Or vedi, Amor, che giovenetta donna tuo regno sprezza, et del mio mal non cura, et tra duo ta' nemici è sí secura.
Tu se' armato, et ella in treccie e 'n gonna si siede, et scalza, in mezzo i fiori et l'erba, ver' me spietata, e 'n contra te superba.
I' son pregion; ma se pietà anchor serba l'arco tuo saldo, et qualchuna saetta, fa di te et di me, signor, vendetta.
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Now you see, Love, that this young lady scorns your rule, and cares nothing for my hurt, and feels safe between two of her enemies.
You are armed, and she in loose hair and gown sits barefoot amongst the flowers and grass, pitiless towards me, and proud towards you.
I'm imprisoned: but if there's mercy still, raise your bow, and with a few arrows take vengeance, my lord, for me and you.
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