Her shoulders droop; her palms are reddened yet;
Quick breaths are struggling in her bosom fair;
The blossom o’er her ear hangs limply wet;
One hand restrains the loose, dishevelled hair.
I therefore remit her debt. (He gives the two friends a ring. They take it, read the name engraved on it, and look at each other.) King. Make no mistake. This is a present - from the king.
Priyamvada. Then, sir, you ought not to part with it. Your word is enough to remit the debt.
Anusuya. Well, Shakuntala, you are set free by this kind gentleman - or rather, by the king himself. Where are you going now?
Shakuntala (to herself). I would never leave him if I could help myself.
Priyamvada. Why don’t you go now?
Shakuntala. I am not your servant any longer. I will go when I like.
King (looking at Shakuntala. To himself). Does she feel toward me as I do toward her? At least, there is ground for hope.
Although she does not speak to me,
She listens while I speak;
Her eyes turn not to see my face,
But nothing else they seek.
A voice behind the scenes. Hermits! Hermits! Prepare to defend the creatures in our pious grove. King Dushyanta is hunting in the neighbourhood.
The dust his horses’ hoofs have raised,
Red as the evening sky,
Falls like a locust-swarm on boughs
Where hanging garments dry.
King (aside). Alas! My soldiers are disturbing the pious grove in their search for me.
The voice behind the scenes. Hermits! Hermits! Here is an elephant who is terrifying old men, women, and children.
One tusk is splintered by a cruel blow
Against a blocking tree; his gait is slow,
For countless fettering vines impede and cling;
He puts the deer to flight; some evil thing
He seems, that comes our peaceful life to mar,
Fleeing in terror from the royal car.
(The girls listen and rise anxiously.)
King. I have offended sadly against the hermits. I must go back.
The two friends. Your Honour, we are frightened by this alarm of the elephant. Permit us to return to the cottage.
Anusuya (to Shakuntala). Shakuntala dear, Mother Gautami will be anxious. We must hurry and find her.
Shakuntala (feigning lameness). Oh, oh! I can hardly walk.
King. You must go very slowly. And I will take pains that the hermitage is not disturbed.
The two friends. Your honour, we feel as if we knew you very well.
Pray pardon our shortcomings as hostesses. May we ask you to seek better entertainment from us another time?
King. You are too modest. I feel honoured by the mere sight of you.
Shakuntala. Anusuya, my foot is cut on a sharp blade of grass. and my dress is caught on an amaranth twig. Wait for me while I loosen it. (She casts a lingering glance at the king, and goes out with her two friends.) King (sighing). They are gone. And I must go. The sight of Shakuntala has made me dread the return to the city. I will make my men camp at a distance from the pious grove. But I cannot turn my own thoughts from Shakuntala.
It is my body leaves my love, not I;
My body moves away, but not my mind;
For back to her my struggling fancies fly
Like silken banners borne against the wind. (Exit.)
ACT II - The Secret
(Enter the clown.)
Clown (sighing). Damn! Damn! Damn! I’m tired of being friends with this sporting king. “There’s a deer!” he shouts, “There’s a boar!” And off he chases on a summer noon through woods where shade is few and far between. We drink hot, stinking water from the mountain streams, flavoured with leaves - nasty! At odd times we get a little tepid meat to eat. And the horses and the elephants make such a noise that I can’t even be comfortable at night. Then the hunters and the bird-chasers - damn ‘em - wake me up bright and early. They do make an ear-splitting rumpus when they start for the woods. But even that isn’t the whole misery. There’s a new pimple growing on the old boil. He left us behind and went hunting a deer. And there in a hermitage they say he found - oh, dear! oh, dear! he found a hermit-girl named Shakuntala.
Since then he hasn’t a thought of going back to town. I lay awake all night, thinking about it. What can I do? Well, I’ll see my friend when he is dressed and beautified. (He walks and looks about.) Hello! Here he comes, with his bow in his hand, and his girl in his heart. He is wearing a wreath of wild flowers! I’ll pretend to be all knocked up. Perhaps I can get a rest that way. (He stands, leaning on his staff. Enter the king, as described.)
King (to himself).
Although my darling is not lightly won,
She seemed to love me, and my hopes are bright;
Though love be balked ere joy be well begun,
A common longing is itself delight.
(Smiling.) Thus does a lover deceive himself. He judges his love’s feelings by his own desires.
Her glance was loving - but ‘twas not for me;
Her step was slow - ’twas grace, not coquetry;
Her speech was short - to her detaining friend.
In things like these love reads a selfish end!
Clown (standing as before). Well, king, I can’t move my hand. I can only greet you with my voice.
King (looking and smiling). What makes you lame?
Clown. Good! You hit a man in the eye, and then ask him why the tears come.
King. I do not understand you. Speak plainly.
Clown. When a reed bends over like a hunchback, do you blame the reed or the river-current?
King. The river-current, of course.
Clown. And you are to blame for my troubles.
King. How so?
Clown. It’s a fine thing for you to neglect your royal duties and such a sure job - to live in the woods! What’s the good of talking? Here I am, a Brahman, and my joints are all shaken up by this eternal running after wild animals, so that I can’t move. Please be good to me. Let us have a rest for just one day.
King (to himself). He says this. And I too, when I remember Kanva’s daughter, have little desire for the chase. For
The bow is strung, its arrow near;
And yet I cannot bend
That bow against the fawns who share
Soft glances with their friend.
Clown (observing the king). He means more than he says. I might as well weep in the woods.
King (smiling). What more could I mean? I have been thinking that I ought to take my friend’s advice.
Clown (cheerfully). Long life to you, then. (He unstiffens.) King. Wait. Hear me out.
Clown. Well, sir?
King. When you are rested, you must be my companion in another task - an easy one.
Clown. Crushing a few sweetmeats?
King. I will tell you presently.
Clown. Pray command my leisure.
King. Who stands without? (Enter the door keeper.) Door-keeper. I await your Majesty’s commands.