ACT VII
(Enter, in a chariot that flies through the air, the king and MATALI.)
King. Matali, though I have done what Indra commanded, I think myself an unprofitable servant, when I remember his most gracious welcome.
Matali. O King, know that each considers himself the other's debtor. For
You count the service given
Small by the welcome paid,
Which to the king of heaven
Seems mean for such brave aid.
King. Ah, no! For the honour given me at parting went far beyond imagination. Before the gods, he seated me beside him on his throne. And then
He smiled, because his son Jayanta's heart
Beat quicker, by the self-same wish oppressed,
And placed about my neck the heavenly wreath
Still fragrant from the sandal on his breast.
Matali. But what do you not deserve from heaven's king? Remember:
Twice, from peace-loving Indra's sway
The demon-thorn was plucked away:
First, by Man-lion's crooked claws;
Again, by your smooth shafts to-day.
King. This merely proves Indra's majesty. Remember:
All servants owe success in enterprise
To honour paid before the great deed's done;
Could dawn defeat the darkness otherwise
Than resting on the chariot of the sun?
Matali. The feeling becomes you. (After a little.) See, O King! Your glory has the happiness of being published abroad in heaven.
(Enter a small boy, as described, and two hermit-women.)
Boy. Open your mouth, cub. I want to count your teeth.
First woman. Naughty boy, why do you torment our pets? They are like children to us. Your energy seems to take the form of striking something. No wonder the hermits call you All-tamer.
King. Why should my heart go out to this boy as if he were my own son? (He reflects.) No doubt my childless state makes me sentimental.
Second woman. The lioness will spring at you if you don't let her baby go.
Boy (smiling). Oh, I'm dreadfully scared. (He bites his lip.)
King (in surprise).
The boy is seed of fire
Which, when it grows, will burn;
A tiny spark that soon
To awful flame may turn.
First woman. Let the little lion go, dear. I will give you another plaything.
Boy. Where is it? Give it to me. (He stretches out his hand.)
King (looking at the hand.) He has one of the imperial birthmarks! For
Between the eager fingers grow
The close-knit webs together drawn,
Like some lone lily opening slow
To meet the kindling blush of dawn.
Second woman. Suvrata, we can't make him stop by talking. Go. In my cottage you will find a painted clay peacock that belongs to the hermit-boy Mankanaka. Bring him that.
First woman. I will. (Exit.)
King (to himself). His mother's name is Shakuntala! But names are alike. I trust this hope may not prove a disappointment in the end, like a mirage.
Boy. I like this little peacock, sister. Can it fly? (He seizes the toy.)
(He does so.)
Shakuntala (sees more clearly and discovers the ring). My husband, it is the ring!
King. Yes. And when a miracle recovered it, my memory returned.
Shakuntala. That was why it was so impossible for me to win your confidence.
King. Then let the vine receive her flower, as earnest of her union with spring.
Shakuntala. I do not trust it. I would rather you wore it. (Enter MATALI.)
Matali. I congratulate you, O King, on reunion with your wife and on seeing the face of your son.
King. My desires bear sweeter fruit because fulfilled through a friend. Matali, was not this matter known to Indra?
Matali (smiling). What is hidden from the gods? Come. Marichi's holy son, Kashyapa, wishes to see you.
King. My dear wife, bring our son. I could not appear without you before the holy one.
Shakuntala. I am ashamed to go before such parents with my husband.
King. It is the custom in times of festival. Come. (They walk about. KASHYAPA appears seated, with ADITI.)
Kashyapa (looking at the king). Aditi,
’Tis King Dushyanta, he who goes before
Your son in battle, and who rules the earth,
Whose bow makes Indra's weapon seem no more
Than a fine plaything, lacking sterner worth.
Aditi. His valour might be inferred from his appearance.
Matali. O King, the parents of the gods look upon you with a glance that betrays parental fondness. Approach them.
(Exeunt omnes.)