My dear friend, suggest some relief for my misery.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Come, come, cheer up; why do you give way? Such weakness is unworthy of you. Great men never surrender themselves to uncontrolled grief. Do not mountains remain unshaken even in a gale of wind?
KING.
How can I be otherwise than inconsolable, when I call to mind the agonized demeanour of the dear one on the occasion of my disowning her?
When cruelly I spurned her from my presence,
She fain had left me; but the young recluse,
Stern as the Sage, and with authority
As from his saintly master, in a voice
That brooked not contradiction, bade her stay.
Then through her pleading eyes, bedimmed with tears,
She cast on me one long reproachful look,
Which like a poisoned shaft torments me still.
SÁNUMATÍ. [Aside.
Alas! such is the force of self-reproach following a rash action. But his anguish only rejoices me.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA
An idea has just struck me. I should not wonder if some celestial being had carried her off to heaven.