SANUMATI [aside].—­If he cannot distinguish her from the others, the simpleton might as well have no eyes in his head.

KING.—­Which should you imagine to be intended for her?

MATHAVYA.—­She who is leaning, apparently a little tired, against the stem of that mango-tree, the tender leaves of which glitter with the water she has poured upon them.  Her arms are gracefully extended; her face is somewhat flushed with the heat; and a few flowers have escaped from her hair, which has become unfastened, and hangs in loose tresses about her neck.  That must be the queen Sakoontala, and the others, I presume, are her two attendants.

KING.—­I congratulate you on your discernment.  Behold the proof of my
passion;
    My finger, burning with the glow of love,
    Has left its impress on the painted tablet;
    While here and there, alas! a scalding tear
    Has fallen on the cheek and dimmed its brightness. 
    Chaturika, the garden in the background of the picture is
    only half-painted.  Go, fetch the brush that I may finish it.

CHATURIKA.—­Worthy Mathavya, have the kindness to hold the picture until
I return.

KING.—­Nay, I will hold it myself.
          [Takes the picture.  Exit Chaturika.

KING.—­My loved one came but lately to my presence
    And offered me herself, but in my folly
    I spurned the gift, and now I fondly cling
    To her mere image; even as a madman
    Would pass the waters of the gushing stream,
    And thirst for airy vapors of the desert.

MATHAVYA [aside].—­He has been fool enough to forego the reality for the semblance, the substance for the shadow. [Aloud.] Tell us, I pray, what else remains to be painted.

SANUMATI [aside].—­He longs, no doubt, to delineate some favorite spot where my dear Sakoontala delighted to ramble.

KING.--You shall hear------
I wish to see the Malini portrayed,
Its tranquil course by banks of sand impeded—­
Upon the brink a pair of swans:  beyond,
The hills adjacent to Himalaya,
Studded with deer; and, near the spreading shade
Of some large tree, where ’mid the branches hang
The hermits’ vests of bark, a tender doe,
Rubbing its downy forehead on the horn
Of a black antelope, should be depicted.

MATHAVYA [aside].—­Pooh! if I were he, I would fill up the vacant spaces with a lot of grizzly-bearded old hermits.

KING.—­My dear Mathavya, there is still a part of Sakoontala’s dress which I purposed to draw, but find I have omitted.

MATHAVYA.—­What is that?

SANUMATI [aside].—­Something suitable, I suppose, to the simple attire of a young and beautiful girl dwelling in a forest.

KING.—­A sweet Sirisha blossom should be twined
    Behind her ear, its perfumed crest depending
    Towards her cheek; and, resting on her bosom,
    A lotus-fibre necklace, soft and bright
    As an autumnal moon-beam, should be traced.