Who has wronged you, beloved? asks the king. Who has two heads, whom does Yama want? Tell me which pauper to make a king, which king to banish. I could kill your enemy were he immortal; what are mere men and women? You know my nature: my mind is a chakora living on the moon of your face. My life, my sons, all I own, my household and subjects are in your power. If I deceive you, may a hundred oaths of Rama bind me. Smile, ask what you wish, adorn yourself, and put off this wretched dress. Weighing that great oath, the dull-minded queen rises smiling and puts on her jewels, like a huntress setting her snare on sighting the deer.