I want a hand to guide me,an eye to cheer me,a bosom to repose on;all which I shall never have,but shall stagger into my grave,old before my time,unloved and unlovely,unless S.L.keeps her faith with me.
--But by her dove's eyes and serpent-shape,I think she does not hate me;by her smooth forehead and her crested hair,I own I love her;by her soft looks and queen-like grace (which men might fall down and worship)I swear to live and die for her!
