No More Learning

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_. )


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 staff. 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 horned buffalo may shake
The turbid water of the lake;
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_.