Enrico was not quite so confident as Alphonso had been. He insisted on making his will; and he wrote a poem about the pleasures and advantages of dying young. This is part of it:
The violet is a blossom sweet, That droops before the day is done-- Slain by thine overpowering heat, O Sun!
And I, like that sweet purple flower, May roast, or boil, or broil, or bake, If burned by thy terrific power, Firedrake!
This poem comforted Enrico more or less, and he showed it to Prigio. But the prince only laughed, and said that the second line of the last verse was not very good; for violets do not "roast, or boil, or broil, or bake."
Enrico tried to improve it, but could not. So he read it to his cousin, L