(<em>Enter the clown</em>.)
<em>Clown</em> (<em>sighing</em>). Damn! Damn! Damn! I'm tired of being friends with this sporting king. "There's a deer!" he shouts, "There's a boar!" And off he chases on a summer noon through woods where shade is few and far between. We drink hot, stinking water from the mountain streams, flavoured with leaves--nasty! At odd times we get a little tepid meat to eat. And the horses and the elephants make such a noise that I can't even be comfortable at night. Then the hunters and the bird-chasers--damn 'em--wake me up bright and early. They do make an ear-splitting rumpus when they start for the woods. But even that isn't the whole misery. There's a new pimple growing on the old boil. He left us behind and went hunting a deer. And there in a hermitage they say he found--oh, dear! oh, dear! he found a hermit-girl named Shakuntala. Since then he hasn't a thought of going back to town. I lay awake all night, thinking about it. What can I do? Well, I'll see my friend when he is dressed and beautified. (<em>He walks and looks about</em>.) Hello! Here he comes, with his bow in his hand, and his girl in his heart. He is wearing a wreath of wild flowers! I'll pretend to be all knocked up. Perhaps I can get a rest that way. (<em>He stands, leaning on his staff. Enter the king, as described</em>.)
<em>King</em> (<em>to himself</em>).
<pre> Although my darling is not lightly won,
She seemed to love me, and my hopes are bright;
Though love be balked ere joy be well begun,
A common longing is itself delight.</pre>
(<em>Smiling</em>.) Thus does a lover deceive himself. He judges his love's feelings by his own desires.
<pre> Her glance was loving--but 'twas not for me;
Her step was slow--'twas grace, not coquetry;
Her speech was short--to her detaining friend.
In things like these love reads a selfish end!</pre>
<em>Clown</em> (<em>standing as before</em>). Well, king, I can't move my hand. I can only greet you with my voice.
<em>King</em> (<em>looking and smiling</em>). What makes you lame?
<em>Clown</em>. Good! You hit a man in the eye, and then ask him why the tears come.
<em>King</em>. I do not understand you. Speak plainly.
<em>Clown</em>. When a reed bends over like a hunchback, do you blame the reed or the river-current?
<em>King</em>. The river-current, of course.
<em>Clown</em>. And you are to blame for my troubles.
<em>King</em>. How so?
<em>Clown</em>. It's a fine thing for you to neglect your royal duties and such a sure job--to live in the woods! What's the good of talking? Here I am, a Brahman, and my joints are all shaken up by this eternal running after wild animals, so that I can't move. Please be good to me. Let us have a rest for just one day.
<em>King</em> (<em>to himself</em>). He says this. And I too, when I remember Kanva's daughter, have little desire for the chase. For
<pre> The bow is strung, its arrow near;
And yet I cannot bend
That bow against the fawns who share
Soft glances with their friend.</pre>
<em>Clown</em> (<em>observing the king</em>). He means more than he says. I might as well weep in the woods.
<em>King</em> (<em>smiling</em>). What more could I mean? I have been thinking that I ought to take my friend's advice.
<em>Clown</em> (<em>cheerfully</em>). Long life to you, then. (<em>He unstiffens</em>.)
<em>King</em>. Wait. Hear me out.
<em>Clown</em>. Well, sir?
<em>King</em>. When you are rested, you must be my companion in another task--an easy one.
<em>Clown</em>. Crushing a few sweetmeats?
<em>King</em>. I will tell you presently.
<em>Clown</em>. Pray command my leisure.
<em>King</em>. Who stands without? (<em>Enter the door-keeper</em>.)
<em>Door-keeper</em>. I await your Majesty's commands.
<em>King</em>. Raivataka, summon the general.
<em>Door-keeper</em>. Yes, your Majesty. (<em>He goes out, then returns with the general</em>.) Follow me, sir. There is his Majesty, listening to our conversation. Draw near, sir.
<em>General</em> (<em>observing the king, to himself</em>). Hunting is declared to be a sin, yet it brings nothing but good to the king. See!
<pre> He does not heed the cruel sting
Of his recoiling, twanging string;
The mid-day sun, the dripping sweat
Affect him not, nor make him fret;
His form, though sinewy and spare,
Is most symmetrically fair;
No mountain-elephant could be
More filled with vital strength than he.</pre>
(<em>He approaches</em>.) Victory to your Majesty! The forest is full of deer-tracks, and beasts of prey cannot be far off. What better occupation could we have?
<em>King</em>. Bhadrasena, my enthusiasm is broken. Madhavya has been preaching against hunting.
<em>General</em> (<em>aside to the clown</em>). Stick to it, friend Madhavya. I will humour the king a moment. (<em>Aloud</em>.) Your Majesty, he is a chattering idiot. Your Majesty may judge by his own case whether hunting is an evil. Consider:
<pre> The hunter's form grows sinewy, strong, and light;
He learns, from beasts of prey, how wrath and fright
Affect the mind; his skill he loves to measure
With moving targets. 'Tis life's chiefest pleasure.</pre>
<em>Clown</em> (<em>angrily</em>). Get out! Get out with your strenuous life! The king has come to his senses. But you, you son of a slave-wench, can go chasing from forest to forest, till you fall into the jaws of some old bear that is looking for a deer or a jackal.
<em>King</em>. Bhadrasena, I cannot take your advice, because I am in the vicinity of a hermitage. So for to-day
<pre> The horn