二聖鬥口 The Two Sages Trade Words
大聖見了，笑嘻嘻的將金箍棒掣起，高叫道：「你是何方小將，輒敢大膽到此挑戰？」真君喝道：「你這廝有眼無珠，認不得我麼？吾乃玉帝外甥、敕封昭惠靈顯王二郎是也。今蒙上命，到此擒你這造反天宮的弼馬溫猢猻，你還不知死活。」大聖道：「我記得當年玉帝妹子思凡下界，配合楊君，生一男子，曾使斧劈桃山的，是你麼？我行要罵你幾聲，曾奈無甚冤仇；待要打你一棒，可惜了你的性命。你這郎君小輩，可急急回去，喚你四大天王出來。」大圣见了，笑嘻嘻的将金箍棒掣起，高叫道：「你是何方小将，辄敢大胆到此挑战？」真君喝道：「你这厮有眼无珠，认不得我么？吾乃玉帝外甥、敕封昭惠灵显王二郎是也。今蒙上命，到此擒你这造反天宫的弼马温猢狲，你还不知死活。」大圣道：「我记得当年玉帝妹子思凡下界，配合杨君，生一男子，曾使斧劈桃山的，是你么？我行要骂你几声，曾奈无甚冤仇；待要打你一棒，可惜了你的性命。你这郎君小辈，可急急回去，唤你四大天王出来。」
逐句解 Line by line
The Great Sage looked, then grinning broadly raised his gold-banded cudgel and cried aloud, "What petty officer are you, that you make so bold as to challenge me here?"
笑嘻嘻 ("grinning, all smiles") — the monkey meets Erlang not with rage but with breezy mockery, the keynote of the exchange. 何方小將 ("what minor general?"; 將 = jiàng) is calculated insult — he pretends not to know the famous Erlang.
The True Lord shouted, "You wretch, have you eyes but no pupils? Do you not know me?
有眼無珠 ("to have eyes but no eyeballs") is a stock idiom for failing to recognize someone of consequence. Erlang answers scorn with scorn.
I am the Jade Emperor's nephew, the Erlang invested by decree as King of Resplendent Kindness, Numinous and Manifest.
Erlang recites his full investiture-title, 昭惠靈顯王 ("King of Resplendent Kindness, Numinous and Manifest") — the formal honorific of his cult, deployed here to overawe.
Now by command from on high I have come to seize you — you Bimawen ape who rebelled against the Heavenly Palace — and still you don't know whether you're alive or dead!"
弼馬溫 (Bimawen, "Keeper of Horses") is the lowly stable-post the monkey once held and bitterly resents; throwing it in his face is the sharpest of taunts. 不知死活 ("not knowing life from death," i.e. heedless of mortal danger).
Said the Great Sage, "I recall that years ago the Jade Emperor's younger sister longed for the mortal world and went down to it, mated with one Lord Yang, and bore a son — the one who took an axe and cleft Peach Mountain. Is that you?
The monkey returns the insult with intimate knowledge: he recounts the scandal of Erlang's own origin — the goddess-aunt who married a mortal (楊君, Lord Yang) and the son who split 桃山 (Peach Mountain) to free her. To name a foe's parentage so is to needle him precisely.
I'd give you a good cursing, but as it happens there's no real grudge between us;
我行 ("on my part, as for me"; 行 here read háng, an early-vernacular postposition = "side, part"). 曾奈 ("but, however, alas") is the 世德堂 text's graph for the standard 怎奈; 曾 is read zěn, a phonetic loan for 怎.
and I'd give you a whack of my cudgel, but it would be a pity about your life.
The monkey's mock-magnanimity — feigning that he spares Erlang out of pity — is pure swagger, the comic bravado that marks all his pre-combat speeches.
You young squire, you'd best hurry back and call out your Four Heavenly Kings instead."
郎君小輩 ("young gentleman, stripling") — the monkey dismisses Erlang as a junior, demanding worthier opponents. The studied condescension is the final provocation before blows.
Before the swords come out, the two Sages fight with words, and the exchange is one of the small comic gems of the chapter. It follows the conventional pattern of pre-combat boasting in the Chinese martial novel — each combatant proclaims his name and titles and belittles the other — but Wú Chéng'ēn gives it a particular savour by matching insult to insult with real wit. Erlang opens with his cult-honorifics and the cruellest available taunt, the monkey's despised stable-keeper title, 弼馬溫; the monkey answers not with anger but with a grin and a piece of intimate scandal.
That riposte is beautifully judged. Instead of trading titles, the monkey reaches for Erlang's own origin-myth — the Jade Emperor's sister who "longed for the mortal world," her union with Lord Yang, the son who cleft Peach Mountain with an axe — and asks, with feigned innocence, "Is that you?" It is the very legend the portrait-rhapsody has just recounted in tones of reverence (斧劈桃山曾救母), now turned into a needle: what the 賦 presented as filial heroism, the monkey reframes as the awkward fruit of a goddess's indiscretion. He then crowns it with mock-magnanimity — he'd curse Erlang, but there's "no real grudge"; he'd strike him, but it would be "a pity about your life" — and dismisses the god as a mere 郎君小輩, a stripling, demanding the Four Heavenly Kings instead.
The textual interest of the passage lies in its early-vernacular flavour, preserved in the 世德堂 graphs. The monkey's 我行 ("on my part") uses 行 in its old Yuan-drama sense of "side" or "quarter" (read háng), and his 曾奈 ("but, alas") writes with 曾 what the standard text writes 怎 (zěn) — a phonetic loan that betrays the spoken language beneath the page. Such forms are part of what makes this edition worth reading in the original: the swagger is carried not only by what the monkey says but by how the colloquial idiom says it. The verbal duel done, both sides have worked themselves to the pitch of violence, and the next passage opens with Erlang's fury and the second great battle-rhapsody. (For the monkey's 弼馬溫 office and his resentment of it, see Chapter 4.)