Did he not afterwards betray such knowledge
Of her and of her life as showed the lie
His former words concealed? And yet how doubt
My dear, who by two years of wedded love
Has knit my soul to his? I know how lightly
The world holds manly virtue, but I hold
The laws of honour are not made to bind
Half of the race alone, leaving men licensed
To break them when they will; but dread decrees
Binding on all our kind. But oh, my love,