S. Augustine. I see, then, that those things which make many other people envy you are nevertheless in your own eyes of no account at all?
Petrarch. Any one who envies a wretch like me must indeed himself be wretched.
S. Augustine. But now please tell me what is it that most displeases you?
Petrarch. I am sure I do not know.
S. Augustine. If I guess right will you acknowledge it?
Petrarch. Yes, I will, quite freely.
S. Augustine. You are vexed with Fortune.
Petrarch. And am I not right to hate her? Proud, violent, blind, she makes a mock of mankind.
S. Augustine. It is an idle complaint. Let us look now at your own troubles. If I prove you have complained unjustly, will you consent to retract?
Petrarch. You will find it very hard to convince me. If, however, you prove me in the wrong, I will give in.