That Fabio does not love me, though adored, 
is grief unmatched by any I have known,
a lesser hurt,though no less bothersome,
is that Silvio loves me, he in turn abhorred.

What patience, sorely tried, would not deplore,
what ringing ear, assaulted, not bemoan,
the ever-plaintive sighs of one disowned,
the arrogance of a vain conqueror.

If I am bored by Silvio's submission,
it bores Fabio to tears that I submit;
if from Fabio I forever court permission,

Silvio seeks from me what I permit;
if dual torment is to be my one condition,
both of living and being loved I would be quit.