Alas, how love can trifle with itself!

What private griefs they have, alas, I know not

Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we: For such as we are made of, such we be

Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless!

We trifle with, make sport of, and despise those who are attached to us, and follow those that fly from us.

All that is within him does condemn itself for being there.