My master, the venerable Kanwa, who is but lately returned from his pilgrimage, has ordered me to ascertain how the time goes. I have therefore come into the open air to see if it be still dark. (Walking and looking about.) Oh! the dawn has already broken. Lo! in one quarter of the sky, the Moon, Lord of the herbs and night-expanding flowers, Sinks towards his bed behind the western hills; While in the east, preceded by the Dawn, His blushing charioteer (59), the glorious Sun Begins his course, and far into the gloom Casts the first radiance of his orient beams. Hail! co-eternal orbs, that rise to set, And set to rise again; symbols divine Of man's reverses, life's vicissitudes. And now, While the round Moon withdraws his looming disc Beneath the western sky, the full-blown flower Of the night-loving lotus (60) sheds her leave In sorrow for his loss, bequeathing nought But the sweet memory of her loveliness To my bereaved sight; e'en as the bride Disconsolately mourns her absent lord, And yields her heart a prey to anxious grief. ANASÚYÁ. (Entering abruptly. Little as I know of the ways of the world, I cannot help thinking that King Dushyanta is treating [S') akoontalá very improperly.

Pupil Monologue from Sakoontala; Or, The Lost Ring: An Indian Drama

Rehearse Pupil's monologue