You're a sharp-clawed,

Treacherous little peacock.

But you're food for the gods,

And I'm going to have all of you.

None of me.

Did you think my kiss was a promise

Of what you'll have?

No, my pompous one.

It was to let you know what you will not have.

I could never love you.

Does that matter?

You will be my wife.

You will come to me whenever I call you,

And I will enjoy that very much.

Whether you enjoy it or not is your own affair...

But I think you will.