Love, golden-haired boy, tosses His purple ball to me one more time, Invites me to play With the girl in colourful sandals. But she's from towering Lesbos, And my hair, being white, She despises. She's gasping For another girl...
No. [begins coughing] No. You'll wait here un... [continues coughing more forcefully] [Tyrion: Your Grace?] It's nothing. [continues coughing and gasping uncontrollably]