Oh blame fortune for my sake,
The goddess responsible for my harmful actions,
Who did not provide me with better life
That of living in the public eye, which breeds public manners.
Thus it has happened that my name has been disgraced,
And that has almost entirely dominated my nature
To the medium it works in, like the cloth's dyer's hand:
Have pity on me, and wish that I can be restored,
While I will, like a willing patient, drink
Bitter potions to cure my strong infection;
There is no bitterness that I will think of as bitter,
Nor will I consider it a second act of penance to correct again something that has been corrected.
Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure you,
Just your pity is enough to cure me.