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.