Whereon but musing inly chants my soul.

This song set all the company conjecturing what new and delightsome love
might now hold Filomena in its sway; and as its words imported that she
had had more joyance thereof than sight alone might yield, some that were
there grew envious of her excess of happiness. However, the song being
ended, the queen, bethinking her that the morrow was Friday, thus
graciously addressed them all:--"Ye wot, noble ladies, and ye also, my
gallants, that to-morrow is the day that is sacred to the passion of our
Lord, which, if ye remember, we kept devoutly when Neifile was queen,
intermitting delectable discourse, as we did also on the ensuing
Saturday. Wherefore, being minded to follow Neifile's excellent example,
I deem that now, as then, 'twere a seemly thing to surcease from this our
pastime of story-telling for those two days, and compose our minds to
meditation on what was at that season accomplished for the weal of our
souls." All the company having approved their queen's devout speech, she,
as the night was now far spent, dismissed them; and so they all betook
them to slumber.

(1) A play upon laurea (laurel wreath) and Lauretta.


--
Endeth here the seventh day of the Decameron, beginneth the eighth, in
which, under the rule of Lauretta, discourse is had of those tricks that,
daily, woman plays man, or man woman, or one man another.
--

The summits of the loftiest mountains were already illumined by the rays
of the rising sun, the shades of night were fled, and all things plainly