l words
you said to me in an excess of passion, these I pardon you, my
beautiful, great-eyed darling, because you love me."

Then King Dushyanta gave the name Bharata to Shakuntala's son, and had
him anointed crown prince.

It is plain that this story contains the material for a good play; the
very form of the epic tale is largely dramatic. It is also plain, in a
large way, of what nature are the principal changes which a dramatist
must introduce in the original. For while Shakuntala is charming in
the epic story, the king is decidedly contemptible. Somehow or other,
his face must be saved.

To effect this, Kalidasa has changed the old story in three important
respects. In the first place, he introduces the curse of Durvasas,
clouding the king's memory, and saving him from moral responsibility
in his rejection of Shakuntala. That there may be an ultimate recovery
of memory, the curse is so modified as to last only until the king
shall see again the ring which he has given to his bride. To the
Hindu, curse and modification are matters of frequent occurrence; and
Kalidasa has so delicately managed the matter as not to shock even a
modern and Western reader with a feeling of strong improbability. Even
to us it seems a natural part of the divine cloud that envelops the
drama, in no way obscuring human passion, but rather giving to human
passion an unwonted largeness and universality.

In the second place, the poet makes Shakuntala undertake her journey
to the palace before her son is born. Obviously, the king's character
is thus made to appear in a better light, and a greater probability is
given to the whole story.

The third change is a necessary consequence of the first; for without
the curse, there could have been no separation, no ensuing remorse,
and no reunion.

But these changes do not of themselves make a drama out of the epic
tale. Large additions were also necessary, both of scenes and of
characters. We find, indeed, that only acts one and five, with a part
of act seven, rest upon the ancient text, while acts two, three, four,
and six, with most of seven, are a creation of the poet. As might have
been anticipated, the acts of the former group are more dramatic,
while those of the latter contribute more of poetical charm. It is
with these that scissors must be chiefly busy when the play--rather
too long for continuous presentation as it stands--is performed on the
stage.

In the epic there are but three