“Who is it, my dear, that has harmed you? Who is there with a head to spare and who is it that is courted by death? Tell me what pauper I should exalt to the position of a king and what monarch I should banish from his kingdom? I could slay even an immortal, were he your enemy; of what account, then, are men and women, who are mere worms as it were? You know my disposition, O beautiful lady; my mind is enamoured of your face as the Cakora bird is of the moon. O my beloved, my people and my family and all that I possess, my sons, nay, my life itself are all at your disposal. If I tell you anything insincerely, O good lady, I should be guilty of falsely swearing by RŒma a hundred times. Ask with a cheerful countenance whatever pleases your mind and adorn your charming limbs with jewels. Distinguish within yourself between an opportune and inopportune hour and give up, my darling, this unbecoming attire at once.” (1—4)