ttoktya); the middling (madhyama), and the superior (pradhana),
who were said to speak Sanskrit with accent, emphasis, and expression
(udattoktya). In general, the stage is never left vacant till the end
of an Act, nor does any change of locality take place until then. The
commencement of a new Act is often marked, like the commencement of
the piece, by an introductory monologue or dialogue spoken by one or
more of the _dramatis personae_, and called Vishkambha or Prave[S']aka.
In this scene allusion is frequently made to events supposed to have
occurred in the interval of the Acts, and the audience is the better
prepared to take up the thread of the story, which is then skilfully
carried on to the concluding scene. The piece closes, as it began,
with a prayer for national plenty and prosperity, addressed to the
favourite deity, and spoken by one of the principal personages of the
drama.

Although, in the conduct of the plot, and the delineation of
character, Hindu dramatists show considerable skill, yet they do not
appear to have been remarkable for much fertility of invention. Love,
according to Hindu notions, is the subject of most of their dramas.

The hero, who is generally a king, and already the husband of a wife
or wives (for a wife or two more or less is no encumbrance in Indian
plays), is suddenly smitten with the charms of a lovely woman,
sometimes a nymph, or, as in the case of [S']akoontala, the daughter of
a nymph by a mortal father. The heroine is required to be equally
impressible, and the first tender glance from the hero's eye reaches
her heart. With true feminine delicacy, however, she locks the secret
of her passion in her own breast, and by her coyness and reserve keeps
her lover for a long period in the agonies of suspense. The hero,
being reduced to a proper state of desperation, is harassed by other
difficulties. Either the celestial nature of the nymph is in the way
of their union, or he doubts the legality of the match, or he fears
his own unworthiness, or he is hampered by the angry jealousy of a
previous wife. In short, doubts, obstacles, and delays make great
havoc of both hero and heroine. They give way to melancholy, indulge
in amorous rhapsodies, and become very emaciated. So far, it must be
confessed, the story is decidedly dull, and its chain, however, does
not commence until the Fourth Act, when the union of the heroine with
King Dushyanta, and her acceptance of the marriage-ring as a