No More Learning

Why are
you crooked when I am straight?

_King_ (_not hearing him_).

How could you fail to linger
On her soft, tapering finger,
And in the water fall?

And yet

Things lifeless know not beauty;
But I--I scorned my duty,
The sweetest task of all.

_Mishrakeshi_. He has given the answer which I had ready.

_Clown_. But that is no reason why I should starve to death.

_King_ (_not heeding_). O my darling, my heart burns with repentance
because I abandoned you without reason. Take pity on me. Let me see
you again. (_Enter a maid with a tablet_. )

_Maid_. Your Majesty, here is the picture of our lady. (_She produces
the tablet_. )

_King_ (_gazing at it_). It is a beautiful picture. See!

A graceful arch of brows above great eyes;
Lips bathed in darting, smiling light that flies
Reflected from white teeth; a mouth as red
As red karkandhu-fruit; love's brightness shed
O'er all her face in bursts of liquid charm--
The picture speaks, with living beauty warm.

_Clown_ (_looking at it_). The sketch is full of sweet meaning. My
eyes seem to stumble over its uneven surface. What more can I say? I
expect to see it come to life, and I feel like speaking to it.

_Mishrakeshi_. The king is a clever painter. I seem to see the dear
girl before me.

_King_. My friend,

What in the picture is not fair,
Is badly done;
Yet something of her beauty there,
I feel, is won.

_Mishrakeshi_. This is natural, when love is increased by remorse.

_King_ (_sighing_).

I treated her with scorn and loathing ever;
Now o'er her pictured charms my heart will burst:
A traveller I, who scorned the mighty river.
And seeks in the mirage to quench his thirst.

_Clown_. There are three figures in the picture, and they are all
beautiful. Which one is the lady Shakuntala?

_Mishrakeshi_. The poor fellow never saw her beauty. His eyes are
useless, for she never came before them.

_King_. Which one do you think?

_Clown_ (_observing closely_). I think it is this one, leaning against
the creeper which she has just sprinkled. Her face is hot and the
flowers are dropping from her hair; for the ribbon is loosened. Her
arms droop like weary branches; she has loosened her girdle, and she
seems a little fatigued. This, I think, is the lady Shakuntala, the
others are her friends.

_King_. You are good at guessing. Besides, here are proofs of my love.

See where discolorations faint
Of loving handling tell;
And here the swelling of the paint
Shows where my sad tears fell.

Chaturika, I have not finished the background. Go, get the brushes.

_Maid_. Please hold the picture, Madhavya, while I am gone.

_King_. I will hold it. (_He does so. Exit maid_. )

_Clown_. What are you going to add?

_Mishrakeshi_. Surely, every spot that the dear girl loved.

_King_. Listen, my friend.

The stream of Malini, and on its sands
The swan-pairs resting; holy foot-hill lands
Of great Himalaya's sacred ranges, where
The yaks are seen; and under trees that bear
Bark hermit-dresses on their branches high,
A doe that on the buck's horn rubs her eye.

_Clown_ (_aside_). To hear him talk, I should think he was going to
fill up the picture with heavy-bearded hermits.

_King_. And another ornament that Shakuntala loved I have forgotten to
paint.

_Clown_. What?

_Mishrakeshi_. Something natural for a girl living in the forest.

_King_.

The siris-blossom, fastened o'er her ear,
Whose stamens brush her cheek;
The lotus-chain like autumn moonlight soft
Upon her bosom meek.

_Clown_. But why does she cover her face with fingers lovely as the
pink water-lily? She seems frightened. (_He looks more closely_. ) I
see. Here is a bold, bad bee. He steals honey, and so he flies to her
lotus-face.

_King_. Drive him away.

_Clown_. It is your affair to punish evil-doers.

_King_. True. O welcome guest of the flowering vine, why do you waste
your time in buzzing here?

Your faithful, loving queen,
Perched on a flower, athirst,
Is waiting for you still,
Nor tastes the honey first.

_Mishrakeshi_. A gentlemanly way to drive him off!

_Clown_. This kind are obstinate, even when you warn them.

_King_ (_angrily_). Will you not obey my command? Then listen:

'Tis sweet as virgin blossoms on a tree,
The lip I kissed in love-feasts tenderly;
Sting that dear lip, O bee, with cruel power,
And you shall be imprisoned in a flower.

_Clown_. Well, he doesn't seem afraid of your dreadful punishment.
(_Laughing. To himself_. ) The man is crazy, and I am just as bad, from
associating with him.

_King_. Will he not go, though I warn him?

_Mishrakeshi_. Love works a curious change even in a brave man.

_Clown_ (_aloud_). It is only a picture, man.

_King_. A picture?

_Mishrakeshi_. I too understand it now. But to him, thoughts are real
experiences.

_King_. You have done an ill-natured thing.

When I was happy in the sight,
And when my heart was warm,
You brought sad memories back, and made
My love a painted form.

(_He sheds a tear_. )

_Mishrakeshi_. Fate plays strangely with him.

_King_. My friend, how can I endure a grief that has no respite?

I cannot sleep at night
And meet her dreaming;
I cannot see the sketch
While tears are streaming.

_Mishrakeshi_. My friend, you have indeed atoned--and in her friend's
presence--for the pain you caused by rejecting dear Shakuntala.

(_Enter the maid_ CHATURIKA. )

_Maid_. Your Majesty, I was coming back with the box of
paint-brushes----

_King_. Well?

_Maid_. I met Queen Vasumati with the maid Pingalika. And the queen
snatched the box from me, saying: "I will take it to the king myself. "

_Clown_. How did you escape?

_Maid_. The queen's dress caught on a vine. And while her maid was
setting her free, I excused myself in a hurry. _A voice behind the
scenes_. Follow me, your Majesty.

_Clown_ (_listening_). Man, the she-tiger of the palace is making a
spring on her prey. She means to make one mouthful of the maid.

_King_. My friend, the queen has come because she feels touched in her
honour. You had better take care of this picture.

_Clown_. "And yourself," you might add. (_He takes the picture and
rises_. ) If you get out of the trap alive, call for me at the Cloud
Balcony. And I will hide the thing there so that nothing but a pigeon
could find it. (_Exit on the run_. )

_Mishrakeshi_. Though his heart is given to another, he is courteous
to his early flame. He is a constant friend.

(_Enter the portress with a document_. )

_Portress_. Victory to your Majesty.

_King_. Vetravati, did you not meet Queen Vasumati?

_Portress_. Yes, your Majesty. But she turned back when she saw that I
carried a document.

_King_. The queen knows times and seasons. She will not interrupt
business.

_Portress_. Your Majesty, the minister sends word that in the press of
various business he has attended to only one citizen's suit. This he
has reduced to writing for your Majesty's perusal.

_King_. Give me the document. (_The portress does so_. )

_King_ (_reads_). "Be it known to his Majesty. A seafaring merchant
named Dhanavriddhi has been lost in a shipwreck. He is childless, and
his property, amounting to several millions, reverts to the crown.
Will his Majesty take action? " (_Sadly_. ) It is dreadful to be
childless. Vetravati, he had great riches. There must be several
wives. Let inquiry be made. There may be a wife who is with child.

_Portress_. We have this moment heard that a merchant's daughter of
Saketa is his wife. And she is soon to become a mother.

_King_. The child shall receive the inheritance. Go, inform the
minister.

_Portress_. Yes, your Majesty. (_She starts to go_. )

_King_. Wait a moment.

_Portress_ (_turning back_). Yes, your Majesty. _King_. After all,
what does it matter whether he have issue or not?

Let King Dushyanta be proclaimed
To every sad soul kin
That mourns a kinsman loved and lost,
Yet did not plunge in sin.

_Portress_.
The proclamation shall be made. (_She goes out and soon
returns_. ) Your Majesty, the royal proclamation was welcomed by the
populace as is a timely shower.

_King_ (_sighing deeply_). Thus, when issue fails, wealth passes, on
the death of the head of the family, to a stranger. When I die, it
will be so with the glory of Puru's line.

_Portress_. Heaven avert the omen!

_King_. Alas! I despised the happiness that offered itself to me.

_Mishrakeshi_. Without doubt, he has dear Shakuntala in mind when he
thus reproaches himself.

_King_.

Could I forsake the virtuous wife
Who held my best, my future life
And cherished it for glorious birth,
As does the seed-receiving earth?

_Mishrakeshi_. She will not long be forsaken.

_Maid_ (_to the portress_). Mistress, the minister's report has
doubled our lord's remorse. Go to the Cloud Balcony and bring Madhavya
to dispel his grief.

_Portress_. A good suggestion. (_Exit_. )

_King_. Alas! The ancestors of Dushyanta are in a doubtful case.

For I am childless, and they do not know,
When I am gone, what child of theirs will bring
The scriptural oblation; and their tears
Already mingle with my offering.

_Mishrakeshi_. He is screened from the light, and is in darkness.

_Maid_. Do not give way to grief, your Majesty. You are in the prime
of your years, and the birth of a son to one of your other wives will
make you blameless before your ancestors. (_To herself_. ) He does not
heed me. The proper medicine is needed for any disease. _King_
(_betraying his sorrow_). Surely,

The royal line that flowed
A river pure and grand,
Dies in the childless king,
Like streams in desert sand.

(_He swoons_. )

_Maid_ (_in distress_). Oh, sir, come to yourself.

_Mishrakeski_. Shall I make him happy now? No, I heard the mother of
the gods consoling Shakuntala. She said that the gods, impatient for
the sacrifice, would soon cause him to welcome his true wife. I must
delay no longer. I will comfort dear Shakuntala with my tidings.

(_Exit through the air_. )

_A voice behind the scenes_. Help, help!

_King_ (_comes to himself and listens_). It sounds as if Madhavya were
in distress.

_Maid_. Your Majesty, I hope that Pingalika and the other maids did
not catch poor Madhavya with the picture in his hands.

_King_. Go, Chaturika. Reprove the queen in my name for not
controlling her servants.

_Maid_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_. )

_The voice_. Help, help!

_King_. The Brahman's voice seems really changed by fear. Who waits
without? (_Enter the chamberlain_. )

_Chamberlain_. Your Majesty commands?

_King_. See why poor Madhavya is screaming so.

_Chamberlain_. I will see. (_He goes out, and returns trembling_. )

_King_. Parvatayana, I hope it is nothing very dreadful.

_Chamberlain_. I hope not.

_King_. Then why do you tremble so? For

Why should the trembling, born
Of age, increasing, seize
Your limbs and bid them shake
Like fig-leaves in the breeze?

_Chamberlain_. Save your friend, O King!

_King_. From what?

_Chamberlain_. From great danger.

_King_. Speak plainly, man.

_Chamberlain_. On the Cloud Balcony, open to the four winds of
heaven--

_King_. What has happened there?

_Chamberlain_.

While he was resting on its height,
Which palace peacocks in their flight
Can hardly reach, he seemed to be
Snatched up--by what, we could not see.

_King_ (_rising quickly_). My very palace is invaded by evil
creatures. To be a king, is to be a disappointed man.

The moral stumblings of mine own,
The daily slips, are scarcely known;
Who then that rules a kingdom, can
Guide every deed of every man?

_The voice_. Hurry, hurry!

_King_ (_hears the voice and quickens his steps_). Have no fear, my
friend.

_The voice_. Have no fear! When something has got me by the back of
the neck, and is trying to break my bones like a piece of sugar-cane!

_King_ (_looks about_). A bow! a bow! (_Enter a Greek woman with a
bow_. )

_Greek woman_. A bow and arrows, your Majesty. And here are the
finger-guards. (_The king takes the bow and arrows_. )

_Another voice behind the scenes_.

Writhe, while I drink the red blood flowing clear
And kill you, as a tiger kills a deer;
Let King Dushyanta grasp his bow; but how
Can all his kingly valour save you now?

_King_ (_angrily_). He scorns me, too! In one moment, miserable demon,
you shall die. (_Stringing his bow_. ) Where is the stairway,
Parvatayana?

_Chamberlain_. Here, your Majesty. (_All make haste_. )

_King_ (_Looking about_). There is no one here.

_The Clown's voice_. Save me, save me! I see you, if you can't see me.
I am a mouse in the claws of the cat. I am done for. _King_. You are
proud of your invisibility. But shall not my arrow see you? Stand
still. Do not hope to escape by clinging to my friend.

My arrow, flying when the bow is bent,
Shall slay the wretch and spare the innocent;
When milk is mixed with water in a cup,
Swans leave the water, and the milk drink up.

(_He takes aim. Enter_ MATALI _and the clown_. )

_Matali_. O King, as Indra, king of the gods, commands,

Seek foes among the evil powers alone;
For them your bow should bend;
Not cruel shafts, but glances soft and kind
Should fall upon a friend.

_King_ (_hastily withdrawing the arrow_). It is Matali. Welcome to the
charioteer of heaven's king.

_Clown_. Well! He came within an inch of butchering me. And you
welcome him.

_Matali_ (_smiling_). Hear, O King, for what purpose Indra sends me to
you.

_King_. I am all attention.

_Matali_. There is a host of demons who call themselves
Invincible--the brood of Kalanemi.

_King_. So Narada has told me.

_Matali_.

Heaven's king is powerless; you shall smite
His foes in battle soon;
Darkness that overcomes the day,
Is scattered by the moon.

Take your bow at once, enter my heavenly chariot, and set forth for
victory.

_King_. I am grateful for the honour which Indra shows me. But why did
you act thus toward Madhavya?

_Matali_. I will tell you. I saw that you were overpowered by some
inner sorrow, and acted thus to rouse you. For

The spurned snake will swell his hood;
Fire blazes when 'tis stirred;
Brave men are roused to fighting mood
By some insulting word.
_King_. Friend Madhavya, I must obey the bidding of heaven's king. Go,
acquaint the minister Pishuna with the matter, and add these words of
mine:

Your wisdom only shall control
The kingdom for a time;
My bow is strung; a distant goal
Calls me, and tasks sublime.

_Clown_. Very well. (_Exit_. )

_Matali_. Enter the chariot. (_The king does so. Exeunt omnes_. )


ACT VII


(_Enter, in a chariot that flies through the air, the king and_
MATALI. )

_King_. Matali, though I have done what Indra commanded, I think
myself an unprofitable servant, when I remember his most gracious
welcome.

_Matali_. O King, know that each considers himself the other's debtor.
For

You count the service given
Small by the welcome paid,
Which to the king of heaven
Seems mean for such brave aid.

_King_. Ah, no! For the honour given me at parting went far beyond
imagination. Before the gods, he seated me beside him on his throne.
And then

He smiled, because his son Jayanta's heart
Beat quicker, by the self-same wish oppressed,
And placed about my neck the heavenly wreath
Still fragrant from the sandal on his breast.

_Matali_. But what do you not deserve from heaven's king? Remember:

Twice, from peace-loving Indra's sway
The demon-thorn was plucked away:
First, by Man-lion's crooked claws;
Again, by your smooth shafts to-day.

_King_. This merely proves Indra's majesty. Remember:

All servants owe success in enterprise
To honour paid before the great deed's done;
Could dawn defeat the darkness otherwise
Than resting on the chariot of the sun?

_Matali_. The feeling becomes you. (_After a little_. ) See, O King!
Your glory has the happiness of being published abroad in heaven.

With colours used by nymphs of heaven
To make their beauty shine,
Gods write upon the surface given
Of many a magic vine,
As worth their song, the simple story
Of those brave deeds that made your glory.

_King_. Matali, when I passed before, I was intent on fighting the
demons, and did not observe this region. Tell me. In which path of the
winds are we?

_Matali_.