and loudly affirmed it, that my most delightful, most excellent serving-maid[23] has been endowed with diverse gifts, happy and most choice; greater were her gifts than any that Nature has allowed any one to have; for all these gifts that she had from fortune, she had them not from fortune only; she obtained them also from the supreme Creator. Not only was she endowed with goodly customs, but a shapely form, a beautiful figure, and noble birth also God gave her, who had chosen her for her virtues and (who gave her also) much that was very good, sweet, and honourable; hardly ever has God given to one person so many remarkable, good, and prosperous gifts. And yet you mockingly tell me that my most excellent serving-maid, my most beloved maiden, is not different from others. And not only this (do you say), but also that I could find many other matrons and maids such as she, did I but cast glances around me.... I wonder at this: what devil has sent you to me? what devil gave you power over me? what devil or what demon,[2] or what fiend[24] has roused you and instigated you against me? I wonder indeed at the meaning of this. I trust in my Creator for this, that He has not given you this power, and that you have not from Him this authority, and that this is by no means just. But you tell me that God has instructed you--chosen you for this! but I know not this; rather do I know that I have been deprived of all my comfort, of all my pleasure, of all good merriment; to me is bequeathed poverty and eternal grief; my name is marked out and written down in the doleful register of the longing and anxious ones until I die. Now indeed there is truly discord between me and the beloved and adored one; now indeed there is a quarrel worse than all other quarrels and discords. This indeed may be called truly discord and anger, which never again will change to peace. Oh, that I should ever have known what wrath between two lovers is. Alas and again alas, and woe to you, wicked, infamous Misfortune! Oh, wicked Misfortune, now, indeed, through your evil anger all my happiness, and with it my youth, is at an end. Why then am I still alive? what can I rejoice over? in what can I find pleasure? where can I seek refuge in this my great need? What shall I now love, what can I love now that everything is lost to me. In what shall I now find pleasure, what shall render me merry and happy, when I no longer love her through whom everything appeared lovable to me. Little now will be my joy, for little mercy shall I find.... And for what purpose have you endeavoured to do this, shameful, wicked, false Misfortune? Alas, alas! Woe, ever woe to thee. Gone is all my grace, gone are all my many qualities. O Misfortune, to whom shall I now go for counsel in this my hateful adversity? to whom shall I complain of my loss in this my depression and sorrow? I have no one to whom to complain of my misfortunes, of whatever nature they may be, except you, evil,