The monkey-like Culagna, with his tricks and antics, disappears.
Virtuous Renoppia, that wholesome country lass, the _bourgeois_ counterpart of Bradamante, withholds her slipper from the poet's head when he is singing sad or lovely things of human fortune.

Our eyes, rendered sensitive by vulgar sights, dwell with unwonted pleasure on the chivalrous beauty of King Enzo.

Ernesto's death touches our sympathy with pathos, in spite of the innuendo cast upon his comrade Jaconia.
Paolo Malatesta rides with the shades of doom, the Dantesque cloud of love and destiny, around his forehead, through that motley mock-heroic band of burghers.

Manfredi, consumed by an unholy passion for his sister, burns for one moment, like a face revealed by lightning, on our vision and is gone.

Finally, when the mood seizes him (for Tassoni persuades us into thinking he is but the creature of caprice), he tunes the soft idyllic harp and sings Endymion's love-tale in strains soft as Marino's, sweet as Tasso's, outdoing Marino in delicacy, Tasso in reserve.