Rene: Oh Poet, you speak as if she is all of your entertainment and have forgotten me. Am I not a pleasure to your soul, am I not the boy you love to kiss in the rising of the sun. although I do not compare our loves yet am I meaningless to you when you speak so lofty of her.
Poet: Oh Rene, let my tongue be cut if I have offended thee; you are to me many waters, the refreshing of my soul, the comfort of my misery. But I am a man weak to her affection, I speak without sense and live when I see her a clueless man. Oh she is to me the magic of life, the limit of all beauty and joy.
Rene: Poet my sweetness, refrain from making her an idol for she is not God
Poet: AH! she may not be but it is evidence that she is the daughter of God for only such hands could make such beauty.
Rene: Oh foolish poet, utter no such blasphemies for we know that God only has a Son. Nevetheless come with me.
Poet: Whereto my love?
(he grabs Poet and led him gently to the mouth of the river where they collected colourful pebbles for their evening adventure).