CHAMBERLAIN [_gazing at the King_].--Well, noble forms are certainly pleasing, under all varieties of outward circumstances. The King's person is as charming as ever, notwithstanding his sorrow of mind. Though but a single golden bracelet spans His wasted arm; though costly ornaments Have given place to penitential weeds; Though oft-repeated sighs have blanched his lips, And robbed them of their bloom; though sleepless care And carking thought have dimmed his beaming eye; Yet does his form, by its inherent lustre, Dazzle the gaze; and, like a priceless gem Committed to some cunning polisher, Grow more effulgent by the loss of substance. SÁNUMATÍ [_aside. Looking at the King_].--Now that I have seen him, I can well understand why Śakoontalá should pine after such a man, in spite of his disdainful rejection of her. KING [_walking slowly up and down, in deep thought_].-- When fatal lethargy overwhelmed my soul, My loved one strove to rouse me, but in vain:-- And now when I would fain in slumber deep Forget myself, full soon remorse doth wake me. SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--My poor Śakoontalá's sufferings are very similar. MÁTHAVYA [_aside_].--He is taken with another attack of this odious Śakoontalá fever. How shall we ever cure him? CHAMBERLAIN [_approaching_].--Victory to the King! Great Prince, the royal pleasure-grounds have been put in order. Your Majesty can resort to them for exercise and amusement whenever you think proper. KING.--Vetravatí, tell the worthy Piśuna, my prime minister, from me, that I am so exhausted by want of sleep that I cannot sit on the judgment-seat to-day. If any case of importance be brought before the tribunal he must give it his best attention, and inform me of the circumstances by letter. VETRAVATÍ.--Your Majesty's commands shall be obeyed. [_Exit._ KING [_to the Chamberlain_].--And you, Vátáyana, may go about your own affairs. CHAMBERLAIN.--I will, Sire. [_Exit._ MÁTHAVYA.--Now that you have rid yourself of these troublesome fellows, you can enjoy the delightful coolness of your pleasure-grounds without interruption. KING.--Ah! my dear friend, there is an old adage--"When affliction has a mind to enter, she will find a crevice somewhere"--and it is verified in me. Scarce is my soul delivered from the cloud That darkened its remembrance of the past, When lo! the heart-born deity of love With yonder blossom of the mango barbs His keenest shaft, and aims it at my breast. MÁTHAVYA.--Well, then, wait a moment; I will soon demolish Master Káma's arrow with a cut of my cane. [_Raises his stick and strikes off the mango-blossom._ KING [_smiling_].--That will do. I see very well the god of Love is not a match for a Bráhman. And now, my dear friend, where shall I sit down, that I may enchant my sight by gazing on the twining plants, which seem to remind me of the graceful shape of my beloved?