ACT II
THE SECRET
(Enter
the clown.)
Clown
(sighing).
Damn! Damn! Damn! I'm tired of being friends with this
sporting king. "There's a deer!" he shouts, "There's a
boar!" And off he chases on a summer noon through woods
where shade is few and far between. We drink hot, stinking
water from the mountain streams, flavoured with
leaves--nasty! At odd times we get a little tepid meat to
eat. And the horses and the elephants make such a noise
that I can't even be comfortable at night. Then the hunters
and the bird-chasers--damn ’em--wake me up bright and
early. They do make an ear-splitting rumpus when they start
for the woods. But even that isn't the whole misery.
There's a new pimple growing on the old boil. He left us
behind and went hunting a deer. And there in a hermitage
they say he found--oh, dear! oh, dear! he found a
hermit-girl named Shakuntala. Since then he hasn't a
thought of going back to town. I lay awake all night,
thinking about it. What can I do? Well, I'll see my friend
when he is dressed and beautified. (He
walks and looks about.)
Hello! Here he comes, with his bow in his hand, and his
girl in his heart. He is wearing a wreath of wild flowers!
I'll pretend to be all knocked up. Perhaps I can get a rest
that way. (He
stands, leaning on his stag. Enter the king, as
described.)
King
(to
himself).
Although
my darling is not lightly won,
She seemed to love me, and my hopes are bright;
Though love be balked ere joy be well begun,
A common longing is itself delight.
(Smiling.)
Thus does a lover deceive himself. He judges his love's
feelings by his own desires.
Her
glance was loving--but 'twas not for me;
Her step was slow--'twas grace, not coquetry;
Her speech was short--to her detaining friend.
In things like these love reads a selfish end!
Clown
(standing
as before). Well,
king, I can't move my hand. I can only greet you with my
voice.
King
(looking
and smiling). What
makes you lame?
Clown.
Good! You hit a man in the eye, and then ask him why the
tears come.
King.
I do not understand you. Speak plainly.
Clown.
When a reed bends over like a hunchback, do you blame the
reed or the river-current?
King.
The river-current, of course.
Clown.
And you are to blame for my troubles.
King.
How so?
Clown.
It's a fine thing for you to neglect your royal duties and
such a sure job--to live in the woods! What's the good of
talking? Here I am, a Brahman, and my joints are all shaken
up by this eternal running after wild animals, so that I
can't move. Please be good to me. Let us have a rest for
just one day.
King
(to
himself). He
says this. And I too, when I remember Kanva's daughter,
have little desire for the chase. For
The bow
is strung, its arrow near;
And yet I cannot bend
That bow against the fawns who share
Soft glances with their friend.
Clown
(observing
the king). He
means more than he says. I might as well weep in the woods.
King
(smiling).
What more could I mean? I have been thinking that I ought
to take my friend's advice.
Clown
(cheerfully).
Long life to you, then. (He
unstiffens.)
King.
Wait. Hear me out.
Clown.
Well, sir?
King.
When you are rested, you must be my companion in another
task--an easy one.
Clown.
Crushing a few sweetmeats?
King.
I will tell you presently.
Clown.
Pray command my leisure.
King.
Who stands without? (Enter
the door-keeper.)
Door-keeper.
I await your Majesty's commands.
King.
Raivataka, summon the general.
Door-keeper.
Yes, your Majesty. (He
goes out, then returns with the
general.)
Follow me, sir. There is his Majesty, listening to our
conversation. Draw near, sir.
General
(observing
the king, to himself).
Hunting is declared to be a sin, yet it brings nothing but
good to the king. See!
He does
not heed the cruel sting
Of his recoiling, twanging string;
The mid-day sun, the dripping sweat
Affect him not, nor make him fret;
His form, though sinewy and spare,
Is most symmetrically fair;
No mountain-elephant could be
More filled with vital strength than he.
(He
approaches.)
Victory to your Majesty! The forest is full of deer-tracks,
and beasts of prey cannot be far off. What better
occupation could we have?
King.
Bhadrasena, my enthusiasm is broken. Madhavya has been
preaching against hunting.
General
(aside
to the clown). Stick
to it, friend Madhavya. I will humour the king a moment.
(Aloud.)
Your Majesty, he is a chattering idiot. Your Majesty may
judge by his own case whether hunting is an evil. Consider:
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
hornèd buffalo may shake
The turbid water of the lake;
p. 20
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!
King.
My friend, you have not seen her, or you could not talk so.
Clown.
She must be charming if she surprises you.
King.
Oh, my friend, she needs not many words.
She is
God's vision, of pure thought
Composed in His creative mind;
His reveries of beauty wrought
The peerless pearl of womankind.
So plays my fancy when I see
How great is God, how lovely she.
Clown.
How the women must hate her!
King.
This too is in my thought.
She
seems a flower whose fragrance none has tasted,
A gem uncut by workman's tool,
A branch no desecrating hands have wasted,
Fresh honey, beautifully cool.
No man on earth deserves to taste her
beauty,
Her
blameless loveliness and worth,
Unless
he has fulfilled man's perfect duty--
And
is there such a one on earth?
Clown.
Marry her quick, then, before the poor girl falls into the
hands of some oily-headed hermit.
King.
She is dependent on her father, and he is not here.
Clown.
But how does she feel toward you?
King.
My friend, hermit-girls are by their very nature timid. And
yet
When I
was near, she could not look at me;
She smiled--but not to me--and half denied it;
She would not show her love for modesty,
Yet did not try so very hard to hide it.
Clown.
Did you want her to climb into your lap the first time she
saw you?
King.
But when she went away with her friends, she almost showed
that she loved me.
When she
had hardly left my side,
"I cannot walk," the maiden cried,
And turned her face, and feigned to free
The dress not caught upon the tree.
Clown.
She has given you some memories to chew on. I suppose that
is why you are so in love with the pious grove.
King.
My friend, think of some pretext under which we may return
to the hermitage.
Clown.
What pretext do you need? Aren't you the king?
King.
What of that?
Clown.
Collect the taxes on the hermits' rice.
King.
Fool! It is a very different tax which these hermits
pay--one that outweighs heaps of gems.
The
wealth we take from common men,
Wastes while we cherish;
These share with us such holiness
As ne’er can perish.
Voices
behind the scenes. Ah, we
have found him.
King
(listening).
The voices are grave and tranquil. These must be hermits.
(Enter
the door-keeper.)
Door-keeper.
Victory, O King. There are two hermit-youths at the gate.
King.
Bid them enter at once.
Door-keeper.
Yes, your Majesty. (He
goes out, then returns with the
youths.)
Follow me.
First
youth (looking
at the king). A
majestic presence, yet it inspires confidence. Nor is this
wonderful in a king who is half a saint. For to him
The
splendid palace serves as hermitage;
His royal government, courageous, sage,
Adds daily to his merit; it is given
To him to win applause from choirs of heaven
Whose anthems to his glory rise and swell,
Proclaiming him a king, and saint as well.
Second
youth. My
friend, is this Dushyanta, friend of Indra?
First
youth. It is.
Second
youth.
Nor is
it wonderful that one whose arm
Might bolt a city gate, should keep from harm
The whole broad earth dark-belted by the sea;
For when the gods in heaven with demons fight,
Dushyanta's bow and Indra's weapon bright
Are their reliance for the victory.
The
two youths (approaching).
Victory, O King!
King
(rising).
I salute you.
The
two youths. All
hail! (They
offer fruit.)
King
(receiving
it and bowing low). May I
know the reason of your coming?
The
two youths. The
hermits have learned that you are here, and they
request------
King.
They command rather.
The
two youths. The
powers of evil disturb our pious life in the absence of the
hermit-father. We therefore ask that you will remain a few
nights with your charioteer to protect the hermitage.
King.
I shall be most happy to do so.
Clown
(to
the king). You
rather seem to like being collared this way.
King.
Raivataka, tell my charioteer to drive up, and to bring the
bow and arrows.
Raivataka.
Yes, your Majesty. (Exit.)
The
two youths.
Thou art
a worthy scion of
The kings who ruled our nation
And found, defending those in need,
Their truest consecration.
King.
Pray go before. And I will follow straightway.
The
two youths.
Victory, O King! (Exeunt.)
King.
Madhavya, have you no curiosity to see Shakuntala?
Clown.
I did have an unending curiosity, but this talk about the
powers of evil has put an end to it.
King.
Do not fear. You will be with me.
Clown.
I'll stick close to your chariot-wheel.
(Enter
the door-keeper.)
Door-keeper.
Your Majesty, the chariot is ready, and awaits your
departure to victory. But one Karabhaka has come from the
city, a messenger from the queen-mother.
King
(respectfully).
Sent by my mother?
Door-keeper.
Yes.
King.
Let him enter.
Door-keeper
(goes
out and returns with KARABHAKA).
Karabhaka, here is his Majesty. You may draw near.
Karabhaka
(approaching
and bowing low).
Victory to your Majesty. The queen-mother sends her
commands------
King.
What are her commands?
Karabhaka.
She plans to end a fasting ceremony on the fourth day from
to-day. And on that occasion her dear son must not fail to
wait upon her.
King.
On the one side is my duty to the hermits, on the other my
mother's command. Neither may be disregarded. What is to be
done?
Clown
(laughing).
Stay half-way between, like Trishanku.
King. In truth, I am perplexed.
Two
inconsistent duties sever
My mind with cruel shock,
As when the current of a river
Is split upon a rock.
(He
reflects.) My
friend, the queen-mother has always felt toward you as
toward a son. Do you return, tell her what duty keeps me
here, and yourself perform the offices of a son.
Clown.
You don't think I am afraid of the devils?
King
(smiling).
O mighty Brahman, who could suspect it?
Clown.
But I want to travel like a prince.
King.
I will send all the soldiers with you, for the pious grove
must not be disturbed.
Clown
(strutting).
Aha! Look at the heir-apparent!
King
(to
himself). The
fellow is a chatterbox. He might betray my longing to the
ladies of the palace. Good, then! (He
takes the clown by the hand. Aloud.)
Friend Madhavya, my reverence for the hermits draws me to
the hermitage. Do not think that I am really in love with
the hermit-girl. Just think:
A king,
and a girl of the calm hermit-grove,
Bred with the fawns, and a stranger to love!
Then do not imagine a serious quest;
The light words I uttered were spoken in jest.
Clown.
Oh, I understand that well enough.
(Exeunt
ambo.)