放聲大哭 The Monks Weep Aloud
大聖才引師父策馬而去，少時間去得遠了。眾僧人放聲大哭，都喊：「有恩有義的老爺！我等無緣，不肯度我們也。」大圣才引师父策马而去，少时间去得远了。众僧人放声大哭，都喊：「有恩有义的老爷！我等无缘，不肯度我们也。」
逐句解 Line by line
Only then did the Great Sage lead his master on, whipping up the horse, and in a little while they had gone far away.
The party gets clear while the monks are still frozen. 得 here links a verb to what came of it — they went so as to be far off — and takes the light, toneless de. It is the linking job that decides the reading, not the character.
The monks wept aloud, every one of them crying out, "O masters of kindness and of righteousness!
The monks start a sentence here and do not finish it until the next segment, and the English leaves it hanging the same way. 都 is again the "all of them" dōu.
We have no affinity with you, and you will not ferry us across."
This is the word to watch. 度 at dù is the technical verb of salvation — to ferry a being across the water of existence to the far shore — and the same verb comes back later in the chapter when Tripitaka asks how the party is to get over the ridge, where the crossing at issue is nothing but a hillside. 無緣 is the Buddhist phrase for lacking the karmic connection that would make such a crossing possible: no thread between us, so no ferry.
The monks' lament turns on a single word. They do not accuse Pilgrim of unkindness; they say they have no yuán — no karmic thread connecting them — and that they are therefore not to be ferried across. In their mouths the complaint is almost doctrinally polite: the failure is placed in themselves rather than in the men who have just frightened them off with tigers.
The verb for that ferrying, dù, is the ordinary Buddhist word for bringing a being to the far shore, and it is chosen with some care. Later in the chapter Tripitaka will ask how the party is to get over the ridge, and the text will reach for the very same verb. The novel likes this kind of rhyme between a spiritual crossing and a physical one, and it almost never points it out.