ACTRESS,—­You, Sir, have so judiciously managed the cast of the characters, that nothing will be defective in the acting.

STAGE-MANAGER.—­Lady, I will tell you the exact state of the case. 
    No skill in acting can I deem complete,
    Till from the wise the actor gain applause: 
    Know that the heart e’en of the truly skilful,
    Shrinks from too boastful confidence in self.

ACTRESS [modestly].—­You judge correctly.  And now, what are your commands?

STAGE-MANAGER.—­What can you do better than engage the attention of the audience by some captivating melody?

ACTRESS.—­Which among the seasons shall I select as the subject of my song?

STAGE-MANAGER.—­You surely ought to give the preference to the present
Summer season that has but recently commenced, a season so rich in
enjoyment.  For now
    Unceasing are the charms of halcyon days,
    When the cool bath exhilarates the frame;
    When sylvan gales are laden with the scent
    Of fragrant Patalas; when soothing sleep
    Creeps softly on beneath the deepening shade;
    And when, at last, the dulcet calm of eve
    Entrancing steals o’er every yielding sense.

ACTRESS.—­I will. [Sings.
    Fond maids, the chosen of their hearts to please,
      Entwine their ears with sweet Sirisha flowers,
    Whose fragrant lips attract the kiss of bees
      That softly murmur through the summer hours.

STAGE-MANAGER.—­Charmingly sung!  The audience are motionless as statues, their souls riveted by the enchanting strain.  What subject shall we select for representation, that we may insure a continuance of their favor?

ACTRESS.—­Why not the same, Sir, announced by you at first?  Let the drama called “Sakoontala, or the Lost Ring,” be the subject of our dramatic performance.

STAGE-MANAGER.—­Rightly reminded!  For the moment I had forgotten it. 
    Your song’s transporting melody decoyed
    My thoughts, and rapt with ecstasy my soul;
    As now the bounding antelope allures
    The King Dushyanta on the chase intent. [Exeunt.

ACT FIRST

Scene.—­A Forest

Enter King Dushyanta, armed with a bow and arrow, in a chariot, chasing an antelope, attended by his Charioteer.

CHARIOTEER [looking at the deer, and then at the King].—­
Great Prince,
    When on the antelope I bend my gaze,
    And on your Majesty, whose mighty bow
    Has its string firmly braced; before my eyes
    The god that wields the trident seems revealed,
    Chasing the deer that flies from him in vain.