The Lady heaves a sigh, and asks, ‘Who is there?’—Says the King: ‘I am one Whom thy beauties have brought hither.’ She is troubled, and calls the nurses. The King replies: ‘I have turned them all out.’ She moves, wanting to get up: She finds no clothes, for they have carried them away. The King remains quiet, and waits to see In what way he may be able to please her, And says to her: ‘I have only come hither To speak to thee a few words: Listen a little, and then I will go.’ An elaborate dialogue ensues, conducted on the most high-paced footing of enamoured courtesy. It contains the strangely beautiful passage translated in my brother’s _Early Italian Poets_, and which I reproduce here; taking therewith my leave both of this singular specimen of how Kings and Queens might, would, could, or should confer on their bridal-night, and also of Francesco da Barberino himself. The Queen is the speaker. ‘Do not conceive that I shall here recount All my own beauty: yet I promise you That you, by what I tell, shall understand All that befits and that is well to know. My bosom, which is very softly made, Of a white even colour without stain, Bears two fair apples, fragrant, sweetly savoured, Gathered together from the Tree of Life The which is in the midst of Paradise. And these no person ever yet has touched; For out of nurse’s and of mother’s hands I was when God in secret gave them me. These ere I yield I must know well to whom; And, for that I would not be robbed of them, I speak not all the virtue that they have: Yet thus far speaking— Blessed were the man Who once should touch them, were it but a little; See them I say not, for that might not be. My girdle, clipping pleasure round-about, Over my clear dress even unto my knees Hangs down with sweet precision tenderly; And under it Virginity abides. Faithful and simple and of plain belief She is, with her fair garland bright like gold, And very fearful if she overhears Speech of herself; the wherefore ye perceive That I speak soft lest she be made ashamed. Lo! this is she who hath for company The Son of God, and Mother of the Son. Lo! this is she who sits with many in heaven: Lo! this is she with whom are few on earth.’ [Sidenote: SANDRO DI PIPPOZZO. GRAZIOLO DE’ BOMBAGLIOLI. UGOLINO BRUCOLA.]