'It seems to me, Arsindo, that your query is not so dark as the thing it denotes, for if I am not wrong in it, it is charcoal of which you say that when dead it is called masculine, and when glowing and alive _brasa_,[219] which is a feminine noun, and all the other parts suit it in every respect, as this does; and if you are in the same plight as Aurelio, by reason of the ease with which your question has been understood, I am going to keep you company in it, since Thyrsis, to whom it falls to answer me, will make us equal.' And straightway he spoke his: DAMON. Who is she of courtly grace, Well-adorned, a dainty dame, Timorous, yet bold of face, Modest she, yet lacking shame, Pleasant, yet she doth displease? When in numbers, to astound, Masculine their name doth sound, And it is a certain thing That amongst them is the king, And with all men they are found. 'Verily, friend Damon,' said Thyrsis forthwith, 'your challenge comes true, and you pay the forfeit that Aurelio and Arsindo pay, if any there be; for I tell you I know that what your riddle conceals is a letter,[220] and a pack of cards.' Damon admitted that Thyrsis was right. And straightway Thyrsis propounded his riddle thus: THYRSIS. Who is she that is all eyes, All eyes she from head to foot, And, although she seeks it not, Sometimes causeth lovers' sighs? Quarrels too she doth appease, Though indeed she knows not why, And although she is all eye, Very few the things she sees. She doth call herself a grief Counted mortal, good and dire Evil worketh, and doth fire Love, and to love brings relief. Thyrsis's riddle puzzled Elicio, for it was his turn to answer it, and he was on the point of 'giving up,' as the saying is; but in a little while he managed to say that it was jealousy, and, Thyrsis admitting it, Elicio straightway propounded the following: ELICIO. 'Tis obscure, and yet 'tis clear, Thousand opposites containing, Truth to us at last explaining, Which it hides from far and near; Born at times from beauty rare Or from lofty fantasies, Unto strife it giveth rise, Though it deals with things of air. Unto all its name is known, From the children to the old, 'Tis in numbers manifold, Divers are the lords they own; Every beldame doth possess One of them to make her gay, Things of pleasure for a day, Full of joy or weariness.