“I am your servant, O Chief of sages; put away your wrath and show mercy upon me. Anger will not mend the broken bow. Pray sit down; your legs must be aching. If you are very fond of it, let us devise some means to mend it by calling in some expert.” Janaka was frightened at Lakƒma˜a’s words and said, “Pray be quiet; it is not good to transgress the limits of propriety.” The people of the city trembled like aspen leaves; they said to themselves.” The younger prince is really very naughty.” As the chief of Bh¾gus heard the fearless words of Lakƒma˜a, his whole body burnt with rage and his strength diminished. In a condescending manner he said to RŒma,“I am sparing the boy because I know he is your younger brother. So fair without and foul within, he resembles a jar of gold full of poison.” (1—4)