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35. Balade: «Prouchaine mort en lieu de garison» La grant douleur qui si fort me destraint Que, nuit et jour, me convient souspirer, Et le grief mal de quoy mon cuer se plaint Et qui me fait toute joye oublier, Ne puis je plus souffrir ne endurer. Si me convient, a tresbonne achoison Et de bon cuer, requerre et demander Prouchaine mort en lieu de garison. Ne du meschief qui me palit et taint Ne puis jamais garison recouvrer Se non par mort, car mon cuer est attaint Du mortel cop, de quoy souvent plaier, Des mesdisans de que le faulx parler A mains bons cuers honniz par traison. Le mien se plaint qui me fait desirer Prouchaine mort en lieu de garison. Ma vie hé et ma douleur contraint Mon povre cuer de ma mort souhaidier, Et Desespoir, qui dedens moy remaint, Fait mon grant mal si fort multiplier Que plus ne puis la destresse porter Et le meschief dont j’ay si grant foison. Pour ce humblement a jointes mains requier Prouchaine mort en lieu de garison.

35. Ballade: “A quick death instead of any cure” The great sorrow that grips me so strongly That I am forced to sigh both night and day And the grievous pain of which my heart complains And that makes me forget every joy I can no longer suffer or endure. Therefore I must, with very good reason And with good heart, seek and demand A quick death instead of any cure. Nor from the hurt that makes me both grow pale And redden can I ever find a cure If not from death, for my heart has been struck With a mortal blow, which often wounds, By slanderers, whose false speech treacherously Has brought shame on many a good heart. Mine complains, and it makes me desire A quick death instead of any cure. I hate my life, and my sorrow compels My poor heart to wish for my death, And Despair, which dwells within me, Makes my great pain multiply so much That no longer can I bear the distress And hardship of which I have so much. Therefore I humbly request, with joined hands, A quick death instead of any cure.

(t-note) (see note)