In plain words
The second woman was Ahalyā, the very form of rajoguṇa: He freed her from the curse, shaped her anew into a pure being, consoled her husband Gautama, gave her back into his keeping, and went on His way. The third woman was Sītā; she was the very form of pure sattva, of a nature utterly clear. To Rāma, the very form of sattva, pure sattva alone was dear; and so He took Sītā as His bride.
In the same way, He first drew close to Him Guha, the very form of sattva. He made friends with Sugrīva, the very form of rajoguṇa. Vibhīṣaṇa, born in tamoguṇa, He shaped anew, rid him of his demon nature, gave him Bhakti and protected him. He slew Kumbhakarṇa, who through tamoguṇa took wrong for right and right for wrong, and fell into Ahaṅkāra and Ajñāna. Rāvaṇa, who would not listen to good counsel from anyone and was in the grip of folly, welcomed his utter ruin; through rajoguṇa he fell to the depths. Falling prey to Rāma's anger, he died on the battlefield in Rāma's presence. Then again, Vāli was truly a sāttvika enemy. At his last hour he worshipped Śrī Rāma as the supreme God, owned his wrong and prayed to be forgiven.
At this age, you must give up tamoguṇa as far as you can, keep the feelings of rajas down, and develop sattva in yourselves. This itself is the command of God. See with what great care, and how exactly to the letter, Lakṣmaṇa followed Rāma's command. Though it caused him a grief he could not bear, in Laṅkā he made ready the pit of fire for Sītādevī's ordeal. He carried out the savage task of leaving Sītā alone when she was great with child. Whatever it was, what of it? ‘It is Rāma's command’: so, with his eye on his duty, he fulfilled it. Within, he pined away; and yet, ‘What matter if it is the fire? What matter if it is the forest? Good and bad, the Paramātma knows,’ and with that he himself kept the command.
At last a great test came to Lakṣmaṇa too, an event in which he had to go against Rāma's command: Rudra, the very form of Time, came to tell Rāma that the hour had drawn near for Him to return to His own abode. Then Rāma called Lakṣmaṇa: ‘Stay right by the door. Let no one come; let no one in,’ He commanded. As ill luck would have it, at that very moment the great sage Durvāsa arrived and told him to open the door. Lakṣmaṇa held him back firmly, fell at his feet, pleaded with him earnestly and prayed him to wait. Is Durvāsa's anger a small matter? He made ready to curse. ‘I will burn you, and all the people of this Ayodhyā, to ashes,’ he threatened. Lakṣmaṇa, noble of heart, resolved, ‘Even if I am burned to ashes through Rāma, it is well; the people of Ayodhyā must not be burned to ashes through me,’ opened the door and let the sage in. Going against Rāma's command, Lakṣmaṇa, who was Ādiśeṣa, reached his own abode first.
Durvāsa's coming, too, came about by the will of Īśvara alone. Ordinary people do not understand this. In a moment it can change the whole world into a wonder: so powerful is that will. No man has yet been born who can say of the form of God, ‘It is this, it is that,’ nor will one be born hereafter; people only explain it somehow, each as his power of imagination allows and as it strikes him; but what they have seen is little, and what they have not seen is far more.