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.