When thou, poor excommunicate From all the joys of love, shalt see The full reward and glorious fate Which my strong faith shall purchase me, Then curse thine own inconstancy.
A fairer hand than thine shall cure That heart which thy false oaths did wound; And to my soul a soul more pure Than thine shall by Love's hand be bound, And both with equal glory crowned.
Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain To Love, as I did once to thee; When all thy tears shall be as vain As mine were then, for thou shalt be Damned for thy false apostasy.
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