“Love, that exempts no one beloved from loving,Seized me with pleasure of this man so strongly,That, as thou seest, it doth not yet desert me.”

“Love, which absolves no one beloved from loving,seized me so strongly with his charm that,as you see, it has not left me yet.Love brought us to one death.”

“Love, which is quickly kindled in the gentle heart, seized this man for the fair form that was taken from me, the manner still hurts me. Love which absolves no beloved one from loving, seized me so strongly with his charm that, as thou seest, it does not leave me yet”

“Amor, ch'al cor gentile ratto s'apprendeprese costui de la bella personache mi fu tolta; e 'l modo ancor m'offende.Amor, che a nullo amato amar perdona,Mi prese del costui piacer sì forte,Che, come vedi, ancor non m'abbandona...""Love, which quickly arrests the gentle heart,Seized him with my beautiful formThat was taken from me, in a manner which still grieves me.Love, which pardons no beloved from loving,took me so strongly with delight in himThat, as you see, it still abandons me not...”

“The mind which is created quick to love, is responsive to everything that is pleasing, soon as by pleasure it is awakened into activity. Your apprehensive faculty draws an impression from a real object, and unfolds it within you, so that it makes the mind turn thereto. And if, being turned, it inclines towards it, that inclination is love; that is nature, which through pleasure is bound anew within you.”

“Noi leggeveamo un giorno per dilettoDi Lancialotto, come amor lo strinse;Soli eravamo e senza alcun sospettoPer più fiate gli occhi ci sospinseQuella lettura, e scolorocci il viso;Ma solo un punto fu quel che ci vinse.Quando leggemmo il disiato risoEsser baciato da cotanto amante,Questi, che mai da me non fia diviso,La bocca mi baciò tutto tremante.Galeotto fu il libro e chi lo scrisse:Quel giorno più non vi leggemmo avante."""We were reading one day, to pass the time,of Lancelot, how love had seized him.We were alone, and without any suspicionAnd time and time again our eyes would meetover that literature, and our faces paled,and yet one point alone won us.When we had read how the desired smilewas kissed by so true a lover,This one, who never shall be parted from me,kissed my mouth, all a-tremble.Gallehault was the book and he who wrote itThat day we read no further.”

“For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble.”