Mishrakeshi. I am glad to hear it.
Chamberlain. His Majesty's sorrow has forbidden the festival.
The two maids. It is only right.
A voice behind the scenes. Follow me.
Chamberlain (listening). Ah, his Majesty approaches. Go, and attend to your duties. (Exeunt the two maids. Enter the king, wearing a dress indicative of remorse; the clown, and the portress.)
Chamberlain (observing the king). A beautiful figure charms in whatever state. Thus, his Majesty is pleasing even in his sorrow. For
All ornament is laid aside; he wears
One golden bracelet on his wasted arm;
His lip is scorched by sighs; and sleepless cares
Redden his eyes. Yet all can work no harm
On that magnificent beauty, wasting, but
Gaining in brilliance, like a diamond cut.
Mishrakeshi (observing the king). No wonder Shakuntala pines for him, even though he dishonoured her by his rejection of her.
King (walks about slowly, sunk in thought).
Alas! My smitten heart, that once lay sleeping,
Heard in its dreams my fawn-eyed love's laments,
And wakened now, awakens but to weeping,
To bitter grief, and tears of penitence.