Chakotay: Prithee Kathryn, pray be still. Upon, mine Elder’s soul,

Thy constant pacing will drive me directly to be mad!

Janeway: Fie Chakotay! I will not. Fie, I refuse!

Chakotay: Come to bed.

Janeway: I cannot.

How canst thou be so cold?

Chakotay: 'Tis deep night. Thou lookst weary.

Janeway: My predicament,

means naught to a fellow who lacks all show of emotion.

Chakotay: I am no Sullen Vulcan!

Janeway: Imperturbable Villain!

Chakotay: Untrue. My blood's heat is clearly not in contest.

Janeway: Thou talkst of sleep as thy Queen frets in turbulence!

Chakotay: I find the closing of one's eyes a much demand’d state:

At Eventide, when rest is much required,

no being should deny the call of bed.

With me adjoin, mine Irritated Love.

Thou art like a frog hopping up and down.

These perpetual motions now must quit!

Janeway: O Lowly Knight, charge me not to cease my movements.

Chakotay: Do not cease thy movements, then. Still, if thou must move,

Shift thine action to our cot: 'neath me in Copulation.

Janeway: Dirty Knave. The brig's the place for brains with thoughts like thine.

Chakotay: (He sighs) In faith, Kat, thou hast been thickly treading yon carpet thin.

With the tickings o' the clock, I'm dizzy from the view.

Janeway: Thou art dizzy for thy brain is much like a pea.

Chakotay: A pea?

Janeway: A pea! Or more exact: A tiny rubber ball. 1

It skips within a skull too large --uncaught: not used at all.

Chakotay: Hard Wench!

Janeway: Pea Brain!

Chakotay: That insult hath brought me low.

Janeway: Forgive me Sweet, for my worries do me consume.

They drive me into a stir. This will end tonight. Call Torres. She’ll mend my wounds with her expertise.

Chakotay: Thine Unruly Engineer's doubtlessly a bed,

wrap'd tight in the muscle'd arms of our Helmboy Tom.

Is it wise, to wake The Beast from her nightly rest?

Janeway: Thy point is made, but, I must have use of her skill.

Chakotay: And I must have use of thee.

Janeway: Thy thoughts are akin

to those of a puckish sprite, engrossed in his pranks.

Chakotay: ‘Tis thy extraordinary beauty which doth cause

these unerrering lines of thought. Desire guzzles me.

Janeway: I cherish thee well, but cease thy prattel.

Thou sing'est pretty whilst my heart is bruised.

Still shock'd I can't believe, I blundered thus:

my Replicator dead by mine own hand.

The dooming blow? Cooking dinner for thee!

Chakotay: Thou think'est to blame me for this upheavel, then?

Janeway: I do.

Chakotay: God 's Blood!

Janeway: Hast thou like'd meals I placed ‘fore thee?

Chakotay: Mighty Ancestors, watch over, Poor Chakotay.

The truth is like to be a boot into yon hall!

Janeway: I would not have cripple'ed my Sweet Machine so,

Had it not been for thy lack of chivalry.

Chakotay: What?!

Janeway: I am no Meaty Maker --no Baker of Treats.

Plain fact the Quadrant wide: Thou art the Better Cook.

Thou should hath done right by me: (and) made our feast thineself.

Chakotay: It was at thine insistence, we supped --here in this place.

Janeway: Curse the fates for incident: This development so cruel.

Beshrew your heart! (Thou) Love me not.

Chakotay: Katerina, I love thee!

Janeway: Nay!

Chakotay: 'Tis accurate! I do love thee more than life itself.

Enough to ban all things I once held dear.

Do not wound me thus, with false indictments.

Thou art my heart: it beats Thy Name alone.

Set down any task --be it grand or great

I will knock off each pick'd monstrosity!

This Warrior's regard proved faithful --through deeds.

Janeway: My Lord, I claim, I’ll have no Coffee in the morn.

Without it, trap'd in these rooms --I will be forever damned.

My grave is like to rise from loss of Java Beans!

Chakotay: How now? What's this? Thou art a Clever Fox, indeed.

Janeway: Alack! How will I rise to govern in the light of day?

Chakotay: Sly Sovereign, I now grasp the game which we do both play.

Janeway: French roast! French Roast! My Starship for a Flagon of the Brew!

Chakotay: Mistress Manipulate, I can take no more ado.

Such banshee wails hurt mine ears. Thy inclination I'll fulfill.

On the morrow --fetch thee, I will, a Pitcher Of Thy Swill.

Janeway: Before full light--

Chakotay: I shout: All right!

I'll get it while thou art in repose:

Sleeping the snooze of a babe newly born.

I will slink away from our comfy bed,

into Neelix’s Chamber of Horrors.

From this Netherworld, I will replicate

--a shiny silver kettle brimming with

thy most influential Amber Poison!

Janeway: Noble Knight, how brave thou art My Favored Subject and Friend.

I treasure thee much more than is prudent for my nature.

Name any reward. I will make it so!

Chakotay: My head:

feels harsh, longing much, to rest upon thy pillowy breast.

My thoughts whirl with the dangers o'this near crusade.

Shrewd Royal, what canst be done to ease my worry?

Janeway: Dearest Sir, leave that to me: Wily Mistress, I be.

A stirring distraction, I'll devise, tailored, alone for thee.

Chakotay: Kiss me, Kate and have me then; I'll let thee pitch thy woo.

The night is short and come the dawn, I will have much to do. 2