The Naples women, as folk prattle, Are sweetly spoken and subtle enough: German girls are good at tattle, And Prussians make their boast thereof; Take Egypt for the next remove, Or that waste land the Tartar harries, Spain or Greece, for the matter of love, There’s no good girl’s lip out of Paris. Breton and Swiss know nought of the matter, Gascony girls or girls of Toulouse; Two fisherwomen with a half-hour’s chatter Would shut them up by threes and twos; Calais, Lorraine, and all their crews, (Names enow the mad song marries) England and Picardy, search them and choose, There’s no good girl’s lip out of Paris. _Envoi_: Prince, give praise to our French ladies For the sweet sound their speaking carries; ’Twixt Rome and Cadiz many a maid is, But no good girl’s lip out of Paris. From Clement Marot, a delightful French poet of the Sixteenth century, we give the following two extracts translated by Leigh Hunt. _A LOVE-LESSON_ A sweet “No! no!” with a sweet smile beneath Becomes an honest girl,--I’d have you learn it; As for plain “Yes!” it may be said, i’ faith. Too plainly and too oft,--pray, well discern it! Not that I’d have my pleasure incomplete, Or lose the kiss for which my lips beset you; But that in suffering me to take it, Sweet! I’d have you say--“No! no! I will not let you.” _MADAME D’ALBRET’S LAUGH_ Yes! that fair neck, too beautiful by half, Those eyes, that voice, that bloom, all do her honour; Yet, after all, that little giddy laugh Is what, in my mind, sits the best upon her. Good God! ’twould make the very streets and ways, Through which she passes, burst into a pleasure! Did melancholy come to mar my days And kill me in the lap of too much leisure, No spell were wanting, from the dead to raise me, But only that sweet laugh wherewith she slays me. About this time appeared the Heptameron, a series of tales of similar form and character to the Decameron of Boccaccio. This work was attributed to Margaret of Navarre, and doubtless was written by the queen with the assistance of some of her people. The tales are too long to quote. Jehan du Pontalais wrote a clever satirical skit on the love of money. _MONEY_ Who money has, well wages the campaign; Who money has, becomes of gentle strain; Who money has, to honor all accord: He is my lord. Who money has, the ladies ne’er disdain; Who money has, loud praises will attain; Who money has, in the world’s heart is stored, The flower adored. O’er all mankind he holds his conquering track-- They only are condemned who money lack.