Rene: Charming Poet, the Sun is soon to rise and we must go by the hill to arrest the cascade of the water fall. Arise from your rest.
Poet: The Morning is gentle, soft to my soul, yet I am awaken from my dream. I could cry Rene but my speech of it will release the pain of your insensitivity.
Rene: Oh Poet, you are indeed true to your fancy. Declare your speech to me.
Poet: I did dream that I saw her in a dress and wearing a stunted skirt than usual but with great modesty. I cannot abolish her from my reverie and desires and when she appears it is continuously with a superior taste. But I doubt Rene that she will ever be mine for I am most unworthy of her gaze and yet it is impossible for me to resist her. I did entertain the solemn thought that if I should remain an enuch for the rest of my days, that I would adopt a young child and raise her up according to her manners and call her her name, and if by grace I should posses a seed of my own her name will flourish my daughter's face.
Rene: Ah Poet, I do wonder when your fancy will be yours; perhaps she entertains the same with her girls, (Rene laughs). Arise and let us wet our heads. (Poet wrestled him to the ground with delightful cheer and off they went to the hill).