Boccaccio. Speak plainly and fearlessly, Francesco! Malice and detraction are strangers to you.
Petrarca. Well then: at least sixteen parts in twenty of the Inferno and Purgatorio are detestable, both in poetry and principle: the higher parts are excellent indeed.
Boccaccio. I have been reading the Paradiso more recently. Here it is, under the pillow. It brings me happier dreams than the others, and takes no more time in bringing them. Preparation for my lectures made me remember a great deal of the poem. I did not request my auditors to admire the beauty of the metrical version:
Osanna sanctus deus Sabbaoth,
Super-illustrans charitate tuâ
Felices ignes horum Malahoth,
nor these, with a slip of Italian between two pales of Latin:
Modicum,[14] et non videbitis me,
Et iterum, sorelle mie dilette,
Modicum, et vos videbitis me.
I dare not repeat all I recollect of
Pepe Setan, Pepe Setan, aleppe,
as there is no holy-water-sprinkler in the room: and you are aware that other dangers awaited me, had I been so imprudent as to show the Florentines the allusion of our poet. His gergo is perpetually in play, and sometimes plays very roughly.
Petrarca. We will talk again of him presently. I must now rejoice with you over the recovery and safety of your prodigal son, the Decameron.