SHAKUNTALAA PLAY IN SEVEN ACTS

SHAKUNTALAA PLAY IN SEVEN ACTSDRAMATIS PERSONÆKING DUSHYANTA.BHARATA,nicknamedAll-tamer,his son.MADHAVYA,a clown, his companion.His charioteer.RAIVATAKA,a door-keeper.BHADRASENA,a general.KARABHAKA,a servant.PARVATAYANA,a chamberlain.SOMARATA,a chaplain.KANVA,hermit-father.SHARNGARAVA}his pupils.SHARADVATAHARITADURVASAS,an irascible sage.The chief of police.SUCHAKA}policemen.JANUKAA fisherman.SHAKUNTALA,foster-child of Kanva.ANUSUYA}her friends.PRIYAMVADAGAUTAMI,hermit-mother.KASHYAPA,father of the gods.ADITI,mother of the gods.MATALI,charioteer of heaven's king.GALAVA,a pupil in heaven.MISHRAKESHI,a heavenly nymph.Stage-director and actress (in the prologue), hermits and hermit-women, two court poets, palace attendants, invisible fairies.The first four acts pass in Kanva's forest hermitage; acts five and six in the king's palace; act seven on a heavenly mountain. The time is perhaps seven years.SHAKUNTALAPROLOGUEBENEDICTION UPON AUDIENCEEight forms has Shiva, lord of all and king:And these are water, first created thing;And fire, which speeds the sacrifice begun;The priest; and time's dividers, moon and sun;The all-embracing ether, path of sound;The earth, wherein all seeds of life are found;And air, the breath of life: may he draw near,Revealed in these, and bless those gathered here.The stage-director. Enough of this! (Turning toward the dressing-room.) Madam, if you are ready, pray come here. (Enter an actress.)Actress. Here I am, sir. What am I to do?Director. Our audience is very discriminating, and we are to offer them a new play, calledShakuntala and the ring of recognition, written by the famous Kalidasa. Every member of the cast must be on his mettle.Actress. Your arrangements are perfect. Nothing will go wrong.Director(smiling). To tell the truth, madam,Until the wise are satisfied,I cannot feel that skill is shown;The best-trained mind requires support,And does not trust itself alone.Actress. True. What shall we do first?Director. First, you must sing something to please the ears of the audience.Actress. What season of the year shall I sing about?Director. Why, sing about the pleasant summer which has just begun. For at this time of yearA mid-day plunge will temper heat;The breeze is rich with forest flowers;To slumber in the shade is sweet;And charming are the twilight hours.Actress(sings).The siris-blossoms fair,With pollen laden,Are plucked to deck her hairBy many a maiden,But gently; flowers like theseAre kissed by eager bees.Director. Well done! The whole theatre is captivated by your song, and sits as if painted. What play shall we give them to keep their good-will?Actress. Why, you just told me we were to give a new play calledShakuntala and the ring.Director. Thank you for reminding me. For the moment I had quite forgotten.Your charming song had carried me awayAs the deer enticed the hero of our play.(Exeunt ambo.)ACT ITHE HUNT(Enter, in a chariot, pursuing a deer, KING DUSHYANTA,bow and arrow in hand; and a charioteer.)Charioteer(Looking at the king and the deer). Your Majesty,I see you hunt the spotted deerWith shafts to end his race,As though God Shiva should appearIn his immortal chase.King. Charioteer, the deer has led us a long chase. And even nowHis neck in beauty bendsAs backward looks he sendsAt my pursuing carThat threatens death from far.Fear shrinks to half the body small;See how he fears the arrow's fall!The path he takes is strewedWith blades of grass half-chewedFrom jaws wide with the stressOf fevered weariness.He leaps so often and so high,He does not seem to run, but fly.(In surprise.) Pursue as I may, I can hardly keep him in sight.Charioteer. Your Majesty, I have been holding the horses back because the ground was rough. This checked us and gave the deer a lead. Now we are on level ground, and you will easily overtake him.King. Then let the reins hang loose.Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (He counterfeits rapid motion.) Look, your Majesty!The lines hang loose; the steeds unreinedDart forward with a will.Their ears are pricked; their necks are strained;Their plumes lie straight and still.They leave the rising dust behind;They seem to float upon the wind.King(joyfully). See! The horses are gaining on the deer.As onward and onward the chariot flies,The small flashes large to my dizzy eyes.What is cleft in twain, seems to blur and mate;What is crooked in nature, seems to be straight.Things at my side in an instant appearDistant, and things in the distance, near.A voice behind the scenes. O King, this deer belongs to the hermitage, and must not be killed.Charioteer(listening and looking). Your Majesty, here are two hermits, come to save the deer at the moment when your arrow was about to fall.King(hastily). Stop the chariot.Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (He does so. Enter a hermit with his pupil.)Hermit(lifting his hand). O King, this deer belongs to the hermitage.Why should his tender form expire,As blossoms perish in the fire?How could that gentle life endureThe deadly arrow, sharp and sure?Restore your arrow to the quiver;To you were weapons lentThe broken-hearted to deliver,Not strike the innocent.King(bowing low). It is done. (He does so.)Hermit(joyfully). A deed worthy of you, scion of Puru's race, and shining example of kings. May you beget a son to rule earth and heaven.King(bowing low). I am thankful for a Brahman's blessing.The two hermits. O King, we are on our way to gather firewood. Here, along the bank of the Malini, you may see the hermitage of Father Kanva, over which Shakuntala presides, so to speak, as guardian deity. Unless other deities prevent, pray enter here and receive a welcome. Besides,Beholding pious hermit-ritesPreserved from fearful harm,Perceive the profit of the scarsOn your protecting arm.King. Is the hermit father there?The two hermits. No, he has left his daughter to welcome guests, and has just gone to Somatirtha, to avert an evil fate that threatens her.King. Well, I will see her. She shall feel my devotion, and report it to the sage.The two hermits. Then we will go on our way. (Exit hermit with pupil.)King. Charioteer, drive on. A sight of the pious hermitage will purify us.Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (He counterfeits motion again.)King(looking about). One would know, without being told, that this is the precinct of a pious grove.Charioteer. How so?King. Do you not see? Why, hereAre rice-grains, dropped from bills of parrot chicksBeneath the trees; and pounding-stones where sticksA little almond-oil; and trustful deerThat do not run away as we draw near;And river-paths that are besprinkled yetFrom trickling hermit-garments, clean and wet.Besides,The roots of trees are washed by many a streamThat breezes ruffle; and the flowers' red gleamIs dimmed by pious smoke; and fearless fawnsMove softly on the close-cropped forest lawns.Charioteer. It is all true.King(after a little). We must not disturb the hermitage. Stop here while I dismount.Charioteer. I am holding the reins. Dismount, your Majesty.King(dismounts and looks at himself). One should wear modest garments on entering a hermitage. Take these jewels and the bow. (He gives them to the charioteer.) Before I return from my visit to the hermits, have the horses' backs wet down.Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (Exit.)King(walking and looking about). The hermitage! Well, I will enter. (As he does so, he feels a throbbing in his arm.)A tranquil spot! Why should I thrill?Love cannot enter there—Yet to inevitable thingsDoors open everywhere.A voice behind the scenes. This way, girls!King(listening). I think I hear some one to the right of the grove. I must find out. (He walks and looks about.) Ah, here are hermit-girls, with watering-pots just big enough for them to handle. They are coming in this direction to water the young trees. They are charming!The city maids, for all their pains,Seem not so sweet and good;Our garden blossoms yield to theseFlower-children of the wood.I will draw back into the shade and wait for them. (He stands, gazing toward them. EnterSHAKUNTALA,as described, and her two friends.)First friend. It seems to me, dear, that Father Kanva cares more for the hermitage trees than he does for you. You are delicate as a jasmine blossom, yet he tells you to fill the trenches about the trees.Shakuntala. Oh, it isn't Father's bidding so much. I feel like a real sister to them. (She waters the trees.)Priyamvada. Shakuntala, we have watered the trees that blossom in the summer-time. Now let's sprinkle those whose flowering-time is past. That will be a better deed, because we shall not be working for a reward.Shakuntala. What a pretty idea! (She does so.)King(to himself). And this is Kanva's daughter, Shakuntala. (In surprise.) The good Father does wrong to make her wear the hermit's dress of bark.The sage who yokes her artless charmWith pious pain and grief,Would try to cut the toughest vineWith a soft, blue lotus-leaf.Well, I will step behind a tree and see how she acts with her friends. (He conceals himself.)Shakuntala. Oh, Anusuya! Priyamvada has fastened this bark dress so tight that it hurts. Please loosen it. (ANUSUYAdoes so.)Priyamvada(laughing). You had better blame your own budding charms for that.King. She is quite right.Beneath the barken dressUpon the shoulder tied,In maiden lovelinessHer young breast seems to hide,As when a flower amidThe leaves by autumn tossed—Pale, withered leaves—lies hid,And half its grace is lost.Yet in truth the bark dress is not an enemy to her beauty. It serves as an added ornament. ForThe meanest vesture glowsOn beauty that enchants:The lotus lovelier showsAmid dull water-plants;The moon in added splendourShines for its spot of dark;Yet more the maiden slenderCharms in her dress of bark.Shakuntala(looking ahead). Oh, girls, that mango-tree is trying to tell me something with his branches that move in the wind like fingers. I must go and see him. (She does so.)Priyamvada. There, Shakuntala, stand right where you are a minute.Shakuntala. Why?Priyamvada. When I see you there, it looks as if a vine were clinging to the mango-tree.Shakuntala. I see why they call you the flatterer.King. But the flattery is true.Her arms are tender shoots; her lipsAre blossoms red and warm;Bewitching youth begins to flowerIn beauty on her form.Anusuya. Oh, Shakuntala! Here is the jasmine-vine that you named Light of the Grove. She has chosen the mango-tree as her husband.Shakuntala(approaches and looks at it, joyfully). What a pretty pair they make. The jasmine shows her youth in her fresh flowers, and the mango-tree shows his strength in his ripening fruit. (She stands gazing at them.)Priyamvada(smiling). Anusuya, do you know why Shakuntala looks so hard at the Light of the Grove?Anusuya. No. Why?Priyamvada. She is thinking how the Light of the Grove has found a good tree, and hoping that she will meet a fine lover.Shakuntala. That's what you want for yourself. (She tips her watering-pot.)Anusuya. Look, Shakuntala! Here is the spring-creeper that Father Kanva tended with his own hands—just as he did you. You are forgetting her.Shakuntala. I'd forget myself sooner. (She goes to the creeper and looks at it, joyfully.) Wonderful! Wonderful! Priyamvada, I have something pleasant to tell you.Priyamvada. What is it, dear?Shakuntala. It is out of season, but the spring-creeper is covered with buds down to the very root.The two friends(running up). Really?Shakuntala. Of course. Can't you see?Priyamvada(looking at it joyfully). And I have something pleasant to tellyou. You are to be married soon.Shakuntala(snappishly). You know that's just what you want for yourself.Priyamvada. I'm not teasing. I really heard Father Kanva say that this flowering vine was to be a symbol of your coming happiness.Anusuya. Priyamvada, that is why Shakuntala waters the spring-creeper so lovingly.Shakuntala. She is my sister. Why shouldn't I give her water? (She tips her watering-pot.)King. May I hope that she is the hermit's daughter by a mother of a different caste? But itmustbe so.Surely, she may become a warrior's bride;Else, why these longings in an honest mind?The motions of a blameless heart decideOf right and wrong, when reason leaves us blind.Yet I will learn the whole truth.Shakuntala(excitedly). Oh, oh! A bee has left the jasmine-vine and is flying into my face. (She shows herself annoyed by the bee.)King(ardently).As the bee about her flies,Swiftly her bewitching eyesTurn to watch his flight.She is practising to-dayCoquetry and glances' playNot from love, but fright.(Jealously.)Eager bee, you lightly skimO'er the eyelid's trembling rimToward the cheek aquiver.Gently buzzing round her cheek,Whispering in her ear, you seekSecrets to deliver.While her hands that way and thisStrike at you, you steal a kiss,Love's all, honeymaker.I know nothing but her name,Not her caste, nor whence she came—You, my rival, take her.Shakuntala. Oh, girls! Save me from this dreadful bee!The two friends(smiling). Who are we, that we should save you? Call upon Dushyanta. For pious groves are in the protection of the king.King. A good opportunity to present myself. Have no—(He checks himself. Aside.) No, they would see that I am the king. I prefer to appear as a guest.Shakuntala. He doesn't leave me alone! I am going to run away. (She takes a step and looks about.) Oh, dear! Oh, dear! He is following me. Please save me.King(hastening forward). Ah!A king of Puru's mighty lineChastises shameless churls;What insolent is he who baitsThese artless hermit-girls?(The girls are a little flurried on seeing the king.)Anusuya. It is nothing very dreadful, sir. But our friend (indicatingSHAKUNTALA) was teased and frightened by a bee.King(toSHAKUNTALA). I hope these pious days are happy ones. (SHAKUNTALA'seyes drop in embarrassment.)Anusuya. Yes, now that we receive such a distinguished guest.Priyamvada. Welcome, sir. Go to the cottage, Shakuntala, and bring fruit. This water will do to wash the feet.King. Your courteous words are enough to make me feel at home.Anusuya. Then, sir, pray sit down and rest on this shady bench.King. You, too, are surely wearied by your pious task. Pray be seated a moment.Priyamvada(aside toSHAKUNTALA). My dear, we must be polite to our guest. Shall we sit down? (The three girls sit.)Shakuntala(to herself). Oh, why do I have such feelings when I see this man? They seem wrong in a hermitage.King(looking at the girls). It is delightful to see your friendship. For you are all young and beautiful.Priyamvada(aside toANUSUYA). Who is he, dear? With his mystery, and his dignity, and his courtesy? He acts like a king and a gentleman.Anusuya. I am curious too. I am going to ask him. (Aloud.) Sir, you are so very courteous that I make bold to ask you something. What royal family do you adorn, sir? What country is grieving at your absence? Why does a gentleman so delicately bred submit to the weary journey into our pious grove?Shakuntala(aside). Be brave, my heart. Anusuya speaks your very thoughts.King(aside). Shall I tell at once who I am, or conceal it? (He reflects.) This will do. (Aloud.) I am a student of Scripture. It is my duty to see justice done in the cities of the king. And I have come to this hermitage on a tour of inspection.Anusuya. Then we of the hermitage have some one to take care of us. (SHAKUNTALAshows embarrassment.)The two friends(observing the demeanour of the pair. Aside toSHAKUNTALA). Oh, Shakuntala! If only Father were here to-day.Shakuntala. What would he do?The two friends. He would make our distinguished guest happy, if it took his most precious treasure.Shakuntala(feigning anger). Go away! You mean something. I'll not listen to you.King. I too would like to ask a question about your friend.The two friends. Sir, your request is a favour to us.King. Father Kanva lives a lifelong hermit. Yet you say that your friend is his daughter. How can that be?Anusuya. Listen, sir. There is a majestic royal sage named Kaushika—King. Ah, yes. The famous Kaushika.Anusuya. Know, then, that he is the source of our friend's being. But Father Kanva is her real father, because he took care of her when she was abandoned.King. You waken my curiosity with the word "abandoned." May I hear the whole story?Anusuya. Listen, sir. Many years ago, that royal sage was leading a life of stern austerities, and the gods, becoming strangely jealous, sent the nymph Menaka to disturb his devotions.King. Yes, the gods feel this jealousy toward the austerities of others. And then—Anusuya. Then in the lovely spring-time he saw her intoxicating beauty—(She stops in embarrassment.)King. The rest is plain. Surely, she is the daughter of the nymph.Anusuya. Yes.King. It is as it should be.To beauty such as thisNo woman could give birth;The quivering lightning flashIs not a child of earth.(SHAKUNTALAhangs her head in confusion.)King(to himself). Ah, my wishes become hopes.Priyamvada(looking with a smile atSHAKUNTALA). Sir, it seems as if you had more to say. (SHAKUNTALAthreatens her friend with her finger.)King. You are right. Your pious life interests me, and I have another question.Priyamvada. Do not hesitate. We hermit people stand ready to answer all demands.King. My question is this:Does she, till marriage only, keep her vowAs hermit-maid, that shames the ways of love?Or must her soft eyes ever see, as now,Soft eyes of friendly deer in peaceful grove?Priyamvada. Sir, we are under bonds to lead a life of virtue. But it is her father's wish to give her to a suitable lover.King(joyfully to himself).O heart, your wish is won!All doubt at last is done;The thing you feared as fire,Is the jewel of your desire.Shakuntala(pettishly). Anusuya, I'm going.Anusuya. What for?Shakuntala. I am going to tell Mother Gautami that Priyamvada is talking nonsense. (She rises.)Anusuya. My dear, we hermit people cannot neglect to entertain a distinguished guest, and go wandering about.(SHAKUNTALAstarts to walk away without answering.)King(aside). She is going! (He starts up as if to detain her, then checks his desires.) A thought is as vivid as an act, to a lover.Though nurture, conquering nature, holdsMe back, it seemsAs had I started and returnedIn waking dreams.Priyamvada(approachingSHAKUNTALA). You dear, peevish girl! You mustn't go.Shakuntala(turns with a frown). Why not?Priyamvada. You owe me the watering of two trees. You can go when you have paid your debt. (She forces her to come back.)King. It is plain that she is already wearied by watering the trees. See!Her shoulders droop; her palms are reddened yet;Quick breaths are struggling in her bosom fair;The blossom o'er her ear hangs limply wet;One hand restrains the loose, dishevelled hair.I therefore remit her debt. (He gives the two friends a ring. They take it, read the name engraved on it, and look at each other.)King. Make no mistake. This is a present—from the king.Priyamvada. Then, sir, you ought not to part with it. Your word is enough to remit the debt.Anusuya. Well, Shakuntala, you are set free by this kind gentleman—or rather, by the king himself. Where are you going now?Shakuntala(to herself). I would never leave him if I could help myself.Priyamvada. Why don't you go now?Shakuntala. I am notyourservant any longer. I will go when I like.King(looking atSHAKUNTALA.To himself). Does she feel toward me as I do toward her? At least, there is ground for hope.Although she does not speak to me,She listens while I speak;Her eyes turn not to see my face,But nothing else they seek.A voice behind the scenes. Hermits! Hermits! Prepare to defend the creatures in our pious grove. King Dushyanta is hunting in the neighbourhood.The dust his horses' hoofs have raised,Red as the evening sky,Falls like a locust-swarm on boughsWhere hanging garments dry.King(aside). Alas! My soldiers are disturbing the pious grove in their search for me.The voice behind the scenes. Hermits! Hermits! Here is an elephant who is terrifying old men, women, and children.One tusk is splintered by a cruel blowAgainst a blocking tree; his gait is slow,For countless fettering vines impede and cling;He puts the deer to flight; some evil thingHe seems, that comes our peaceful life to mar,Fleeing in terror from the royal car.(The girls listen and rise anxiously.)King. I have offended sadly against the hermits. I must go back.The two friends. Your Honour, we are frightened by this alarm of the elephant. Permit us to return to the cottage.Anusuya(toSHAKUNTALA). Shakuntala dear, Mother Gautami will be anxious. We must hurry and find her.Shakuntala(feigning lameness). Oh, oh! I can hardly walk.King. You must go very slowly. And I will take pains that the hermitage is not disturbed.The two friends. Your honour, we feel as if we knew you very well. Pray pardon our shortcomings as hostesses. May we ask you to seek better entertainment from us another time?King. You are too modest. I feel honoured by the mere sight of you.Shakuntala. Anusuya, my foot is cut on a sharp blade of grass, and my dress is caught on an amaranth twig. Wait for me while I loosen it. (She casts a lingering glance at the king, and goes out with her two friends.)King(sighing). They are gone. And I must go. The sight of Shakuntala has made me dread the return to the city. I will make my men camp at a distance from the pious grove. But I cannot turn my own thoughts from Shakuntala.It is my body leaves my love, not I;My body moves away, but not my mind;For back to her my struggling fancies flyLike silken banners borne against the wind.(Exit.)ACT IITHE SECRET(Enter the clown.)Clown(sighing). Damn! Damn! Damn! I'm tired of being friends with this sporting king. "There's a deer!" he shouts, "There's a boar!" And off he chases on a summer noon through woods where shade is few and far between. We drink hot, stinking water from the mountain streams, flavoured with leaves—nasty! At odd times we get a little tepid meat to eat. And the horses and the elephants make such a noise that I can't even be comfortable at night. Then the hunters and the bird-chasers—damn 'em—wake me up bright and early. They do make an ear-splitting rumpus when they start for the woods. But even that isn't the whole misery. There's a new pimple growing on the old boil. He left us behind and went hunting a deer. And there in a hermitage they say he found—oh, dear! oh, dear! he found a hermit-girl named Shakuntala. Since then he hasn't a thought of going back to town. I lay awake all night, thinking about it. What can I do? Well, I'll see my friend when he is dressed and beautified. (He walks and looks about.) Hello! Here he comes, with his bow in his hand, and his girl in his heart. He is wearing a wreath of wild flowers! I'll pretend to be all knocked up. Perhaps I can get a rest that way. (He stands, leaning on his staff. Enter the king, as described.)King(to himself).Although my darling is not lightly won,She seemed to love me, and my hopes are bright;Though love be balked ere joy be well begun,A common longing is itself delight.(Smiling.) Thus does a lover deceive himself. He judges his love's feelings by his own desires.Her glance was loving—but 'twas not for me;Her step was slow—'twas grace, not coquetry;Her speech was short—to her detaining friend.In things like these love reads a selfish end!Clown(standing as before). Well, king, I can't move my hand. I can only greet you with my voice.King(looking and smiling). What makes you lame?Clown. Good! You hit a man in the eye, and then ask him why the tears come.King. I do not understand you. Speak plainly.Clown. When a reed bends over like a hunchback, do you blame the reed or the river-current?King. The river-current, of course.Clown. And you are to blame for my troubles.King. How so?Clown. It's a fine thing for you to neglect your royal duties and such a sure job—to live in the woods! What's the good of talking? Here I am, a Brahman, and my joints are all shaken up by this eternal running after wild animals, so that I can't move. Please be good to me. Let us have a rest for just one day.King(to himself). He says this. And I too, when I remember Kanva's daughter, have little desire for the chase. ForThe bow is strung, its arrow near;And yet I cannot bendThat bow against the fawns who shareSoft glances with their friend.Clown(observing the king). He means more than he says. I might as well weep in the woods.King(smiling). What more could I mean? I have been thinking that I ought to take my friend's advice.Clown(cheerfully). Long life to you, then. (He unstiffens.)King. Wait. Hear me out.Clown. Well, sir?King. When you are rested, you must be my companion in another task—an easy one.Clown. Crushing a few sweetmeats?King. I will tell you presently.Clown. Pray command my leisure.King. Who stands without? (Enter the door-keeper.)Door-keeper. I await your Majesty's commands.King. Raivataka, summon the general.Door-keeper. Yes, your Majesty. (He goes out, then returns with the general.) Follow me, sir. There is his Majesty, listening to our conversation. Draw near, sir.General(observing the king, to himself). Hunting is declared to be a sin, yet it brings nothing but good to the king. See!He does not heed the cruel stingOf his recoiling, twanging string;The mid-day sun, the dripping sweatAffect him not, nor make him fret;His form, though sinewy and spare,Is most symmetrically fair;No mountain-elephant could beMore filled with vital strength than he.(He approaches.) Victory to your Majesty! The forest is full of deer-tracks, and beasts of prey cannot be far off. What better occupation could we have?King. Bhadrasena, my enthusiasm is broken. Madhavya has been preaching against hunting.General(aside to the clown). Stick to it, friend Madhavya. I will humour the king a moment. (Aloud.) Your Majesty, he is a chattering idiot. Your Majesty may judge by his own case whether hunting is an evil. Consider:The hunter's form grows sinewy, strong, and light;He learns, from beasts of prey, how wrath and frightAffect the mind; his skill he loves to measureWith moving targets. 'Tis life's chiefest pleasure.Clown(angrily). Get out! Get out with your strenuous life! The king has come to his senses. But you, you son of a slave-wench, can go chasing from forest to forest, till you fall into the jaws of some old bear that is looking for a deer or a jackal.King. Bhadrasena, I cannot take your advice, because I am in the vicinity of a hermitage. So for to-dayThe hornèd buffalo may shakeThe turbid water of the lake;Shade-seeking deer may chew the cud,Boars trample swamp-grass in the mud;The bow I bend in hunting, mayEnjoy a listless holiday.General. Yes, your Majesty.King. Send back the archers who have gone ahead. And forbid the soldiers to vex the hermitage, or even to approach it. Remember:There lurks a hidden fire in eachReligious hermit-bower;Cool sun-stones kindle if assailedBy any foreign power.General. Yes, your Majesty.Clown. Now will you get out with your strenuous life? (Exit general.)King(to his attendants). Lay aside your hunting dress. And you, Raivataka, return to your post of duty.Raivataka. Yes, your Majesty. (Exit.)Clown. You have got rid of the vermin. Now be seated on this flat stone, over which the trees spread their canopy of shade. I can't sit down till you do.King. Lead the way.Clown. Follow me. (They walk about and sit down.)King. Friend Madhavya, you do not know what vision is. You have not seen the fairest of all objects.Clown. I see you, right in front of me.King. Yes, every one thinks himself beautiful. But I was speaking of Shakuntala, the ornament of the hermitage.Clown(to himself). I mustn't add fuel to the flame. (Aloud.) But you can't have her because she is a hermit-girl. What is the use of seeing her?King. Fool!And is it selfish longing then,That draws our souls on highThrough eyes that have forgot to wink,As the new moon climbs the sky?Besides, Dushyanta's thoughts dwell on no forbidden object.Clown. Well, tell me about her.King.Sprung from a nymph of heavenWanton and gay,Who spurned the blessing given,Going her way;By the stern hermit takenIn her most need:So fell the blossom shaken,Flower on a weed.Clown. (laughing). You are like a man who gets tired of good dates and longs for sour tamarind. All the pearls of the palace are yours, and you want this girl!King. My friend, you have not seen her, or you could not talk so.Clown. She must be charming if she surprisesyou.King. Oh, my friend, she needs not many words.She is God's vision, of pure thoughtComposed in His creative mind;His reveries of beauty wroughtThe peerless pearl of womankind.So plays my fancy when I seeHow great is God, how lovely she.Clown. How the women must hate her!King. This too is in my thought.She seems a flower whose fragrance none has tasted,A gem uncut by workman's tool,A branch no desecrating hands have wasted,Fresh honey, beautifully cool.No man on earth deserves to taste her beauty,Her blameless loveliness and worth,Unless he has fulfilled man's perfect duty—And is there such a one on earth?Clown. Marry her quick, then, before the poor girl falls into the hands of some oily-headed hermit.King. She is dependent on her father, and he is not here.Clown. But how does she feel toward you?King. My friend, hermit-girls are by their very nature timid. And yetWhen I was near, she could not look at me;She smiled—but not to me—and half denied it;She would not show her love for modesty,Yet did not try so very hard to hide it.Clown. Did you want her to climb into your lap the first time she saw you?King. But when she went away with her friends, she almost showed that she loved me.When she had hardly left my side,"I cannot walk," the maiden cried,And turned her face, and feigned to freeThe dress not caught upon the tree.Clown. She has given you some memories to chew on. I suppose that is why you are so in love with the pious grove.King. My friend, think of some pretext under which we may return to the hermitage.Clown. What pretext do you need? Aren't you the king?King. What of that?Clown. Collect the taxes on the hermits' rice.King. Fool! It is a very different tax which these hermits pay—one that outweighs heaps of gems.The wealth we take from common men,Wastes while we cherish;These share with us such holinessAs ne'er can perish.Voices behind the scenes. Ah, we have found him.King(Listening). The voices are grave and tranquil. These must be hermits. (Enter the door-keeper.)Door-keeper. Victory, O King. There are two hermit-youths at the gate.King. Bid them enter at once.Door-keeper. Yes, your Majesty. (He goes out, then returns with the youths.) Follow me.First youth(looking at the king). A majestic presence, yet it inspires confidence. Nor is this wonderful in a king who is half a saint. For to himThe splendid palace serves as hermitage;His royal government, courageous, sage,Adds daily to his merit; it is givenTo him to win applause from choirs of heavenWhose anthems to his glory rise and swell,Proclaiming him a king, and saint as well.Second youth. My friend, is this Dushyanta, friend of Indra?First youth. It is.Second youth.Nor is it wonderful that one whose armMight bolt a city gate, should keep from harmThe whole broad earth dark-belted by the sea;For when the gods in heaven with demons fight,Dushyanta's bow and Indra's weapon brightAre their reliance for the victory.The two youths(approaching). Victory, O King!King(rising). I salute you.The two youths. All hail! (They offer fruit.)King(receiving it and bowing low). May I know the reason of your coming?The two youths. The hermits have learned that you are here, and they request—King. They command rather.The two youths. The powers of evil disturb our pious life in the absence of the hermit-father. We therefore ask that you will remain a few nights with your charioteer to protect the hermitage.King. I shall be most happy to do so.Clown(to the king). You rather seem to like being collared this way.King. Raivataka, tell my charioteer to drive up, and to bring the bow and arrows.Raivataka. Yes, your Majesty. (Exit)The two youths.Thou art a worthy scion ofThe kings who ruled our nationAnd found, defending those in need,Their truest consecration.King. Pray go before. And I will follow straightway.The two youths. Victory, O King! (Exeunt.)King. Madhavya, have you no curiosity to see Shakuntala?Clown. Ididhave an unending curiosity, but this talk about the powers of evil has put an end to it.King. Do not fear. You will be with me.Clown. I'll stick close to your chariot-wheel. (Enter the door-keeper.)Door-keeper. Your Majesty, the chariot is ready, and awaits your departure to victory. But one Karabhaka has come from the city, a messenger from the queen-mother.King(respectfully). Sent by my mother?Door-keeper. Yes.King. Let him enter.Door-keeper(goes out and returns withKARABHAKA). Karabhaka, here is his Majesty. You may draw near.Karabhaka(approaching and bowing low). Victory to your Majesty. The queen-mother sends her commands—King. What are her commands?Karabhaka. She plans to end a fasting ceremony on the fourth day from to-day. And on that occasion her dear son must not fail to wait upon her.King. On the one side is my duty to the hermits, on the other my mother's command. Neither may be disregarded. What is to be done?Clown(laughing). Stay half-way between, like Trishanku.King. In truth, I am perplexed.Two inconsistent duties severMy mind with cruel shock,As when the current of a riverIs split upon a rock.(He reflects.) My friend, the queen-mother has always felt toward you as toward a son. Do you return, tell her what duty keeps me here, and yourself perform the offices of a son.Clown. You don't think I am afraid of the devils?King(smiling). O mighty Brahman, who could suspect it?Clown. But I want to travel like a prince.King. I will send all the soldiers with you, for the pious grove must not be disturbed.Clown(strutting). Aha! Look at the heir-apparent!King(to himself). The fellow is a chatterbox. He might betray my longing to the ladies of the palace. Good, then! (He takes the clown by the hand. Aloud.) Friend Madhavya, my reverence for the hermits draws me to the hermitage. Do not think that I am really in love with the hermit-girl. Just think:A king, and a girl of the calm hermit-grove,Bred with the fawns, and a stranger to love!Then do not imagine a serious quest;The light words I uttered were spoken in jest.Clown. Oh, I understand that well enough. (Exeunt ambo.)ACT IIITHE LOVE-MAKING(Enter a pupil, with sacred grass for the sacrifice.)Pupil(with meditative astonishment). How great is the power of King Dushyanta! Since his arrival our rites have been undisturbed.He does not need to bend the bow;For every evil thing,Awaiting not the arrow, fleesFrom the twanging of the string.Well, I will take this sacred grass to the priests, to strew the altar. (He walks and looks about, then speaks to some one not visible.) Priyamvada, for whom are you carrying this cuscus-salve and the fibrous lotus-leaves? (He listens.) What do you say? That Shakuntala has become seriously ill from the heat, and that these things are to relieve her suffering? Give her the best of care, Priyamvada. She is the very life of the hermit-father. And I will give Gautami the holy water for her. (Exit. Enter the lovelorn king.)King(with a meditative sigh).I know that stern religion's powerKeeps guardian watch my maiden o'er;Yet all my heart flows straight to herLike water to the valley-floor.Oh, mighty Love, thine arrows are made of flowers. How can they be so sharp? (He recalls something.) Ah, I understand.Shiva's devouring wrath still burns in thee,As burns the eternal fire beneath the sea;Else how couldst thou, thyself long since consumed,Kindle the fire that flames so ruthlessly?Indeed, the moon and thou inspire confidence, only to deceive the host of lovers.Thy shafts are blossoms; coolness streamsFrom moon-rays: thus the poets sing;But to the lovelorn, falsehood seemsTo lurk in such imagining;The moon darts fire from frosty beams;Thy flowery arrows cut and sting.And yetIf Love will trouble herWhose great eyes madden me,I greet him unafraid,Though wounded ceaselessly.O mighty god, wilt thou not show me mercy after such reproaches?With tenderness unendingI cherished thee when small,In vain—thy bow is bending;On me thine arrows fall.My care for thee to such a plightHas brought me; and it serves me right.I have driven off the powers of evil, and the hermits have dismissed me. Where shall I go now to rest from my weariness? (He sighs.) There is no rest for me except in seeing her whom I love. (He looks up.) She usually spends these hours of midday heat with her friends on the vine-wreathed banks of the Malini. I will go there. (He walks and looks about.) I believe the slender maiden has just passed through this corridor of young trees. ForThe stems from which she gathered flowersAre still unhealed;The sap where twigs were broken offIs uncongealed.(He feels a breeze stirring.) This is a pleasant spot, with the wind among the trees.Limbs that love's fever seizes,Their fervent welcome payTo lotus-fragrant breezesThat bear the river-spray.(He studies the ground.) Ah, Shakuntala must be in this reedy bower. ForIn white sand at the doorFresh footprints appear,The toe lightly outlined,The heel deep and clear.I will hide among the branches, and see what happens. (He does so. Joyfully.) Ah, my eyes have found their heaven. Here is the darling of my thoughts, lying upon a flower-strewn bench of stone, and attended by her two friends. I will hear what they say to each other. (He stands gazing. EnterSHAKUNTALAwith her two friends.)The two friends(fanning her). Do you feel better, dear, when we fan you with these lotus-leaves?Shakuntala(wearily). Oh, are you fanning me, my dear girls? (The two friends look sorrowfully at each other.)King. She is seriously ill. (Doubtfully.) Is it the heat, or is it as I hope? (Decidedly.) Itmustbe so.With salve upon her breast,With loosened lotus-chain,My darling, sore oppressed,Is lovely in her pain.Though love and summer heatMay work an equal woe,No maiden seems so sweetWhen summer lays her low.Priyamvada(aside toANUSUYA). Anusuya, since she first saw the good king, she has been greatly troubled. I do not believe her fever has any other cause.Anusuya. I suspect you are right. I am going to ask her. My dear, I must ask you something. You are in a high fever.King. It is too true.Her lotus-chains that were as whiteAs moonbeams shining in the night,Betray the fever's awful pain,And fading, show a darker stain.Shakuntala(half rising.) Well, say whatever you like.Anusuya. Shakuntala dear, you have not told us what is going on in your mind. But I have heard old, romantic stories, and I can't help thinking that you are in a state like that of a lady in love. Please tell us what hurts you. We have to understand the disease before we can even try to cure it.King. Anusuya expresses my own thoughts.Shakuntala. It hurts me terribly. I can't tell you all at once.Priyamvada. Anusuya is right, dear. Why do you hide your trouble? You are wasting away every day. You are nothing but a beautiful shadow.King. Priyamvada is right. See!Her cheeks grow thin; her breast and shoulders fail;Her waist is weary and her face is pale:She fades for love; oh, pitifully sweet!As vine-leaves wither in the scorching heat.Shakuntala(sighing). I could not tell any one else. But I shall be a burden to you.The two friends. That is why we insist on knowing, dear. Grief must be shared to be endured.King.To friends who share her joy and griefShe tells what sorrow laid her here;She turned to look her love againWhen first I saw her—yet I fear!Shakuntala. Ever since I saw the good king who protects the pious grove—(She stops and fidgets.)The two friends. Go on, dear.Shakuntala. I love him, and it makes me feel like this.The two friends. Good, good! You have found a lover worthy of your devotion. But of course, a great river always runs into the sea.King(joyfully). I have heard what I longed to hear.'Twas love that caused the burning pain;'Tis love that eases it again;As when, upon a sultry day,Rain breaks, and washes grief away.Shakuntala. Then, if you think best, make the good king take pity upon me. If not, remember that I was.King. Her words end all doubt.Priyamvada(aside toANUSUYA). Anusuya, she is far gone in love and cannot endure any delay.Anusuya. Priyamvada, can you think of any scheme by which we could carry out her wishes quickly and secretly?Priyamvada. We must plan about the "secretly." The "quickly" is not hard.Anusuya. How so?Priyamvada. Why, the good king shows his love for her in his tender glances, and he has been wasting away, as if he were losing sleep.King. It is quite true.The hot tears, flowing down my cheekAll night on my supporting armAnd on its golden bracelet, seekTo stain the gems and do them harm.The bracelet slipping o'er the scarsUpon the wasted arm, that showMy deeds in hunting and in wars,All night is moving to and fro.Priyamvada(reflecting). Well, she must write him a love-letter. And I will hide it in a bunch of flowers and see that it gets into the king's hand as if it were a relic of the sacrifice.Anusuya. It is a pretty plan, dear, and it pleases me. What does Shakuntala say?Shakuntala. I suppose I must obey orders.Priyamvada. Then compose a pretty little love-song, with a hint of yourself in it.Shakuntala. I'll try. But my heart trembles, for fear he will despise me.King.Here stands the eager lover, and you paleFor fear lest he disdain a love so kind:The seeker may find fortune, or may fail;But how could fortune, seeking, fail to find?And again:The ardent lover comes, and yet you fearLest he disdain love's tribute, were it brought,The hope of which has led his footsteps here—Pearls need not seek, for they themselves are sought.The two friends. You are too modest about your own charms. Would anybody put up a parasol to keep off the soothing autumn moonlight?Shakuntala(smiling). I suppose I shall have to obey orders. (She meditates.)King. It is only natural that I should forget to wink when I see my darling. ForOne clinging eyebrow lifted,As fitting words she seeks,Her face reveals her passionFor me in glowing cheeks.Shakuntala. Well, I have thought out a little song. But I haven't anything to write with.Priyamvada. Here is a lotus-leaf, glossy as a parrot's breast. You can cut the letters in it with your nails.Shakuntala. Now listen, and tell me whether it makes sense.The two friends. Please.Shakuntala(reads).I know not if I read your heart aright;Why, pitiless, do you distress me so?I only know that longing day and nightTosses my restless body to and fro,That yearns for you, the source of all its woe.King(advancing).Though Love torments you, slender maid,Yet he consumes me quite,As daylight shuts night-blooming flowersAnd slays the moon outright.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

Stage-director and actress (in the prologue), hermits and hermit-women, two court poets, palace attendants, invisible fairies.

The first four acts pass in Kanva's forest hermitage; acts five and six in the king's palace; act seven on a heavenly mountain. The time is perhaps seven years.

PROLOGUE

BENEDICTION UPON AUDIENCE

Eight forms has Shiva, lord of all and king:And these are water, first created thing;And fire, which speeds the sacrifice begun;The priest; and time's dividers, moon and sun;The all-embracing ether, path of sound;The earth, wherein all seeds of life are found;And air, the breath of life: may he draw near,Revealed in these, and bless those gathered here.

The stage-director. Enough of this! (Turning toward the dressing-room.) Madam, if you are ready, pray come here. (Enter an actress.)

Actress. Here I am, sir. What am I to do?

Director. Our audience is very discriminating, and we are to offer them a new play, calledShakuntala and the ring of recognition, written by the famous Kalidasa. Every member of the cast must be on his mettle.

Actress. Your arrangements are perfect. Nothing will go wrong.

Director(smiling). To tell the truth, madam,

Until the wise are satisfied,I cannot feel that skill is shown;The best-trained mind requires support,And does not trust itself alone.

Actress. True. What shall we do first?

Director. First, you must sing something to please the ears of the audience.

Actress. What season of the year shall I sing about?

Director. Why, sing about the pleasant summer which has just begun. For at this time of year

A mid-day plunge will temper heat;The breeze is rich with forest flowers;To slumber in the shade is sweet;And charming are the twilight hours.

Actress(sings).

The siris-blossoms fair,With pollen laden,Are plucked to deck her hairBy many a maiden,But gently; flowers like theseAre kissed by eager bees.

Director. Well done! The whole theatre is captivated by your song, and sits as if painted. What play shall we give them to keep their good-will?

Actress. Why, you just told me we were to give a new play calledShakuntala and the ring.

Director. Thank you for reminding me. For the moment I had quite forgotten.

Your charming song had carried me awayAs the deer enticed the hero of our play.

(Exeunt ambo.)

ACT I

THE HUNT

(Enter, in a chariot, pursuing a deer, KING DUSHYANTA,bow and arrow in hand; and a charioteer.)

Charioteer(Looking at the king and the deer). Your Majesty,

I see you hunt the spotted deerWith shafts to end his race,As though God Shiva should appearIn his immortal chase.

King. Charioteer, the deer has led us a long chase. And even now

His neck in beauty bendsAs backward looks he sendsAt my pursuing carThat threatens death from far.Fear shrinks to half the body small;See how he fears the arrow's fall!The path he takes is strewedWith blades of grass half-chewedFrom jaws wide with the stressOf fevered weariness.He leaps so often and so high,He does not seem to run, but fly.

His neck in beauty bendsAs backward looks he sendsAt my pursuing carThat threatens death from far.Fear shrinks to half the body small;See how he fears the arrow's fall!

The path he takes is strewedWith blades of grass half-chewedFrom jaws wide with the stressOf fevered weariness.He leaps so often and so high,He does not seem to run, but fly.

(In surprise.) Pursue as I may, I can hardly keep him in sight.

Charioteer. Your Majesty, I have been holding the horses back because the ground was rough. This checked us and gave the deer a lead. Now we are on level ground, and you will easily overtake him.

King. Then let the reins hang loose.

Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (He counterfeits rapid motion.) Look, your Majesty!

The lines hang loose; the steeds unreinedDart forward with a will.Their ears are pricked; their necks are strained;Their plumes lie straight and still.They leave the rising dust behind;They seem to float upon the wind.

King(joyfully). See! The horses are gaining on the deer.

As onward and onward the chariot flies,The small flashes large to my dizzy eyes.What is cleft in twain, seems to blur and mate;What is crooked in nature, seems to be straight.Things at my side in an instant appearDistant, and things in the distance, near.

A voice behind the scenes. O King, this deer belongs to the hermitage, and must not be killed.

Charioteer(listening and looking). Your Majesty, here are two hermits, come to save the deer at the moment when your arrow was about to fall.

King(hastily). Stop the chariot.

Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (He does so. Enter a hermit with his pupil.)

Hermit(lifting his hand). O King, this deer belongs to the hermitage.

Why should his tender form expire,As blossoms perish in the fire?How could that gentle life endureThe deadly arrow, sharp and sure?Restore your arrow to the quiver;To you were weapons lentThe broken-hearted to deliver,Not strike the innocent.

Why should his tender form expire,As blossoms perish in the fire?How could that gentle life endureThe deadly arrow, sharp and sure?

Restore your arrow to the quiver;To you were weapons lentThe broken-hearted to deliver,Not strike the innocent.

King(bowing low). It is done. (He does so.)

Hermit(joyfully). A deed worthy of you, scion of Puru's race, and shining example of kings. May you beget a son to rule earth and heaven.

King(bowing low). I am thankful for a Brahman's blessing.

The two hermits. O King, we are on our way to gather firewood. Here, along the bank of the Malini, you may see the hermitage of Father Kanva, over which Shakuntala presides, so to speak, as guardian deity. Unless other deities prevent, pray enter here and receive a welcome. Besides,

Beholding pious hermit-ritesPreserved from fearful harm,Perceive the profit of the scarsOn your protecting arm.

King. Is the hermit father there?

The two hermits. No, he has left his daughter to welcome guests, and has just gone to Somatirtha, to avert an evil fate that threatens her.

King. Well, I will see her. She shall feel my devotion, and report it to the sage.

The two hermits. Then we will go on our way. (Exit hermit with pupil.)

King. Charioteer, drive on. A sight of the pious hermitage will purify us.

Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (He counterfeits motion again.)

King(looking about). One would know, without being told, that this is the precinct of a pious grove.

Charioteer. How so?

King. Do you not see? Why, here

Are rice-grains, dropped from bills of parrot chicksBeneath the trees; and pounding-stones where sticksA little almond-oil; and trustful deerThat do not run away as we draw near;And river-paths that are besprinkled yetFrom trickling hermit-garments, clean and wet.

Besides,

The roots of trees are washed by many a streamThat breezes ruffle; and the flowers' red gleamIs dimmed by pious smoke; and fearless fawnsMove softly on the close-cropped forest lawns.

Charioteer. It is all true.

King(after a little). We must not disturb the hermitage. Stop here while I dismount.

Charioteer. I am holding the reins. Dismount, your Majesty.

King(dismounts and looks at himself). One should wear modest garments on entering a hermitage. Take these jewels and the bow. (He gives them to the charioteer.) Before I return from my visit to the hermits, have the horses' backs wet down.

Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (Exit.)

King(walking and looking about). The hermitage! Well, I will enter. (As he does so, he feels a throbbing in his arm.)

A tranquil spot! Why should I thrill?Love cannot enter there—Yet to inevitable thingsDoors open everywhere.

A voice behind the scenes. This way, girls!

King(listening). I think I hear some one to the right of the grove. I must find out. (He walks and looks about.) Ah, here are hermit-girls, with watering-pots just big enough for them to handle. They are coming in this direction to water the young trees. They are charming!

The city maids, for all their pains,Seem not so sweet and good;Our garden blossoms yield to theseFlower-children of the wood.

I will draw back into the shade and wait for them. (He stands, gazing toward them. EnterSHAKUNTALA,as described, and her two friends.)

First friend. It seems to me, dear, that Father Kanva cares more for the hermitage trees than he does for you. You are delicate as a jasmine blossom, yet he tells you to fill the trenches about the trees.

Shakuntala. Oh, it isn't Father's bidding so much. I feel like a real sister to them. (She waters the trees.)

Priyamvada. Shakuntala, we have watered the trees that blossom in the summer-time. Now let's sprinkle those whose flowering-time is past. That will be a better deed, because we shall not be working for a reward.

Shakuntala. What a pretty idea! (She does so.)

King(to himself). And this is Kanva's daughter, Shakuntala. (In surprise.) The good Father does wrong to make her wear the hermit's dress of bark.

The sage who yokes her artless charmWith pious pain and grief,Would try to cut the toughest vineWith a soft, blue lotus-leaf.

Well, I will step behind a tree and see how she acts with her friends. (He conceals himself.)

Shakuntala. Oh, Anusuya! Priyamvada has fastened this bark dress so tight that it hurts. Please loosen it. (ANUSUYAdoes so.)

Priyamvada(laughing). You had better blame your own budding charms for that.

King. She is quite right.

Beneath the barken dressUpon the shoulder tied,In maiden lovelinessHer young breast seems to hide,As when a flower amidThe leaves by autumn tossed—Pale, withered leaves—lies hid,And half its grace is lost.

Beneath the barken dressUpon the shoulder tied,In maiden lovelinessHer young breast seems to hide,

As when a flower amidThe leaves by autumn tossed—Pale, withered leaves—lies hid,And half its grace is lost.

Yet in truth the bark dress is not an enemy to her beauty. It serves as an added ornament. For

The meanest vesture glowsOn beauty that enchants:The lotus lovelier showsAmid dull water-plants;The moon in added splendourShines for its spot of dark;Yet more the maiden slenderCharms in her dress of bark.

The meanest vesture glowsOn beauty that enchants:The lotus lovelier showsAmid dull water-plants;

The moon in added splendourShines for its spot of dark;Yet more the maiden slenderCharms in her dress of bark.

Shakuntala(looking ahead). Oh, girls, that mango-tree is trying to tell me something with his branches that move in the wind like fingers. I must go and see him. (She does so.)

Priyamvada. There, Shakuntala, stand right where you are a minute.

Shakuntala. Why?

Priyamvada. When I see you there, it looks as if a vine were clinging to the mango-tree.

Shakuntala. I see why they call you the flatterer.

King. But the flattery is true.

Her arms are tender shoots; her lipsAre blossoms red and warm;Bewitching youth begins to flowerIn beauty on her form.

Anusuya. Oh, Shakuntala! Here is the jasmine-vine that you named Light of the Grove. She has chosen the mango-tree as her husband.

Shakuntala(approaches and looks at it, joyfully). What a pretty pair they make. The jasmine shows her youth in her fresh flowers, and the mango-tree shows his strength in his ripening fruit. (She stands gazing at them.)

Priyamvada(smiling). Anusuya, do you know why Shakuntala looks so hard at the Light of the Grove?

Anusuya. No. Why?

Priyamvada. She is thinking how the Light of the Grove has found a good tree, and hoping that she will meet a fine lover.

Shakuntala. That's what you want for yourself. (She tips her watering-pot.)

Anusuya. Look, Shakuntala! Here is the spring-creeper that Father Kanva tended with his own hands—just as he did you. You are forgetting her.

Shakuntala. I'd forget myself sooner. (She goes to the creeper and looks at it, joyfully.) Wonderful! Wonderful! Priyamvada, I have something pleasant to tell you.

Priyamvada. What is it, dear?

Shakuntala. It is out of season, but the spring-creeper is covered with buds down to the very root.

The two friends(running up). Really?

Shakuntala. Of course. Can't you see?

Priyamvada(looking at it joyfully). And I have something pleasant to tellyou. You are to be married soon.

Shakuntala(snappishly). You know that's just what you want for yourself.

Priyamvada. I'm not teasing. I really heard Father Kanva say that this flowering vine was to be a symbol of your coming happiness.

Anusuya. Priyamvada, that is why Shakuntala waters the spring-creeper so lovingly.

Shakuntala. She is my sister. Why shouldn't I give her water? (She tips her watering-pot.)

King. May I hope that she is the hermit's daughter by a mother of a different caste? But itmustbe so.

Surely, she may become a warrior's bride;Else, why these longings in an honest mind?The motions of a blameless heart decideOf right and wrong, when reason leaves us blind.

Yet I will learn the whole truth.

Shakuntala(excitedly). Oh, oh! A bee has left the jasmine-vine and is flying into my face. (She shows herself annoyed by the bee.)

King(ardently).

As the bee about her flies,Swiftly her bewitching eyesTurn to watch his flight.She is practising to-dayCoquetry and glances' playNot from love, but fright.

(Jealously.)

Eager bee, you lightly skimO'er the eyelid's trembling rimToward the cheek aquiver.Gently buzzing round her cheek,Whispering in her ear, you seekSecrets to deliver.While her hands that way and thisStrike at you, you steal a kiss,Love's all, honeymaker.I know nothing but her name,Not her caste, nor whence she came—You, my rival, take her.

Eager bee, you lightly skimO'er the eyelid's trembling rimToward the cheek aquiver.Gently buzzing round her cheek,Whispering in her ear, you seekSecrets to deliver.

While her hands that way and thisStrike at you, you steal a kiss,Love's all, honeymaker.I know nothing but her name,Not her caste, nor whence she came—You, my rival, take her.

Shakuntala. Oh, girls! Save me from this dreadful bee!

The two friends(smiling). Who are we, that we should save you? Call upon Dushyanta. For pious groves are in the protection of the king.

King. A good opportunity to present myself. Have no—(He checks himself. Aside.) No, they would see that I am the king. I prefer to appear as a guest.

Shakuntala. He doesn't leave me alone! I am going to run away. (She takes a step and looks about.) Oh, dear! Oh, dear! He is following me. Please save me.

King(hastening forward). Ah!

A king of Puru's mighty lineChastises shameless churls;What insolent is he who baitsThese artless hermit-girls?

(The girls are a little flurried on seeing the king.)

Anusuya. It is nothing very dreadful, sir. But our friend (indicatingSHAKUNTALA) was teased and frightened by a bee.

King(toSHAKUNTALA). I hope these pious days are happy ones. (SHAKUNTALA'seyes drop in embarrassment.)

Anusuya. Yes, now that we receive such a distinguished guest.

Priyamvada. Welcome, sir. Go to the cottage, Shakuntala, and bring fruit. This water will do to wash the feet.

King. Your courteous words are enough to make me feel at home.

Anusuya. Then, sir, pray sit down and rest on this shady bench.

King. You, too, are surely wearied by your pious task. Pray be seated a moment.

Priyamvada(aside toSHAKUNTALA). My dear, we must be polite to our guest. Shall we sit down? (The three girls sit.)

Shakuntala(to herself). Oh, why do I have such feelings when I see this man? They seem wrong in a hermitage.

King(looking at the girls). It is delightful to see your friendship. For you are all young and beautiful.

Priyamvada(aside toANUSUYA). Who is he, dear? With his mystery, and his dignity, and his courtesy? He acts like a king and a gentleman.

Anusuya. I am curious too. I am going to ask him. (Aloud.) Sir, you are so very courteous that I make bold to ask you something. What royal family do you adorn, sir? What country is grieving at your absence? Why does a gentleman so delicately bred submit to the weary journey into our pious grove?

Shakuntala(aside). Be brave, my heart. Anusuya speaks your very thoughts.

King(aside). Shall I tell at once who I am, or conceal it? (He reflects.) This will do. (Aloud.) I am a student of Scripture. It is my duty to see justice done in the cities of the king. And I have come to this hermitage on a tour of inspection.

Anusuya. Then we of the hermitage have some one to take care of us. (SHAKUNTALAshows embarrassment.)

The two friends(observing the demeanour of the pair. Aside toSHAKUNTALA). Oh, Shakuntala! If only Father were here to-day.

Shakuntala. What would he do?

The two friends. He would make our distinguished guest happy, if it took his most precious treasure.

Shakuntala(feigning anger). Go away! You mean something. I'll not listen to you.

King. I too would like to ask a question about your friend.

The two friends. Sir, your request is a favour to us.

King. Father Kanva lives a lifelong hermit. Yet you say that your friend is his daughter. How can that be?

Anusuya. Listen, sir. There is a majestic royal sage named Kaushika—

King. Ah, yes. The famous Kaushika.

Anusuya. Know, then, that he is the source of our friend's being. But Father Kanva is her real father, because he took care of her when she was abandoned.

King. You waken my curiosity with the word "abandoned." May I hear the whole story?

Anusuya. Listen, sir. Many years ago, that royal sage was leading a life of stern austerities, and the gods, becoming strangely jealous, sent the nymph Menaka to disturb his devotions.

King. Yes, the gods feel this jealousy toward the austerities of others. And then—

Anusuya. Then in the lovely spring-time he saw her intoxicating beauty—(She stops in embarrassment.)

King. The rest is plain. Surely, she is the daughter of the nymph.

Anusuya. Yes.

King. It is as it should be.

To beauty such as thisNo woman could give birth;The quivering lightning flashIs not a child of earth.

(SHAKUNTALAhangs her head in confusion.)King(to himself). Ah, my wishes become hopes.

Priyamvada(looking with a smile atSHAKUNTALA). Sir, it seems as if you had more to say. (SHAKUNTALAthreatens her friend with her finger.)

King. You are right. Your pious life interests me, and I have another question.

Priyamvada. Do not hesitate. We hermit people stand ready to answer all demands.

King. My question is this:

Does she, till marriage only, keep her vowAs hermit-maid, that shames the ways of love?Or must her soft eyes ever see, as now,Soft eyes of friendly deer in peaceful grove?

Priyamvada. Sir, we are under bonds to lead a life of virtue. But it is her father's wish to give her to a suitable lover.

King(joyfully to himself).

O heart, your wish is won!All doubt at last is done;The thing you feared as fire,Is the jewel of your desire.

Shakuntala(pettishly). Anusuya, I'm going.

Anusuya. What for?

Shakuntala. I am going to tell Mother Gautami that Priyamvada is talking nonsense. (She rises.)

Anusuya. My dear, we hermit people cannot neglect to entertain a distinguished guest, and go wandering about.

(SHAKUNTALAstarts to walk away without answering.)

King(aside). She is going! (He starts up as if to detain her, then checks his desires.) A thought is as vivid as an act, to a lover.

Though nurture, conquering nature, holdsMe back, it seemsAs had I started and returnedIn waking dreams.

Priyamvada(approachingSHAKUNTALA). You dear, peevish girl! You mustn't go.

Shakuntala(turns with a frown). Why not?

Priyamvada. You owe me the watering of two trees. You can go when you have paid your debt. (She forces her to come back.)

King. It is plain that she is already wearied by watering the trees. See!

Her shoulders droop; her palms are reddened yet;Quick breaths are struggling in her bosom fair;The blossom o'er her ear hangs limply wet;One hand restrains the loose, dishevelled hair.

I therefore remit her debt. (He gives the two friends a ring. They take it, read the name engraved on it, and look at each other.)

King. Make no mistake. This is a present—from the king.

Priyamvada. Then, sir, you ought not to part with it. Your word is enough to remit the debt.

Anusuya. Well, Shakuntala, you are set free by this kind gentleman—or rather, by the king himself. Where are you going now?

Shakuntala(to herself). I would never leave him if I could help myself.

Priyamvada. Why don't you go now?

Shakuntala. I am notyourservant any longer. I will go when I like.

King(looking atSHAKUNTALA.To himself). Does she feel toward me as I do toward her? At least, there is ground for hope.

Although she does not speak to me,She listens while I speak;Her eyes turn not to see my face,But nothing else they seek.

A voice behind the scenes. Hermits! Hermits! Prepare to defend the creatures in our pious grove. King Dushyanta is hunting in the neighbourhood.

The dust his horses' hoofs have raised,Red as the evening sky,Falls like a locust-swarm on boughsWhere hanging garments dry.

King(aside). Alas! My soldiers are disturbing the pious grove in their search for me.

The voice behind the scenes. Hermits! Hermits! Here is an elephant who is terrifying old men, women, and children.

One tusk is splintered by a cruel blowAgainst a blocking tree; his gait is slow,For countless fettering vines impede and cling;He puts the deer to flight; some evil thingHe seems, that comes our peaceful life to mar,Fleeing in terror from the royal car.

(The girls listen and rise anxiously.)

King. I have offended sadly against the hermits. I must go back.

The two friends. Your Honour, we are frightened by this alarm of the elephant. Permit us to return to the cottage.

Anusuya(toSHAKUNTALA). Shakuntala dear, Mother Gautami will be anxious. We must hurry and find her.

Shakuntala(feigning lameness). Oh, oh! I can hardly walk.

King. You must go very slowly. And I will take pains that the hermitage is not disturbed.

The two friends. Your honour, we feel as if we knew you very well. Pray pardon our shortcomings as hostesses. May we ask you to seek better entertainment from us another time?

King. You are too modest. I feel honoured by the mere sight of you.

Shakuntala. Anusuya, my foot is cut on a sharp blade of grass, and my dress is caught on an amaranth twig. Wait for me while I loosen it. (She casts a lingering glance at the king, and goes out with her two friends.)

King(sighing). They are gone. And I must go. The sight of Shakuntala has made me dread the return to the city. I will make my men camp at a distance from the pious grove. But I cannot turn my own thoughts from Shakuntala.

It is my body leaves my love, not I;My body moves away, but not my mind;For back to her my struggling fancies flyLike silken banners borne against the wind.

(Exit.)

ACT IITHE SECRET

(Enter the clown.)

Clown(sighing). Damn! Damn! Damn! I'm tired of being friends with this sporting king. "There's a deer!" he shouts, "There's a boar!" And off he chases on a summer noon through woods where shade is few and far between. We drink hot, stinking water from the mountain streams, flavoured with leaves—nasty! At odd times we get a little tepid meat to eat. And the horses and the elephants make such a noise that I can't even be comfortable at night. Then the hunters and the bird-chasers—damn 'em—wake me up bright and early. They do make an ear-splitting rumpus when they start for the woods. But even that isn't the whole misery. There's a new pimple growing on the old boil. He left us behind and went hunting a deer. And there in a hermitage they say he found—oh, dear! oh, dear! he found a hermit-girl named Shakuntala. Since then he hasn't a thought of going back to town. I lay awake all night, thinking about it. What can I do? Well, I'll see my friend when he is dressed and beautified. (He walks and looks about.) Hello! Here he comes, with his bow in his hand, and his girl in his heart. He is wearing a wreath of wild flowers! I'll pretend to be all knocked up. Perhaps I can get a rest that way. (He stands, leaning on his staff. Enter the king, as described.)

King(to himself).

Although my darling is not lightly won,She seemed to love me, and my hopes are bright;Though love be balked ere joy be well begun,A common longing is itself delight.

(Smiling.) Thus does a lover deceive himself. He judges his love's feelings by his own desires.

Her glance was loving—but 'twas not for me;Her step was slow—'twas grace, not coquetry;Her speech was short—to her detaining friend.In things like these love reads a selfish end!

Clown(standing as before). Well, king, I can't move my hand. I can only greet you with my voice.

King(looking and smiling). What makes you lame?

Clown. Good! You hit a man in the eye, and then ask him why the tears come.

King. I do not understand you. Speak plainly.

Clown. When a reed bends over like a hunchback, do you blame the reed or the river-current?

King. The river-current, of course.

Clown. And you are to blame for my troubles.

King. How so?

Clown. It's a fine thing for you to neglect your royal duties and such a sure job—to live in the woods! What's the good of talking? Here I am, a Brahman, and my joints are all shaken up by this eternal running after wild animals, so that I can't move. Please be good to me. Let us have a rest for just one day.

King(to himself). He says this. And I too, when I remember Kanva's daughter, have little desire for the chase. For

The bow is strung, its arrow near;And yet I cannot bendThat bow against the fawns who shareSoft glances with their friend.

Clown(observing the king). He means more than he says. I might as well weep in the woods.

King(smiling). What more could I mean? I have been thinking that I ought to take my friend's advice.

Clown(cheerfully). Long life to you, then. (He unstiffens.)

King. Wait. Hear me out.

Clown. Well, sir?

King. When you are rested, you must be my companion in another task—an easy one.

Clown. Crushing a few sweetmeats?

King. I will tell you presently.

Clown. Pray command my leisure.

King. Who stands without? (Enter the door-keeper.)

Door-keeper. I await your Majesty's commands.

King. Raivataka, summon the general.

Door-keeper. Yes, your Majesty. (He goes out, then returns with the general.) Follow me, sir. There is his Majesty, listening to our conversation. Draw near, sir.

General(observing the king, to himself). Hunting is declared to be a sin, yet it brings nothing but good to the king. See!

He does not heed the cruel stingOf his recoiling, twanging string;The mid-day sun, the dripping sweatAffect him not, nor make him fret;His form, though sinewy and spare,Is most symmetrically fair;No mountain-elephant could beMore filled with vital strength than he.

(He approaches.) Victory to your Majesty! The forest is full of deer-tracks, and beasts of prey cannot be far off. What better occupation could we have?

King. Bhadrasena, my enthusiasm is broken. Madhavya has been preaching against hunting.

General(aside to the clown). Stick to it, friend Madhavya. I will humour the king a moment. (Aloud.) Your Majesty, he is a chattering idiot. Your Majesty may judge by his own case whether hunting is an evil. Consider:

The hunter's form grows sinewy, strong, and light;He learns, from beasts of prey, how wrath and frightAffect the mind; his skill he loves to measureWith moving targets. 'Tis life's chiefest pleasure.

Clown(angrily). Get out! Get out with your strenuous life! The king has come to his senses. But you, you son of a slave-wench, can go chasing from forest to forest, till you fall into the jaws of some old bear that is looking for a deer or a jackal.

King. Bhadrasena, I cannot take your advice, because I am in the vicinity of a hermitage. So for to-day

The hornèd buffalo may shakeThe turbid water of the lake;Shade-seeking deer may chew the cud,Boars trample swamp-grass in the mud;The bow I bend in hunting, mayEnjoy a listless holiday.

General. Yes, your Majesty.

King. Send back the archers who have gone ahead. And forbid the soldiers to vex the hermitage, or even to approach it. Remember:

There lurks a hidden fire in eachReligious hermit-bower;Cool sun-stones kindle if assailedBy any foreign power.

General. Yes, your Majesty.

Clown. Now will you get out with your strenuous life? (Exit general.)

King(to his attendants). Lay aside your hunting dress. And you, Raivataka, return to your post of duty.

Raivataka. Yes, your Majesty. (Exit.)

Clown. You have got rid of the vermin. Now be seated on this flat stone, over which the trees spread their canopy of shade. I can't sit down till you do.

King. Lead the way.

Clown. Follow me. (They walk about and sit down.)

King. Friend Madhavya, you do not know what vision is. You have not seen the fairest of all objects.

Clown. I see you, right in front of me.

King. Yes, every one thinks himself beautiful. But I was speaking of Shakuntala, the ornament of the hermitage.

Clown(to himself). I mustn't add fuel to the flame. (Aloud.) But you can't have her because she is a hermit-girl. What is the use of seeing her?

King. Fool!

And is it selfish longing then,That draws our souls on highThrough eyes that have forgot to wink,As the new moon climbs the sky?

Besides, Dushyanta's thoughts dwell on no forbidden object.

Clown. Well, tell me about her.

King.

Sprung from a nymph of heavenWanton and gay,Who spurned the blessing given,Going her way;By the stern hermit takenIn her most need:So fell the blossom shaken,Flower on a weed.

Sprung from a nymph of heavenWanton and gay,Who spurned the blessing given,Going her way;

By the stern hermit takenIn her most need:So fell the blossom shaken,Flower on a weed.

Clown. (laughing). You are like a man who gets tired of good dates and longs for sour tamarind. All the pearls of the palace are yours, and you want this girl!

King. My friend, you have not seen her, or you could not talk so.

Clown. She must be charming if she surprisesyou.

King. Oh, my friend, she needs not many words.

She is God's vision, of pure thoughtComposed in His creative mind;His reveries of beauty wroughtThe peerless pearl of womankind.So plays my fancy when I seeHow great is God, how lovely she.

Clown. How the women must hate her!

King. This too is in my thought.

She seems a flower whose fragrance none has tasted,A gem uncut by workman's tool,A branch no desecrating hands have wasted,Fresh honey, beautifully cool.No man on earth deserves to taste her beauty,Her blameless loveliness and worth,Unless he has fulfilled man's perfect duty—And is there such a one on earth?

She seems a flower whose fragrance none has tasted,A gem uncut by workman's tool,A branch no desecrating hands have wasted,Fresh honey, beautifully cool.

No man on earth deserves to taste her beauty,Her blameless loveliness and worth,Unless he has fulfilled man's perfect duty—And is there such a one on earth?

Clown. Marry her quick, then, before the poor girl falls into the hands of some oily-headed hermit.

King. She is dependent on her father, and he is not here.

Clown. But how does she feel toward you?

King. My friend, hermit-girls are by their very nature timid. And yet

When I was near, she could not look at me;She smiled—but not to me—and half denied it;She would not show her love for modesty,Yet did not try so very hard to hide it.

Clown. Did you want her to climb into your lap the first time she saw you?

King. But when she went away with her friends, she almost showed that she loved me.

When she had hardly left my side,"I cannot walk," the maiden cried,And turned her face, and feigned to freeThe dress not caught upon the tree.

Clown. She has given you some memories to chew on. I suppose that is why you are so in love with the pious grove.

King. My friend, think of some pretext under which we may return to the hermitage.

Clown. What pretext do you need? Aren't you the king?

King. What of that?

Clown. Collect the taxes on the hermits' rice.

King. Fool! It is a very different tax which these hermits pay—one that outweighs heaps of gems.

The wealth we take from common men,Wastes while we cherish;These share with us such holinessAs ne'er can perish.

Voices behind the scenes. Ah, we have found him.

King(Listening). The voices are grave and tranquil. These must be hermits. (Enter the door-keeper.)

Door-keeper. Victory, O King. There are two hermit-youths at the gate.

King. Bid them enter at once.

Door-keeper. Yes, your Majesty. (He goes out, then returns with the youths.) Follow me.

First youth(looking at the king). A majestic presence, yet it inspires confidence. Nor is this wonderful in a king who is half a saint. For to him

The splendid palace serves as hermitage;His royal government, courageous, sage,Adds daily to his merit; it is givenTo him to win applause from choirs of heavenWhose anthems to his glory rise and swell,Proclaiming him a king, and saint as well.

Second youth. My friend, is this Dushyanta, friend of Indra?

First youth. It is.

Second youth.

Nor is it wonderful that one whose armMight bolt a city gate, should keep from harmThe whole broad earth dark-belted by the sea;For when the gods in heaven with demons fight,Dushyanta's bow and Indra's weapon brightAre their reliance for the victory.

The two youths(approaching). Victory, O King!

King(rising). I salute you.

The two youths. All hail! (They offer fruit.)

King(receiving it and bowing low). May I know the reason of your coming?

The two youths. The hermits have learned that you are here, and they request—

King. They command rather.

The two youths. The powers of evil disturb our pious life in the absence of the hermit-father. We therefore ask that you will remain a few nights with your charioteer to protect the hermitage.

King. I shall be most happy to do so.

Clown(to the king). You rather seem to like being collared this way.

King. Raivataka, tell my charioteer to drive up, and to bring the bow and arrows.

Raivataka. Yes, your Majesty. (Exit)

The two youths.

Thou art a worthy scion ofThe kings who ruled our nationAnd found, defending those in need,Their truest consecration.

King. Pray go before. And I will follow straightway.

The two youths. Victory, O King! (Exeunt.)

King. Madhavya, have you no curiosity to see Shakuntala?

Clown. Ididhave an unending curiosity, but this talk about the powers of evil has put an end to it.

King. Do not fear. You will be with me.

Clown. I'll stick close to your chariot-wheel. (Enter the door-keeper.)

Door-keeper. Your Majesty, the chariot is ready, and awaits your departure to victory. But one Karabhaka has come from the city, a messenger from the queen-mother.

King(respectfully). Sent by my mother?

Door-keeper. Yes.

King. Let him enter.

Door-keeper(goes out and returns withKARABHAKA). Karabhaka, here is his Majesty. You may draw near.

Karabhaka(approaching and bowing low). Victory to your Majesty. The queen-mother sends her commands—

King. What are her commands?

Karabhaka. She plans to end a fasting ceremony on the fourth day from to-day. And on that occasion her dear son must not fail to wait upon her.

King. On the one side is my duty to the hermits, on the other my mother's command. Neither may be disregarded. What is to be done?

Clown(laughing). Stay half-way between, like Trishanku.

King. In truth, I am perplexed.

Two inconsistent duties severMy mind with cruel shock,As when the current of a riverIs split upon a rock.

(He reflects.) My friend, the queen-mother has always felt toward you as toward a son. Do you return, tell her what duty keeps me here, and yourself perform the offices of a son.

Clown. You don't think I am afraid of the devils?

King(smiling). O mighty Brahman, who could suspect it?

Clown. But I want to travel like a prince.

King. I will send all the soldiers with you, for the pious grove must not be disturbed.Clown(strutting). Aha! Look at the heir-apparent!

King(to himself). The fellow is a chatterbox. He might betray my longing to the ladies of the palace. Good, then! (He takes the clown by the hand. Aloud.) Friend Madhavya, my reverence for the hermits draws me to the hermitage. Do not think that I am really in love with the hermit-girl. Just think:

A king, and a girl of the calm hermit-grove,Bred with the fawns, and a stranger to love!Then do not imagine a serious quest;The light words I uttered were spoken in jest.

Clown. Oh, I understand that well enough. (Exeunt ambo.)

ACT IIITHE LOVE-MAKING

(Enter a pupil, with sacred grass for the sacrifice.)

Pupil(with meditative astonishment). How great is the power of King Dushyanta! Since his arrival our rites have been undisturbed.

He does not need to bend the bow;For every evil thing,Awaiting not the arrow, fleesFrom the twanging of the string.

Well, I will take this sacred grass to the priests, to strew the altar. (He walks and looks about, then speaks to some one not visible.) Priyamvada, for whom are you carrying this cuscus-salve and the fibrous lotus-leaves? (He listens.) What do you say? That Shakuntala has become seriously ill from the heat, and that these things are to relieve her suffering? Give her the best of care, Priyamvada. She is the very life of the hermit-father. And I will give Gautami the holy water for her. (Exit. Enter the lovelorn king.)

King(with a meditative sigh).

I know that stern religion's powerKeeps guardian watch my maiden o'er;Yet all my heart flows straight to herLike water to the valley-floor.

Oh, mighty Love, thine arrows are made of flowers. How can they be so sharp? (He recalls something.) Ah, I understand.

Shiva's devouring wrath still burns in thee,As burns the eternal fire beneath the sea;Else how couldst thou, thyself long since consumed,Kindle the fire that flames so ruthlessly?

Indeed, the moon and thou inspire confidence, only to deceive the host of lovers.

Thy shafts are blossoms; coolness streamsFrom moon-rays: thus the poets sing;But to the lovelorn, falsehood seemsTo lurk in such imagining;The moon darts fire from frosty beams;Thy flowery arrows cut and sting.

And yet

If Love will trouble herWhose great eyes madden me,I greet him unafraid,Though wounded ceaselessly.

O mighty god, wilt thou not show me mercy after such reproaches?

With tenderness unendingI cherished thee when small,In vain—thy bow is bending;On me thine arrows fall.My care for thee to such a plightHas brought me; and it serves me right.

I have driven off the powers of evil, and the hermits have dismissed me. Where shall I go now to rest from my weariness? (He sighs.) There is no rest for me except in seeing her whom I love. (He looks up.) She usually spends these hours of midday heat with her friends on the vine-wreathed banks of the Malini. I will go there. (He walks and looks about.) I believe the slender maiden has just passed through this corridor of young trees. For

The stems from which she gathered flowersAre still unhealed;The sap where twigs were broken offIs uncongealed.

(He feels a breeze stirring.) This is a pleasant spot, with the wind among the trees.

Limbs that love's fever seizes,Their fervent welcome payTo lotus-fragrant breezesThat bear the river-spray.

(He studies the ground.) Ah, Shakuntala must be in this reedy bower. For

In white sand at the doorFresh footprints appear,The toe lightly outlined,The heel deep and clear.

I will hide among the branches, and see what happens. (He does so. Joyfully.) Ah, my eyes have found their heaven. Here is the darling of my thoughts, lying upon a flower-strewn bench of stone, and attended by her two friends. I will hear what they say to each other. (He stands gazing. EnterSHAKUNTALAwith her two friends.)

The two friends(fanning her). Do you feel better, dear, when we fan you with these lotus-leaves?

Shakuntala(wearily). Oh, are you fanning me, my dear girls? (The two friends look sorrowfully at each other.)

King. She is seriously ill. (Doubtfully.) Is it the heat, or is it as I hope? (Decidedly.) Itmustbe so.

With salve upon her breast,With loosened lotus-chain,My darling, sore oppressed,Is lovely in her pain.Though love and summer heatMay work an equal woe,No maiden seems so sweetWhen summer lays her low.

With salve upon her breast,With loosened lotus-chain,My darling, sore oppressed,Is lovely in her pain.

Though love and summer heatMay work an equal woe,No maiden seems so sweetWhen summer lays her low.

Priyamvada(aside toANUSUYA). Anusuya, since she first saw the good king, she has been greatly troubled. I do not believe her fever has any other cause.

Anusuya. I suspect you are right. I am going to ask her. My dear, I must ask you something. You are in a high fever.

King. It is too true.

Her lotus-chains that were as whiteAs moonbeams shining in the night,Betray the fever's awful pain,And fading, show a darker stain.

Shakuntala(half rising.) Well, say whatever you like.

Anusuya. Shakuntala dear, you have not told us what is going on in your mind. But I have heard old, romantic stories, and I can't help thinking that you are in a state like that of a lady in love. Please tell us what hurts you. We have to understand the disease before we can even try to cure it.

King. Anusuya expresses my own thoughts.

Shakuntala. It hurts me terribly. I can't tell you all at once.

Priyamvada. Anusuya is right, dear. Why do you hide your trouble? You are wasting away every day. You are nothing but a beautiful shadow.

King. Priyamvada is right. See!

Her cheeks grow thin; her breast and shoulders fail;Her waist is weary and her face is pale:She fades for love; oh, pitifully sweet!As vine-leaves wither in the scorching heat.

Shakuntala(sighing). I could not tell any one else. But I shall be a burden to you.

The two friends. That is why we insist on knowing, dear. Grief must be shared to be endured.

King.

To friends who share her joy and griefShe tells what sorrow laid her here;She turned to look her love againWhen first I saw her—yet I fear!

Shakuntala. Ever since I saw the good king who protects the pious grove—(She stops and fidgets.)

The two friends. Go on, dear.

Shakuntala. I love him, and it makes me feel like this.

The two friends. Good, good! You have found a lover worthy of your devotion. But of course, a great river always runs into the sea.

King(joyfully). I have heard what I longed to hear.

'Twas love that caused the burning pain;'Tis love that eases it again;As when, upon a sultry day,Rain breaks, and washes grief away.

Shakuntala. Then, if you think best, make the good king take pity upon me. If not, remember that I was.King. Her words end all doubt.

Priyamvada(aside toANUSUYA). Anusuya, she is far gone in love and cannot endure any delay.

Anusuya. Priyamvada, can you think of any scheme by which we could carry out her wishes quickly and secretly?

Priyamvada. We must plan about the "secretly." The "quickly" is not hard.

Anusuya. How so?

Priyamvada. Why, the good king shows his love for her in his tender glances, and he has been wasting away, as if he were losing sleep.

King. It is quite true.

The hot tears, flowing down my cheekAll night on my supporting armAnd on its golden bracelet, seekTo stain the gems and do them harm.The bracelet slipping o'er the scarsUpon the wasted arm, that showMy deeds in hunting and in wars,All night is moving to and fro.

The hot tears, flowing down my cheekAll night on my supporting armAnd on its golden bracelet, seekTo stain the gems and do them harm.

The bracelet slipping o'er the scarsUpon the wasted arm, that showMy deeds in hunting and in wars,All night is moving to and fro.

Priyamvada(reflecting). Well, she must write him a love-letter. And I will hide it in a bunch of flowers and see that it gets into the king's hand as if it were a relic of the sacrifice.

Anusuya. It is a pretty plan, dear, and it pleases me. What does Shakuntala say?

Shakuntala. I suppose I must obey orders.

Priyamvada. Then compose a pretty little love-song, with a hint of yourself in it.

Shakuntala. I'll try. But my heart trembles, for fear he will despise me.

King.

Here stands the eager lover, and you paleFor fear lest he disdain a love so kind:The seeker may find fortune, or may fail;But how could fortune, seeking, fail to find?

And again:

The ardent lover comes, and yet you fearLest he disdain love's tribute, were it brought,The hope of which has led his footsteps here—Pearls need not seek, for they themselves are sought.

The two friends. You are too modest about your own charms. Would anybody put up a parasol to keep off the soothing autumn moonlight?

Shakuntala(smiling). I suppose I shall have to obey orders. (She meditates.)

King. It is only natural that I should forget to wink when I see my darling. For

One clinging eyebrow lifted,As fitting words she seeks,Her face reveals her passionFor me in glowing cheeks.

Shakuntala. Well, I have thought out a little song. But I haven't anything to write with.

Priyamvada. Here is a lotus-leaf, glossy as a parrot's breast. You can cut the letters in it with your nails.

Shakuntala. Now listen, and tell me whether it makes sense.

The two friends. Please.

Shakuntala(reads).

I know not if I read your heart aright;Why, pitiless, do you distress me so?I only know that longing day and nightTosses my restless body to and fro,That yearns for you, the source of all its woe.

King(advancing).

Though Love torments you, slender maid,Yet he consumes me quite,As daylight shuts night-blooming flowersAnd slays the moon outright.

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