King. True. O welcome guest of the flowering vine, why do you waste your time in buzzing here?
Your faithful, loving queen,
Perched on a flower, athirst,
Is waiting for you still,
Nor tastes the honey first.
Mishrakeshi. A gentlemanly way to drive him off!
Clown. This kind are obstinate, even when you warn them.
King (angrily). Will you not obey my command? Then listen: ‘Tis sweet as virgin blossoms on a tree,
The lip I kissed in love-feasts tenderly;
Sting that dear lip, O bee, with cruel power, And you shall be imprisoned in a flower.
Clown. Well, he doesn’t seem afraid of your dreadful punishment.
(Laughing. To himself.) The man is crazy, and I am just as bad, from associating with him.
King. Will he not go, though I warn him?
Mishrakeshi. Love works a curious change even in a brave man.
Clown (aloud). It is only a picture, man.
King. A picture?
Mishrakeshi. I too understand it now. But to him, thoughts are real experiences.
King. You have done an ill-natured thing.
When I was happy in the sight,
And when my heart was warm,
You brought sad memories back, and made
My love a painted form.
(He sheds a tear.)
Mishrakeshi. Fate plays strangely with him.
King. My friend, how can I endure a grief that has no respite?
I cannot sleep at night
And meet her dreaming;
I cannot see the sketch
While tears are streaming.
Mishrakeshi. My friend, you have indeed atoned-and in her friend’s presence-for the pain you caused by rejecting dear Shakuntala. (Enter the maid Chaturika.)
Maid. Your Majesty, I was coming back with the box of paint-brushes -
King. Well?
Maid. I met Queen Vasumati with the maid Pingalika. And the queen snatched the box from me, saying: “I will take it to the king myself.”
Clown. How did you escape?
Maid. The queen’s dress caught on a vine. And while her maid was setting her free, I excused myself in a hurry.
A voice behind the scenes. Follow me, your Majesty.
Clown (listening). Man, the she-tiger of the palace is making a spring on her prey. She means to make one mouthful of the maid.
King. My friend, the queen has come because she feels touched in her honour. You had better take care of this picture.
Clown. “And yourself,” you might add. (He takes the picture and rises.) If you get out of the trap alive, call for me at the Cloud Balcony. And I will hide the thing there so that nothing but a pigeon could find it. (Exit on the run.)
Mishrakeshi. Though his heart is given to another, he is courteous to his early flame. He is a constant friend. (Enter the portress with a document.) Portress. Victory to your Majesty.
King. Vetravati, did you not meet Queen Vasumati?
Portress. Yes, your Majesty. But she turned back when she saw that I carried a document.
King. The queen knows times and seasons. She will not interrupt business.
Portress. Your Majesty, the minister sends word that in the press of various business he has attended to only one citizen’s suit. This he has reduced to writing for your Majesty’s perusal.
King. Give me the document. (The portress does so.) King (reads). “Be it known to his Majesty. A seafaring merchant named Dhanavriddhi has been lost in a shipwreck. He is childless, and his property, amounting to several millions, reverts to the crown. Will his Majesty take action?” (Sadly .) It is dreadful to be childless. Vetravati, he had great riches. There must be several wives. Let inquiry be made.
There may be a wife who is with child.
Portress. We have this moment heard that a merchant’s daughter of Saketa is his wife. And she is soon to become a mother.
King. The child shall receive the inheritance. Go, inform the minister.
Portress. Yes, your Majesty. (She starts to go.) King. Wait a moment.
Portress (turning back). Yes, your Majesty.
King. After all, what does it matter whether he have issue or not?
Let King Dushyanta be proclaimed
To every sad soul kin
That mourns a kinsman loved and lost,
Yet did not plunge in sin.
Portress. The proclamation shall be made. (She goes out and soon returns.) Your Majesty, the royal proclamation was welcomed by the populace as is a timely shower.
King (sighing deeply). Thus, when issue fails, wealth passes, on the death of the head of the family, to a stranger. When I die, it will be so with the glory of Puru’s line.
Portress. Heaven avert the omen!
King. Alas! I despised the happiness that offered itself to me.
Mishrakeshi. Without doubt, he has dear Shakuntala in mind when he thus reproaches himself.
King.
Could I forsake the virtuous wife
Who held my best, my future life
And cherished it for glorious birth,
As does the seed-receiving earth?
Mishrakeshi. She will not long be forsaken.
Maid (to the portress). Mistress, the minister’s report has doubled our lord’s remorse. Go to the Cloud Balcony and bring Madhavya to dispel his grief.
Portress. A good suggestion. (Exit.)
King. Alas! The ancestors of Dushyanta are in a doubtful case.
For I am childless, and they do not know,
When I am gone, what child of theirs will bring
The scriptural oblation; and their tears
Already mingle with my offering.
Mishrakeshi. He is screened from the light, and is in darkness.
Maid. Do not give way to grief, your Majesty. You are in the prime of your years, and the birth of a son to one of your other wives will make you blameless before your ancestors. (To herself.) He does not heed me.
The proper medicine is needed for any disease.
King (betraying his sorrow). Surely,
The royal line that flowed
A river pure and grand,
Dies in the childless king,
Like streams in desert sand. (He swoons.)
Maid (in distress). Oh, sir, come to yourself.
Mishrakeshi. Shall I make him happy now? No, I heard the mother of the gods consoling Shakuntala. She said that the gods, impatient for the sacrifice, would soon cause him to welcome his true wife. I must delay no longer. I will comfort dear Shakuntala with my tidings. (Exit through the air.)
A voice behind the scenes. Help, help!
King (comes to himself and listens). It sounds as if Madhavya were in distress.
Maid. Your Majesty, I hope that Pingalika and the other maids did not catch poor Madhavya with the picture in his hands.
King. Go, Chaturika. Reprove the queen in my name for not controlling her servants.