'As it is, we're empty-handed — how am I to get down to the thing in there and back up again?'
空手: empty-handed. 得下去上來: to manage down and back up again (得 = dé). The complaint is also an attempt to get out of it.
The Pilgrim said: 'You'll go down, then?'
One flat question. 行 = xíng.
Bajie said: 'I'm quite ready to go down — only there's no rope.'
沒繩索: there's no rope (沒 = méi). He is perfectly willing, he says, and hopes very much that the absence of rope will settle the matter.
The Pilgrim said with a laugh: 'Take off your clothes, and I'll manage a trick for you.'
我與你個手段: 'I'll give you a means' — and the means, of course, is the staff that grows. 行 = xíng.
Bajie said: 'What fine clothes have I got?'
甚麼 = shén me. The self-pity of a monk who owns nothing worth the name of clothes.
'I'll just undo this cassock, and that's that.'
直裰 is the long straight-cut robe worn by monks, the standard Buddhist habit (子 the light ending; 解 = jiě, to undo). Off it comes, and he goes down the well with nothing on at all — a detail the next several scenes will keep finding uses for.
The practical problem of the descent supplies the next turn of comedy. Bajie, always ready with a grievance, blames Wukong for not thinking ahead — had he known there was a well involved he would have brought the bundle-ropes — and pleads the want of rope as though that settled it. The reluctance is transparent, and his 'what fine clothes have I got?' is the self-pity of a monk who owns nothing.
Wukong's airy 'take off your clothes and I'll manage a trick' overrides the excuse and sets up the next set-piece at once: the gold-hooped staff extended into a sounding-line, with a stripped pig on the end of it. Every objection is met by an easy competence that leaves no opening, and Bajie is walked steadily toward water he has no wish to enter.