t of sleep:

As night by night in anxious thought I raise
This wasted arm to rest my sleepless head,
My jewelled bracelet, sullied by the tears
That trickle from my eyes in scalding streams,
Slips towards my elbow from my shrivelled wrist.
Oft I replace the bauble, but in vain;
So easily it spans the fleshless limb
That e'en the rough and corrugated skin,
Scarred by the bow-string, will not check its fall[54].

PRIYAMVADA.

An idea strikes me, Anasuya. Let [S']akoontala write a love-letter;
I will conceal it in a flower, and contrive to drop it in the
King's path. He will surely mistake it for the remains of some
sacred offering, and will, in all probability, pick it up.

ANASUYA.

A very ingenious device! It my entire approval; but what says
[S']akoontala?

[S']AKOONTALA.

I must consider before I can consent to it.

PRIYAMVADA.

Could, you not, dear [S']akoontala, think of some pretty
composition in verse, containing a delicate declaration of your
love?

[S']AKOONTALA.

Well, I will do my best; but my heart trembles when I think of
the chances of a refusal.

KING. [_With rapture_.

Too timid maid, here stands the man from whom
Thou fearest a repulse; supremely blessed
To call thee all his own. Well might he doubt
His title to thy love; but how could'st thou
Believe thy beauty powerless to subdue him?

PRIYAMVADA AND ANASUYA.

You undervalue your own merits, dear [S']akoontala. What man in his
senses would intercept with the skirt of his robe the bright rays
of the autumnal moon, which alone can allay the fever of his
body?

[S']AKOONTALA. [_Smiling_.

Then it seems I must do as I am bid.

[_Sits down and appears to be thinking_.

KING.

How charming she looks! My very eyes forget to wink, jealous of
losing even for an instant a sight so enchanting.

How beautiful the movement of her brow,
As through her mind love's tender fancies flow!
And, as she weighs her thoughts, how sweet to trace
The ardent passion mantling in her face!

[S']AKOONTALA.

Dear girls, I have thought of a verse, but I have no
writing-materials at hand.

PRIYAMVADA.

Write the letters with your nail on this lotus-leaf, which is
smooth as a parrot's breast.

[S']AKOONTALA. [_After writing the verse_.

Listen, dear friends, and tell me whe