ATTENDANT.--I see how it is. He pays me no manner of attention. [_Looking off the stage._] I wonder whether any of the hermits are about here. [_Seeing the King._] Kind Sir, could you come hither a moment and help me to release the young lion from the clutch of this child, who is teasing him in boyish play? KING [_approaching and smiling_].--Listen to me, thou child of a mighty saint. Dost thou dare show a wayward spirit here? Here, in this hallowed region? Take thou heed Lest, as the serpent's young defiles the sandal, Thou bring dishonor on the holy sage, Thy tender-hearted parent, who delights To shield from harm the tenants of the wood. ATTENDANT.--Gentle Sir, I thank you; but he is not the saint's son. KING.--His behavior and whole bearing would have led me to doubt it, had not the place of his abode encouraged the idea. [_Follows the child, and takes him by the hand, according to the request of the attendant. Speaking aside._ I marvel that the touch of this strange child Should thrill me with delight; if so it be, How must the fond caresses of a son Transport the father's soul who gave him being! ATTENDANT [_looking at them both_].--Wonderful! Prodigious! KING.--What excites your surprise, my good woman? ATTENDANT.--I am astonished at the striking resemblance between the child and yourself; and, what is still more extraordinary, he seems to have taken to you kindly and submissively, though you are a stranger to him. KING [_fondling the child_].--If he be not the son of the great sage, of what family does he come, may I ask? ATTENDANT.--Of the race of Puru. KING [_aside_].--What! are we, then, descended from the same ancestry? This, no doubt, accounts for the resemblance she traces between the child and me. Certainly it has always been an established usage among the princes of Puru's race, To dedicate the morning of their days To the world's weal, in palaces and halls, 'Mid luxury and regal pomp abiding; Then, in the wane of life, to seek release From kingly cares, and make the hallowed shade Of sacred trees their last asylum, where As hermits they may practise self-abasement, And bind themselves by rigid vows of penance. [_Aloud._] But how could mortals by their own power gain admission to this sacred region? ATTENDANT.--Your remark is just; but your wonder will cease when I tell you that his mother is the offspring of a celestial nymph, and gave him birth in the hallowed grove of Kaśyapa. KING [_aside_].--Strange that my hopes should be again excited! [_Aloud._] But what, let me ask, was the name of the prince whom she deigned to honor with her hand? ATTENDANT.--How could I think of polluting my lips by the mention of a wretch who had the cruelty to desert his lawful wife?