SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—He longs, no doubt, to delineate some favorite spot where my dear Śakoontalá delighted to ramble.
KING.—You shall hear———
I wish to see the Máliní portrayed,
Its tranquil course by banks of sand impeded—
Upon the brink a pair of swans: beyond,
The hills adjacent to Himálaya,
Studded with deer; and, near the spreading shade
Of some large tree, where 'mid the branches hang
The hermits' vests of bark, a tender doe,
Rubbing its downy forehead on the horn
Of a black antelope, should be depicted.
MÁTHAVYA [aside].—Pooh! if I were he, I would fill up the vacant spaces with a lot of grizzly-bearded old hermits.
KING.—My dear Máthavya, there is still a part of Śakoontalá's dress which I purposed to draw, but find I have omitted.
MÁTHAVYA.—What is that?
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—Something suitable, I suppose, to the simple attire of a young and beautiful girl dwelling in a forest.
KING.—A sweet Śirísha blossom should be twined
Behind her ear, its perfumed crest depending
Towards her cheek; and, resting on her bosom,
A lotus-fibre necklace, soft and bright
As an autumnal moon-beam, should be traced.
MÁTHAVYA.—Pray, why does the Queen cover her lips with the tips of her fingers, bright as the blossom of a lily, as if she were afraid of something? [Looking more closely.] Oh! I see; a vagabond bee, intent on thieving the honey of flowers, has mistaken her mouth for a rose-bud, and is trying to settle upon it.