he tree_.

MATALI.--Great King, I go. [_Exit._

KING [_feeling his arm throb_].--Wherefore this causeless throbbing, O
mine arm?
All hope has fled forever; mock me not
With presages of good, when happiness
Is lost, and nought but misery remains.

A VOICE [_behind the scenes_].--Be not so naughty. Do you begin already
to show a refractory spirit?

KING [_listening_].--This is no place for petulance. Who can it be whose
behavior calls for such a rebuke? [_Looking in the direction of the
sound and smiling_.] A child, is it? closely attended by two holy women.
His disposition seems anything but childlike. See,
He braves the fury of yon lioness
Suckling its savage offspring, and compels
The angry whelp to leave the half-sucked dug,
Tearing its tender mane in boisterous sport.

_Enter a child, attended by two women of the hermitage, In the manner
described_.

CHILD.--Open your mouth, my young lion, I want to count your teeth.

FIRST ATTENDANT.--You naughty child, why do you tease the animals? Know
you not that we cherish them in this hermitage as if they were our own
children? In good sooth, you have a high spirit of your own, and are
beginning already to do justice to the name Sarva-damana (All-taming),
given you by the hermits.

KING.--Strange! My heart inclines towards the boy with almost as much
affection as if he were my own child. What can be the reason? I suppose
my own childlessness makes me yearn towards the sons of others.

SECOND ATTENDANT.--This lioness will certainly attack you if you do not
release her whelp.

CHILD [_laughing_].--Oh! indeed! let her come. Much I fear her, to be
sure. [_Pouts his under-lip in defiance_.

KING.--The germ of mighty courage lies concealed
Within this noble infant, like a spark
Beneath the fuel, waiting but a breath
To fan the flame and raise a conflagration.

FIRST ATTENDANT.--Let the young lion go, like a dear child, and I will
give you something else to play with.

CHILD.--Where is it? Give it me first.
[_Stretches out his hand._

KING [_looking at his hand_].--How's this? His hand exhibits one of
those mystic marks which are the sure prognostic of universal empire.
See!
His fingers stretched in eager expectation
To grasp the wished-for toy, and knit together
By a close-woven web, in shape resemble
A lotus-blossom, whose expanding petals
The early dawn has only half unf