Shakuntala (play)

"Sánumatí: Men are naturally fond of festive entertainments. There must be some good reason for the prohibition."

"Chamberlin: The whole affair is now public; why should I not speak of it? Has not the gossip about the King's rejection of Shakoontalá reached your ears yet?"

"Both Maidens: Oh yes, we heard the story from the King's brother-in-law, as far, at least, as the discovery of the ring."

"Chamberlin: Then there is little more to tell you. As soon as the King's memory was restored by the sight of his own ring, he exclaimed: 'Yes, it is all true. I remember now my secret marriage with Shakoontalá. When I repudiated her, I had lost my recollection!' Ever since that moment, he has yielded himself a prey to the bitterest remorse."

"Sánumatí: To me this account is delightful"

"Chamberlin: In short, the King is so completely out of his mind that the festival has been prohibited....Oh! here comes his Majesty in this direction. Pass on, maidens; attend to your duties."

"Sánumatí: Now that I have seen him, I can well understand why [S']akoontalá should pine after such a man, in spite of his disdainful rejection of her."

"King: [In deep thought] When fatal lethargy o'erwhelmed my soul, My loved one strove to rouse me, but in vain; And now, when I would fain in slumber deep Forget myself, full soon remorse doth wake me."

"Sánumatí:[Aside] My poor Shakoontalá's sufferings are very similar."

"Máthavya: He is taken with another attack of this odious Shakoontalá-fever. How shall we ever cure him?"

"Chamberlin: Victory to the King! Great Prince, the royal pleasure-grounds have been put in order. Your Majesty can resort to them for exercise and amusement whenever you think proper."

"King: Vetravatí, tell the worthy Pishuna, my prime minister, from me, that I am so exhausted by want of sleep that I cannot sit on the judgment-seat to-day. If any case of importance be brought before the tribunal, he must give it his best attention, and inform me of the circumstances by letter."

"Sánumatí: [Aside] Now that you have rid yourself of these troublesome fellows, you can enjoy the delightful coolness of your pleasure-grounds without interruption."

"King: Ah! my dear friend, there is an old adage:—'When affliction has a mind to enter, she will find a crevice somewhere;' and it is verified in me. Scarce is my soul delivered from the cloud That darkened its remembrance of the past, When lo! the heart-born deity of love With yonder blossom of the mango barbs His keenest shaft, and aims it at my breast."

"Máthavya: Well, then, wait a moment; I will soon demolish Master Káma's[47] arrow with a cut of my cane."

"King: That will do. I see very well the god of love is not a match for a Bráhman. And now, my dear friend, where shall I sit down, that I may enchant my sight by gazing on the twining plants, which seem to remind me of the graceful shape of my beloved?"

"Máthavya: Don't you remember? you told your personal attendant, Chaturiká, that you would pass the heat of the day in the jasmine-bower; and commanded her to bring the likeness of your queen [S']akoontalá, sketched with your own hand."

"King: True. The sight of her picture will refresh my soul. Lead the way to the arbour."

"Máthavya: Here we are at the jasmine-bower. Look, it has a marble seat, and seems to bid us welcome with its offerings of delicious flowers. You have only to enter and sit down."

"Sánumatí: I will lean against these young jasmines. I can easily, from behind them, glance at my friend's picture, and will then hasten to inform her of her husband's ardent affection"

"King: Oh! my dear friend, how vividly all the circumstances of my union with [S']akoontalá present themselves to my recollection at this moment! But tell me now how it was that, between the time of my leaving her in the hermitage and my subsequent rejection of her, you never breathed her name to me? True, you were not by my side when I disowned her; but I had confided to you the story of my love, and you were acquainted with every particular. Did it pass out of your mind as it did out of mine?"

"Máthavya: No, no; trust me for that. But, if you remember, when you had finished telling me about it, you added that I was not to take the story in earnest, for that you were not really in love with a country girl, but were only jesting; and I was dull and thick-headed enough to believe you. But so fate decreed, and there is no help for it...."

"King: How can I be otherwise than inconsolable, when I call to mind the agonized demeanour of the dear one on the occasion of my disowning her? When cruelly I spurned her from my presence, She fain had left me; but the young recluse, Stern as the Sage, and with authority As from his saintly master, in a voice That brooked not contradiction, bade her stay. Then through her pleading eyes, bedimmed with tears, She cast on me one long reproachful look, Which like a poisoned shaft torments me still."

"Sánumatí: [Aside] Alas! such is the force of self-reproach following a rash action. But his anguish only rejoices me."

"Máthavya: An idea has just struck me. I should not wonder if some celestial being had carried her off to heaven."

"King: Very likely. Who else would have dared to lay a finger on a wife, the idol of her husband? It is said that Menaká, the nymph of heaven, gave her birth. The suspicion has certainly crossed my mind that some of her celestial companions may have taken her to their own abode."

"Sánumatí: [Aside] His present recollection of every circumstance of her history does not surprise me so much as his former forgetfulness."

"Máthavya: If that's the case, you will be certain to meet her before long."

"King: Why?"

"Máthavya: No father and mother can endure to see a daughter suffering the pain of separation from her husband."

"King: Oh! my dear Máthavya, Was it a dream? or did some magic dire, Dulling my senses with a strange delusion, O'ercome my spirit? or did destiny, Jealous of my good actions, mar their fruit, And rob me of their guerdon? It is past, Whate'er the spell that bound me. Once again Am I awake, but only to behold The precipice o'er which my hopes have fallen."

"Máthavya: Do not despair in this manner. Is not this very ring a proof that what has been lost may be unexpectedly found?"

"King: Ah! this ring, too, has fallen from a station not easily regained, and I offer it my sympathy. O gem, The punishment we suffer is deserved, And equal is the merit of our works, When such our common doom. Thou didst enjoy The thrilling contact of those slender fingers, Bright as the dawn; and now how changed thy lot!"

"Sánumatí: [Aside] Had it found its way to the hand of any other person, then indeed its fate would have been deplorable."

"Máthavya: Pray, how did the ring ever come upon her hand at all?"

"Sánumatí: [Aside] I myself am curious to know."

"King: You shall hear. When I was leaving my beloved [S']akoontalá that I might return to my own capital, she said to me, with tears in her eyes: 'How long will it be ere my lord send for me to his palace and make me his queen?'...Then I placed the ring on her finger, and thus addressed her:— Repeat each day one letter of the name Engraven on this gem; ere thou hast reckoned The tale of syllables, my minister Shall come to lead thee to thy husband's palace. But, hard-hearted man that I was, I forgot to fulfil my promise, owing to the infatuation that took possession of me."

"Sánumatí: [Aside] A pleasant arrangement! Fate, however, ordained that the appointment should not be kept."

"Máthavya: But how did the ring contrive to pass into the stomach of that carp which the fisherman caught and was cutting up?"

"King: It must have slipped from my Shakoontalá's hand, and fallen into the stream of the Ganges, while she was offering homage to the water of Shachí's holy pool."

"Sánumatí: [Aside] Hence it happened, I suppose, that the King, always fearful of committing the least injustice, came to doubt his marriage with my poor Sakoontalá. But why should affection so strong as his stand in need of any token of recognition?"

"King: O forsaken one, unjustly banished from my presence, take pity on thy slave, whose heart is consumed by the fire of remorse, and return to my sight."

"Chaturiká: Here is the Queen's portrait."

"Máthavya: Excellent, my dear friend, excellent! The imitation of nature is perfect, and the attitude of the figures is really charming. They stand out in such bold relief that the eye is quite deceived."

"Sánumatí: [Aside] A most artistic performance! I admire the King's skill, and could almost believe that Shakoontalá herself was before me."

"King: I own 'tis not amiss, though it portrays But feebly her angelic loveliness. Aught less than perfect is depicted falsely, And fancy must supply the imperfection."

"Sánumatí: [Aside] A very just remark from a modest man, whose affection is exaggerated by the keenness of his remorse."

"Máthavya: Tell me:—I see three female figures drawn on the canvas, and all of them beautiful; which of the three is her Majesty [S']akoontalá?"

"King: My finger, burning with the glow of love, Has left its impress on the painted tablet; While here and there, alas! a scalding tear Has fallen on the cheek and dimmed its brightness. Chaturiká, the garden in the background of the picture is only half-painted. Go, fetch the brush that I may finish it...."

"Vetravatí: So please your Majesty, your prime minister begs respectfully to inform you that he has devoted much time to the settlement of financial calculations, and only one case of importance has been submitted by the citizens for his consideration. He has made a written report of the facts, and requests your Majesty to cast your eyes over it."