[Exit CHATURIKÁ.
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 vapours of the desert[94].
MÁ[T.]HAVYA. [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 favourite spot where my
[S']akoontalá delighted to ramble.
KING.
You shall hear:—