^{24 Ref} A wild ass accustomed to a wilderness, In the desire of her soul she hath swallowed up wind, Her meeting -- who doth turn her back? None seeking her do weary themselves, In her month they find her.

^{25 Ref} Withhold thy foot from being unshod, And thy throat from thirst, And thou sayest, `It is incurable, No, for I have loved strangers, and after them I go.'