ACT II THE SECRET
Project Gutenberg EPUB edition
Kālidāsa and Ryder, Arthur W. (Arthur William)
ACT II THE SECRET
(Enter the clown.)
Clown (sighing). Damn! Damn! Damn! I'm tired of being friends with this sporting king. "There's a deer!" he shouts, "There's a boar!" And off he chases on a summer noon through woods where shade is few and far between. We drink hot, stinking water from the mountain streams, flavoured with leaves—nasty! At odd times we get a little tepid meat to eat. And the horses and the elephants make such a noise that I can't even be comfortable at night. Then the hunters and the bird-chasers—damn 'em—wake me up bright and early. They do make an ear-splitting rumpus when they start for the woods. But even that isn't the whole misery. There's a new pimple growing on the old boil. He left us behind and went hunting a deer. And there in a hermitage they say he found—oh, dear! oh, dear! he found a hermit-girl named Shakuntala. Since then he hasn't a thought of going back to town. I lay awake all night, thinking about it. What can I do? Well, I'll see my friend when he is dressed and beautified. (He walks and looks about.) Hello! Here he comes, with his bow in his hand, and his girl in his heart. He is wearing a wreath of wild flowers! I'll pretend to be all knocked up. Perhaps I can get a rest that way. (He stands, leaning on his staff. Enter the king, as described.)
King (to himself).
Although my darling is not lightly won, She seemed to love me, and my hopes are bright; Though love be balked ere joy be well begun, A common longing is itself delight.
(Smiling.) Thus does a lover deceive himself. He judges his love's feelings by his own desires.
Her glance was loving—but 'twas not for me; Her step was slow—'twas grace, not coquetry; Her speech was short—to her detaining friend. In things like these love reads a selfish end!
Clown (standing as before). Well, king, I can't move my hand. I can only greet you with my voice.
King (looking and smiling). What makes you lame?
Clown. Good! You hit a man in the eye, and then ask him why the tears come.
King. I do not understand you. Speak plainly.
Clown. When a reed bends over like a hunchback, do you blame the reed or the river-current?
King. The river-current, of course.
Clown. And you are to blame for my troubles.
King. How so?
Clown. It's a fine thing for you to neglect your royal duties and such a sure job—to live in the woods! What's the good of talking? Here I am, a Brahman, and my joints are all shaken up by this eternal running after wild animals, so that I can't move. Please be good to me. Let us have a rest for just one day.
King (to himself). He says this. And I too, when I remember Kanva's daughter, have little desire for the chase. For
The bow is strung, its arrow near; And yet I cannot bend That bow against the fawns who share Soft glances with their friend.
Clown (observing the king). He means more than he says. I might as well weep in the woods.
King (smiling). What more could I mean? I have been thinking that I ought to take my friend's advice.
Clown (cheerfully). Long life to you, then. (He unstiffens.)
King. Wait. Hear me out.
Clown. Well, sir?
King. When you are rested, you must be my companion in another task—an easy one.
Clown. Crushing a few sweetmeats?
King. I will tell you presently.
Clown. Pray command my leisure.
King. Who stands without? (Enter the door-keeper.)
Door-keeper. I await your Majesty's commands.
King. Raivataka, summon the general.
Door-keeper. Yes, your Majesty. (He goes out, then returns with the general.) Follow me, sir. There is his Majesty, listening to our conversation. Draw near, sir.
General (observing the king, to himself). Hunting is declared to be a sin, yet it brings nothing but good to the king. See!
He does not heed the cruel sting Of his recoiling, twanging string; The mid-day sun, the dripping sweat Affect him not, nor make him fret; His form, though sinewy and spare, Is most symmetrically fair; No mountain-elephant could be More filled with vital strength than he.
(He approaches.) Victory to your Majesty! The forest is full of deer-tracks, and beasts of prey cannot be far off. What better occupation could we have?
King. Bhadrasena, my enthusiasm is broken. Madhavya has been preaching against hunting.
General (aside to the clown). Stick to it, friend Madhavya. I will humour the king a moment. (Aloud.) Your Majesty, he is a chattering idiot. Your Majesty may judge by his own case whether hunting is an evil. Consider:
The hunter's form grows sinewy, strong, and light; He learns, from beasts of prey, how wrath and fright Affect the mind; his skill he loves to measure With moving targets. 'Tis life's chiefest pleasure.
Clown (angrily). Get out! Get out with your strenuous life! The king has come to his senses. But you, you son of a slave-wench, can go chasing from forest to forest, till you fall into the jaws of some old bear that is looking for a deer or a jackal.
King. Bhadrasena, I cannot take your advice, because I am in the vicinity of a hermitage. So for to-day
The hornèd buffalo may shake The turbid water of the lake; Shade-seeking deer may chew the cud, Boars trample swamp-grass in the mud; The bow I bend in hunting, may Enjoy a listless holiday.