King (after meditating a moment). Help me, my friend.
Clown. But, man, this isn't right at all. A good man never lets grief get the upper hand. The mountains are calm even in a tempest.
King. My friend, I am quite forlorn. I keep thinking of her pitiful state when I rejected her. Thus:
When I denied her, then she tried
To join her people. "Stay," one cried,
Her father's representative.
She stopped, she turned, she could but give
A tear-dimmed glance to heartless me—
That arrow burns me poisonously.
Mishrakeshi. How his fault distresses him!
Clown. Well, I don't doubt it was some heavenly being that carried her away.
King. Who else would dare to touch a faithful wife? Her friends told me that Menaka was her mother. My heart persuades me that it was she, or companions of hers, who carried Shakuntala away.
Mishrakeshi. His madness was wonderful, not his awakening reason.
Clown. But in that case, you ought to take heart. You will meet her again.
King. How so?