KING [rising].—Impossible! Have evil spirits power over my subjects, even in my private apartments? Well, well—
Daily I seem less able to avert
Misfortune from myself, and o'er my actions
Less competent to exercise control;
How can I then direct my subjects' ways,
Or shelter them from tyranny and wrong?
A VOICE [behind the scenes].—Halloo there! my dear friend; help! help!
KING [advancing with rapid strides].—Fear nothing—
THE SAME VOICE [behind the scenes].—Fear nothing, indeed! How can I help fearing when some monster is twisting back my neck, and is about to snap it as he would a sugarcane?
KING [looking round].—What ho there! my bow.
SLAVE [entering with a bow].—Behold your bow, Sire, and your arm-guard. [The king snatches up the bow and arrows.
ANOTHER VOICE [behind the scenes].—Here, thirsting for thy life-blood, will I slay thee, As a fierce tiger rends his struggling prey. Call now thy friend Dushyanta to thy aid; His bow is mighty to defend the weak; Yet all its vaunted power shall be as nought.
KING [with fury].—What! dares he defy me to my face? Hold there, monster! Prepare to die, for your time is come. [Stringing his bow.] Vetravatí, lead the way to the terrace.
VETRAVATÍ.—This way, Sire. [They advance in haste.