KING.—­Ah! my dear friend, there is an old adage—­“When affliction has a
mind to enter, she will find a crevice somewhere”—­and it is verified in
me. 
    Scarce is my soul delivered from the cloud
    That darkened its remembrance of the past,
    When lo! the heart-born deity of love
    With yonder blossom of the mango barbs
    His keenest shaft, and aims it at my breast.

MATHAVYA.—­Well, then, wait a moment; I will soon demolish Master Kama’s arrow with a cut of my cane.

          [Raises his stick and strikes off the mango-blossom.

KING [smiling].—­That will do.  I see very well the god of Love is not a match for a Brahman.  And now, my dear friend, where shall I sit down, that I may enchant my sight by gazing on the twining plants, which seem to remind me of the graceful shape of my beloved?

MATHAVYA.—­Do you not remember? you told Chaturika you should pass the heat of the day in the jasmine bower; and commanded her to bring the likeness of your queen Sakoontala, sketched with your own hand.

KING.—­True.  The sight of her picture will refresh my soul.  Lead the way to the arbor.

MATHAVYA.—­This way, Sire.

          [Both move on, followed by Sanumati.

MATHAVYA.—­Here we are at the jasmine bower.  Look, it has a marble seat, and seems to bid us welcome with its offerings of delicious flowers.  You have only to enter and sit down. [Both enter and seat themselves.

SANUMATI [aside].—­I will lean against these young jasmines.  I can easily, from behind them, glance at my friend’s picture, and will then hasten to inform her of her husband’s ardent affection. [Stands leaning against the creepers.

KING.—­Oh! my dear friend, how vividly all the circumstances of my union with Sakoontala present themselves to my recollection at this moment!  But tell me now how it was that, between the time of my leaving her in the hermitage and my subsequent rejection of her, you never breathed her name to me!  True, you were not by my side when I disowned her; but I had confided to you the story of my love and you were acquainted with every particular.  Did it pass out of your mind as it did out of mine?

MATHAVYA.—­No, no; trust me for that.  But, if you remember, when you had finished telling me about it, you added that I was not to take the story in earnest, for that you were not really in love with a country girl, but were only jesting; and I was dull and thick-headed enough to believe you.  But so fate decreed, and there is no help for it.

SANUMATI [aside].—­Exactly.

KING [after deep thought].—­My dear friend, suggest some relief for my misery.

MATHAVYA.—­Come, come, cheer up; why do you give way?  Such weakness is unworthy of you.  Great men never surrender themselves to uncontrolled grief.  Do not mountains remain unshaken even in a gale of wind?