For she had eyes and chose me.
Before, I loved thee as a brother, John, But now, I do respect thee as my soul.
My love is as a fever, longing still.
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men.
Hopeless and helpless doth Egeon wend, But to procrastinate his liveless end.
Experience is by industry achieved, And perfected by the swift course of time.