Plays

"Kanwa: Daughter, thy fears are groundless. Soon shall thy lord prefer thee to the rank Of his own consort; and unnumbered cares Befitting his imperial dignity Shall constantly engross thee. Then the bliss Of bearing him a son—a noble boy, Bright as the day-star, shall transport thy soul With new delights, and little shalt thou reck Of the light sorrow that afflicts thee now At parting from thy father and thy friends."

"Gautami: So please your Majesty, I would add a few words; but why should I intrude my sentiments when an opportunity of speaking my mind has never been allowed me? She took no counsel with her kindred; thou Didst not confer with thine, but all alone Didst solemnize thy nuptials with thy wife. Together, then, hold converse; let us leave you."

"Vátáyana, Chamberlain: Victory to the King! So please your Majesty, some hermits who live in a forest near the Snowy Mountains have arrived here, bringing certain women with them. They have a message to deliver from the sage Kanwa and desire an audience. I await your Majesty's commands."

"Kashyapa: Hail to the beautiful Shakoontalá, Hail to her noble son, and hail to thee, Illustrious Prince—rare triple combination Of virtue, wealth, and energy united!"

"Kanwa: I will tell thee; listen:— When thou hast passed a long and blissful life As King Dushyanta's queen, and jointly shared With all the earth his ever-watchful care; And hast beheld thine own heroic son, Matchless in arms, united to a bride In happy wedlock; when his aged sire, Thy faithful husband, hath to him resigned The helm of state; then, weary of the world, Together with Dushyanta thou shalt seek The calm seclusion of thy former home; There amid holy scenes to be at peace, Till thy pure spirit gain its last release."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: If, then, thou really believest me to be the wife of another, and thy present conduct proceeds from some cloud that obscures thy recollection, I will easily convince thee by this token."

"Kanwa: Daughter, detain me no longer. My religious duties must not be interrupted."

"Kashyapa: My son, cease to think thyself in fault. Even the delusion that possessed thy mind was not brought about by any act of thine. Listen to me."

"Gautamí: Come, my child, the favourable time for our journey is fast passing. Let thy father return. Venerable Sire, be thou the first to move homewards, or these last words will never end."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: [Feeling for the ring]. Alas! alas! woe is me! There is no ring on my finger!"

"King: An excellent idea!"

"SHAKOONTALÁ: Joy! joy! My revered husband did not, then, reject me without good reason, though I have no recollection of the curse pronounced upon me. But, in all probability, I unconsciously brought it upon myself, when I was so distracted on being separated from my husband soon after our marriage. For I now remember that my two friends advised me not to fail to show the ring in case he should have forgotten me."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: The ring was to blame in allowing itself to be lost at the very time when I was anxious to convince my noble husband of the reality of my marriage."

"King: Go, go; you can disarm her wrath by a civil speech; but give her my message."

"Kanwa: It is natural enough that your affection should make you view it in this light. As for me, I am quite surprised at myself. Now that I have fairly dismissed her to her husband's house, my mind is easy; for, indeed, A daughter is a loan—a precious jewel Lent to a parent till her husband claim her. And now that to her rightful lord and master I have delivered her, my burdened soul Is lightened, and I seem to breathe more freely."

"King: Holy matron, E'en in untutored brutes, the female sex Is marked by inborn subtlety—much more In beings gifted with intelligence. The wily Koïl[83], ere towards the sky She wings her sportive flight, commits her eggs To other nests, and artfully consigns The rearing of her little ones to strangers."

"Priyamvadá and Anasúyá: Holy father, the sacred grove will be a desert without Sakoontalá. How can we ever return to it?"

"King: By all means let me hear it at once."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: Say, rather, of the omnipotence of fate. I will mention another circumstance, which may yet convince thee."

"King: Then most assuredly he cannot be very angry with me."

"Shárngarava: A most suitable message! I will take care to deliver it correctly."

"King: I am listening; proceed."

"Máthavya: But stay—I don't much relish being sent to bear the brunt of her jealousy. The chances are that she will have me seized by the hair of the head and beaten to a jelly. I would as soon expose myself, after a vow of celibacy, to the seductions of a lovely nymph, as encounter the fury of a jealous woman."

"Kashyapa: And now, my dear son, take thy consort and thy child, re-ascend the car of Indra, and return to thy imperial capital."

"Kanwa: Holy flames, that gleam around Every altar's hallowed ground Holy flames, whose frequent food Is the consecrated wood, And for whose encircling bed, Sacred Kusha-grass is spread; Holy flames, that waft to heaven Sweet oblations daily given, Mortal guilt to purge away, Hear, oh hear me, when I pray— Purify my child this day! Now then, my daughter, set out on thy journey."

"King: Voluptuaries may allow themselves to be seduced from the path of duty by falsehoods such as these, expressed in honeyed words."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: At that instant, my adopted child, the little fawn, with soft, long eyes, came running towards us. Upon which, before tasting the water thyself, thou didst kindly offer some to the little creature, saying fondly:—'Drink first, gentle fawn.' But she could not be induced to drink from the hand of a stranger; though immediately afterwards, when I took the water in my own hand, she drank with perfect confidence. Then, with a smile, thou didst say;—'Every creature confides naturally in its own kind. You are both inhabitants of the same forest, and have learnt to trust each other.'"

"Kashyapa: What other favour can I bestow on thee, my son?"

"Shárngarava: Great King, why art thou silent?"

"King: Receive it back, as the beautiful twining-plant receives again its blossom in token of its reunion with the spring."

"King: Shakoontalá, take our child and lead the way. We will together go into the presence of the holy Sage."

"King: Most veracious Bráhman, grant that you are in the right, what end would be gained by betraying this lady?"

"Aditi: My son, may'st thou ever be invincible in the field of battle!"

"King:[Falling at her feet] Fairest of women, banish from thy mind The memory of my cruelty; reproach The fell delusion that o'erpowered my soul, And blame not me, thy husband; 'tis the curse Of him in whom the power of darkness reigns, That he mistakes the gifts of those he loves For deadly evils. Even though a friend Should wreathe a garland on a blind man's brow, Will he not cast it from him as a serpent?"

"King: I cannot answer a question which is based on a mere fabrication."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: Rise, my own husband, rise. Thou wast not to blame. My own evil deeds, committed in a former state of being[37], brought down this judgment upon me. How else could my husband, who was ever of a compassionate disposition, have acted so unfeelingly? But tell me, my husband, how did the remembrance of thine unfortunate wife return to thy mind?"

"Shárngarava: Such inconstancy is fortunately not common, except in men intoxicated by power."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: I ought indeed to be grateful for your kind offices, now that I am so soon to be deprived of them. Dear, dear friends, perhaps I shall never be dressed by you again."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: My child, ask the deity that presides over thy destiny."

"King: As soon as my heart's anguish is removed, and its wounds are healed, I will tell thee all. Oh! let me, fair one, chase away the drop That still bedews the fringes of thine eye; And let me thus efface the memory Of every tear that stained thy velvet cheek, Unnoticed and unheeded by thy lord, When in his madness he rejected thee."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: May my husband be victorious—"

"Kanwa: This day my loved one leaves me, and my heart Is heavy with its grief; the streams of sorrow, Choked at the source, repress my faltering voice, I have no words to speak; mine eyes are dimmed By the dark shadows of the thoughts that rise Within my soul. If such the force of grief In an old hermit parted from his nursling, What anguish must the stricken parent feel— Bereft for ever of an only daughter."

"King: O fair one, though the utterance of thy prayer Be lost amid the torrent of thy tears, Yet does the sight of thy fair countenance And of thy pallid lips, all unadorned And colourless in sorrow for my absence, Make me already more than conqueror."

"Shárngarava: Is it becoming in a monarch to depart from the rules of justice, because he repents of his engagements?"

"Priyamvadá: See! there sits [S']akoontalá, her locks arranged even at this early hour of the morning. The holy women of the hermitage are congratulating her, and invoking blessings on her head, while they present her with wedding-gifts and offerings of consecrated wild-rice. Let us join them."

"King: Is that remark aimed at me?"

"Child: Mother, who is this man?"

"King: I bow to the decision of my spiritual advisor."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: [Seeing the signet-ring on his finger] Ah! my dear husband, is that the Lost Ring?"

"Child: Mother, who is this man that has been kissing me and calling me his son?"