让怀疑变得清晰，没有女人是真实的，我的命运是否在你身上证明了这一点?我想，不过我呼吸到了最纯净的空气;就因为她美丽，她就必须虚伪吗?这是你美丽的标志，还是你年轻的标志，还是你完美的标志，不去研究真理?你以为上天是聋子，没有眼睛吗?还是对你的伪证微笑?难道对女人来说，誓言是如此的廉价，或者誓言的材料是如此的廉价，以至于写在水里，被风吹走?还是他们的呼吸既热又冷，能立即造成生与死?谁能想到，这么多甜蜜的话语，这么多的叹息，从我们的心里发出，这么多的誓言，洒在其中的泪水，都因我们的恐惧而变得甜蜜，偷来的吻的神圣印记，封印了其余的，现在却成了空洞的幸福?你抽保释金没收了吗? sign to break? Or must we read you quite from what you speak, And find the truth out the wrong way? or must He first desire you false, would wish you just? O ! I profane ! though most of women be This kind of beast, my thoughts shall except thee, My dearest love ; though froward jealousy With circumstance might urge thy inconstancy, Sooner I'll think the sun will cease to cheer The teeming earth, and that forget to bear ; Sooner that rivers will run back, or Thames With ribs of ice in June will bind his streams ; Or nature, by whose strength the world endures, Would change her course, before you alter yours. But O ! that treacherous breast, to whom weak you Did drift our counsels, and we both may rue, Having his falsehood found too late ; 'twas he That made me cast you guilty, and you me ; Whilst he, black wretch, betray'd each simple word We spake, unto the cunning of a third. Cursed may he be, that so our love hath slain, And wander on the earth, wretched as Cain, Wretched as he, and not deserve least pity. In plaguing him, let misery be witty ; Let all eyes shun him, and he shun each eye, Till he be noisome as his infamy ; May he without remorse deny God thrice, And not be trusted more on his soul's price ; And, after all self-torment, when he dies, May wolves tear out his heart, vultures his eyes, Swine eat his bowels, and his falser tongue That utter'd all, be to some raven flung ; And let his carrion corse be a longer feast To the king's dogs, than any other beast. Now have I cursed, let us our love revive ; In me the flame was never more alive. I could begin again to court and praise, And in that pleasure lengthen the short days Of my life's lease ; like painters that do take Delight, not in made work, but whiles they make. I could renew those times, when first I saw Love in your eyes, that gave my tongue the law To like what you liked ; and at masks and plays Commend the self-same actors, the same ways ; Ask how you did, and often with intent Of being officious, be impertinent ; All which were such soft pastimes, as in these Love was as subtly catch'd as a disease. But being got, it is a treasure sweet, Which to defend is harder than to get ; And ought not be profaned, on either part, For though 'tis got by chance, 'tis kept by art.