E dic vos que m par vilania
Qui partis e qui ’l mielhs s’ atria,
Mas ges pertant non a fag non dever,
Quar a pres so qu’elhs no volon aver.
Ricx malastrucx, s’ieu vos sabia
Lauzor, volontiers la us diria;
Mas no us pessetz menten mi alezer,
Que vostre grat no vuelh ni vostr’ aver.
Translation.—I am seized by a great desire of writing a sirvente,—O rich yet cowardly men! and I know not what I shall say to you,—for there will be little room for praise;—nor dare I blame you, and a sirvente is worth little—which praises when it ought to blame:—but though it may seem all folly to you,—yet it pleases me more to blame you by telling the truth,—than if I spoke falsehood to please you.
Both the kings have resolved on one thing,—he of Aragon and he of the English,—that by them the land shall not be defended,—and that they will do ill to no one who does ill to them;—they are merciful and courteous;—for they let the King who is conquering Syria—retain their fiefs altogether in peace;—our Lord ought to be very thankful to them for it.