I stole from you, while you were playing, honeyed Juventius, a kiss sweeter than
sweet ambrosia. But I bore it off not unpunished; for more than an hour I
remember I was nailed to the top of a cross, while I purged myself [for
my crime] to you, nor could any tears in the least remove your cruelty.
For as soon as it was done, you washed your lips with many drops, and wiped them
off with every finger, lest anything contracted from our mouth remain, as though
it were the filthy spittle of a piss-wet whore. Besides, you have handed
wretched me over to spiteful Love, nor have you ceased to torture me in every
way, so that for me that kiss is now changed from ambrosia to be harsher than
harsh hellebore. Since you award such punishment to wretched lover, never more
after this will I steal kisses.