First Quote Added
4ě 10, 2026
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"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 ShakoontalĂĄ? 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 MarĂchi, 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 SuvratĂĄ, we must inform [S']akoontalĂĄ 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"
"SHAKOONTALĂ [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 SĂĄnumatĂ's prediction be verified?"
"King: [Aside]Alas! can this indeed be my ShakoontalĂĄ? 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."
"SHAKOONTALĂ [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."
"SHAKOONTALĂ [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?"
"King: Behold me, best and loveliest of women, Delivered from the cloud of fatal darkness That erst oppressed my memory. Again Behold us brought together by the grace Of the great lord of Heaven. So the moon Shines forth from dim eclipse, to blend his rays With the soft lustre of his RohinĂ."
"SHAKOONTALĂ: May my husband be victoriousâ"
"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."
"Child: Mother, who is this man?"
"SHAKOONTALĂ: My child, ask the deity that presides over thy destiny."
"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?"
"SHAKOONTALĂ: 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?"
"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."
"SHAKOONTALĂ: [Seeing the signet-ring on his finger] Ah! my dear husband, is that the Lost Ring?"
"King: Yes; the moment I recovered it my memory was restored."
"SHAKOONTALĂ: 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: Receive it back, as the beautiful twining-plant receives again its blossom in token of its reunion with the spring."
"SHAKOONTALĂ: Nay; I can never more place confidence in it. Let my husband retain it."