You will betray me--oh, deny it not! What right have I, alas, to say you nay? I, traitor of ten loves, what shall I say To plead with you that I be not forgot? My love has not been squandered jot by jot In little loves that perish with the day. My treason has been ever to the sway Of queens; my faith has known no petty blot. You will betray me, as I have betrayed, And I shall kiss the hand that does me wrong. And oh, not pardon--I need pardon more-- But in proud torment, grim and unafraid, Burn in my hell nor cease the bitter song Your beauty triumphs in forevermore.
