_Januka_. He _is_ much obliged to the king. Just as if he had been taken from the stake and put on an elephant's back.

_Suchaka_. Chief, the reward shows that the king thought a lot of the ring. The gem must be worth something.

_Chief_. No, it wasn't the fine gem that pleased the king. It was this way.

_The two policemen_. Well?

_Chief_. I think, when the king saw it, he remembered somebody he loves. You know how dignified he is usually. But as soon as he saw it, he broke down for a moment.

_Suchaka_. You have done the king a good turn, chief.

_Januka_. All for the sake of this fish-killer, it seems to me. (_He looks enviously at the fisherman_.)

_Fisherman_. Take half of it, masters, to pay for something to drink.

_Januka_. Fisherman, you are the biggest and best friend I've got. The first thing we want, is all the brandy we can hold. Let's go where they keep it. (_Exeunt omnes_.)

SCENE II.--_In the Palace Gardens_

(_Enter_ MISHRAKESHI, _flying through the air_.)

_Mishrakeshi_. I have taken my turn in waiting upon the nymphs. And now I will see what this good king is doing. Shakuntala is like a second self to me, because she is the daughter of Menaka. And it was she who asked me to do this. (_She looks about_.) It is the day of the spring festival. But I see no preparations for a celebration at court.

I might learn the reason by my power of divination. But I must do as my friend asked me. Good! I will make myself invisible and stand near these girls who take care of the garden. I shall find out that way.

(_She descends to earth. Enter a maid, gazing at a mango branch, and behind her, a second_.)

_First maid_.

First mango-twig, so pink, so green, First living breath of spring, You are sacrificed as soon as seen, A festival offering.

_Second maid_. What are you chirping about to yourself, little cuckoo?

_First maid_. Why, little bee, you know that the cuckoo goes crazy with delight when she sees the mango-blossom.

_Second maid_ (_joyfully_). Oh, has the spring really come?

_First maid_. Yes, little bee. And this is the time when you too buzz about in crazy joy. _Second maid_. Hold me, dear, while I stand on tiptoe and offer this blossom to Love, the divine.

_First maid_. If I do, you must give me half the reward of the offering.

_Second maid_. That goes without saying, dear. We two are one. (_She leans on her friend and takes the mango-blossom_.) Oh, see! The mango-blossom hasn't opened, but it has broken the sheath, so it is fragrant. (_She brings her hands together_.) I worship mighty Love.

O mango-twig I give to Love As arrow for his bow, Most sovereign of his arrows five, Strike maiden-targets low.

(_She throws the twig. Enter the chamberlain_.)

_Chamberlain_ (_angrily_). Stop, silly girl. The king has strictly forbidden the spring festival. Do you dare pluck the mango-blossoms?

_The two maids_ (_frightened_). Forgive us, sir. We did not know.

_Chamberlain_. What! You have not heard the king's command, which is obeyed even by the trees of spring and the creatures that dwell in them. See!

The mango branches are in bloom, Yet pollen does not form; The cuckoo's song sticks in his throat, Although the days are warm;

The amaranth-bud is formed, and yet Its power of growth is gone; The love-G.o.d timidly puts by The arrow he has drawn.

_Mishrakeshi_. There is no doubt of it. This good king has wonderful power.

_First maid_. A few days ago, sir, we were sent to his Majesty by his brother-in-law Mitravasu to decorate the garden. That is why we have heard nothing of this affair.

_Chamberlain_. 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.