The hunter’s form grows sinewy, strong, and light;
  He learns, from beasts of prey, how wrath and fright
  Affect the mind; his skill he loves to measure
  With moving targets.  ’Tis life’s chiefest pleasure.

Clown (angrily).  Get out!  Get out with your strenuous life!  The king has come to his senses.  But you, you son of a slave-wench, can go chasing from forest to forest, till you fall into the jaws of some old bear that is looking for a deer or a jackal.

King.  Bhadrasena, I cannot take your advice, because I am in the vicinity of a hermitage.  So for to-day

  The horned buffalo may shake
  The turbid water of the lake;
  Shade-seeking deer may chew the cud,
  Boars trample swamp-grass in the mud;
  The bow I bend in hunting, may
  Enjoy a listless holiday.

General.  Yes, your Majesty.

King.  Send back the archers who have gone ahead.  And forbid the soldiers to vex the hermitage, or even to approach it.  Remember: 

  There lurks a hidden fire in each
    Religious hermit-bower;
  Cool sun-stones kindle if assailed
    By any foreign power.

General.  Yes, your Majesty.

Clown.  Now will you get out with your strenuous life? (Exit general.)

King (to his attendants).  Lay aside your hunting dress.  And you, Raivataka, return to your post of duty.

Raivataka.  Yes, your Majesty. (Exit.)

Clown.  You have got rid of the vermin.  Now be seated on this flat stone, over which the trees spread their canopy of shade.  I can’t sit down till you do.

King.  Lead the way.

Clown.  Follow me. (They walk about and sit down.)

King.  Friend Madhavya, you do not know what vision is.  You have not seen the fairest of all objects.

Clown.  I see you, right in front of me.

King.  Yes, every one thinks himself beautiful.  But I was speaking of Shakuntala, the ornament of the hermitage.

Clown (to himself).  I mustn’t add fuel to the flame. (Aloud.) But you can’t have her because she is a hermit-girl.  What is the use of seeing her?

King.  Fool!

  And is it selfish longing then,
    That draws our souls on high
  Through eyes that have forgot to wink,
    As the new moon climbs the sky?

Besides, Dushyanta’s thoughts dwell on no forbidden object.

Clown.  Well, tell me about her.

King.

  Sprung from a nymph of heaven
    Wanton and gay,
  Who spurned the blessing given,
    Going her way;

  By the stern hermit taken
    In her most need: 
  So fell the blossom shaken,
    Flower on a weed.

Clown (laughing).  You are like a man who gets tired of good dates and longs for sour tamarind.  All the pearls of the palace are yours, and you want this girl!