rlain_. You must not do so again.

_The two maids_. But we are curious. If we girls may know about it,
pray tell us, sir. Why did his Majesty forbid the spring festival?
_Mishrakeshi_. Kings are fond of celebrations. There must be some good
reason.

_Chamberlain_ (_to himself_). It is in everybody's mouth. Why should I
not tell it? (_Aloud_.) Have you heard the gossip concerning
Shakuntala's rejection?

_The two maids_. Yes, sir. The king's brother-in-law told us, up to
the point where the ring was recovered.

_Chamberlain_. There is little more to tell. When his Majesty saw the
ring, he remembered that he had indeed contracted a secret marriage
with Shakuntala, and had rejected her under a delusion. And then he
fell a prey to remorse.

He hates the things he loved; he intermits
The daily audience, nor in judgment sits;
Spends sleepless nights in tossing on his bed;
At times, when he by courtesy is led
To address a lady, speaks another name,
Then stands for minutes, sunk in helpless shame.

_Mishrakeshi_. I am glad to hear it.

_Chamberlain_. His Majesty's sorrow has forbidden the festival.

_The two maids_. It is only right.

_A voice behind the scenes_. Follow me.

_Chamberlain_ (_listening_). Ah, his Majesty approaches. Go, and
attend to your duties. (_Exeunt the two maids. Enter the king, wearing
a dress indicative of remorse; the clown, and the portress_.)

_Chamberlain_ (_observing the king_). A beautiful figure charms in
whatever state. Thus, his Majesty is pleasing even in his sorrow. For

All ornament is laid aside; he wears
One golden bracelet on his wasted arm;
His lip is scorched by sighs; and sleepless cares
Redden his eyes. Yet all can work no harm
On that magnificent beauty, wasting, but
Gaining in brilliance, like a diamond cut.

_Mishrakeshi_ (_observing the king_). No wonder Shakuntala pines for
him, even though he dishonoured her by his rejection of her.

_King_ (_walks about slowly, sunk in thought_).

Alas! My smitten heart, that once lay sleeping,
Heard in its dreams my fawn-eyed love's laments,
And wakened now, awakens but to weeping,
To bitter grief, and tears of penitence.

_Mishrakeshi_. That is the poor girl's fate.

_Clown_ (_to himself_). He has got his Shakuntala-sickness again. I
wish I knew how to cure him.

_Chamberlain (advancing)_. Victory to your Majesty. I have examined
the garden. Your Majesty may visit its retreats.