In this night, begging the Muses
that with their sweet zither and sweet poems
they, to console me , should visit
Your Magnificence, and make my excuses,
one appeared who upset me,
saying: "Who dares to call me?"
I told her my name, and she to torment me
hit me in the face and shut my mouth for me,
saying: "You are not Niccolo ...
because you have your legs and heels bound together
and stay there chained up like a lunatic."
I wanted to give her my reasons:
and she responded and said: "Go to the devil
with this shirtsleeve comedy of yours."
Bear her witness,
Magnificent Giuliano, for high God,
that ... I am I.
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