KING.—Oh! my dear friend, why were you so ill-natured as to tell me the truth?
While, all entranced, I gazed upon her picture,
My loved one seemed to live before my eyes,
Till every fibre of my being thrilled
With rapturous emotion. Oh! 'twas cruel
To dissipate the day-dream, and transform
The blissful vision to a lifeless image.
[Sheds tears.
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—Separated lovers are very difficult to please; but he seems more difficult than usual.
KING.—Alas! my dear Máthavya, why am I doomed to be the victim of perpetual disappointment?
Vain is the hope of meeting her in dreams,
For slumber night by night forsakes my couch:
And now that I would fain assuage my grief
By gazing on her portrait here before me,
Tears of despairing love obscure my sight.
SÁNUMATÍ [aside],—You have made ample amends for the wrong you did Śakoontalá in disowning her.
CHATURIKÁ [entering].—Victory to the King! I was coming along with the box of colors in my hand———
KING.—What now?
CHATURIKÁ.—When I met the Queen Vasumatí, attended by Taraliká. She insisted on taking it from me, and declared she would herself deliver it into your Majesty's hands.