King.  My friend, I am quite forlorn.  I keep thinking of her pitiful state when I rejected her.  Thus: 

  When I denied her, then she tried
  To join her people.  “Stay,” one cried,
  Her father’s representative. 
  She stopped, she turned, she could but give
  A tear-dimmed glance to heartless me—­
  That arrow burns me poisonously.

Mishrakeshi.  How his fault distresses him!

Clown.  Well, I don’t doubt it was some heavenly being that carried her away.

King.  Who else would dare to touch a faithful wife?  Her friends told me that Menaka was her mother.  My heart persuades me that it was she, or companions of hers, who carried Shakuntala away.

Mishrakeshi.  His madness was wonderful, not his awakening reason.

Clown.  But in that case, you ought to take heart.  You will meet her again.

King.  How so?

Clown.  Why, a mother or a father cannot long bear to see a daughter separated from her husband.

King.  My friend,

  And was it phantom, madness, dream,
    Or fatal retribution stern? 
  My hopes fell down a precipice
    And never, never will return.

Clown.  Don’t talk that way.  Why, the ring shows that incredible meetings do happen.

King (looking at the ring).  This ring deserves pity.  It has fallen from a heaven hard to earn.

  Your virtue, ring, like mine,
    Is proved to be but small;
  Her pink-nailed finger sweet
    You clasped.  How could you fall?

Mishrakeshi.  If it were worn on any other hand, it would deserve pity.  My dear girl, you are far away.  I am the only one to hear these delightful words.

Clown.  Tell me how you put the ring on her finger.

Mishrakeshi.  He speaks as if prompted by my curiosity.

King.  Listen, my friend.  When I left the pious grove for the city, my darling wept and said:  “But how long will you remember us, dear?”

Clown.  And then you said——­

King.  Then I put this engraved ring on her finger, and said to her——­

Clown.  Well, what?

King.

  Count every day one letter of my name;
    Before you reach the end, dear,
  Will come to lead you to my palace halls
    A guide whom I shall send, dear.

Then, through my madness, it fell out cruelly. Mishrakeshi.  It was too charming an agreement to be frustrated by fate.

Clown.  But how did it get into a carp’s mouth, as if it had been a fish-hook?

King.  While she was worshipping the Ganges at Shachitirtha, it fell.

Clown.  I see.

Mishrakeshi.  That is why the virtuous king doubted his marriage with poor Shakuntala.  Yet such love does not ask for a token.  How could it have been?