Anusuya. My dear, there is not a living thing in the whole hermitage that is not grieving to-day at saying good-bye to you. Look!
The sheldrake does not heed his mate Who calls behind the lotus-leaf;
He drops the lily from his bill
And turns on you a glance of grief.
Kanva. Son Sharngarava, when you present Shakuntala to the king, give him this message from me.
Remembering my religious worth,
Your own high race, the love poured forth
By her, forgetful of her friends,
Pay her what honour custom lends
To all your wives. And what fate gives
Beyond, will please her relatives.
Sharngarava. I will not forget your message, Father.
Kanva (turning to Shakuntala). My child, I must now give you my counsel. Though I live in the forest, I have some knowledge of the world.
Sharngarava. True wisdom, Father, gives insight into everything.
Kanva. My child, when you have entered your husband’s home, Obey your elders; and be very kind
To rivals; never be perversely blind
And angry with your husband, even though he
Should prove less faithful than a man might be;
Be as courteous to servants as you may,
Not puffed with pride in this your happy day:
Thus does a maiden grow into a wife;
But self-willed women are the curse of life.
But what does Gautami say?
Gautami. This is advice sufficient for a bride. (To Shakuntala .) You will not forget, my child.
Kanva. Come, my daughter, embrace me and your friends.
Shakuntala. Oh, Father! Must my friends turn back too?
Kanva. My daughter, they too must some day be given in marriage.
Therefore they may not go to court. Gautami will go with you.
Shakuntala (throwing her arms about her father). I am torn from my father’s breast like a vine stripped from a sandal tree on the Malabar hills. How can I live in another soil? (She weeps.) Kanva. My daughter, why distress yourself so?
A noble husband’s honourable wife,
You are to spend a busy, useful life
In the world’s eye; and soon, as eastern skies
Bring forth the sun, from you there shall arise
A child, a blessing and a comfort strong
You will not miss me, dearest daughter, long.
Shakuntala (falling at his feet). Farewell, Father.
Kanva. My daughter, may all that come to you which I desire for you.
Shakuntala (going to her two friends). Come, girls! Embrace me, both of you together.
The two friends (do so). Dear, if the good king should perhaps be slow to recognise you, show him the ring with his own name engraved on it.
Shakuntala. Your doubts make my heart beat faster.
The two friends. Do not be afraid, dear. Love is timid.
Sharngarava (looking about). Father, the sun is in mid-heaven. She must hasten.
Shakuntala (embracing Kanva once more). Father, when shall I see the pious grove again?
Kanva. My daughter,
When you have shared for many years
The king’s thoughts with the earth,
When to a son who knows no fears
You shall have given birth,
When, trusted to the son you love,
Your royal labours cease,
Come with your husband to the grove
And end your days in peace.
Gautami. My child, the hour of your departure is slipping by. Bid your father turn back. No, she would never do that. Pray turn back, sir.
Kanva. Child, you interrupt my duties in the pious grove..
Shakuntala. Yes, Father. You will be busy in the grove. You will not miss me. But oh! I miss you.
Kanva. How can you think me so indifferent? (He sighs.) My lonely sorrow will not go,
For seeds you scattered here
Before the cottage door, will grow;
And I shall see them, dear.
Go. And peace go with you. (Exit Shakuntala, with Gautami, Sharngarava,
and Sharadvata.)
The two friends (gazing long after her. Mournfully). Oh, oh! Shakuntala is lost among the trees.
Kanva. Anusuya! Priyamvada! Your companion is gone. Choke down your grief and follow me. (They start to go back.) The two friends. Father, the grove seems empty without Shakuntala.
Kanva. So love interprets. (He walks about, sunk in thought.) Ah! I have sent Shakuntala away, and now I am myself again. For A girl is held in trust, another’s treasure;
To arms of love my child to-day is given;
And now I feel a calm and sacred pleasure;
I have restored the pledge that came from heaven.
(Exeunt omnes.)
ACT V - Shakuntala’s Rejection
(Enter a chamberlain.)
Chamberlain (sighing). Alas! To what a state am I reduced!
I once assumed the staff of reed
For custom’s sake alone,
As officer to guard at need
The ladies round the throne.
But years have passed away and made
It serve, my tottering steps to aid.
The king is within. I will tell him of the urgent business which demands his attention. (He takes a few steps.) But what is the business? (He recalls it.) Yes, I remember. Certain hermits, pupils of Kanva, desire to see his Majesty. Strange, strange!
The mind of age is like a lamp
Whose oil is running thin;
One moment it is shining bright,
Then darkness closes in.
(He walks and looks about.) Here is his Majesty.
He does not seek - until a father’s care
Is shown his subjects - rest in solitude;
As a great elephant recks not of the sun
Until his herd is sheltered in the wood.
In truth, I hesitate to announce the coming of Kanva’s pupils to the king.
For he has this moment risen from the throne of justice. But kings are never weary. For
The sun unyokes his horses never;
Blows night and day the breeze;
Shesha upholds the world forever:
And kings are like to these.
(He walks about. Enter the king, the down, and retinue according to rank.) King (betraying the cares of office). Every one is happy on attaining his desire - except a king. His difficulties increase with his power. Thus: Security slays nothing but ambition;
With great possessions, troubles gather thick;
Pain grows, not lessens, with a king’s position,
As when one’s hand must hold the sunshade’s stick.
Two court poets behind the scenes. Victory to your Majesty.
First poet.
The world you daily guard and bless,
Not heeding pain or weariness;
Thus is your nature made.
A tree will brave the noonday, when
The sun is fierce, that weary men
May rest beneath its shade.
Second poet.
Vice bows before the royal rod;
Strife ceases at your kingly nod;
You are our strong defender.
Friends come to all whose wealth is sure,
But you, alike to rich and poor,
Are friend both strong and tender.
King (listening). Strange! I was wearied by the demands of my office, but this renews my spirit.
Clown. Does a bull forget that he is tired when you call him the leader of the herd?
King (smiling). Well, let us sit down. (They seat them selves, and the retinue arranges itself. A lute is heard behind the scenes.) Clown (listening). My friend, listen to what is going on in the music-room. Some one is playing a lute, and keeping good time. I suppose Lady Hansavati is practising.