Читать книгу Don Juan (With Byron's Biography) - Lord Byron - Страница 461

I hate inconstancy—I loathe, detest,

Abhor, condemn, abjure the mortal made

Of such quicksilver clay that in his breast

No permanent foundation can be laid;

Love, constant love, has been my constant guest,

And yet last night, being at a masquerade,

I saw the prettiest creature, fresh from Milan,

Which gave me some sensations like a villain.