You don't want to? Well, I'm content.
May God give me patience in the face of your harshness;
Before twenty years are up I shall have my revenge
Seeing your eyes, which now torment me so, become dull.

You won't see so constant a lover in the world
Who wouldn't lose heart, in losing his reward:
As for me, if it weren't for the long experience
Which I have of suffering harm, I would die on the spot.

Whenever I think, to encourage myself a little,
That I'm not the only one abused by women
And that craftier ones have been harmed by them,

I pardon myself, I hold myself excused;
For you who disappoint me are accustomed to it
And, what's worse, above all others the first in beauty.