"King: A child, is it? closely attended by two holy women. His disposition seems anything but child-like. See! He braves the fury of yon lioness Suckling its savage offspring, and compels The angry whelp to leave the half-sucked dug, Tearing its tender mane in boisterous sport."

"Child: Open your mouth, my young lion, I want to count your teeth."

"First Attendant: You naughty child, why do you tease the animals? Know you not that we cherish them in this hermitage as if they were our own children? In good sooth, you have a high spirit of your own, and are beginning already to do justice to the name Sarva-damana ('All-taming'), given you by the hermits."

"King: Strange! My heart inclines towards the boy with almost as much affection as if he were my own child. What can be the reason? I suppose my own childlessness makes me yearn towards the sons of others."

"Second Attendant: This lioness will certainly attack you if you do not release her whelp."

"Child: Oh! indeed! let her come. Much I fear her, to be sure!"

"King: The germ of mighty courage lies concealed Within this noble infant, like a spark Beneath the fuel, waiting but a breath To fan the flame and raise a conflagration."

"First Attendant: Let the young lion go, like a dear child, and I will give you something else to play with."

"Child: Where is it? Give it me first."

"King: How's that? His hand exhibits one of those mystic marks[84] which are the sure prognostic of universal empire. See! His fingers stretched in eager expectation To grasp the wished-for toy, and knit together By a close-woven web, in shape resemble. A lotus blossom, whose expanding petals The early dawn has only half unfolded."

"Second Attendant: We shall never pacify him by mere words, dear Suvratá. Be kind enough to go to my cottage, and you will find there a plaything belonging to Márkandeya, one of the hermit's children. It is a peacock made of china-ware, painted in many colours. Bring it here for the child."

"Child: No, no; I shall go on playing with the young lion."

"King: I feel an unaccountable affection for this wayward child. How blessed the virtuous parents whose attire Is soiled with dust, by raising from the ground The child that asks a refuge in their arms! And happy are they while with lisping prattle, In accents sweetly inarticulate, He charms their ears; and with his artless smiles Gladdens their hearts, revealing to their gaze His pearly teeth just budding into view."

"Attendant: Addressing the King Kind Sir, could you come hither a moment and help me to release the young lion from the clutch of this child who is teasing him in boyish play?"

"Child: Listen to me, thou child of a mighty saint! Dost thou dare show a wayward spirit here? Here, in this hallowed region? Take thou heed Lest, as the serpent's young defiles the sandal, Thou bring dishonour on the holy sage Thy tender-hearted parent, who delights To shield from harm the tenants of the wood."

"Attendant: Gentle Sir, I thank you; but he is not the saint's son."

"King: His behaviour and whole bearing would have led me to doubt it, had not the place of his abode encouraged the idea.... I marvel that the touch of this strange child Should thrill me with delight; if so it be, How must the fond caresses of a son Transport the father's soul who gave him being!"

"Attendant: I am astonished at the striking resemblance between the child and yourself; and, what is still more extraordinary, he seems to have taken to you kindly and submissively, though you are a stranger to him."

"King: If he be not the son of the great sage, of what family does he come, may I ask?"

"Attendant: Of the race of Puru."

"King:[Aside] What! are we, then, descended from the same ancestry? This, no doubt, accounts for the resemblance she traces between the child and me. Certainly it has always been an established usage among the princes of Puru's race, To dedicate the morning of their days To the world's weal, in palaces and halls, 'Mid luxury and regal pomp abiding; Then, in the wane of life, to seek release From kingly cares, and make the hallowed shade Of sacred trees their last asylum, where As hermits they may practise self-abasement, And bind themselves by rigid vows of penance."

"King: But how could mortals by their own power gain admission to this sacred region?"

"Attendant: Your remark is just; but your wonder will cease when I tell you that his mother is the offspring of a celestial nymph, and gave him birth in the hallowed grove of Kashyapa."

"King:[Aside] Strange that my hopes should be again excited!"

"King: But what, let me ask, was the name of the prince whom she deigned to honour with her hand?"

"Attendant: How could I think of polluting my lips by the mention of a wretch who had the cruelty to desert his lawful wife?"

"King:[Aside] Ha! the description suits me exactly. Would I could bring myself to inquire the name of the child's mother!But it is against propriety to make too minute inquiries about the wife of another man."

"Second Attendant: Sarva-damana, Sarva-damana, see, see, what a beautiful Shakoonta (bird)."

"Child: My mother! Where? Let me go to her."

"King:[Aside]What! is his mother's name Shakoontalá? But the name is not uncommon among women. Alas! I fear the mere similarity of a name, like the deceitful vapour of the desert, has once more raised my hopes only to dash them to the ground."

"First Attendant: Alas! alas! I do not see the amulet on his wrist."

"King: Don't distress yourself. Here it is. It fell off while he was struggling with the young lion."

"The Two Attendants: Hold! hold! Touch it not, for your life. How marvellous! He has actually taken it up without the slightest hesitation."

"King: Why did you try to prevent my touching it?"

"First Attendant: Listen, great Monarch. This amulet, known as 'The Invincible,' was given to the boy by the divine son of Maríchi, soon after his birth, when the natal ceremony was performed. Its peculiar virtue is, that when it falls on the ground, no one except the father or mother of the child can touch it unhurt."

"King: And suppose another person touches it?"

"First Attendant: Then it instantly becomes a serpent, and bites him...."

"King: [After embracing the child, aside] Joy! joy! Are then my dearest hopes to be fulfilled?"

"Second Attendant: Come, my dear Suvratá, we must inform [S']akoontalá immediately of this wonderful event, though we have to interrupt her in the performance of her religious vows."

"Child [To the King]: Don't hold me. I want to go to my mother."

"King: We will go to her together, and give her joy, my son."

"Child [To the King]: Dushyanta is my father, not you."

"King: His contradiction only convinces me the more"

"SHAKOONTALÁ [Aside]: I have just heard that Sarva-damana's amulet has retained its form, though a stranger raised it from the ground. I can hardly believe in my good fortune. Yet why should not Sánumatí's prediction be verified?"

"King: [Aside]Alas! can this indeed be my Shakoontalá? Clad in the weeds of widowhood, her face Emaciate with fasting, her long hair Twined in a single braid, her whole demeanour Expressive of her purity of soul; With patient constancy she thus prolongs The vow to which my cruelty condemned her."

"SHAKOONTALÁ [Aside]: Surely this is not like my husband; yet who can it be that dares pollute by the pressure of his hand my child, whose amulet should protect him from a stranger's touch?"

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

"King: My best beloved, I have indeed treated thee most cruelly, but am now once more thy fond and affectionate lover. Refuse not to acknowledge me as thy husband."

"SHAKOONTALÁ [Aside]: Be of good cheer, my heart. The anger of Destiny is at last appeased. Heaven regards thee with compassion. But is he in very truth my husband?"