Shakuntala, standing before King Dushyanta, spoke with earnestness and dignity. “Upholding my own duty, I have sought your protection,” she said. “You have made a promise to me, and therefore, you should not speak a false word. Having set aside my own duty, and now being abandoned, you remain my only protector. You, lord of men, should not forsake me, who am without fault.” With pain in her voice, she continued, “What evil deed did I commit before, O King, that I have been abandoned by my relatives in childhood, and now by you? Indeed, though you abandon me, I will return to the hermitage; but this child, your own son, you should not forsake.” But Dushyanta, overcome by doubt and suspicion, replied coldly, “I do not recognize this son as born from you and me, Shakuntala. Women speak untruths; who will believe your words? You shamelessly utter these unbelievable words, especially in my presence, O wicked ascetic woman. Go away.” He disparaged her further, “Where is that great sage, fierce in his austerities, and where is that apsara Menaka? And where are you, so pitiable, dressed as an ascetic woman? Your son is of great stature, and though a child, he is exceedingly strong. How has he grown so tall, like the trunk of a sala tree, in such a short time?” He continued his harsh accusations, “Your birth is most lowly; you seem to me a wanton woman. You were born from Menaka by chance, out of lustful desire. Everything you say to me is hidden, O ascetic woman. All women in the world are fickle, all are devoted to desire. All women are dependent on others, all are filled with anger; all women speak falsehoods. You should not speak to Kanva.” He spoke ill of her lineage, “Menaka, your mother, is without compassion, a dancer by profession, who was abandoned at the foot of the Himalaya like a discarded garland. And your father too, born of the warrior class, is without compassion—Viśvāmitra, greedy for Brahminhood, devoted to desire. The divine woman bore me, Viśvāmitra, as she wished. Ah, I know your birth, O degraded one, from ignoble people. Menaka is the best among apsaras, and your father is a great sage. Why then, as their child, do you speak like a wanton woman?” He mocked her upbringing, “You say your lineage is noble, but your birth is lowly. After giving birth to you, you were abandoned and raised by others, like a cuckoo’s chick. Your father Kanva, of poor judgment, raised you like a child born from misfortune. The words you speak, O ascetic woman, are not to be believed. Speaking thus in the presence of the king, go wherever you wish. Here are gold, jewels, pearls, garments, and ornaments. If you desire enjoyment, O ascetic woman, accept these. I do not wish to see you; go wherever you please from here.” Shakuntala, wounded but unwavering, responded with measured wisdom, “O king, you see the faults of others as small as a mustard seed, but your own, though as large as a bilva fruit, you see yet do not see. Menaka is among the gods, and the gods are with Menaka; my birth is exalted, Dushyanta, compared to yours. You walk upon the earth, O king, while I move in the sky; see the distance between us, like that between Mount Meru and a mustard seed. I have visited the palaces of Indra, Kubera, Yama, and Varuṇa; witness my power, O King.” She reminded him of ancient lineage, “Long ago, O best of men, a son was born to Urvaśī, named Āyus; he was your ancient forefather, O great king. Many great sages and mighty kṣatriyas, O subduer of foes, have been born from apsarases; among the sages, there is no fault in having such mothers.” Shakuntala then offered a lesson, “I will also tell you, O King, a saying that is true; hear it for the sake of illustration, not out of malice, and you should forgive it. As long as a deformed man does not see his own face in a mirror, he considers himself more handsome than others. But when he sees his ugly form reflected in the mirror, then he feels shame within himself, not because of other people. One who is exceedingly handsome does not look down on anyone; but one who is excessively talkative and harsh in speech becomes a troublemaker here. Elephants in rut rejoice when dust is thrown upon them; likewise, a wicked person becomes delighted when he slanders others.” She continued, “Even a confirmed non-believer is disturbed by a man who has fallen from truth and righteousness, just as one is by an angry venomous serpent—how much more so a believer? If a man, after producing a son like himself, despises him, the gods destroy his prosperity, and misfortune enters him. Misfortune quickly enters one who is unworthy, untruthful, impure, atheistic, wicked in deeds, or of bad conduct; but not those who walk in righteousness.” Shakuntala spoke of wisdom and folly, “A fool, upon hearing the words of men—good or bad—takes up the bad speech, just as a pig takes up filth. But a wise man, upon hearing the words of men—good or bad—takes up the virtuous speech, just as a swan extracts milk from water. One who knows his own wicked nature, being low and of troubled mind, also recognizes in others the qualities that accord with their own nature and duty. The lowly, burning with intense fire from others’ fame, are unable to reach that state, and so they resort to slander. Just as a virtuous person is pained when slandered by others, so too does a wicked person feel joy when he slanders others. Fools are especially fond of slander; the virtuous, on the other hand, are never devoted to slander. Just as a virtuous man, after greeting elders, attains satisfaction, so too does a fool feel content after insulting a good person.” Thus, Shakuntala, with dignity and wisdom, countered the king’s harsh words, revealing the truth of her lineage and the nature of virtue and vice.