To My Inconstant Mistress

When thou, poor excommunicat e

        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 crown'd.

  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

      Damn'd for thy false apostasy.