O Lady Neferte, this must be my excuse, that I have no choice.

By fortune, good or ill, I know not which, this day I beheld your face, and now but one desire is left to me, to behold it again, and for all my life.

Lady, the Goddess of Love, she, whom in Egypt you name Hathor, has made me her slave, so that I no longer think of pomp or power or wealth, or of other women, but of you and you only.

Lady, I would do you no harm, for I offer you half my throne.

You and you alone shall be my Queen.