No More Learning

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_. )


ACT III


THE LOVE-MAKING

(_Enter a pupil, with sacred grass for the sacrifice_. )

_Pupil_ (_with meditative astonishment_). How great is the power of
King Dushyanta! Since his arrival our rites have been undisturbed.

He does not need to bend the bow;
For every evil thing,
Awaiting not the arrow, flees
From the twanging of the string.

Well, I will take this sacred grass to the priests, to strew the
altar. (_He walks and looks about, then speaks to some one not
visible_. ) Priyamvada, for whom are you carrying this cuscus-salve and
the fibrous lotus-leaves? (_He listens_. ) What do you say? That
Shakuntala has become seriously ill from the heat, and that these
things are to relieve her suffering? Give her the best of care,
Priyamvada. She is the very life of the hermit-father. And I will give
Gautami the holy water for her. (_Exit. Enter the lovelorn king_. )

_King_ (_with a meditative sigh_).

I know that stern religion's power
Keeps guardian watch my maiden o'er;
Yet all my heart flows straight to her
Like water to the valley-floor.

Oh, mighty Love, thine arrows are made of flowers. How can they be so
sharp? (_He recalls something_. ) Ah, I understand.

Shiva's devouring wrath still burns in thee,
As burns the eternal fire beneath the sea;
Else how couldst thou, thyself long since consumed,
Kindle the fire that flames so ruthlessly?

Indeed, the moon and thou inspire confidence, only to deceive the host
of lovers.

Thy shafts are blossoms; coolness streams
From moon-rays: thus the poets sing;
But to the lovelorn, falsehood seems
To lurk in such imagining;
The moon darts fire from frosty beams;
Thy flowery arrows cut and sting.

And yet

If Love will trouble her
Whose great eyes madden me,
I greet him unafraid,
Though wounded ceaselessly.

O mighty god, wilt thou not show me mercy after such reproaches?

With tenderness unending
I cherished thee when small,
In vain--thy bow is bending;
On me thine arrows fall.
My care for thee to such a plight
Has brought me; and it serves me right.

I have driven off the powers of evil, and the hermits have dismissed
me. Where shall I go now to rest from my weariness? (_He sighs_. )
There is no rest for me except in seeing her whom I love. (_He looks
up_. ) She usually spends these hours of midday heat with her friends
on the vine-wreathed banks of the Malini. I will go there. (_He walks
and looks about_. ) I believe the slender maiden has just passed
through this corridor of young trees. For

The stems from which she gathered flowers
Are still unhealed;
The sap where twigs were broken off
Is uncongealed.

(_He feels a breeze stirring_. ) This is a pleasant spot, with the wind
among the trees.

Limbs that love's fever seizes,
Their fervent welcome pay
To lotus-fragrant breezes
That bear the river-spray.

(_He studies the ground_. ) Ah, Shakuntala must be in this reedy bower.
For

In white sand at the door
Fresh footprints appear,
The toe lightly outlined,
The heel deep and clear.

I will hide among the branches, and see what happens. (_He does so.
Joyfully_. ) Ah, my eyes have found their heaven. Here is the darling
of my thoughts, lying upon a flower-strewn bench of stone, and
attended by her two friends. I will hear what they say to each other.

(_He stands gazing. Enter_ SHAKUNTALA _with her two friends_. )

_The two friends_ (_fanning her_). Do you feel better, dear, when we
fan you with these lotus-leaves?

_Shakuntala_ (_wearily_). Oh, are you fanning me, my dear girls? (_The
two friends look sorrowfully at each other_. )

_King_. She is seriously ill. (_Doubtfully_. ) Is it the heat, or is it
as I hope? (_Decidedly_. ) It _must_ be so.

With salve upon her breast,
With loosened lotus-chain,
My darling, sore oppressed,
Is lovely in her pain.

Though love and summer heat
May work an equal woe,
No maiden seems so sweet
When summer lays her low.

_Priyamvada_ (_aside to_ ANUSUYA). Anusuya, since she first saw the
good king, she has been greatly troubled. I do not believe her fever
has any other cause.

_Anusuya_. I suspect you are right. I am going to ask her. My dear, I
must ask you something. You are in a high fever.

_King_. It is too true.

Her lotus-chains that were as white
As moonbeams shining in the night,
Betray the fever's awful pain,
And fading, show a darker stain.

_Shakuntala_ (_half rising_. ) Well, say whatever you like.
_Anusuya_. Shakuntala dear, you have not told us what is going on in
your mind. But I have heard old, romantic stories, and I can't help
thinking that you are in a state like that of a lady in love. Please
tell us what hurts you. We have to understand the disease before we
can even try to cure it.

_King_. Anusuya expresses my own thoughts.

_Shakuntala_. It hurts me terribly. I can't tell you all at once.

_Priyamvada_. Anusuya is right, dear. Why do you hide your trouble?
You are wasting away every day. You are nothing but a beautiful
shadow.

_King_. Priyamvada is right. See!

Her cheeks grow thin; her breast and shoulders fail;
Her waist is weary and her face is pale:
She fades for love; oh, pitifully sweet!
As vine-leaves wither in the scorching heat.

_Shakuntala_ (_sighing_). I could not tell any one else. But I shall
be a burden to you.

_The two friends_. That is why we insist on knowing, dear. Grief must
be shared to be endured.

_King_.

To friends who share her joy and grief
She tells what sorrow laid her here;
She turned to look her love again
When first I saw her--yet I fear!

_Shakuntala_. Ever since I saw the good king who protects the pious
grove--(_She stops and fidgets_. )

_The two friends_. Go on, dear.

_Shakuntala_. I love him, and it makes me feel like this.

_The two friends_. Good, good! You have found a lover worthy of your
devotion. But of course, a great river always runs into the sea.

_King_ (_joyfully_). I have heard what I longed to hear.

'Twas love that caused the burning pain;
'Tis love that eases it again;
As when, upon a sultry day,
Rain breaks, and washes grief away.

_Shakuntala_. Then, if you think best, make the good king take pity
upon me. If not, remember that I was. _King_. Her words end all
doubt.

_Priyamvada_ (_aside to_ ANUSUYA). Anusuya, she is far gone in love
and cannot endure any delay.

_Anusuya_. Priyamvada, can you think of any scheme by which we could
carry out her wishes quickly and secretly?

_Priyamvada_. We must plan about the "secretly. " The "quickly" is not
hard.

_Anusuya_. How so?

_Priyamvada_. Why, the good king shows his love for her in his tender
glances, and he has been wasting away, as if he were losing sleep.

_King_. It is quite true.

The hot tears, flowing down my cheek
All night on my supporting arm
And on its golden bracelet, seek
To stain the gems and do them harm.

The bracelet slipping o'er the scars
Upon the wasted arm, that show
My deeds in hunting and in wars,
All night is moving to and fro.

_Priyamvada_ (_reflecting_). Well, she must write him a love-letter.
And I will hide it in a bunch of flowers and see that it gets into the
king's hand as if it were a relic of the sacrifice.

_Anusuya_. It is a pretty plan, dear, and it pleases me. What does
Shakuntala say?

_Shakuntala_. I suppose I must obey orders.

_Priyamvada_. Then compose a pretty little love-song, with a hint of
yourself in it.

_Shakuntala_. I'll try. But my heart trembles, for fear he will
despise me.

_King_.

Here stands the eager lover, and you pale
For fear lest he disdain a love so kind:
The seeker may find fortune, or may fail;
But how could fortune, seeking, fail to find?
And again:

The ardent lover comes, and yet you fear
Lest he disdain love's tribute, were it brought,
The hope of which has led his footsteps here--
Pearls need not seek, for they themselves are sought.

_The two friends_. You are too modest about your own charms. Would
anybody put up a parasol to keep off the soothing autumn moonlight?

_Shakuntala_ (_smiling_). I suppose I shall have to obey orders. (_She
meditates_. )

_King_. It is only natural that I should forget to wink when I see my
darling. For

One clinging eyebrow lifted,
As fitting words she seeks,
Her face reveals her passion
For me in glowing cheeks.

_Shakuntala_. Well, I have thought out a little song. But I haven't
anything to write with.

_Priyamvada_. Here is a lotus-leaf, glossy as a parrot's breast. You
can cut the letters in it with your nails.

_Shakuntala_. Now listen, and tell me whether it makes sense.

_The two friends_. Please.

_Shakuntala_ (_reads_).

I know not if I read your heart aright;
Why, pitiless, do you distress me so?
I only know that longing day and night
Tosses my restless body to and fro,
That yearns for you, the source of all its woe.

_King_ (_advancing_).

Though Love torments you, slender maid,
Yet he consumes me quite,
As daylight shuts night-blooming flowers
And slays the moon outright.

_The two friends_ (_perceive the king and rise joyfully_). Welcome to
the wish that is fulfilled without delay. (SHAKUNTALA _tries to
rise_. )

_King_.

Do not try to rise, beautiful Shakuntala.
Your limbs from which the strength is fled,
That crush the blossoms of your bed
And bruise the lotus-leaves, may be
Pardoned a breach of courtesy.

_Shakuntala_ (_sadly to herself_). Oh, my heart, you were so
impatient, and now you find no answer to make.

_Anusuya_. Your Majesty, pray do this stone bench the honour of
sitting upon it. (SHAKUNTALA _edges away_. )

_King_ (_seating himself_). Priyamvada, I trust your friend's illness
is not dangerous.

_Priyamvada_ (_smiling_). A remedy is being applied and it will soon
be better. It is plain, sir, that you and she love each other. But I
love her too, and I must say something over again.

_King_. Pray do not hesitate. It always causes pain in the end, to
leave unsaid what one longs to say.

_Priyamvada_. Then listen, sir.

_King_. I am all attention.

_Priyamvada_. It is the king's duty to save hermit-folk from all
suffering. Is not that good Scripture?

_King_. There is no text more urgent.

_Priyamvada_. Well, our friend has been brought to this sad state by
her love for you. Will you not take pity on her and save her life?

_King_. We cherish the same desire. I feel it a great honour.

_Shakuntala_ (_with a jealous smile_). Oh, don't detain the good king.
He is separated from the court ladies, and he is anxious to go back to
them.

_King_.

Bewitching eyes that found my heart,
You surely see
It could no longer live apart,
Nor faithless be.
I bear Love's arrows as I can;
Wound not with doubt a wounded man.

_Anusuya_. But, your Majesty, we hear that kings have many favourites.
You must act in such a way that our friend may not become a cause of
grief to her family.

_King_. What more can I say?

Though many queens divide my court,
But two support the throne;
Your friend will find a rival in
The sea-girt earth alone.

_The two friends_. We are content. (SHAKUNTALA _betrays her joy_. )
_Priyamvada_ (_aside to_ ANUSUYA). Look, Anusuya! See how the dear
girl's life is coming back moment by moment--just like a peahen in
summer when the first rainy breezes come.

_Shakuntala_. You must please ask the king's pardon for the rude
things we said when we were talking together.

_The two friends_ (_smiling_). Anybody who says it was rude, may ask
his pardon. Nobody else feels guilty.

_Shakuntala_. Your Majesty, pray forgive what we said when we did not
know that you were present. I am afraid that we say a great many
things behind a person's back.

_King_ (_smiling_).

Your fault is pardoned if I may
Relieve my weariness
By sitting on the flower-strewn couch
Your fevered members press.

_Priyamvada_. But that will not be enough to satisfy him.

_Shakuntala_ (_feigning anger_). Stop! You are a rude girl. You make
fun of me when I am in this condition.

_Anusuya_ (_looking out of the arbour_). Priyamvada, there is a little
fawn, looking all about him. He has probably lost his mother and is
trying to find her. I am going to help him.

_Priyamvada_. He is a frisky little fellow. You can't catch him alone.
I'll go with you. (_They start to go_. )

_Shakuntala_. I will not let you go and leave me alone.

_The two friends_ (_smiling_). You alone, when the king of the world
is with you! (_Exeunt_. )

_Shakuntala_. Are my friends gone?

_King_ (_looking about_). Do not be anxious, beautiful Shakuntala.
Have you not a humble servant here, to take the place of your friends?
Then tell me:

Shall I employ the moistened lotus-leaf
To fan away your weariness and grief?
Or take your lily feet upon my knee
And rub them till you rest more easily?

_Shakuntala_. I will not offend against those to whom I owe honour.
(_She rises weakly and starts to walk away_. ) _King_ (_detaining
her_). The day is still hot, beautiful Shakuntala, and you are
feverish.

Leave not the blossom-dotted couch
To wander in the midday heat,
With lotus-petals on your breast,
With fevered limbs and stumbling feet.

(_He lays his hand upon her_. )

_Shakuntala_. Oh, don't! Don't! For I am not mistress of myself. Yet
what can I do now? I had no one to help me but my friends.

_King_. I am rebuked.

_Shakuntala_. I was not thinking of your Majesty. I was accusing fate.

_King_. Why accuse a fate that brings what you desire?

_Shakuntala_. Why not accuse a fate that robs me of self-control and
tempts me with the virtues of another?

_King_ (_to himself_).

Though deeply longing, maids are coy
And bid their wooers wait;
Though eager for united joy
In love, they hesitate.

Love cannot torture them, nor move
Their hearts to sudden mating;
Perhaps they even torture love
By their procrastinating.

(SHAKUNTALA _moves away_. )

_King_. Why should I not have my way? (_He approaches and seizes her
dress_. )

_Shakuntala_. Oh, sir! Be a gentleman. There are hermits wandering
about.

_King_. Do not fear your family, beautiful Shakuntala. Father Kanva
knows the holy law. He will not regret it.

For many a hermit maiden who
By simple, voluntary rite
Dispensed with priest and witness, yet
Found favour in her father's sight.

(_He looks about_. ) Ah, I have come into the open air. (_He leaves_
SHAKUNTALA _and retraces his steps_. ) _Shakuntala_ (_takes a step,
then turns with an eager gesture_).

O King, I cannot do as you would have me. You hardly know me after
this short talk. But oh, do not forget me.

_King_.

When evening comes, the shadow of the tree
Is cast far forward, yet does not depart;
Even so, beloved, wheresoe'er you be,
The thought of you can never leave my heart.

_Shakuntala_ (_takes a few steps. To herself_). Oh, oh! When I hear
him speak so, my feet will not move away. I will hide in this amaranth
hedge and see how long his love lasts. (_She hides and waits_. )

_King_. Oh, my beloved, my love for you is my whole life, yet you
leave me and go away without a thought.

Your body, soft as siris-flowers,
Engages passion's utmost powers;
How comes it that your heart is hard
As stalks that siris-blossoms guard?

_Shakuntala_. When I hear this, I have no power to go.

_King_. What have I to do here, where she is not? (_He gazes on the
ground_. ) Ah, I cannot go.

The perfumed lotus-chain
That once was worn by her
Fetters and keeps my heart
A hopeless prisoner. (_He lifts it reverently_. )

_Shakuntala_ (_looking at her arm_). Why, I was so weak and ill that
when the lotus-bracelet fell off, I did not even notice it.

_King_ (_laying the lotus-bracelet on his heart_). Ah!

Once, dear, on your sweet arm it lay,
And on my heart shall ever stay;
Though you disdain to give me joy,
I find it in a lifeless toy.

_Shakuntala_. I cannot hold back after that. I will use the bracelet
as an excuse for my coming. (_She approaches_. )

_King_ (_seeing her. Joyfully_). The queen of my life! As soon as I
complained, fate proved kind to me.

No sooner did the thirsty bird
With parching throat complain,
Than forming clouds in heaven stirred
And sent the streaming rain.

_Shakuntala_ (_standing before the king_). When I was going away, sir,
I remembered that this lotus-bracelet had fallen from my arm, and I
have come back for it. My heart seemed to tell me that you had taken
it. Please give it back, or you will betray me, and yourself too, to
the hermits.

_King_. I will restore it on one condition.

_Shakuntala_. What condition?