I. Like a foolish money-changer, I have changed bad for worse. And so there are two follies. But nevertheless I am sensible enough to see my own foolishness. And if my own good sense does not chastise me for it and if I follow always my folly, no one should pity me, but my misfortune should give pleasure, since I strive after my own dishonor.
II. For, if I erred in the greater matter, I have erred more in the lesser: wherefore the error is doubled, so that it (?) is a sin in respect to God, a subject of reproach in respect to fame, a crime in respect to courtesy, a shame in respect to one’s love, and a loss in respect to receiving another’s property. Therefore, the man who is striving to be worthy should guard against it.
III. Therefore tell me, Sirs! In what way does she wrong a troubadour who is known and recommended and exalted by the best, if she shame or discredit him? How would she conduct herself in another affair? That is easy to guess, since she honors what she should despise and despises what she should honor and fear.
IV. I shall make a stronger reproach, even though she does not believe the reproacher. But if you do not love praise and do not fear shame, how will you know what honor is? And what boots it to reproach? It would avail me naught, for he who baptizes an ass’s son by day or night loses the chrism which he puts on it, and his time likewise.
V. So I blame myself, not another, about these love affairs. The contemptible wretch with sinful bargains will overcome me, so that she may do me such a dishonor. I could not ever avenge myself so well, even if I slew her. May God grant him life and increase his knowledge! And no man could pray for or wish her worse than that.
VI. I make known to Sir Rainier of the Courtly Vale that there is no help I hope for from my darts (cutting words).
