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.
p. 6
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 duties 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?
Priyamvada.
Sir, we are under bonds to lead a life of virtue. But it is
her father's wish to give her to a suitable lover.
King
(joyfully
to himself).
O heart,
your wish is won!
All doubt at last is done;
The thing you feared as fire,
Is the jewel of your desire.
Shakuntala
(pettishly).
Anusuya, I'm going.
Anusuya.
What for?
Shakuntala.
I am going to tell Mother Gautami that Priyamvada is
talking nonsense. (She
rises.)
Anusuya.
My dear, we hermit people cannot neglect to entertain a
distinguished guest, and go wandering about.
(SHAKUNTALA
starts
to walk away without answering.)
King
(aside).
She is going! (He
starts up as if to detain her, then checks his
desires.) A
thought is as vivid as an act, to a lover.
Though
nurture, conquering nature, holds
Me back, it seems
As had I started and returned
In waking dreams.
Priyamvada
(approaching
SHAKUNTALA).
You dear, peevish girl! You mustn't go.
Shakuntala
(turns
with a frown). Why
not?
Priyamvada.
You owe me the watering of two trees. You
can go when you have paid your debt. (She
forces her to come back.)
King.
It is plain that she is already wearied by watering the
trees. See!
Her
shoulders droop; her palms are reddened yet;
Quick breaths are struggling in her bosom fair;
The blossom o’er her ear hangs limply wet;
One hand restrains the loose, dishevelled hair.
I therefore remit her debt. (He
gives the two friends a ring. They take it, read the name
engraved on it, and look at each
other.)
King.
Make no mistake. This is a present--from the king.
Priyamvada.
Then, sir, you ought not to part with it. Your word is
enough to remit the debt.
Anusuya.
Well, Shakuntala, you are set free by this kind
gentleman--or rather, by the king himself. Where are you
going now?
Shakuntala
(to
herself). I
would never leave him if I could help myself.
Priyamvada.
Why don't you go now?
Shakuntala.
I am not your servant any longer. I will go when I like.
King
(looking
at SHAKUNTALA.
To
himself). Does
she feel toward me as I do toward her? At least, there is
ground for hope.
Although
she does not speak to me,
She listens while I speak;
Her eyes turn not to see my face,
But nothing else they seek.
A
voice behind the scenes.
Hermits! Hermits! Prepare to defend the creatures in our
pious grove. King Dushyanta is hunting in the
neighbourhood.
The dust
his horses' hoofs have raised,
Red as the evening sky,
Falls like a locust-swarm on boughs
Where hanging garments dry.
King
(aside).
Alas! My soldiers are disturbing the pious grove in their
search for me.
The
voice behind the scenes.
Hermits! Hermits! Here is an elephant who is terrifying old
men, women, and children.
One tusk
is splintered by a cruel blow
Against a blocking tree; his gait is slow,
For countless fettering vines impede and cling;
He puts the deer to flight; some evil thing
He seems, that comes our peaceful life to mar,
Fleeing in terror from the royal car.
(The
girls listen and rise anxiously.)
King.
I have offended sadly against the hermits. I must go back.
The
two friends. Your
Honour, we are frightened by this alarm of the elephant.
Permit us to return to the cottage.
Anusuya
(to
SHAKUNTALA).
Shakuntala dear, Mother Gautami will be anxious. We must
hurry and find her.
Shakuntala
(feigning
lameness). Oh,
oh! I can hardly walk.
King.
You must go very slowly. And I will take pains that the
hermitage is not disturbed.
The
two friends. Your
honour, we feel as if we knew you very well. Pray pardon
our shortcomings as hostesses. May we ask you to seek
better entertainment from us another time?
King.
You are too modest. I feel honoured by the mere sight of
you.
Shakuntala.
Anusuya, my foot is cut on a sharp blade of grass, and my
dress is caught on an amaranth twig. Wait for me while I
loosen it. (She
casts a lingering glance at the king, and goes out with her
two friends.)
King
(sighing).
They are gone. And I must go. The sight of Shakuntala has
made me dread the return to the city. I will make my men
camp at a distance from the pious grove. But I cannot turn
my own thoughts from Shakuntala.
It is my
body leaves my love, not I;
My body moves away, but not my mind;
For back to her my struggling fancies fly
Like silken banners borne against the wind.
(Exit.)
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