Do you think I could speak ill of my own life,
she who’s dearer to me than my two eyes?
I couldn’t, nor, if I could, would I love so desperately:
but you, with Tappo, you do everything monstrous.

Credis me potuisse meae maledicere vitae?
Ambobus mihi quae carior est oculis?
Non potui, nec, si possem, tam perdite amarem
Sed tu cum Tappone omnia monstra facis.