Her waist is weary and her face is pale:
She fades for love; oh, pitifully sweet!
As vine-leaves wither in the scorching heat.

_Shakuntala_ (_sighing_). I could not tell any one else. But I shall
be a burden to you.

_The two friends_. That is why we insist on knowing, dear. Grief must
be shared to be endured.

_King_.

To friends who share her joy and grief
She tells what sorrow laid her here;
She turned to look her love again
When first I saw her--yet I fear!

_Shakuntala_. Ever since I saw the good king who protects the pious
grove--(_She stops and fidgets_.)

_The two friends_. Go on, dear.

_Shakuntala_. I love him, and it makes me feel like this.

_The two friends_. Good, good! You have found a lover worthy of your
devotion. But of course, a great river always runs into the sea.

_King_ (_joyfully_). I have heard what I longed to hear.

'Twas love that caused the burning pain;
'Tis love that eases it again;
As when, upon a sultry day,
Rain breaks, and washes grief away.

_Shakuntala_. Then, if you think best, make the good king take pity
upon me. If not, remember that I was. _King_. Her words end all
doubt.

_Priyamvada_ (_aside to_ ANUSUYA). Anusuya, she is far gone in love
and cannot endure any delay.

_Anusuya_. Priyamvada, can you think of any scheme by which we could
carry out her wishes quickly and secretly?

_Priyamvada_. We must plan about the "secretly." The "quickly" is not
hard.

_Anusuya_. How so?

_Priyamvada_. Why, the good king shows his love for her in his tender
glances, and he has been wasting away, as if he were losing sleep.

_King_. It is quite true.

The hot tears, flowing down my cheek
All night on my supporting arm
And on its golden bracelet, seek
To stain the gems and do them harm.

The bracelet slipping o'er the scars
Upon the wasted arm, that show
My deeds in hunting and in wars,
All night is moving to and fro.

_Priyamvada_ (_reflecting_). Well, she must write him a love-letter.
And I will hide it in a bunch of flowers and see that it gets into the
king's hand as if it were a relic of the sacrifice.

_Anusuya_. It is a pretty plan, dear, and it pleases me. What does
Shakuntala say?

_Shakuntala_. I suppose I must obey orders.

_Priyamvada_. Then compose a pretty little love-song, with a hint of
yourself in it.

_Shakuntala_. I'll try. But my heart trembles, for fear he will
despise me.

_King_.