HINDU ART
is this one, leaning against the creeper which she has just sprinkled. Her face is hot and the flowers are dropping from her hair; for the ribbon is loosened. Her arms droop like weary branches; she has loosened her girdle, and she seems a little fatigued. This, I think, is the lady Shakoontala; the others are her friends.
King. You are good at guessing. Besides, here are proofs of my love.
See where discolorations faint
Of loving handling tell;
And here the swelling of the paint
Shows where my sad tears fell.
Chatoorika. I have not finished the background. Go, get the brushes. •••••• Clown. What are you going to add?
Mishrakeshi. Surely, every spot that the dear girl loved.
King. Listen, my friend.
The stream of Malini, and on its sands
The swan-pairs resting; holy foot-hill lands
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