SONNET II

He who from so many brothels has escaped
And frequented so much whoredom,
Finally into Cupid's hands
Brings at last his sin!

I would rather have a bubo on either side
And spittle on the opposite end,
Than see me old and mad, a guest
Of the wind, in love with air.

I early began to take this path,
Not free from struggle for an hour,
And the total reckoning I pay now.

Wretched boy, restrain your hand,
Or I shall whip you with your blindfold,
And pluck your wings feather by feather.