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PROLOGUE

BENEDICTION UPON AUDIENCE

Eight forms has Shiva, lord of all and king:

And these are water, first created thing;

And fire, which speeds the sacrifice begun;

The priest; and time's dividers, moon and sun;

The all-embracing ether, path of sound;

The earth, wherein all seeds of life are found;

And air, the breath of life: may he draw near,

Revealed in these, and bless those gathered here.

The stage-director. Enough of this! (Turning toward the dressing-room.) Madam, if you are ready, pray come here. (Enter an actress.)

Actress. Here I am, sir. What am I to do?

Director. Our audience is very discriminating, and we are to offer them a new play, called Shakuntala and the ring of recognition, written by the famous Kalidasa. Every member of the cast must be on his mettle.

Actress. Your arrangements are perfect. Nothing will go wrong.

Director (smiling). To tell the truth, madam,

Until the wise are satisfied,

I cannot feel that skill is shown;

The best-trained mind requires support,

And does not trust itself alone.

Actress. True. What shall we do first?

Director. First, you must sing something to please the ears of the audience.

Actress. What season of the year shall I sing about?

Director. Why, sing about the pleasant summer which has just begun. For at this time of year

A mid-day plunge will temper heat;

The breeze is rich with forest flowers;

To slumber in the shade is sweet;

And charming are the twilight hours.

Actress (sings).

The siris-blossoms fair,

With pollen laden,

Are plucked to deck her hair

By many a maiden,

But gently; flowers like these

Are kissed by eager bees.

Director. Well done! The whole theatre is captivated by your song, and sits as if painted. What play shall we give them to keep their good-will?

Actress. Why, you just told me we were to give a new play called Shakuntala and the ring.

Director. Thank you for reminding me. For the moment I had quite forgotten.

Your charming song had carried me away

As the deer enticed the hero of our play.

(Exeunt ambo.)

ACT I THE HUNT

(Enter, in a chariot, pursuing a deer, KING DUSHYANTA, bow and arrow in hand; and a charioteer.)

Charioteer (Looking at the king and the deer). Your Majesty,

I see you hunt the spotted deer

With shafts to end his race,

As though God Shiva should appear

In his immortal chase.

King. Charioteer, the deer has led us a long chase. And even now

His neck in beauty bends

As backward looks he sends

At my pursuing car

That threatens death from far.

Fear shrinks to half the body small;

See how he fears the arrow's fall!

The path he takes is strewed

With blades of grass half-chewed

From jaws wide with the stress

Of fevered weariness.

He leaps so often and so high,

He does not seem to run, but fly.

(In surprise.) Pursue as I may, I can hardly keep him in sight.

Charioteer. Your Majesty, I have been holding the horses back because the ground was rough. This checked us and gave the deer a lead. Now we are on level ground, and you will easily overtake him.

King. Then let the reins hang loose.

Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (He counterfeits rapid motion.) Look, your Majesty!

The lines hang loose; the steeds unreined

Dart forward with a will.

Their ears are pricked; their necks are strained;

Their plumes lie straight and still.

They leave the rising dust behind;

They seem to float upon the wind.

King (joyfully). See! The horses are gaining on the deer.

As onward and onward the chariot flies,

The small flashes large to my dizzy eyes.

What is cleft in twain, seems to blur and mate;

What is crooked in nature, seems to be straight.

Things at my side in an instant appear

Distant, and things in the distance, near.

A voice behind the scenes. O King, this deer belongs to the hermitage, and must not be killed.

Charioteer (listening and looking). Your Majesty, here are two hermits, come to save the deer at the moment when your arrow was about to fall.

King (hastily). Stop the chariot.

Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (He does so. Enter a hermit with his pupil.)

Hermit (lifting his hand). O King, this deer belongs to the hermitage.

Why should his tender form expire,

As blossoms perish in the fire?

How could that gentle life endure

The deadly arrow, sharp and sure?

Restore your arrow to the quiver;

To you were weapons lent

The broken-hearted to deliver,

Not strike the innocent.

King (bowing low). It is done. (He does so.)

Hermit (joyfully). A deed worthy of you, scion of Puru's race, and shining example of kings. May you beget a son to rule earth and heaven.

King (bowing low). I am thankful for a Brahman's blessing.

The two hermits. O King, we are on our way to gather firewood. Here, along the bank of the Malini, you may see the hermitage of Father Kanva, over which Shakuntala presides, so to speak, as guardian deity. Unless other deities prevent, pray enter here and receive a welcome. Besides,

Beholding pious hermit-rites

Preserved from fearful harm,

Perceive the profit of the scars

On your protecting arm.

King. Is the hermit father there?

The two hermits. No, he has left his daughter to welcome guests, and has just gone to Somatirtha, to avert an evil fate that threatens her.

King. Well, I will see her. She shall feel my devotion, and report it to the sage.

The two hermits. Then we will go on our way. (Exit hermit with pupil.)

King. Charioteer, drive on. A sight of the pious hermitage will purify us.

Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (He counterfeits motion again.)

King (looking about). One would know, without being told, that this is the precinct of a pious grove.

Charioteer. How so?

King. Do you not see? Why, here

Are rice-grains, dropped from bills of parrot chicks

Beneath the trees; and pounding-stones where sticks

A little almond-oil; and trustful deer

That do not run away as we draw near;

And river-paths that are besprinkled yet

From trickling hermit-garments, clean and wet.

Besides,

The roots of trees are washed by many a stream

That breezes ruffle; and the flowers' red gleam

Is dimmed by pious smoke; and fearless fawns

Move softly on the close-cropped forest lawns.

Charioteer. It is all true.

King (after a little). We must not disturb the hermitage. Stop here while I dismount.

Charioteer. I am holding the reins. Dismount, your Majesty.

King (dismounts and looks at himself). One should wear modest garments on entering a hermitage. Take these jewels and the bow. (He gives them to the charioteer.) Before I return from my visit to the hermits, have the horses' backs wet down.

Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (Exit.)

King (walking and looking about). The hermitage! Well, I will enter. (As he does so, he feels a throbbing in his arm.)

A tranquil spot! Why should I thrill?

Love cannot enter there—

Yet to inevitable things

Doors open everywhere.

A voice behind the scenes. This way, girls!

King (listening). I think I hear some one to the right of the grove. I must find out. (He walks and looks about.) Ah, here are hermit-girls, with watering-pots just big enough for them to handle. They are coming in this direction to water the young trees. They are charming!

The city maids, for all their pains,

Seem not so sweet and good;

Our garden blossoms yield to these

Flower-children of the wood.

I will draw back into the shade and wait for them. (He stands, gazing toward them. Enter SHAKUNTALA, as described, and her two friends.)

First friend. It seems to me, dear, that Father Kanva cares more for the hermitage trees than he does for you. You are delicate as a jasmine blossom, yet he tells you to fill the trenches about the trees.

Shakuntala. Oh, it isn't Father's bidding so much. I feel like a real sister to them. (She waters the trees.)

Priyamvada. Shakuntala, we have watered the trees that blossom in the summer-time. Now let's sprinkle those whose flowering-time is past. That will be a better deed, because we shall not be working for a reward.

Shakuntala. What a pretty idea! (She does so.)

King (to himself). And this is Kanva's daughter, Shakuntala. (In surprise.) The good Father does wrong to make her wear the hermit's dress of bark.

The sage who yokes her artless charm

With pious pain and grief,

Would try to cut the toughest vine

With a soft, blue lotus-leaf.

Well, I will step behind a tree and see how she acts with her friends. (He conceals himself.)

Shakuntala. Oh, Anusuya! Priyamvada has fastened this bark dress so tight that it hurts. Please loosen it. (ANUSUYA does so.)

Priyamvada (laughing). You had better blame your own budding charms for that.

King. She is quite right.

Beneath the barken dress

Upon the shoulder tied,

In maiden loveliness

Her young breast seems to hide,

As when a flower amid

The leaves by autumn tossed—

Pale, withered leaves—lies hid,

And half its grace is lost.

Yet in truth the bark dress is not an enemy to her beauty. It serves as an added ornament. For

The meanest vesture glows

On beauty that enchants:

The lotus lovelier shows

Amid dull water-plants;

The moon in added splendour

Shines for its spot of dark;

Yet more the maiden slender

Charms in her dress of bark.

Shakuntala (looking ahead). Oh, girls, that mango-tree is trying to tell me something with his branches that move in the wind like fingers. I must go and see him. (She does so.)

Priyamvada. There, Shakuntala, stand right where you are a minute.

Shakuntala. Why?

Priyamvada. When I see you there, it looks as if a vine were clinging to the mango-tree.

Shakuntala. I see why they call you the flatterer.

King. But the flattery is true.

Her arms are tender shoots; her lips

Are blossoms red and warm;

Bewitching youth begins to flower

In beauty on her form.

Anusuya. Oh, Shakuntala! Here is the jasmine-vine that you named Light of the Grove. She has chosen the mango-tree as her husband.

Shakuntala (approaches and looks at it, joyfully). What a pretty pair they make. The jasmine shows her youth in her fresh flowers, and the mango-tree shows his strength in his ripening fruit. (She stands gazing at them.)

Priyamvada (smiling). Anusuya, do you know why Shakuntala looks so hard at the Light of the Grove?

Anusuya. No. Why?

Priyamvada. She is thinking how the Light of the Grove has found a good tree, and hoping that she will meet a fine lover.

Shakuntala. That's what you want for yourself. (She tips her watering-pot.)

Anusuya. Look, Shakuntala! Here is the spring-creeper that Father Kanva tended with his own hands—just as he did you. You are forgetting her.

Shakuntala. I'd forget myself sooner. (She goes to the creeper and looks at it, joyfully.) Wonderful! Wonderful! Priyamvada, I have something pleasant to tell you.

Priyamvada. What is it, dear?

Shakuntala. It is out of season, but the spring-creeper is covered with buds down to the very root.

The two friends (running up). Really?

Shakuntala. Of course. Can't you see?

Priyamvada (looking at it joyfully). And I have something pleasant to tell you. You are to be married soon.

Shakuntala (snappishly). You know that's just what you want for yourself.

Priyamvada. I'm not teasing. I really heard Father Kanva say that this flowering vine was to be a symbol of your coming happiness.

Anusuya. Priyamvada, that is why Shakuntala waters the spring-creeper so lovingly.

Shakuntala. She is my sister. Why shouldn't I give her water? (She tips her watering-pot.)

King. May I hope that she is the hermit's daughter by a mother of a different caste? But it must be so.

Surely, she may become a warrior's bride;

Else, why these longings in an honest mind?

The motions of a blameless heart decide

Of right and wrong, when reason leaves us blind.

Yet I will learn the whole truth.

Shakuntala (excitedly). Oh, oh! A bee has left the jasmine-vine and is flying into my face. (She shows herself annoyed by the bee.)

King (ardently).

As the bee about her flies,

Swiftly her bewitching eyes

Turn to watch his flight.

She is practising to-day

Coquetry and glances' play

Not from love, but fright.

(Jealously.)

Eager bee, you lightly skim

O'er the eyelid's trembling rim

Toward the cheek aquiver.

Gently buzzing round her cheek,

Whispering in her ear, you seek

Secrets to deliver.

While her hands that way and this

Strike at you, you steal a kiss,

Love's all, honeymaker.

I know nothing but her name,

Not her caste, nor whence she came—

You, my rival, take her.

Shakuntala. Oh, girls! Save me from this dreadful bee!

The two friends (smiling). Who are we, that we should save you? Call upon Dushyanta. For pious groves are in the protection of the king.

King. A good opportunity to present myself. Have no—(He checks himself. Aside.) No, they would see that I am the king. I prefer to appear as a guest.

Shakuntala. He doesn't leave me alone! I am going to run away. (She takes a step and looks about.) Oh, dear! Oh, dear! He is following me. Please save me.

King (hastening forward). Ah!

A king of Puru's mighty line

Chastises shameless churls;

What insolent is he who baits

These artless hermit-girls?

(The girls are a little flurried on seeing the king.)

Anusuya. It is nothing very dreadful, sir. But our friend (indicating SHAKUNTALA) was teased and frightened by a bee.

King (to SHAKUNTALA). I hope these pious days are happy ones. (SHAKUNTALA's eyes drop in embarrassment.)

Anusuya. Yes, now that we receive such a distinguished guest.

Priyamvada. Welcome, sir. Go to the cottage, Shakuntala, and bring fruit. This water will do to wash the feet.

King. Your courteous words are enough to make me feel at home.

Anusuya. Then, sir, pray sit down and rest on this shady bench.

King. You, too, are surely wearied by your pious task. Pray be seated a moment.

Priyamvada (aside to SHAKUNTALA). My dear, we must be polite to our guest. Shall we sit down? (The three girls sit.)

Shakuntala (to herself). Oh, why do I have such feelings when I see this man? They seem wrong in a hermitage.

King (looking at the girls). It is delightful to see your friendship. For you are all young and beautiful.

Priyamvada (aside to ANUSUYA). Who is he, dear? With his mystery, and his dignity, and his courtesy? He acts like a king and a gentleman.

Anusuya. I am curious too. I am going to ask him. (Aloud.) Sir, you are so very courteous that I make bold to ask you something. What royal family do you adorn, sir? What country is grieving at your absence? Why does a gentleman so delicately bred submit to the weary journey into our pious grove?

Shakuntala (aside). Be brave, my heart. Anusuya speaks your very thoughts.

King (aside). Shall I tell at once who I am, or conceal it? (He reflects.) This will do. (Aloud.) I am a student of Scripture. It is my duty to see justice done in the cities of the king. And I have come to this hermitage on a tour of inspection.

Anusuya. Then we of the hermitage have some one to take care of us. (SHAKUNTALA shows embarrassment.)

The two friends (observing the demeanour of the pair. Aside to SHAKUNTALA). Oh, Shakuntala! If only Father were here to-day.

Shakuntala. What would he do?

The two friends. He would make our distinguished guest happy, if it took his most precious treasure.

Shakuntala (feigning anger). Go away! You mean something. I'll not listen to you.

King. I too would like to ask a question about your friend.

The two friends. Sir, your request is a favour to us.

King. Father Kanva lives a lifelong hermit. Yet you say that your friend is his daughter. How can that be?

Anusuya. Listen, sir. There is a majestic royal sage named Kaushika—

King. Ah, yes. The famous Kaushika.

Anusuya. Know, then, that he is the source of our friend's being. But Father Kanva is her real father, because he took care of her when she was abandoned.

King. You waken my curiosity with the word "abandoned." May I hear the whole story?

Anusuya. Listen, sir. Many years ago, that royal sage was leading a life of stern austerities, and the gods, becoming strangely jealous, sent the nymph Menaka to disturb his devotions.

King. Yes, the gods feel this jealousy toward the austerities of others. And then—

Anusuya. Then in the lovely spring-time he saw her intoxicating beauty—(She stops in embarrassment.)

King. The rest is plain. Surely, she is the daughter of the nymph.

Anusuya. Yes.

King. It is as it should be.

To beauty such as this

No woman could give birth;

The quivering lightning flash

Is not a child of earth.

(SHAKUNTALA hangs her head in confusion.) King (to himself). Ah, my wishes become hopes.

Priyamvada (looking with a smile at SHAKUNTALA). Sir, it seems as if you had more to say. (SHAKUNTALA threatens her friend with her finger.)

King. You are right. Your pious life interests me, and I have another question.

Priyamvada. Do not hesitate. We hermit people stand ready to answer all demands.

King. My question is this:

Does she, till marriage only, keep her vow

As hermit-maid, that shames the ways of love?

Or must her soft eyes ever see, as now,

Soft eyes of friendly deer in peaceful grove?