I loved you when you were unfaithful; what would I have done if you were true?
I felt for my crime a just terror; I looked on my life with hate, and my passion with horror.
A benefit cited by way of reproach is equivalent to an injury.
My death, taking the light from my eyes, gives back to the day the purity which they soiled.
The day is not purer than the depths of my heart.
It is a maxim of old that among themselves all things are common to friends.