CHATURIKÁ.--Worthy Máthavya, have the kindness to hold the picture until I return. KING.--Nay, I will hold it myself. [_Takes the picture. Exit Chaturiká_. KING.--My loved one came but lately to my presence And offered me herself, but in my folly I spurned the gift, and now I fondly cling To her mere image; even as a madman Would pass the waters of the gushing stream, And thirst for airy vapors of the desert. MÁTHAVYA [_aside_].--He has been fool enough to forego the reality for the semblance, the substance for the shadow. [_Aloud._] Tell us, I pray, what else remains to be painted. SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--He longs, no doubt, to delineate some favorite spot where my dear Śakoontalá delighted to ramble. KING.--You shall hear------ I wish to see the Máliní portrayed, Its tranquil course by banks of sand impeded-- Upon the brink a pair of swans: beyond, The hills adjacent to Himálaya, Studded with deer; and, near the spreading shade Of some large tree, where 'mid the branches hang The hermits' vests of bark, a tender doe, Rubbing its downy forehead on the horn Of a black antelope, should be depicted. MÁTHAVYA [_aside_].--Pooh! if I were he, I would fill up the vacant spaces with a lot of grizzly-bearded old hermits. KING.--My dear Máthavya, there is still a part of Śakoontalá's dress which I purposed to draw, but find I have omitted. MÁTHAVYA.--What is that? SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--Something suitable, I suppose, to the simple attire of a young and beautiful girl dwelling in a forest. KING.--A sweet Śirísha blossom should be twined Behind her ear, its perfumed crest depending Towards her cheek; and, resting on her bosom, A lotus-fibre necklace, soft and bright As an autumnal moon-beam, should be traced. MÁTHAVYA.--Pray, why does the Queen cover her lips with the tips of her fingers, bright as the blossom of a lily, as if she were afraid of something? [_Looking more closely_.] Oh! I see; a vagabond bee, intent on thieving the honey of flowers, has mistaken her mouth for a rose-bud, and is trying to settle upon it. KING.--A bee! drive off the impudent insect, will you? MÁTHAVYA.--That's your business. Your royal prerogative gives you power over all offenders. KING.--Very true. Listen to me, thou favorite guest of flowering plants; why give thyself the trouble of hovering here? See where thy partner sits on yonder flower, And waits for thee ere she will sip its dew. SÁNUMATÍ [_aside_].--A most polite way of warning him off! MÁTHAVYA.--You'll find the obstinate creature is not to be sent about his business so easily as you think. KING.--Dost thou presume to disobey? Now hear me-- An thou but touch the lips of my beloved, Sweet as the opening blossom, whence I quaffed In happier days love's nectar, I will place thee Within the hollow of yon lotus cup, And there imprison thee for thy presumption.