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51. Balade: «Dame, de moy plus que nulle autre amee» Comment qu’il soit, mon cuer vous aimera, Belle, plaisant, jeune, fresche et nouvelle. Jamais autre que vous ne servira, Car en ce monde ne pourroit servir telle Comme vous estez, sy bonne ne sy belle, Ne qui tant soit plaisant a regarder, Ne qui tant face de tous biens a louer. Et par cela, de cuer et de pensee, Serez et estez, a tousjours sans muer, Dame, de moy plus que nulle autre amee. Ne, par ma foy, jamais ne me vendra Autre vouloir pour nesune nouvelle Que oir puisse, n’Amours le pouoir n’a, Ne ja n’aura, pour chose tant s’en mesle, Que puist faire, car tousjours renouvelle L’ardeur en moy de plus fort vous amer. Ne je ne puis en autre rien penser, Car tant me plaist se penser et agree Qu’en joye en fault mez griefz douleurz tourner, Dame, de moy plus que nulle autre amee. Pour ce doy je trop plus c’onquez n’ama Homme qui fut vous amer, car par celle Amour je puis, quant vo doulsour plaira, Doulce plaisant que ma maistresse appelle, Avoir dez biens, combien que je le celle, Si largement qu’en cent ans deviser Ne lez pourroit nul homme ne compter, Et fust ung jour aussy long c’une annee. Or en vueillés tout vo gré ordonner, Dame, de moy plus que nulle autre amee.

51. Ballade: “My lady, loved by me more than any other woman” However it may be, my heart will love you, Oh Beauty, charming, young, fresh, and new. Never will it serve any other, For in this world it could not serve a woman Such as you, as good and as beautiful, Nor one who is as pleasing to behold, Nor one who does so much of all that is to praise. And for that reason, in heart and in thought, You will be and are, forever without change, My lady, loved by me more than any other woman. Nor, by my faith, will ever come to me Any other wish, for any tidings That I might hear, nor does Love have the power, Nor will it ever, however much it tries, To bring it about, for constantly renews in me The burning desire to love you more strongly. Nor can I think of anything else, For so much does this thought please and satisfy me That my grievous sorrows must turn into joy, My lady, loved by me more than any other woman. Therefore I must love you much much more Than any man who was has ever loved, for by this love I can, when it pleases your gentleness, Sweet charming one whom I call my mistress, Obtain rewards, however much I hide it, So generously that in a hundred years No man could describe or count them, Even if a day were as long as a year. Now please command your every pleasure, My lady, loved by me more than any other woman.

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