I. Since the envious ones and the flatterers guess and gossip so readily about the true joy that is mine and noise it abroad, as is their wont, it is fitting that I should take heed; for I must exercise cunning so that I may preclude anyone from knowing my secret thought.
II. From the first did I experience great longing and desire for my lady and with the greatest effort do I prevent myself from seeking nothing more of her. But how shall I proceed? My heart bids me wait and suffer; and I endure, because I believe that Love may compensate me for it and render me some trifling pleasure.
III. Sometimes I cannot help but grow angry with myself and thereupon am I minded to depart, so that I may begin a suit elsewhere; but the sick man is similarly restless when he thinks to be cured elsewhere, and naught avails me; on the contrary, I fight a lost battle, so that I now return here to die.
IV. Alas! such sweet desire have I, could it but happen so, that Love should bring me joy even as it has led me to choose her. Too long have I waited for her, but ‘the hidden flame is hard to quench’. Hope, which was wont to make me rejoice, is now entirely conquered.
V. But now I recall that Love must attract to itself a true and faithful heart above all other things. And as for her, to whom my whole desire flies, since she knows and beholds my heart, let her not scorn me; for in that I do truly love, I am as rich as the king of France.
VI. And since no one else avails me, I will plead my cause with her, for I have always heard it said that he is a coward who gives up, and I know without doubt that despair is his lot. When a man finds mercy, happiness, joy and well-being are doubled for him to whom it happens.
VII. Dauphin, without doubt joy and worth benefit you more than Love does me.
