"King: Spare her this trouble, gentle maiden. The exertion of watering the shrubs has already fatigued her. The water-jar has overtasked the strength Of her slim arms; her shoulders droop, her hands Are ruddy with the glow of quickened pulses; E'en now her agitated breath imparts Unwonted tremor to her heaving breast; The pearly drops that mar the recent bloom Of the [S']irísha pendent in her ear, Gather in clustering circles on her cheek; Loosed is the fillet of her hair; her hand Restrains the locks that struggle to be free. Suffer me, then, thus to discharge the debt for you. [Offers a ring to Priyamvadá. Both the maidens, reading the name Dushyanta on the seal, look at each other with surprise.]...Nay, think not that I am King Dushyanta. I am only the King's officer, and this is the ring which I have received from him as my credentials."