[S']AKOONTALÁ.

Good Anasúyá, Priyamvadá has drawn this bark-dress too tightly
about my chest. I pray thee, loosen it a little.

ANASÚYÁ.

I will. [_Loosens it_.

PRIYAMVADÁ. [_Smiling_.

Why do you lay the blame on me? Blame rather your own blooming
youthfulness which imparts fulness to your bosom.

KING.

A most just observation!

This youthful form, whose bosom's swelling charms
By the bark's knotted tissue are concealed,
Like some fair bud close folded in its sheath,
Gives not to view the blooming of its beauty.

But what am I saying? In real truth this bark-dress,
though ill-suited to her figure, sets it off like an ornament.

The lotus[20] with the [S']aivala[21] entwined
Is not a whit less brilliant; dusky spots