has become the
last few days, as if he had been lying awake thinking of her?

KING [_looking at himself_].--Quite true! I certainly am becoming thin
from want of sleep:--
As night by night in anxious thought I raise
This wasted arm to rest my sleepless head,
My jewelled bracelet, sullied by the tears
That trickle from my eyes in scalding streams,
Slips towards my elbow from my shrivelled wrist.
Oft I replace the bauble, but in vain;
So easily it spans the fleshless limb
That e'en the rough and corrugated skin,
Scarred by the bow-string, will not check its fall.

PRIYAMVADA [_thoughtfully_].--An idea strikes me, Anasuya. Let
Sakoontala write a love-letter; I will conceal it in a flower, and
contrive to drop it in the King's path. He will surely mistake it for
the remains of some sacred offering, and will, in all probability, pick
it up.

ANASUYA.--A very ingenious device! It has my entire approval; but what
says Sakoontala?

SAKOONTALA.--I must consider before I can consent to it.

PRIYAMVADA.--Could you not, dear Sakoontala, think of some pretty
composition in verse, containing a delicate declaration of your love?

SAKOONTALA.--Well, I will do my best; but my heart trembles when I think
of the chances of a refusal.

KING [_with rapture_].--Too timid maid, here stands the man from whom
Thou fearest a repulse; supremely blessed
To call thee all his own. Well might he doubt
His title to thy love; but how couldst thou
Believe thy beauty powerless to subdue him?

PRIYAMVADA AND ANASUYA.--You undervalue your own merits, dear
Sakoontala. What man in his senses would intercept with the skirt of his
robe the bright rays of the autumnal moon, which alone can allay the
fever of his body?

SAKOONTALA [_smiling_].--Then it seems I must do as I am bid.
[_Sits down and appears to be thinking._]

KING.--How charming she looks! My very eyes forget to wink, jealous of
losing even for an instant a sight so enchanting.
How beautiful the movement of her brow,
As through her mind love's tender fancies flow!
And, as she weighs her thoughts, how sweet to trace
The ardent passion mantling in her face!

SAKOONTALA.--Dear girls, I have thought of a verse, but I have no
writing-materials at hand.

PRIYAMVADA.--Write the letters with your nail on this lotus leaf, which
is smooth as a parrot's breast.

SAKOONTALA [_after writing the verse_].--Listen,