No More Learning

_Kanva_. I know your love for her. See! Here she is at your right
hand.

_Shakuntala_ (_approaches the vine and embraces it_). Vine sister,
embrace me too with your arms, these branches. I shall be far away
from you after to-day. Father, you must care for her as you did for
me.

_Kanva_.

My child, you found the lover who
Had long been sought by me;
No longer need I watch for you;
I'll give the vine a lover true,
This handsome mango-tree.

And now start on your journey. _Shakuntala_ (_going to the two
friends_). Dear girls, I leave her in your care too.

_The two friends_. But who will care for poor us? (_They shed tears_. )

_Kanva_. Anusuya! Priyamvada! Do not weep. It is you who should cheer
Shakuntala. (_All walk about_. )

_Shakuntala_. Father, there is the pregnant doe, wandering about near
the cottage. When she becomes a happy mother, you must send some one
to bring me the good news. Do not forget.

_Kanva_. I shall not forget, my child.

_Shakuntala_ (_stumbling_) Oh, oh! Who is it that keeps pulling at my
dress, as if to hinder me? (_She turns round to see_. )

_Kanva_.

It is the fawn whose lip, when torn
By kusha-grass, you soothed with oil;
The fawn who gladly nibbled corn
Held in your hand; with loving toil
You have adopted him, and he
Would never leave you willingly.

_Shakuntala_. My dear, why should you follow me when I am going away
from home? Your mother died when you were born and I brought you up.
Now I am leaving you, and Father Kanva will take care of you. Go back,
dear! Go back! (_She walks away, weeping_. )

_Kanva_. Do not weep, my child. Be brave. Look at the path before you.

Be brave, and check the rising tears
That dim your lovely eyes;
Your feet are stumbling on the path
That so uneven lies.

_Sharngarava_. Holy Father, the Scripture declares that one should
accompany a departing loved one only to the first water. Pray give us
your commands on the bank of this pond, and then return.

_Kanva_. Then let us rest in the shade of this fig-tree. (_All do
so_. ) What commands would it be fitting for me to lay on King
Dushyanta? (_He reflects_. )

_Anusuya_. My dear, there is not a living thing in the whole
hermitage that is not grieving to-day at saying good-bye to you. Look!

The sheldrake does not heed his mate
Who calls behind the lotus-leaf;
He drops the lily from his bill
And turns on you a glance of grief.

_Kanva_. Son Sharngarava, when you present Shakuntala to the king,
give him this message from me.

Remembering my religious worth,
Your own high race, the love poured forth
By her, forgetful of her friends,
Pay her what honour custom lends
To all your wives. And what fate gives
Beyond, will please her relatives.

_Sharngarava_. I will not forget your message, Father.

_Kanva_ (_turning to_ SHAKUNTALA). My child, I must now give you my
counsel. Though I live in the forest, I have some knowledge of the
world.

_Sharngarava_. True wisdom, Father, gives insight into everything.

_Kanva_. My child, when you have entered your husband's home,

Obey your elders; and be very kind
To rivals; never be perversely blind
And angry with your husband, even though he
Should prove less faithful than a man might be;
Be as courteous to servants as you may,
Not puffed with pride in this your happy day:
Thus does a maiden grow into a wife;
But self-willed women are the curse of life.

But what does Gautami say?

_Gautami_. This is advice sufficient for a bride. (_To_ SHAKUNTALA. )
You will not forget, my child.

_Kanva_. Come, my daughter, embrace me and your friends.

_Shakuntala_. Oh, Father! Must my friends turn back too?

_Kanva_. My daughter, they too must some day be given in marriage.
Therefore they may not go to court. Gautami will go with you.

_Shakuntala_ (_throwing her arms about her father_). I am torn from
my father's breast like a vine stripped from a sandal-tree on the
Malabar hills. How can I live in another soil? (_She weeps_. )

_Kanva_. My daughter, why distress yourself so?

A noble husband's honourable wife,
You are to spend a busy, useful life
In the world's eye; and soon, as eastern skies
Bring forth the sun, from you there shall arise
A child, a blessing and a comfort strong--
You will not miss me, dearest daughter, long.

_Shakuntala_ (_falling at his feet_). Farewell, Father.

_Kanva_. My daughter, may all that come to you which I desire for you.

_Shakuntala_ (_going to her two friends_). Come, girls! Embrace me,
both of you together.

_The two friends_ (_do so_). Dear, if the good king should perhaps be
slow to recognise you, show him the ring with his own name engraved on
it.

_Shakuntala_. Your doubts make my heart beat faster.

_The two friends_. Do not be afraid, dear. Love is timid.

_Sharngarava_ (_looking about_). Father, the sun is in mid-heaven. She
must hasten.

_Shakuntala_ (_embracing_ KANVA _once more_). Father, when shall I see
the pious grove again?

_Kanva_. My daughter,

When you have shared for many years
The king's thoughts with the earth,
When to a son who knows no fears
You shall have given birth,

When, trusted to the son you love,
Your royal labours cease,
Come with your husband to the grove
And end your days in peace.

_Gautami_. My child, the hour of your departure is slipping by. Bid
your father turn back. No, she would never do that. Pray turn back,
sir.

_Kanva_. Child, you interrupt my duties in the pious grove.

_Shakuntala_. Yes, Father. You will be busy in the grove. You will not
miss me. But oh! I miss you. _Kanva_. How can you think me so
indifferent? (_He sighs_. )

My lonely sorrow will not go,
For seeds you scattered here
Before the cottage door, will grow;
And I shall see them, dear.

Go. And peace go with you. (_Exit_ SHAKUNTALA, _with_ GAUTAMI,
SHARNGARAVA, _and_ SHARADVATA. )

_The two friends_ (_gazing long after her. Mournfully_). Oh, oh!
Shakuntala is lost among the trees.

_Kanva_. Anusuya! Priyamvada! Your companion is gone. Choke down your
grief and follow me. (_They start to go back_. )

_The two friends_. Father, the grove seems empty without Shakuntala.

_Kanva_. So love interprets. (_He walks about, sunk in thought_. ) Ah!
I have sent Shakuntala away, and now I am myself again. For

A girl is held in trust, another's treasure;
To arms of love my child to-day is given;
And now I feel a calm and sacred pleasure;
I have restored the pledge that came from heaven.

(_Exeunt omnes_. )


ACT V


SHAKUNTALA'S REJECTION

(_Enter a chamberlain_. )

_Chamberlain_ (_sighing_). Alas! To what a state am I reduced!

I once assumed the staff of reed
For custom's sake alone,
As officer to guard at need.
The ladies round the throne.
But years have passed away and made
It serve, my tottering steps to aid.

The king is within. I will tell him of the urgent business which
demands his attention. (_He takes a few steps_. ) But what is the
business? (_He recalls it_. ) Yes, I remember. Certain hermits, pupils
of Kanva, desire to see his Majesty. Strange, strange!

The mind of age is like a lamp
Whose oil is running thin;
One moment it is shining bright,
Then darkness closes in.

(_He walks and looks about_. ) Here is his Majesty.

He does not seek--until a father's care
Is shown his subjects--rest in solitude;
As a great elephant recks not of the sun
Until his herd is sheltered in the wood.

In truth, I hesitate to announce the coming of Kanva's pupils to the
king. For he has this moment risen from the throne of justice. But
kings are never weary. For

The sun unyokes his horses never;
Blows night and day the breeze;
Shesha upholds the world forever:
And kings are like to these.

(_He walks about. Enter the king, the clown, and retinue according to
rank_. ) _King_ (_betraying the cares of office_). Every one is happy
on attaining his desire--except a king. His difficulties increase with
his power. Thus:

Security slays nothing but ambition;
With great possessions, troubles gather thick;
Pain grows, not lessens, with a king's position,
As when one's hand must hold the sunshade's stick.

_Two court poets behind the scenes_. Victory to your Majesty.

_First poet_.

The world you daily guard and bless,
Not heeding pain or weariness;
Thus is your nature made.
A tree will brave the noonday, when
The sun is fierce, that weary men
May rest beneath its shade.

_Second poet_.

Vice bows before the royal rod;
Strife ceases at your kingly nod;
You are our strong defender.
Friends come to all whose wealth is sure,
But you, alike to rich and poor,
Are friend both strong and tender.

_King_ (_listening_). Strange! I was wearied by the demands of my
office, but this renews my spirit.

_Clown_. Does a bull forget that he is tired when you call him the
leader of the herd?

_King_ (_smiling_). Well, let us sit down. (_They seat themselves, and
the retinue arranges itself. A lute is heard behind the scenes_. )

_Clown_ (_listening_). My friend, listen to what is going on in the
music-room. Some one is playing a lute, and keeping good time.
I
suppose Lady Hansavati is practising.

_King_. Be quiet. I wish to listen.

_Chamberlain_ (_looks at the king_). Ah, the king is occupied. I must
await his leisure. (_He stands aside_. )

_A song behind the scenes_.

You who kissed the mango-flower,
Honey-loving bee,
Gave her all your passion's power,
Ah, so tenderly!

How can you be tempted so
By the lily, pet?
Fresher honey's sweet, I know;
But can you forget?

_King_. What an entrancing song!

_Clown_. But, man, don't you understand what the words mean?

_King_ (_smiling_). I was once devoted to Queen Hansavati. And the
rebuke comes from her. Friend Madhavya, tell Queen Hansavati in my
name that the rebuke is a very pretty one.

_Clown_. Yes, sir. (_He rises_. ) But, man, you are using another
fellow's fingers to grab a bear's tail-feathers with. I have about as
much chance of salvation as a monk who hasn't forgotten his passions.

_King_. Go. Soothe her like a gentleman.

_Clown_. I suppose I must. (_Exit_. )

_King_ (_to himself_). Why am I filled with wistfulness on hearing
such a song? I am not separated from one I love. And yet

In face of sweet presentment
Or harmonies of sound,
Man e'er forgets contentment,
By wistful longings bound.

There must be recollections
Of things not seen on earth,
Deep nature's predilections,
Loves earlier than birth.

(_He shows the wistfulness that comes from unremembered things_. )

_Chamberlain_ (_approaching_). Victory to your Majesty. Here are
hermits who dwell in the forest at the foot of the Himalayas. They
bring women with them, and they carry a message from Kanva. What is
your pleasure with regard to them?

_King_ (_astonished_). Hermits? Accompanied by women? From Kanva?

_Chamberlain_. Yes.

_King_. Request my chaplain Somarata in my name to receive these
hermits in the manner prescribed by Scripture, and to conduct them
himself before me. I will await them in a place fit for their
reception.

_Chamberlain_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_. )

_King_ (_rising_). Vetravati, conduct me to the fire-sanctuary.

_Portress_. Follow me, your Majesty. (_She walks about_) Your Majesty,
here is the terrace of the fire-sanctuary. It is beautiful, for it has
just been swept, and near at hand is the cow that yields the milk of
sacrifice. Pray ascend it.

_King_ (_ascends and stands leaning on the shoulder of an attendant_. )
Vetravati, with what purpose does Father Kanva send these hermits to
me?

Do leagued powers of sin conspire
To balk religion's pure desire?
Has wrong been done to beasts that roam
Contented round the hermits' home?
Do plants no longer bud and flower,
To warn me of abuse of power?
These doubts and more assail my mind,
But leave me puzzled, lost, and blind.

_Portress_. How could these things be in a hermitage that rests in the
fame of the king's arm? No, I imagine they have come to pay homage to
their king, and to congratulate him on his pious rule.

(_Enter the chaplain and the chamberlain, conducting the two pupils
of_ KANVA, _with_ GAUTAMI _and_ SHAKUNTALA. )

_Chamberlain_. Follow me, if you please.

_Sharngarava_. Friend Sharadvata,

The king is noble and to virtue true;
None dwelling here commit the deed of shame;
Yet we ascetics view the worldly crew
As in a house all lapped about with flame.

_Sharadvata_. Sharngarava, your emotion on entering the city is quite
just. As for me,

Free from the world and all its ways,
I see them spending worldly days
As clean men view men smeared with oil,
As pure men, those whom passions soil,
As waking men view men asleep,
As free men, those in bondage deep.
_Chaplain_. That is why men like you are great.

_Shakuntala_ (_observing an evil omen_). Oh, why does my right eye
throb?

_Gautami_. Heaven avert the omen, my child. May happiness wait upon
you. (_They walk about_. )

_Chaplain_ (_indicating the king_). O hermits, here is he who protects
those of every station and of every age. He has already risen, and
awaits you. Behold him.

_Sharngarava_. Yes, it is admirable, but not surprising. For

Fruit-laden trees bend down to earth;
The water-pregnant clouds hang low;
Good men are not puffed up by power--
The unselfish are by nature so.

_Portress_. Your Majesty, the hermits seem to be happy. They give you
gracious looks.

_King_ (_observing_ SHAKUNTALA). Ah!

Who is she, shrouded in the veil
That dims her beauty's lustre,
Among the hermits like a flower
Round which the dead leaves cluster?

_Portress_. Your Majesty, she is well worth looking at.

_King_. Enough! I must not gaze upon another's wife.

_Shakuntala_ (_laying her hand on her breast. Aside_). Oh, my heart,
why tremble so? Remember his constant love and be brave.

_Chaplain_ (_advancing_). Hail, your Majesty. The hermits have been
received as Scripture enjoins. They have a message from their teacher.
May you be pleased to hear it.

_King_ (_respectfully_). I am all attention.

_The two pupils_ (_raising their right hands_). Victory, O King.

_King_ (_bowing low_). I salute you all.

_The two pupils_. All hail.

_King_. Does your pious life proceed without disturbance?

_The two pupils_.

How could the pious duties fail
While you defend the right?
Or how could darkness' power prevail
O'er sunbeams shining bright?
_King_ (_to himself_). Indeed, my royal title is no empty one.
(_Aloud_. ) Is holy Kanva in health?

_Sharngarava_. O King, those who have religious power can command
health. He asks after your welfare and sends this message.

_King_. What are his commands?

_Sharngarava_. He says: "Since you have met this my daughter and have
married her, I give you my glad consent. For

You are the best of worthy men, they say;
And she, I know, Good Works personified;
The Creator wrought for ever and a day,
In wedding such a virtuous groom and bride.

She is with child. Take her and live with her in virtue. "

_Gautami_. Bless you, sir. I should like to say that no one invites me
to speak.

_King_. Speak, mother.

_Gautami_.

Did she with father speak or mother?
Did you engage her friends in speech?
Your faith was plighted each to other;
Let each be faithful now to each.

_Shakuntala_. What will my husband say?

_King_ (_listening with anxious suspicion_). What is this insinuation?

_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). Oh, oh! So haughty and so slanderous!

_Sharngarava_. "What is this insinuation? " What is your question?
Surely you know the world's ways well enough.

Because the world suspects a wife
Who does not share her husband's lot,
Her kinsmen wish her to abide
With him, although he love her not.

_King_. You cannot mean that this young woman is my wife.

_Shakuntala_ (_sadly to herself_). Oh, my heart, you feared it, and
now it has come. _Sharngarava_. O King,

A king, and shrink when love is done,
Turn coward's back on truth, and flee!

_King_. What means this dreadful accusation?

_Sharngarava_ (_furiously_).

O drunk with power! We might have known
That you were steeped in treachery.

_King_. A stinging rebuke!

_Gautami_ (_to_ SHAKUNTALA). Forget your shame, my child. I will
remove your veil. Then your husband will recognise you. (_She does
so_. )

_King_ (_observing_ SHAKUNTALA. _To himself_).

As my heart ponders whether I could ever
Have wed this woman that has come to me
In tortured loveliness, as I endeavour
To bring it back to mind, then like a bee

That hovers round a jasmine flower at dawn,
While frosty dews of morning still o'erweave it,
And hesitates to sip ere they be gone,
I cannot taste the sweet, and cannot leave it.

_Portress_ (_to herself_). What a virtuous king he is! Would any other
man hesitate when he saw such a pearl of a woman coming of her own
accord?

_Sharngarava_. Have you nothing to say, O King?

_King_. Hermit, I have taken thought. I cannot believe that this woman
is my wife. She is plainly with child. How can I take her, confessing
myself an adulterer?

_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). Oh, oh, oh! He even casts doubt on our
marriage. The vine of my hope climbed high, but it is broken now.

_Sharngarava_. Not so.

You scorn the sage who rendered whole
His child befouled, and choked his grief,
Who freely gave you what you stole
And added honour to a thief!

_Sharadvata_. Enough, Sharngarava.