— Has your heart ever been sick, Micheletto? There are some who would doubt I even have a heart, my lady. Well, Unfortunately, I do. And mine is weeping.
— You care so much for one you hardly know?
Yes. It is a puzzle. Or a mystery. Your visage is before my eyes when I'm asleep, when I wake, when I close them. I thought my eyes deceived me. Now I think, mine ears. Neither.