At the end of the third day, Lauretta began thus:
No maid disconsolate hath cause as I, alack!
Who sigh for love in vain, to mourn her fate.
He who moves heaven and all the stars in air
made me for His delight
Lovesome and sprightly, kind and debonair,
E’en here below to give each lofty spright
Some inkling of that fair
That still in heaven abideth in His sight;
But erring men’s unright,