I am, indeed, deeply in love; but cannot rashly disclose my passion to these young girls.
PRIYAMVADÁ.
What Anasúyá says, dear [S']akoontalá, is very just. Why give so little heed to your ailment? Every day you are becoming thinner; though I must confess your complexion is still as beautiful as ever.
KING.
Priyamvadá speaks most truly.
Sunk is her velvet cheek; her wasted bosom
Loses its fulness; e'en her slender waist
Grows more attenuate; her face is wan,
Her shoulders droop;—as when the vernal blasts
Sear the young blossoms of the Mádhaví[52],
Blighting their bloom; so mournful is the change.
Yet in its sadness, fascinating still,
Inflicted by the mighty lord of love
On the fair figure of the hermit's daughter.
[S']AKOONTALÁ.
Dear friends, to no one would I rather reveal the nature of my malady than to you; but I should only be troubling you.
PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ.
Nay, this is the very point about which we are so solicitous. Sorrow shared with affectionate friends is relieved of half its poignancy.