❧ THE COURTIER OF COUNT BALDESSAR CAstilio divided into four books. Very necessary and profitable for young Gentlemen and gentlewomen abiding in Court, Palace or Place, done into english by Thomas Hoby. Imprinted at London by wyllyam Seres at the sign of the hedgehog. 1561. The contents of the book The first book, entreateth of the perfect qualities of a Courtier. The second, of the use of them, and of merry jests and Pranks. The third, of the conditions and qualities of a waiting Gentillwoman. The fourth, of the end of a Courtier, and of honest love. ¶ The Printer to the reader, greeting. Now at the length (gentle reader) through the diligence of Master Hoby in penninge, and mine in printing, thou hast here set forth unto thee, the book of the Courtier: which for thy benefit had been done long since, but that there were certain places in it which of late years being misliked of some, that had the perusing of it (with what reason judge thou) the Author thought it much better to keep it in darkness a while, then to put it in light unperfect and in piecemeal to serve the time. Use it therefore, and so peruse it that for thy profit, first he, and then I, may think our travail herein well employed. Far well. THOMAS SACKEVYLLE IN commendation of the work. to the Rreader THese royal kings, that rear up to the sky Their Palace tops, and deck them all with gold: With rare and curious works they feed the eye: And show what riches here great Princes hold. A rarer work and richer far in worth, Castilios hand presenteth here to thee, No proud ne golden Court doth he set furt● But what in Court a Courtier aught to be. The Prince he raiseth huge and mighty walls, Castilio frames a wight of noble fame: The king with gorgeous tissue claddes his halls, The Count with golden virtue decks the same, Whos passing skill ●o Hobbies pen displaise To Britain folk, a work of worthy praise. TO THE RIGHT Honourable the Lord Henry hastings, son and heir apparent to the noble Earl of Huntyngton. THEMISTOCLES THE NOBLE ATHENIEN IN HIS banishment Entertained most honourably with the king of Persia, willed upon a time to tell his cause by a spokesman, compared it to a piece of tapistry, that being spread abroad, discloseth the beauty of the workmanship, but folded together, hideth it, and therefore demanded respite to learn the Persian tongue to tell his own cause: Right so [honourable Lord] this Courtier hath long strayed about this realm, & the fruit of him either little, or unperfectly received to the common benefit: for either men skilful in his tongue have delighted in him for their own private commodity, or else he hath eftsoons spoken in piece-meal by an interpreter to such as desired to know his mind, and to practise his principles: the which how unperfect a thing it is, The▪ mystocles and experience teach. But now, though late in deed, yet for all that at length, beside his three principal languages, in the which he hath a long time haunted all the Courts of Christendom, he is become an Englishman [which many a long time have wished, but few attempted and none achieved] and welwilling to devil in the Court of England, and in plight to tell his own cause. In whose commendation I shall not need to use any long process of words, for he can so well speak for himself, and answer to the opinion men have a long time conceived of him, that whatsoever I should writ therein, were but labour in waste, and rather a diminishing, than a setting forth of his worthiness, and a great deal better it were to pass it over with silence, then to use briefness. Only for the little acquaintance I have with him, and for the general profit is in him, my desire is he should now at his first arrival, a new man in this kind of trade, be well entertained and much honoured. And forsomuch as none, but a noble young Gentleman, and trained up all his life time in Court, and of worthy qualities, is meet to receive and entertain so worthy a Courtier, that like may fellowship and get estimation with his like, I do dedicated him unto your good lordship, that through your means, and under your patronage he may be common to a great meany. And this do I not, for that I suppose you stand in need of any of his instructions, but partly because you may see him confirm with reason the Courtly fashions, comely exercises, and noble virtues, that unawares have from time to time crept in to you, and already with practice and learning taken custom in you: And partly to get him the more authority and credit through so honourable a Patron. For no doubt, if you beseen willingly to embrace him, other young and Courtly Gentlemen will not shonn his company: And so both he shall get him the reputation now here in England which he hath had a good while since beyond the sea, in Italy, Spain and France, and I shall think my small travail well employed and sufficiently recompensed. The honour and entertainment that your noble Ancestors showed Castilio the maker, when he was in this realm to be installed knight of the Order for the Duke his Master, was not so much as presently both he, and this his handywoorke shall receive of you. Generally aught this to be in estimation with all degrees of men: For to Princes and Great men, it is a rule to rule themselves that rule others, and one of the books that a noble Philosopher exhorted a certain king to provide him, and diligently to search, for in them he should find written such matters, that friends durst not utter unto kings: To men grown in years, a pathway to the beholding and musing of the mind, and to whatsoever else is meet for that age: To young Gentlemen, an encouraging to garnish their mind with moral virtues, and their body with comely exercises, and both the one and the other with honest qualities to attain unto their noble end: To Ladies and Gentlewomen, a mirror to deck and trim themselves with virtuous conditions, comely behaviours and honest entertainment toward all men: And to them all in general, a storehouse of most necessary implements for the conversation, use, and training up of man's life with Courtly demeaners. Were it not that the ancientness of time, the degree of a Consul, and the eloquence of Latin style in these our days bear● a great stroke, I know not whether in the invention and disposition of the matter, as Castilio hath followed Cice●o, and applied to his purpose sundry examples and pithy sentences out of him, so he may in feat conveyance and like trade of writing, be compared to him: But well I wot for renown among the Italians, he is not inferior to him. Cicero an excellent Orator, in three books of an Orator unto his brother, fashioneth such a one as never was, nor yet i● like to be: Castilio an excellent Courtier, in three books of a Courtier unto his dear friend, fashioneth such a one as is hard to find & perhaps unpossible. Cicero bringeth in to dispute of an Orator, CRAS●VS, SCEVOLA, ANTONIUS, COTTA, SULPITIUS, CATULUS, and CESAR his brother, the noblest & chiefest Orators in those days: CASTILIO to reason of a Courtier, the Lord OCTAVIAN FREGOSO, SIR FRIDERIKC● his brother, the Lord JULIAN DE MEDICIS, the L. CESAR GONZAGA, the L. FRANCESCOMA●IA DELLA ROVER●, COUNT LEWIS OF CANOSSA, the L. GASPAR palavicin, BEMBO, BIBIENA, and other most excellent Courtiers, and of the noblest families in these days in Italy, which all afterward became Princes, Cardinals, Bishops and great Lords, and some yet in life. Both Cicero and Castilio profess, they follow not any certain appointed order of precepts or rules, as is used in the instruction of youth, but call to rehearsal, matters debated in their times too and fro in the disputation of most eloquent men and excellent wits in every worthy quality, the one company in the old time assembled in Tusculane, and the other of late years in the new Palace of Urbin. Where many most excellent wits in this realm have made no less of this book then the Great Alexander did of Homer, I cannot sufficiently wonder that they have not all this while from time to time done a common benefit to profit others as well as themselves. In this point [I know not by what destiny] englishmen are much inferior to well most all other Nations: For where they set their delight and bend themselves with an honest strife of matching others, to turn into their mother tongue, not only the witty writings of other languages, but also of all the Philosophers, and all Sciences both Greek and Latin, our men ween it sufficient to have a perfect knowledge, to no other end, but to profit themselves, and [as it were] after much pains in breaking up a gap, bestow no less to close it up again, that others may with like travail follow after. And where our learned men for the most part hold opinion, to have the sciences in the mother tongue, hurteth memory and hindereth learning, in my opinion, they do full ill consider from whence the Grecians first, and afterward the Latins ●et their knowledge. And without wading to any farther reasons that might be alleged, if they will mark well the truth, they shall see at this day, where the Sciences are most turned into the vulgar tongue, there are best learned men, and comparing it with the contrary, they shall also find the effects contrary. In italy [where the most translation of authors is] not only for Philosophy, Logic Humanity and all liberal Sciences both in Greek and Latin [leaving a part BARBARUS, NAVG●RIVS, SANNAZARUS, BEMBUS, LAZARUS and the rest that of very late days flourished] GENVA, TOMITANUS, ROBERTELLUS, MANUTIUS, PICCOLHOMINEUS, are presently very singular, and renowned throughout all Christendom: but also for the same in the vulgar tongue with little or no sight at all in the latin, ARETINO, CELLI [a tailor in Florence] THE L. VICTORIA COLUMNA, the. L. DIONORA SANSEVERINA, the. L. BEATRICE ●OFFREDA, VERONICA▪ GAMBERA, VIRGINEA SALVI and infinite other men and women are most famous throughout Italy, whose divine works and excellent style both in rhyme and prose give a sufficient testimony, not only of their profound knowledge and noble wit, but also that knowledge may be obtained in studying only a man's own native tongue. So that to be skilful and exercised in authors translated, is no less to be called learning, then in the very same in the Latin or Greek tongue. Therefore the translation of Latin or Greek authors, doth not only not hinder learning, but it furthereth it, yea it is learning itself, and a great stay to youth, and the noble end to the which they ought to apply their wits, that with diligence and study have attained a perfect understanding, to open a gap for others to follow their steps, ●nd a virtuous exercise for the unlatined to come by learning, and to fill their mind with the moral virtues, and their body with ●iuyll conditions, that they may both talk freely in all company, live uprightly though there were no laws, and be in a readiness against all kind of worldly chances that happen, which is the profit that cometh of Philosophy. And he said well that was asked the question▪ How much the learned differed from the unlearned, So much (quoth he) as the well broken & ready horses▪ from the unbroken. Wherefore I wot not how our learned men in this case can avoid the sa●ing of Isocrates▪ to one that among sundry learned discourses at Table ●pake never a word: If thou be unlearned, thou doest wisely▪ but if thou be learned, unwyselye, As who should say▪ learning is ill bestowed where others be not profited by it. As I therefore have to my small skill bestowed some labour about this piece of work, even so could I wish with all my heart, profound learned men in the Greek and Latin should make the like proof, and every man store the tongue according to his knowledge and delight above other men, in some piece of learning, that we alone of the world may not be still counted barbarous in our tongue, as in time out of mind we have been in our manners. And so shall we perchance in time become as famous in England▪ as the learned men of other nations have been and presently are. And though the hardness of this present matter be such, and mine unskylfulnesse to undertake this enterprise so great, that I might with good cause have despaired to bring to an end it, that many excellent wits have attempted, yet could I not choose but yield to the continual requests and often persuasions of many young gentlemen, which h●ue may chance an opinion that to be in me, that is not in deed, & unto whom in any reasonable matter I were skilful in neither I could nor aught of duty to want in fulfilling their desire. Notwithstanding a great while I forbore and lingered the time to see if any of a more perfect understanding in the tongue, and better practised in the matter of the book [of whom we want not a number in this realm] would take the matter in hand, to do his country so great a benefit: and this imagination prevailed in me a long space after my duty done in translating the third book [that entreateth of a Gentlewoman of the Court] persuaded thereto, in that I was informed▪ it was as then in some forwardness by an other, whose wit and style was greatly to be allowed, but sins prevented by death he could not finish it. But of late being instantly craved upon a fresh, I whetted my style and settled myself to take in hand the other three books (that entreat of the perfection of a Gentleman of the Court) to fulfil their petition in what I am able, having time and leisure thereto, the which I have done, though not in effect▪ yet in appearance and that in a great deal shorter time, than the hardness of the matter required. And where it shall not perhaps thoroughly please by reason my small understanding in the tongue, and less practice in the matters herein contained, is not of force to give it the brightness and full perfection in this our tongue that it hath in the Italian, it shall suffice yet that I have showed myself obedient in the respect a man aught to have toward his betters: And no more can they avoid the blame to charge me withal, than I to undertake it. Beside that, I have declared my good will and well meaning no less then if my counning were greater, and could extend much farther. But peraventure the rudeness of this shall be an encouraging of some other to give the onsett upon other matters with a better ripeness of style & much more aptness, and so shall this yet somewhat profit both ways. But the estimation it must get by your honour, is the principal cause that setteth it out, and maketh it worn with the hands of heedful readers: For in case you cheerfully receive it, men will reckon it good: If you allow it, worthy to be practised: If you commend it, worthy to pass from hand to hand. Therefore among the other good opinions men generally hold of you, let it not be the lest, that they may hold also no less of this that you allow and commend. And so shall you show undeserved kindness, I, bounden duty, and all others good will to embrace & to welcome it out of Italy into England And thus shall Cast●lio be esteemed such a one as he is indeed, and wax familiar with all men, that of late was known of very few, and so mangled with variety of judgements, that he was (in a manner) maimed, & lost a good piece of his estimation. But in case judgements now faint, or mine interpretation seem not pithy but rude, not proper, but cold, there is no more imperfection in this Courtier, then in Cirus himself in the translation of Xenophon into the Italian or any other tongue, the one as necessary and proper for a Gentleman of the Court, as the other for a king. And I shall desire my labour may so be taken well in worth, as I have endeavoured myself to follow the very meaning & words of the Author, without being misled by fancy, or leaving out any parcel one or other, whereof I know not how some interpreters of this book into other languages can excuse themselves, and the more they be conferred, the more it will perchance appear. Wherefore receive you this, as a token of my good will, and so receive it, that the fruit, what ever it be, may be acknowleaged at your hands: and you, pass the expectation of men in this, as in all other things, which, no doubt, is very great of you: and I, to acknowledge this benefit, where my ability stretcheth to nothing else, shall at the lest evermore wish unto your Lordship long lief, that you may go forward, as you do, in these beginnings, which promise' a lucky end, to the honour of yourself, comefort of your friends, and forwardness of the common ●eale of your country. 1.5.5.6. Your L. most bounden Thomas Hoby. UNTO THE REVEREND and honourable Lord Mychaell de Sylva Bishop of viseo. AFter the Lord Guidubaldo of Montefeltro Duke of Urbino was departed out of this life, certain other Gentlemen and I that had been servants to him, continued in service with Duke Francescomaria Della Rovere his heir & successor in the state: Francescomaria della Rou●r●. And while the savour of the virtues of Duke Guidubaldo was fresh in my mind, and the great delight I took in those years in the loving company of so excellent Personages as then were in the Court of Urbino: I was provoked by the memory thereof to writ these books of the Courtier. The which I accomplished in a few days, minding in time to amend those faults that sprung of the desire that I had speedily to pay this debt. But fortune now many years hath always kept me under in such continual travails, that I could never get leisure to bring it to the pass that my feeble judgement might be throughlie satisfied with all. At such time therefore as I was in Spain, being advertised out of Italy how the Lady Vittoria Colonna marquess of Pescara, L. vittoria Colonna. unto whom in foretime I had granted a Copy of this book, contrary to her promise, had made a great part of it to be copied out: it grieved me somewhat whether I would or not, standing in doubt of the sundry inconveniences that in the like cases may happen. Yet had I a hope that the wit & wisdom of that Lady (whose troth I have always had in reverence, as a matter from above) was sufficient to provide, not to be harmful unto me my being obedient to her commandment. At last I hard an yncklinge that part of the book was rief in Naples in many men's hands: and as men are always desirous of novelty, it was thought that they attempted to imprint it. Wherefore I, amazed at this mischance, determined with myself to overlook by and by that little in the book that time served me thereto, with intent to set it abroad, thinking it less hurtful to have it somewhat corrected with mine own hand, then much mangled with an other man's. Therefore to have this my purpose take effect, I took in hand to read it over afresh, and suddenly at the first blush by reason of the title, I took no title grief, which in proceeding forward increased much more, remembering that the greater part of them that are brought in to reason, are now dead. For beside those that are mentioned in the Proheme of the last book, M. Alphonsus Ariosto. M. Alphonsus Ariosto himself is dead, unto whom the book was dedicated, Duke of Nemours. a noble young Gentleman, discreet, full of good conditions, and apt unto every thing meet for one living in court. Likewise Duke julian de Medicis, whose goodness and noble Courtesy deserved to have been a longer time enjoyed of the world. Cardinal of S. Maria in Portico. Also M. Bernard, Cardinal of S. Maria in Portico, who for his lively and pleasant promptness of wit, was most acceptable unto as many as knew him, Duke of Genua. and dead he is. The Lord Octavian Fregoso is also dead, a man in our times very rare, of a most noble courage, of a pure lief, full of goodness, wit, wisdom and Courtesy, and a very friend unto honour and virtue, and so worthy praise, that his very enemies could say none other of him, than what sounded to his renown: And the mishaps he hath borne out with great steadiness, were sufficient enough to give evidence, that Fortune, as she hath always been, so is she in these days also an enemy to virtue. There are dead in like manner many other that are named in this book, unto whom a man would have thought that nature had promised a very long lief. But the thing that should not be rehearsed without tears is, Duchess of Urbin. that the Duchess she is also dead. And if my mind be troubled with the loss of so many friends and good Lords of mine, that have left me in this lief, as it were in a wilderness full of sorrow, reason would it should with much more grief bear the heaviness of the Duchess death, then of all the rest, because she was more worth than all the rest, and I was much more bound unto her then unto all the rest. Therefore for leesinge time to bestow that of duty I aught upon the memory of so excellent a Lady, and of the rest that are no more in lief, provoked also by the jeopardy of the book, I have made him to be imprinted, and setforth in such sort, as the shortness of time hath served me. And because you had no acqueintance, neither with the Duchess, nor with any of the rest that are dead, saving only with Duke julian, and with the Cardinal of S. Maria in Portico. while they lived, therefore to the intent, in what I can do, you may have acqueintance with them after their death, I sand unto you this book, as a portrait in peinctinge of the Court of Urbino: Not of the handiwoorke of Raphael, or Michael Angelo, but of an unknown peincter, and that can do no more but draw the principal lines, without settingfurth the truth with beautiful colours, or making it appear by the art of Prospective that it is not. And where I have enforced myself to setforth together with the comunication the properties & conditions of such as are named in it, I confess I have not only not fully expressed, but not somuch as touched the virtues of the Duchess Because not only my style is unsufficient to express them, but also mine understanding to conceive them. And if in this behalf, or in any other matter worthy reprehension (as I know well there want not many in the book) fault be found in me, I will not speak against the truth. But because men sometime take such delight in finding fault, that they found fault also in that deserveth not reproof, unto some that blame me because I have not followed Boccaccio, Boccaccio. nor bound myself to the manner of the Tuscan speech used nowadays, Tuscan tongue. I will not let to say, for all Boccaccio was of a fine wit, according to those times, and in some part writ with great advisement and diligence: yet did he writ much better when he let himself be guided with wit and his own natural inclination, without any other manner study or regard to polish his writings, then when with all travail and bend study he enforced himself to be most fine and eloquent. For his very favourers affirm that in his own matters he was far deceived in judgement, little regarding such things as have gotten him a name, and greatly esteaminge that is nothing worth. Had I then followed that trade of writing which is blamed in him by such as praise him in the rest, I could not have eschewed the very same reprooffes that are laid to Boccaccio himself as touching this. And I had deserved somuch the more, for that his error was then, in believing he did well, and mine should be now, in knowing I do amiss. Again if I had followed that trade which is reckoned of many to be good, and was little regarded of him, I should appear in following it to disagree from the judgement of him whom I followed: the which thing (in mine opinion) were an inconvenience. And beeside if this respect had not moved me, I could not follow him in the matter, forsomuch as he never wrote any thing in treatise like unto these books of the Courtier: And in the tongue, I aught not in mine advise, because the force or rule of speech doth consist more in use, then in any thing else: and it is always a vice to use words that are not in common speech. Therefore it was not meet I should have used many that are in Boccaccio, which in his time were used, and now are out of use among the Tuscans themselves. Neither would I bind myself to the manner of the Tuscan tongue in use now a days, because the practising among sundry Nations, hath always been of force to transport from one to an other (in a manner) as merchandise, so also new words, New Words. which afterward remain or decay, according as they are admitted by custom or refused. And this beside the record of ancient writers, is to be evidently seen in Boccaccio, in whom there are so many words French, Spanish, and provincial, and some perhaps not well understood of the Tuscans in these days, that whoso would pick them out, should make the book much the lesser. And because (in mine opinion) the kind of speech of the other noble Cities of Italy, where there resort men of wisdom, understanding and eloquence, which practise great matters of government of states, of letters, arms, and diverse affairs, aught not altogether to be neglected for the words which in these places are used in common speech: I suppose that they may be used well-enough, writing such as have a grace and comeliness in the pronunciation, and communly counted good and of proper signification, though they be not Tuscan, and have also their origion out of Italy. Beeside this in Tuscan they use many words clean corrupt from the Latin, Derived words from the Latin. the which in lombardy and in the other parts of Italy remain whole and without any change at all, and they are so universally used of every man, that of the best sort they are allowed for good, & of the common people understood with out difficulty. Therefore I think I have committed no error at all. If in writing I have used any of these, and rather taken the whole and pure word of mine own Country, than the corrupt & mangled of an other. Neither doth that rule seem good unto me, where many say the vulgar tongue, the less it is like unto the Latin, the more beautiful it is: And I can not perceive why more authority should consist in one custom of speech, then in an other. For if Tuscan be sufficient to authorize corrupt & mangled▪ Latin words, and to give them so great a grace, that mangled in such sort every man may use them for good (the which no man denieth) should not Lombary or any other country have the authority to allow the very Latin words that be pure, sound, proper and not broken in any part so, but they may be well borne? And assuredly as it may be called a rash presumption to take in hand to forge new words, or to set up the old in spite of custom: So is it no less, to take in hand against the force of the same custom to bring to nought, and (as it were) to bury alive such as have lasted now many years, & have been defended from the malice of the time with the shield of use, & have preserved their estimation and dignity, when in the wars and turmoils of Italy, alterations were brought up both of the tongue, buildings, garments and manners. And beeside the hardness of the matter, it seemeth to be (as it were) a certain wickedness. Therefore where I have not thought good in my writing to use the words of Boccaccio which are used no more in Tuscan, nor to bind myself to their law that think it not lawful to use them that the Tuscans use not nowadays, me think I aught to be held excused. But I suppose both in the matter of the book and in the tongue, forsomuch as one tongue may help an other, I have followed Authores as much worthy praise, as Boccaccio. And I believe it aught not to be imputed unto me for an error, that I have chosen to make myself rather known for a Lombard, in speaking of Lombard, then for no Tuscan, in speaking of tomuch Tuscan. Because I will not do as Theophrastus did, Cicero in Biuto. which for speaking tomuch the mere Athenian tongue, was of a simple old woman known not to be of Athens. But because in this point there is sufficient talk in the first book, I will make no more a do. And to avoid all contention I confess to my faultfinders, that I have no knowledge in this their Tuscan tongue so hard and secret: and I say that I have written it in mine own, and as I speak, & unto such as speak as I speak: and so I trust I have offended no man. For I believe it is forbed no man that is, to write & speak in his own tongue, neither is any man bound to read or hear that contenteth him not. Therefore if they will not read my Courtier, they shall offend me nothing at all. Other say, because it is so hard a matter and (in a manner) unpossible to find out a man of such perfection, as I would have the Courtier to be, Courtier. it is but superfluous to writ it: For it is a vain thing to teach that can not be learned. To these men I answer, I am content, to ere with Plato, Xenophon, and M. Tullius, leaving apart the disputing of the intelligible world and of the Ideas or imagined forms: in which number, as (according to that opinion) the Idea or figure conceived in imagination of a perfect common weal, and of a perfect king, and of a perfect Orator are contained: So is it also of a perfect Courtier. To the image whereof if my power could not draw nigh in style, so much the less pains shall Courtiers have to draw nigh in effect to the end and mark that I in writing have set before them. And if with all this they can not compass that perfection, such as it is, which I have endeavoured to express, he that cometh nighest shall be the most perfect: As among many Archers that shoot at one mark, where none of them hitteth the pin, he that is nighest is out of doubt better than the rest. Some again say that my meaning was to fashion myself, persuading myself that all such qualities as I appoint to the Courtier are in me. Unto these men I will not clean deny that I have attempted all that my mind is the Courtier should have knowledge in. And I think who so hath not the knowledge of the things entreated upon in this book, how learned so ever he be, he can full ill writ them. But I am not of so slender a judgement in knowing myself, that I will take upon me to know what soever I can wish. The defence therefore of these accusations & peradventure of many more, I leave for this once▪ to the judgement of the common opinion: because for the most part the multitude, though they have no perfect knowledge, yet do they feel by the instinct of nature a certain savour of good and ill, and can give none other reason for it: One tasteth and taketh delight, an other refuseth & is against his stomach. Therefore if the book shall generally please, I will count him good, and think that he aught to live: But if he shall displease, I will count him nought, and believe that the memory of him shall soon perish. And if for all this mine accusers will not be satisfied with this common judgement, let them content themselves with the judgement of time, which at length discovereth the privy faults of every thing: And because it is father to truth and a judge without passion, it accustometh evermore to pronounce true sentence of the life or death of writings. ¶ THE FIRST BOOK OF THE Courtier of Count Baldessar Castilio, unto Master Alphonsus Ariosto. I Have a long time doubted with myself [most loving M. Alphonsus] which of the two were harder for me, either to deny you the thing that you have with such instance many times required of me, or to take it in hand: Because on the one side me thought it a very hard matter to deny any thing, especially the request being honest, to the person whom I love deerlye, and of whom I perceive myself deerlye beloved. Again on the other side, to undertake an enterprise which I do not know myself able to bring to an end, I judged it uncomely for him that weigheth due reproofs so much as they ought to be weighed. At length after much debating, I have determined to prove in this behalf what aid that affection and great desire to please, can bring unto my diligence, which in other things is wont to increase the labour of men. You than require me to write, what is (to my thinking) the trade and manner of Courtiers, which is most sitting for a Gentleman that liveth in the Court of Princes, by the which he may have the knowledge how to serve them perfectly in every reasonable matter, and obtain thereby favour of them and praise of other men. finally, of what sort he aught to be that deserveth to be called so perfect a Courtier, that there be no want in him? wherefore I, considering this kind of request, say, that in case it should not appear to myself a greater blame to have you esteem me to be of small friendship, than all other men of little wisdom, I would have rid my hands of this labour▪ for fear leas●e I should be counted rash of all such as know, what a hard matter it is, among such diversity of manners, that are used in the Courts of Christendom, to pick out the perfectest trade and way, and (as it were) the flower of this Courtiership. Because use maketh us many times to delight in, and to set little by the self same things: whereby sometime it preceadeth that manners, garments, customs, and fashions which at sometime have been in price, becumme not regarded, and contrariwise the not regarded, becumme of price. Therefore it is manifestly to be discerned, that use hath greater force than reason, to bring up neweinuentions among us, and to abolish the old, of the which who so goeth about to judge the perfection, is often times deceived. For which consideration, perceiving this and many other lets in the matter propounded for me to writ upon, I am constrained to make a piece of an excuse, and to open plainly that this error (if it may be termed an error) is common to us both, that if any blame happen to me about it, it may be also partned with you. For it aught to be reckoned a no less offence in you to say upon me a burden that passeth my strength, then in me to take it upon me. Let us therefore at length settle ourselves to begin that is our purpose and drift, and (if it be possible) let us fashion such a Courtier, as the Prince that shallbe worthy to have him in his service, although his state be but small, may notwithstanding be called a mighty Lord. We will not in these books follow any certain order or rule of appointed precepts, the which for the most part is wont to be observed in the teaching of any thing whatsoever it be: but after the manner of men of old time, renewing a grateful memory, we will repeat certain reasonings that were debated in times passed between men very excellent for that purpose. And although I was not there present, but at the time when they were debated, it was my chance to be in England, yet soon after my return, I heard them of a person that faithfully reported them unto me. And I will endeavour myself, for so much as my memory will serve me, to call them particularly to remembrance, that you may see what, men worthy great commendation, and unto whose judgement a man may in every point give an undoubted credit, have judged and believed in this matter. Neither shall we swar●e from the purpose to arrive in good order at the end unto the which all our communication is directed, if we disclose the cause of the reasonings that hereafter follow. As every man knoweth the little City of Urbin is situated upon the side of the Apennine (in a manner) in the mids of Italy towards the Golf of Venice. Situation of Urbino. The which for all it is placed among hills, and those not so pleasant as perhaps some other that we behold in many places, Mare adriaticum. yet in this point the element hath been favourable unto it, that all about, the country is very plentiful and full of fruits: so that beside the holsomenesse of aer, it is very abundant and stored with all things necessary for the lief of man. But among the greatest felycityes that men can reckon it to have, I count this the chief, that now a long time it hath always been governed with very good Princes, although in the common calamities of the wars of Italy it remained also a season with out any at all. But without searching further of this we may make a good proof with the famous memory of Duke Fridericke, who in his days was the light of Italy. Neither do we want true and very large testimonies yet remaining of his wisdom, courtesy, Duke Frydericke. justice, liberality, of his invincible courage and policy of war. And of this do his so many victories make proof, chyeflye his conquering of places impregnable, his sudden readiness in setting forward to give battle, his putting to flight sundry times with a small numbered, very great and puissant armies, and never sustained loss in any conflict: So that we may, not without cause, compare him to many famous men of old time. This man among his other deeds praisworthy, in the hard & sharp situation of Urbin built a Palace, to the opinion of many men, The palace of Urbino. the fairest that was to be found in all Italy, and so fornished it with every necessary implement belonging thereto, that it appeared not a palace, but a City in form of a palace, and that not only with ordinary matters, as Silver plate, hangings for chambers of very rich cloth of gold, of silk and other like, but also for sightlynesse: and to deck it out withal, placed there a wondrous number of ancient images of marble and metal, very excellent peinctinges and instruments of music of all sorts, and nothing would he have there but what was most rare and excellent. To this with very great charges he gathered together a great number of most excellent and rare books, in Greek, Latin and Hebrew, the which all he garnished with gold and silver, esteaming this to be the chieffest ornament of his great palace. This duke then following the course of nature when he was .lxv. years of age, as he had lived, so did he end his lief with glory. And left Duke after him a child of ten years, Guidubaldo duke of Urbino. having no more male, and without mother, who height Guidubaldo. This child as of the state, so did it appear also that he was heir of all his father's virtues: and suddenly with a marvelous towardness beeganne to promise' so much of himself, as a man would not have thought possible to be hoped of a man mortal. So that the opinion of men was, that of all duke Friderickes notable deeds there was none greater than that he begat such a son. But fortune envying this so great virtue, withal her might gainstood this so glorious a beginning, in such wise that before duke Guidubaldo was twenty years of age, he fell sick of the gout, the which increasing upon him with most bitter pains, in a short time so numbed him of all his members, Troubled with the gout. that he could neither stand on foot nor move himself. And in this manner was one of the best favoured and towardlyest personages in the world deformed and marred in his green age. And beside, not satisfied with this, fortune was so contrary to him in all his purposes, that very seldom he brought to pass any thing to his mind. And for all he had in him most wise counsel, and an invincible courage, yet it seemed that whatsoever he took in hand both in feats of arms and in every other thing small or great, His ill luck. it came always to ill success. And of this make proof his many and divers calamities, which he always bore out with such stoutness of courage, that virtue never yielded to fortune. But with a bold stomach despising her storms, lived with great dignity and estimation among all men: in sickness, as one that was sound, and in adversity, as one that was most fortunate. So that for all he was thus diseased in his body, he served in time of war with most honourable entertainment under the most famous kings of Naples, His service with princes and common weals. Alphonsus and Ferdinand the younger. Afterward with Pope Alexander the vi with the lords of Venice and Florence. And when julius the two. was created Pope, he was then made general Captain of the Church: at which time proceeding in his accustomed usage, he set his delight above all things to have his house furnished with most noble and valiant gentlemen, with whom he lived very familiarly, enjoying their conversation, wherein the pleasure which he gave unto other men was no less, His properties and qualities. then that he received of other, because he was very well seen in both tongues, and together with a loving behaviour and plesauntnesse he had also accompanied the knowledge of infinite things. And beside this, the greatness of his courage so quickened him, that where he was not in case with his person to practise the feats of chivalry, as he had done long before, yet did he take very great delight to behold them in other men, and with his words sometime correcting, and otherwhile praising every man according to his deserts, he declared evidently how great a judgement he had in those matters. And upon this at Tilt, at Tourneye, in riding, in playing at all sorts of weapon, also in inventing devices, in pastimes, in music, finally in all exercises meet for noble Gentlemen, every man strived to show himself such a one, as might deserve to be judged worthy of so noble an assembly. Therefore were all the hours of the day divided into honourable and pleasant exercises, aswell of the body as of the mind. But because the Duke used continually, by reason of his infirmity, soon after supper to go to his rest, every man ordinarelye, Elizabeth gonzaga duchess of Urbino. at that hour drew where the Duchess was, the Lady Elizabeth Gonzaga. Where also continually was the Lady Emilia Pia, who for that she was endowed with so lively a wit and judgement as you know, seemed the mistress and ring leader of all the company, L. Emilia Pia. and that every man at her received understanding and courage. There was then to be heard pleasant communication and merry conceits, and in every man's countenance a man might perceive peyncted a loving iocoundenesse. So that this house truly might well be called the very mansion place of Mirth and joy. And I believe it was never so tasted in other place, what manner a thing the sweet conversation that is occasioned of an amiable and loving company, as it was once there. For leaving apart what honour it was to all us to serve such a Lord, as he whom I declared unto you right now, every man conceived in his mind an high contentation every time we came into the duchess sight. And it appeared that this was a chain that kept all linked together in love, in such wise that there was never agreement of will or hearty love greater between brethren, than was there between us all. The like was between the women, with whom we had such free and honest conversation, that every man might common, sit, da●y, and laugh with whom he had lusted. The behaviour of the Duchess. But such was the respect which we bore to the Duchess will, that the self same liberty was a very great bridle. Neither was there any that thought it not the greatest pleasure he could have in the world, to please her, and the greatest grief to offend her. For this respect were there most honest conditions coupled with wondrous great liberty, and devices of pastimes and laughing matters tempered in her sight, beside most witty jests, with so comely and grave a majesty, that the very sober mood and greatness that did knit together all the acts, words and gestures of the Duchess in jesting and laughing, made them also that had never seen her in their lief before, to count her a very great Lady. And all that came in her presence having this respect fired in their breast, it seemed she had made them to her beck▪ so that every man enforced himself to follow this trade, taking (as it were) a rule and enample of fair conditions at the presence of so great and so virtuous a Lady. Whose most excellent qualities I intend, not now to express, for it is neither my purpose, and again they are well enough known to the world, and much better than I am able either with tongue or with pen to indite. And such as would perhaps have lain hid a space, fortune, as she that wondereth at so rare virtues, hath thought good with many adversities and temptatyons of miseries to disclose them, to make trial thereby that in the tender breast of a woman, in company with singular beauty, there can devil wisdom, and stoutness of courage, and all other virtues that in grave men themselves are most seldom. But leaving this apart, I say that the manner of all the Gentlemen in the house was immediately after supper to assemble together where the duchess was. Where among other recreations, music and dancing, which they used continually, sometime they propounded feat questions, otherwhile they invented certain witty sports and pastimes, at the devise sometime of one sometime of an other, in the which under sundry coverts, often times the standers buy opened subtilely their imaginations unto whom they thought best. At other times there arrose other disputations of divers matters, or else iestinges with prompt inventions. Many times they fell into purposes, as we now a days term them, where in this kind of talk & debating of matters, Noble personages in the Court of Urbino. there was wondrous great pleasure on all sides: Because (as I have said) the house was replenished with most noble wits. among which (as you know) were most famous the Lord Octavian, Fregoso, Sir Friderick his brother the L. julian de Medicis, M. Peter Bembo, the L. Cesar Gonzaga, Count Lewis of Canossa, the L. Gaspar Pallavicin, the L. Lodovicus pius, M. Morello of Ortona, Peter of Naples, M. Robert of Bari, and infinite other most worthy knights and gentlemen. Beesyde these there were many that for all ordinarily they dwelled not there, yet spent they most of their time there, as, M. Bernard Bibiena, unico Aretino, johnchristopher Romano, Peter Mount, Therpander, M. Nicholas Phrisio, so that thither ran continually poets, musitiens, & all kind of men of skill, and the excellentest in every faculty that were in all Italy. After pope julius the two. had with his own presence by the aid of the Frenchmen brought Bolonia to the obedience of the apostolic Sea again, in the year Mdvi in his return toward Room he took Urbin in his way, where he was received as honourably as was possible, and with as sumptuous and costly preparation, as could have been in any other City of Italy whatsoever it be. So that beeside the Pope, all the Cardinals and other Courtiers thought themselves thoroughly satisfied. And some there were that provoked with the sweetness of this company, after the Pope and the Court was departed, continued many days together in Urbin. At which time they did not only proceed in their accustomed trade of disporting and ordinary recreations, but also every man set to his helping hand to augment them somewhat, and especially in pastimes, which they had up almost every night. And the order thereof was such, that assoon as they were assembled where the Duchess was, every man sat him down at his will, or as it fell to his lot, in a circle together, and in s●ttinge were divided a man and a woman, as long as there were women, for always (lightly) the number of men was far the greater. Then were they governed as the Duchess thought best, which many times gave this charge unto the L. Emilia. So the day after the Pope was departed, the company being gathered to the accustomed place, after much pleasant talk, the Duchess pleasure was that the L. Emilia should begin these pastimes: devices of pastimes. and she after a little refusing of that charge, said in this manner: Sith it is your pleasure (Madam) I shall be she that must give the onsett in our pastimes this night, because I aught not of reason disobey you, I think meet to propound a pastime, whereof I suppose shall ensue little blame, and less travail. And that shall be to have every man, as nigh as he can, propound a devise not yet heard of, then shall we choose out such a one as shall be thought meet to be taken in hand in this company. And after she had thus spoken, she turned her unto the L. Gaspar Pallavicin, willing him to propound his: who immediately made answer: But first (madam) you must beeginne to propound yours. Then said the L. Emilia: I have already done. But your grace must command him (Madam) to be obedient. Then the Duchess laughing to th'intent (quoth she) every man shall obey you, I make you my deputy, and give unto you all mine authority. It is surely a great matter, answered the L. Gaspar, that it is always lawful for women to have this privilege, to be exempt and free from pains taking, and truly reason would we should in any wise know why. But because I will not be he that shall give example to disobey, I shall leave this until an other time, The L. Gaspar's devise. and will speak of that I am now charged withal, and thus I begin. Mine opinion is, that our minds, as in other things, so also in loving are diverse in judgement, and therefore it chanceth often times, that the thing which is most acceptable unto one, is most abhorred of an other. Yet for all that they always agreed in that every man counteth most dear the wight beloved. So that many times the overmuch affection in lovers doth so deceive their judgement, that they ween the person whom they love, to be so garnished with all excellent virtues and without fault, that he hath no peer in the world But because the nature of man doth not admit such full perfectyons, and there is no man that hath not some default or want in him, it can not be said that such as these be are not deceived, and that the lover doth not become blind as touching the beloved. I would therefore our pastime should be this night to have every man open what virtues he would principally the person he loveth should be endowed with all. And seeing it is so necessarily that we all have some spot, what vice he would also have in him: to see who can find out most praise worthy and manly virtues, and most tolerable vices, that should be lest hurtful both to him that loveth, and to the wyghte beloved. After the L. Gaspar had thus spoken, The L. Constance Freg●sa. the L. Emilia made a sign unto the Lady constance Fregosa, because she was next in order, to follow: who was now about to speak, when the Duchess suddenly said: seeing the L. Emilia will not take the pain to find out some pastime, reason willeth that the other Ladies should be partakers of the same privilege, and be also free from this burden for this night: especially seeing there are so many men in place, for assure yourself we shall want no pastimes. So shall we do, answered the L. Emilia, and putting the L. Constance to silence turned her to the L. Cesar Gonzaga, that sat next her, commanding him to speak, The L. Cesar Gonzagas devise. and thus he began: Whoso will diligently consider all our doings, he shall find always in them sundry imperfections. And that happeneth, because nature doth vary, as well in this, as in all other things. Unto one she hath given the light of reason in one thing, and unto an other, in an other thing. Therefore it cometh to pass, where one man knoweth that an other knoweth not, and is ignorant in the thing that the other hath understanding in, each man doth▪ easily perceive the error of his fellow, and not his own, and we all think ourselves to be very wise and peradventure in that point most, wherein we are most foolish. So that we have seen by experience in this house many men which at the beegynning were counted most wise, in process of time were known to be most foolish. A kind of spiders, which being divers of nature cause divers effects, some after their biting fall a singing, some laugh, some wept, some watch, some sweat: and this disease is only cured with instruments of music, which must never cease until the diseased being constrained with the melody thereof to fall a daunsi●ge with long exercise overcometh the force of this poison. Which hath proceeded of no other thing but of our own diligence, like, as it is said to be in Pulia of them that are bitten with a Tarrantula, about whom men occupy many instruments of music, and with sundry sons go searching out, until the humour that maketh this disease by a certain concordance it hath with some of those sons, feeling it, doth suddenly move, and so stirreth the patient, that by that stirring he recovereth his health again. In like manner we, when we have felt some privy operation of folly we provoke it so subtly, and with such sundry persuasions, and so divers ways that at length we understand whether it tended. Afterward the humour known, we so stir it that always it is brought to the perfection of open folly. And some is waxed foolish in verses, some in music, some in love, some in dancing, some in making antiques, some in riding, some in playing at fence, every man according to the moine of his metal, whereby hath ensued (as you know) marvelous great pastime. I hold therefore for certain, that in every one of us there is some seed of folly, the which being stirred may multiply (in a manner) infinite. Therefore I would this night our pastime were to dispute upon this matter: and that every man might say his mind, seeing I must be openly foolish, in what sort of folly I am foolish, and over what matter, judging it th● issue for the sparkles of folly that are daily seen to proceed from me. And let the like be said of all the rest, keeping the order of our devices, and let every man do his best to ground his opinion upon some sure sign and argument, and so by this our pastime shall every one of us get profit, in that we shall know our defaults, and there shall we the better take heed. And in case the vain of folly which we shall discover, be so rank that it shall appear to us past remedy, we will set thereto our helping hand, and according to the doctrine of Friar Marian, we shall gaigne a soul which shallbe no small gaigne. Friar Marian. At th●● devise there was much laughing, and none cold refrains from speaking. One said, I should be found foolish in imagining. An other, in viewing. An other said, he was already become foolish for love: and such like matters. Then friar Seraphin after his manner, laughing. This (quoth he) should be to tedious a matter. Friar Seraphin. But if you will have a pretty pastime, let every man tell his opinion, ho● it cometh that (in a manner) all women abhor rats, love serpents, and you shall see that none will hit vpo● it, but I, that know this mystery by a strange mean And now began he to enter into his trifling tales, but▪ the L. Emilia commanded him to silence, and overscipping the Lady that sat there, Unico Arettinos devise made a sign to unico aretino that was next in order, and he without looking for any more bidding, I (quoth he) would gladly be a judge of authority that I might with all kind of torment bolt out the truth of offenders: and that, to discover the deceits of an ungrate woman, who with the eyes of an angel, and heart of a Serpent, never agreeth her tongue with her mind, and with a feigned deceivable compassion, purposeth nothing else but to make Anatomy of hearts. Neither is there in all the sandy country of Libya to be found so venomous a serpent that is so desirous of man's blood, as is this false creature. Which not only for the sweetness of voice and pleasant son of words, but also for her eyes, for her laughing, for her countenance, and for all her gestures is a most perfect meremayden. Therefore seeing it is not lawful for me, as I would, to use chains, ropes, or fire, to understand a matter of troth, my desire is to compass the knowledge of it with a miry pastime, which is this: That every man should express his fancy what the S doth signify that the duchess carrieth in her forehead. For although this be also an artificial covert, the better to beguile, perhaps there may be an interpretation which she never thought upon. And who knoweth whether fortune, with pity beholding the torments of men, hath stirrid her with this small token to discover against her will the inward desire she hath to slay and bury alive in calamity him that honoureth and serveth her. The duchess laughed▪ and unico, perceiving she would have excused herself of this interpretation, not (quoth he) speak you not (madam) for it is not your turn to speak now. The L. Emilia then turned her and said. M▪ unico, there is none of us all here that giveth not place to you in everyething, and especially in knowing the disposition of the Duchess. And as you by your divine wit know her better than all the rest, so do you love her better than all the rest, which like birds of a feeble sight, that cannot look steadfastly into the circle of the Sun, cannot so well perceive the perfection of it. Therefore all labour were in vain in clearing of this doubt, saving your judgement alone. This enterprise than is reserved only to you, as unto him that alone can bring it to an end, and none other. unico, after he had paused a while being still called upon to say his fancy, at length rehearsed a rhyme upon the aforesaid matter, expounding what signified the letter S. the which many judged to be made at the first sight. But because it was more witty & better knit then a man would have believed the shortness of time required, it was thought he had prepared it before. So after men's favourable voice given in the praise of this rhyme, and after sufficient talk, the L. Octavian Fregoso whose turn was then next, began in this sort smiling: The L. Octavian Fregosos devise. My lords, if I should say unto you that I never felt passion of love in my days, I am sure the Duchess and the L. Emilia, although they believed it not in deed, yet would they make semblant to believe it, and would say that it proceeded because I mistrusted I should never frame any woman to love me. The which truly I have not hitherto proved with such instance, that of reason I should despair to obtain it once. Neither have I forborn the doing of it, because I set so much by myself and so little by women, that I think none worthy to bestow my love and service upon. But rathe● amazed at the continual bewailings of some lovers, that with their paleness, sorrow, and silence, it appeareth they have evermore their own discomfort painted in their eyes. And if they speak, accompanyinge every word with certain treblefolde sighs, they reason of nothing else, but of tears, of torments, of desperations, and of longing for death. So that whensoever any sparkle of love hath beegonne to kindle in my breast, I have by and by enforced myself with all diligence to quench it, not for any hatred that I have conceived against women (as these Ladies suppose) but for mine own health. On the other side, I have known some other clean contrary to these sorrowful, which do not only advance and content themselves with the cheerful looks, loving words, and sweet countenances of their ladies, but also sauce their sorrows with sweetness, so that they count the debates, the angers and the disdeignes of them, most sweet. Therefore these men seem unto me to be much more than happy, for whereas they find so much sweetness in the amorous disdeignes, which some men reckon much more bitter than death, I believe in loving gestures they should feel that wonderful bliss, which we seek for in vain in this world. Therefore would I our pastime were this night to have every man show, where there must be a dysdeygne against him in the person beloved, what the cause should be that should make the person conceive this disdeygne. For if there be any here that have proved those sweet disdeignes, I am sure they will desire for courtesy one of these causes that make them so sweet. And perhaps I shall with a better will proceed somewhat farther in love, in hope that I shall also find this sweetness, where as some find bitterness, and so shall not these Ladies give me any more this slanderous report, that I am not in love. M. Peter Bembos' devise. This pastime was much praised, and therefore did every man settle himself to reason upon this matter. But the Lady Emilia holding her peace M. Peter Bembo, that sat next in order, spoke in this manner: My Lords, this pastime that the L. Octavian hath propounded hath raised no small doubt in my mind, where he hath reso●ed of the disdiegnes of love, the which though they be sundry, yet unto me have they always been most bitter. Neither do I believe that I can learn any sauce that shallbe sufficient to sweten them. But peradventure they are the more & the less bitter according to the cause whereof they arise. For I have in my days (I remember) seen the woman whom I served, stirred against me, either upon a vain suspicion that she conceived herself of my trustiness, or else upon some other false opinion that had been put into her head by some men's report to my hindrance, so that I believed no grief might be compared to mine. And me thought that the greatest sorrow I felt was to suffer without deserving, and to sustain this affliction, not for any offence of mine, but for the small love that was in her. At other times I saw her disdeignefull for some oversight of mine, and knew that her anger proceeded of mine offence, and at that instant I judged the former ve●ation to be very light in comparison to that which I felt then. And me thought to be in displeasure, and that for mine own trespass, with the person whom only I coveted and with such diligence sought to please, was the greatest torment of all other. Therefore would I our pastime were to have every man declare his opinion, where there must be a disdain against him in the person beloved, of whom he would the cause of this disdain should have his beeginning, whether of her or of himself: to know which is the greater grief, either to displease the wight beloved, or to receive displeasure of the wight beloved. Every man looked what the L. Emilia would make answer to this, but without any word speaking to Bembo, she turned her and made a sign to Sir Friderick Fregoso to show his devise. S. Friderick Fregosos device. And he incontinently began thus: Madam, I would it were lawful for me, as the manner is many times to remit me to the judgement of an other, for I for my part would with all my heart allow some of the pastimes that have been already propounded by these Lords, because in deed me think they would be worth the hearing. Yet lest I should break the order, this I say: who so would take in hand to praise our Court, leaving a part the deserts of the duchess, which ghostly spirit, with her influence, is sufficient to draw from the earth up into heaven the simplist wits in the world, he might well do it without suspicion of flattery. Good Courtiers in the court of Urbino. For peradventure in all Italy a man shall have much a do to find out so many gentlemen and noble personages that are so worthy, and beside the principal profession of chivalry so excellent in sundry things, as are presently here. Therefore if in any place men may be found that deserve the name of good Courtiers, and can judge what belongeth to the perfection of Courtyership, by reason a man may believe them to be here. To disgrace therefore many untowardly asseheades, that through malapertness think to purchase them the name of a good Courtier, I would have such a pastime for this night, that one of the company might be picked out who should take in hand to shape in words a good Courtier, specifying all such conditions and particular qualities, as of necessity must be in him that deserveth this name. And in such things as shall not appear necessary, that it may be lawful for every man to reply against them, as the manner of Philosopher's schools is against him that keepeth disputations. Sir Friderick proceeded still forward, in his talk, when the L. Emilia: interrupting him, said: If it be my L. the duchess pleaser, this shall be our pastime for this once. The duchess answered: I am well pleased. Then (in manner) all the company began to say both to the duchess, & among themselves that this was the trimmest pastime they could have, and without looking for answer the one of the other, they craved upon the Lady Emilia to appoint who should first begin. Who turning her toward the duchess, said: Command you (madam) whom shall please you to take this enterprise in hand, for I will not by chousing more one than an other, declare myself to judge in this behalf, whom I think to be better skilled than the rest, and so do wrong to some. The duchess answered: make you this cho●se yourself, and take heed that in disobeying you be not a precedent to the rest to be disobedient. Then the Lady Emilia said laughing unto Lewis count of Canossi: therefore for losing any more time, you (Count) shall be he that shall take this enterprise upon him in form and manner as Sir Friderick hath declared. Not for that we know ye are so good a Courtier that you have at your finger's ends that belongeth thereto: but because in repeating every thing arsiversy, as we hope ye will, we shall have somuch the more pastime, and every one shall be able to answer you, where if an other more skilful than you should take it in hand, there should be nothing said against him for telling the truth, and so should we have but a cold pastime. The Count answered by and by: we need not fear (madam) that we shall want contrarying in words against him that telleth the truth, as long as you be here. And after they had laughed a while at this answer, he proceeded on: but truly I would with all my heart be rid of this burden, for it is to hard for me. And I know that to be most true in me which you have spoken in jest: namely, that I have no understanding in that belongeth to a good Courtier. And this do I not seek to prove with any other trial, for seeing I do not the deeds, a man may judge I understand it not, and I believe I am the less to be blamed. For out of doubt it is a worse matter not to do well, than not to understand how to do it. Yet saying your pleaser is, that I shall take this charge upon me, I can not, nor will refuse it, for withstanding your order and judgement, the which I know is much better than mine. Then the L. Cesa● Gonzaga. Because it is now (quoth he) well forward in night, and have here ready for us other sorts of pastimes peradventure it should not be amiss to defer this reasoning until to morrow, and the Count shall have leisure to think better upon that he hath to say: for in very deed to entreat upon such a matter at the first sight, it is a hard thing. Then answered the Count: I will not do as he did, that stripped himself into his dublette, and leapt less ground than he did before in his Coat. And me think my luck is good that it is late, because the shortness of time shall make me use few words, and the sodeinnesse of the matter shall so excuse me, that it shall be lawful for me to speak without blame whatsoever cometh first to mind. Because I will not therefore carry this burden of duty any longer upon my shoulders, this I say: The true perfection in things. in every thing it is so hard a matter to know the true perfection, that it is almost unpossible, and that by reason of the variety of judgements. Therefore many there are, that delight in a man of much talk, and him they call a pleasant fellow. Some will delight more in modesty, some other will fancy a man that is active and always doing: other, one that showeth a quietness and a respect in every thing. And thus doth every man praise or dispraise according to his fancy, always covering a vice with the name of the next virtue to it, Vice cloaked with the name of a virtue, & contrariwise. and a virtue with the name of the next vice: as in calling him that is saucy, bold: him that is sober, dry: him that is silly, good: him that is unhappy, witty: and likewise in the rest. Yet do I think that each thing hath his perfection, although it be hid, and with reasonable dyscourses might be judged of him that hath knowledge in the matter. And for as much as the truth (as I have said) is oftentimes hid, and I take not upon me to have this knowledge I can not praise, but that kind of Courtiers which I set most by, and allow that which seemeth unto me most nigh the truth, in my small judgement. The which you shall follow if ye think it good, or else stick to your own, if it shall vary from mine. Neither will I (for all that) stand stiff that mine is better than yours, for not only one thing may seem unto you, and an other to me, but also unto myself it may appear sometime one thing, sometime another. I will have this our Courtier therefore to be a Gentleman borne & of a good house. The facioning of a Courtier For it is a great deal less dyspraise for him that is not born a gentleman to fail in the acts of virtue then for a gentleman. A Gentleman borne. If he swarm from the steps of his ancestors, he staineth the name of his family, and doth not only not get, but loseth that is already gotten. For nobleness of birth (is as it were) a clear lamp that showeth forth and bringeth into light, works both good and bad, and inflameth and provoketh unto virtue, as well with the fear of slander, as also with the hope of praise. And whereas this brightness of nobleness doth not discover the works of the unnoble, they have a want of provocation and of fear of slander, and they reckon not themselves bound to wade any further than their ancestors did before them, whereas the noble of birth count it a shame not to arrive at the least at the bounds of their predecessors set forth unto them. Therefore it chanceth always (in a manner) both in arms and in all other virtuous acts, that the most famous men are gentlemen. Because nature in every thing hath deeply sowed that privy seed, which giveth a certain force and property of her beginning, Gentlemen of most prowess unto whatsoever springeth of it, and maketh it like unto herself. As we see by example not only in the race of horses and other beasts, but also in trees, whose slips and grafts always for the most part are like unto the stock of the tree they came from: and if at any time they grow out of kind, the fault is in the husbandman. And the like is in men, if they be trained up in good nurture, Good bringing up in youth. most commonly they resemble them from whom they come and often times pass them, but if they have not one that can well train them up, they grow (as it were) wild, and never come to their ripeness. Truth it is, whether it be through the favour of the stars or of nature, Some borne full of graces & comeliness. some there are borne endowed with such graces, that they seem not to have been borne, but rather fashioned with the very hand of some God, and abound in all goodness both of body and mind. As again we see some so unapt and dull, Some ●orne very asse●eds that a man will not believe, but nature hath brought them into the world for a spite and mockery. And like as these with continual diligence and good bringing up for the most part can bring small fruit: even so the other with little attendance climb to the full perfection of all excellency. Mark me the Lord Hippolytus da Este Cardinal of Ferrara, he hath had so happy a birth, that his person, his countenance, his words, & all his gestures are so fashioned & compact with this grace, Hippolytus da Este brother to the Duke of Ferrarra. that among the most ancient prelate's (for all he is but young) he doth represent so grave an authority, that a man would ween he were more meet to teach, then needful to learn. Likewise in company with men and women of all degrees, in sporting, in laughing, and in jesting he hath in him a certain sweetness, & so comely demeanours, that whoso speaketh with him or yet beholdeth him, must needs bear him an affection for ever. But returning to our purpose I say, that between this excellent grace, and that fond foolishness there is yet a mean, and they that are not by nature so perfectly furnished, with study and diligence may polished and correct a great part of the defaults of nature. The Courtier therefore, beside nobleness of birth, I will have him to be fortunate in this behalf, & by nature to have not only a wit, and a comely shape of person and countenance, but also a certain grace, and (as they say) a hew, that shall make him at the first sight acceptable & loving unto who so beholdeth him. And let this be an ornament to frame & accompany all his acts, and to assure men in his look, such a one to be worthy the company and favour of every great man. Here without any longer tarrying the L. G●sper Palla●icin said: that our pastime may have the form and manner agreed upon, and lest it should appear that we little esteem the authority given us to contrary you, I say (in mine advise) that this nobleness of birth is not ●o necessary for the Courtier. And if I wist that any of you thought it a strange or a new matter, I would allege unto you sundry, who for all they were borne of most noble blood, yet have they been heaped full of vices: And contrariwise, many unnoble that have made famous their posterity. And if it be true that you said before, that the privy force of the first seed is in every thing, we should all be in one manner condition, for that we had all one self beginning, and one should not be more noble than an other. But beside the diversities and degrees in us of high and low, I believe there be many other matters, wherein I judge fortune to be the chief, because we see her bear a stroke in all worldly things, and (as it were) take a pastime to exalt many times whom pleaseth her without any desert at all, & bury in the bottomless depth the most worthy to be exalted. I confirm your saying as touching the happiness of them that are borne abounding in all goodness both of mind & body: but this is seen aswell in the unnoble, as in the noble of birth, for nature hath not these so subtle distinctions: yea (as I have said) we see many times in people of most base degree, most high gifts of nature. Therefore seeing this nobleness is gotten neither with wit, force, nor art, but is rather a praise of our ancestors than our own, me think it a strange opinion that the parents of our Courtier being unnoble, his good qualities should be defaced, & those ou● good conditions which you have named should not be sufficient to bring him to the top of all perfection: that is to say, wit, beauty of fisnamy, disposition of person, & the grace which at the first sight shall make him most acceptable unto all men. Then answered Count Lewis: I deny not, but in men of base degree may reign the very same virtues that are in gentlemen. But to avoid rehearsal of that we have already said, with many other reasons that might be alleged in commendation of nobleness, the which is evermore honoured of all men because it standeth with reason that good should spring of good, forsomuch as our entē● is to fashion a Courtier without any manner default or lack in him, & heaped with all praise, me think it a necessary matter to make him a gentleman, as well for many other respects, as also for the common opinion, which by and by doth lean to nobleness. For where there are two in a noble man's house which at the first have given no proof of themselves with works good or bad, Nobleness of birth in estimation with all men. assoon as it is known that the one is a gentleman borne, and the other not, the unnoble shall be much less esteemed with every man, than the gentleman, The imprintinges or conceivinge of the mind with expectation. and he must with much travail and long time imprint in men's heads a good opinion of himself, which the other shall get in a moment, and only for that he is a gentleman: and how weighty these imprintinges are every man may easily judge. For, to speak of ourselves: we have seen men come to this house, which for all they were fools and dulwitted, yet had they a report through all italy of great Courtiers, & though at length they were discovered and known, yet many days did they beguile us, and maintained in our minds that opinion of themselves, which at the first they found there imprinted, although they wrought according to their small skill. We have seen other at the first in very small estimation, The ill inclination of princes in ●uouring them that deserve it not and afterward in the end have acquitted themselves marvelous well. And of these errors there are divers causes and among other the obstinatenes of princes, which to prove masteries oftentimes bend themselves to favour him, that to their seeming, deserveth no favour at all, & many times in deed they are deceived. But because they have always many that counterfeit them, a very great report dependeth upon their favour, that which most commonly judgements follow. And if they found any thing that seemeth contrary to the common opinion, they are in doubt for deceiving themselves, We be moved to passions without any manifest cause why. & always look for some matter secretly because it seemeth, that these general opinions aught to be founded upon a troth, & arise of reasonable causes. And forsomuch as our minds are very apt to love and to hate: as in the sights of combats and games and in all other kind of contention one with an other, it is seen that the lookers on many times bear affection without any manifest cause why, unto one of the two parties, with a greedy desire to have him get the victory, and the other to have the overthrow. Also as touching the opinion of men's qualities, the good or ill report at the first brunt moveth our mind to one of these two passions: therefore it cometh to pass, that for the most part we judge with love or else with hatred. You see then of what importance this first imprinting is, and how he aught to endeavour himself to get it good in princes, if he intend to be set by, and to purchase him the name of a good Courtier. But to come to some particularity, I judge the principal and true profession of a Courtier aught to be in feats of arms, Arms the courtiers chief profession. the which above all I will have him to practise lively, and to be known among other for his hardiness, for his acheving of enterprises, and for his fidelity toward him whom he serveth. And he shall purchase himself a name with these good conditions, in doing the deeds in every time and place: for it is not for him to faint at any time in this behalf without a wondrous reproach. That he take no foil. And even as in women honesty once stained doth never return again to the former estate: So the fame of a gentleman that carrieth weapon, if it once take a foil in any little point through dastardliness or any other reproach, doth evermore continued shameful in the world and full of ignorance. Therefore the more excellent our Courtier shallbe in this art, the more shall he be worthy praise: albeit I judge not necessary in him so perfect a knowledge of things and other qualities that is requisite in a captain. But because this is overlarge a scope of matters, we will hold ourselves contented (as we have said) with the uprightness of a well meaning mind, & with an invincible courage, and that he always show himself such a one: for many times men of courage are sooner known in small matters then in great. Often times in dangers that stand them upon, Cowards sometime hardy. & where many eyes be, ye shall see some that for all their heart is dead in their body, yet pricked with shame or with the company, go forward (as it were) blindfield and do their duty. And god knoweth both in matters that little touch them, and also where they suppose that without missing they may convey themselves from danger, how they are willingynough to sleep in a whole skin. Who have the stoutness of courage. But such as think themselves neither marked, seen, nor known, and yet declare a stout courage, and suffer not the least thing in the world to pass that may burden them, they have the courage of spirit which we seek to have in our Courtier. Yet will we not have him for all that so lusty to make bravery in words, and to brag that he hath wedded his harness for his wife, and to threaten with such grim looks, as we have seen Berto do oftentimes. For unto such may well be said that a worthy Gentlewoman in a noble assembly spoke pleasantly unto one, that shall be nameless for this time, whom she to show him a good countenance, desired to dance with her, and he refusing both that, and to hear music and many other entertainmentes offered him, always affirming such trifles not to be his profession, at last the Gentlewoman demanding him, what is then your profession? He answered with a frowning look, to fight. Then said the Gentlewoman: seeing you are not now at the war nor in place to fight, I would think it best for you to be well besmered and set up in an armory with other implements of war till time were that you should be occupied, lest you wa●e more rustier than you are. Thus with much laughing of the standers by she left him with a mock in his foolish presumption. He therefore that we seek for, A stoutherted man. where the enemies are, shall show himself most fierce, bitter, & evermore with the first. In every place beside, lowly, sober, & circumspect, fleeing above all thing, To avoid praising a man's self. bragging and unshameful praising himself, for therewith a man always purchaseth himself the hatred and ill will of the hearers. And I, answered the L. Gaspar, have known few men excellent in any thing whatsoever it be, but they praise themselves. And me think it may well be borne in them: for he that is of skill, when he seethe that he is not known for his works of the ignorant, hath a disdain that his cunning should lie buried, Estimation the reward of vertious acts. and needs must he open it one way, lest he should be defrauded of the estimation that belongeth to it, which is the true reward of virtuous travails. Therefore among the ancient writers he that much excelleth doth seldom forbear praising himself. They in deed are not to be borne withal that having no skill in them, will praise themselves: but we will not take our Courtier to be such a one. Then the Count, if you have well understood (quoth he) I blamed the praising of a man's self impudently and without respect. And surely (as you say) a man aught not to conceive an ill opinion of a skilful man that praiseth himself, discreetly, but rather take it for a more certain witness, then if it came out of an other man's mouth. I agreed well that he, which in praising himself falleth not into error, nor purchaseth himself loathsomeness or hatred of the hearers, is most discrete: and beside the praises which he giveth himself, deserveth the same of other men also, because it is a very hard matter. Then the L. Gaspar, this (quoth he) must you teach us. The Count answered: Among the ancient writers there hath not also wanted that hath taught it. In what sort a man may praise himself But in mine opinion, all doth consist in speaking such things after a sort, that it may appear that they are not rehearsed to that end: but that they come so to purpose, that he can not refrain telling them, and always seeming to flee his own praise tell the truth. But not as those lusty lads do, that open their mouth and thrust out words at adventure they care not how. As within these few days one of our company being pushed through the thigh with a pike at Pysa, Brave roisters. thought that it was the biting of a fly. And an other said that he occupied no looking glass in his chamber, because in his rage he was so terrible to behold, that in looking upon his own countenance he should put himself into much fear. At this every one laughed. But the L. Cesar Gonzaga said unto them: At what laugh you? Know ye not that the great Alexander, Anaxagoras. hearing a certain Philosopher's opinion to be that there were infinite worlds, fell in weeping: And when he was asked the question why he wept, he answered: Because I have not yet one in hand, as though his mind was to have them all. Do you not think that this was a greater bravery, then to speak of the fly biting: So was Alexander a greater person than he that so said, answered the Count But excellent men in very deed are to be held excused, when they take much upon them: because he that undertaketh great enterprises must have a boldness to do it, and a confidence of himself, and not of a bashful or cowardly mind, but yet sober in words: showing as though he took less upon him than he doth in deed, so that his taking upon him do not extend unto rashness. Here the Count respeting a while M. Bernard Bibiena said merely: I remember you said before, that this our Courtier ought of nature to have a fair comeliness of fisnamye and person, with the grace that ought to make him so amiable. As for the grace and beauty of fisnamie, I think not the contrary but they are in me, and therefore do so many women burn for the love of me, as you know. But for the comeliness of person, I stand somewhat in doubt, and especially by reason of my legs here, for me think in deed they are not so well made as I could wish they were: the body and the rest is meetly well. Therefore declare some what more particularly this comeliness of person, what it should be, that I may be out of this doubt & set my heart at rest. When they had a while ughed at this, the Count said: Certes, the grace of the fisnamy, may well be said to be in you without any lie. And no other example do I allege but this, to declare what manner thing it should be: for undoubtedly we see your countenance is most acceptable & pleasant to behold unto every man, although the proportion and draughts of it be not very delicate, but it is manly and hath a good grace withal. And this quality have many and sundry shapes of visages. The countenance of the Courtier. And such a countenance as this is, will I have our Courtier to have, and not so soft and womanishe as many procure to have, the do not only courle the hear, and pick the brows, but also paumpre themselves in every point like the most wanton and dishonest women in the world: and a man would think them in going, men that would appear women. in standing, and in all their gestures so tender and faint, that their members were ready to flee one from an other, and their words they pronounce so drawningly, that a man would ween they were at that instant yielding up the ghost: and the higher in degree the men are they talk withal, the more they use such fashions. These men, seeing nature (as they seem to have a desire to appear and to be) hath not made them women, aught not to be esteemed in place of good women, but like common harlots to be banished, not only out of princes courts, but also out of the company of Gentlemen. To come therefore to the quality of the person, I say he is well, Good to be of a mean stature. if he be neither of the lest, nor of the greatest size. For both the one and the other hath with it a certain spiteful wonder, and such men are marveled at, almost, as much as men marvel to behold monstrous things. Yet if there must needs be a default in one of the two extremities, it shall be less hurtful to be somewhat of the lest, Rather with the lowest than to high. then to exceed the common stature in height. For men so shut up of body, beside that many times they are of a dull wit, they are also unapt for all exercises of nimeblenesse, which I much desire to have in the Courtier. And therefore will I have him to be of a good shape, and well proportioned in his limbs, and to show strength, lightness, and quickness, To be a man of war. and to have understanding in all exercises of the body, that belong to a man of war. And herein I think the chief point is to handle well all kind of weapon both for footman and horseman, To handle all kind of weapon. and to know the vantages in it. And especially to be skilful on those weapons that are used ordinarily among gentlemen, for beside the use that he shall have of them in war, where peradventure needeth no great cunning, there happen often times variances between one gentleman and an other, whereupon ensueth a combat. And many times it shall stand him in stead to use the weapon which he hath at that instant by his side, therefore it is a very sure thing to be skilful. And I am none of them which say, Fighting maketh not a man to forget his fence. that he forgetteth his cunning when he cometh to the point: for to abide by, whoso loseth his cunning at that time, showeth that he hath first lost his heart and his spirits for fear. I think also it will serve his turn greatly, to know the feat of wrestling, Wrestling. because it goeth much together with all weapon on foot. Again it is behouffull both for himself and for his friends, To know what is to be done in quarrels when they happen. that he have a foresight in the quarrels and controversies that may hap, and let him beware of the vantages, declaring always in every point both courage and wisdom. Neither let him run rashly to these combattes, but when he must needs to save his estimation withal: Not rash to fight combattes. for beside the great danger that is in the doubtful lot, he that goeth headlong to these things and without urgent cause, deserveth very great blame, although his chance be good. But when a man perceiveth that he is entered so far that he can not draw back without burden, he must, How a man aught to behave himself in fighting a combat. both in such things he hath to do before the combat and also in the combat be utterly resolved with himself, and always show a readiness and a stomach. And not as some do, pass the matter in arguing and points, and having the choice of weapon, take such as have neither point nor edge. And arm themselves as though they should go against the shot of a Cannon. And weening it sufficient not to be vanquished, stand always at their defence and give ground, in so much that they declare an extreme faint heart, and are a mocking stock to the very children. As those two of Ancona: that a while a go fought a combat beside Perugia, and made them to laugh that looked on. And what were they, quoth the L. Gaspar Palla●icin. The ●. Cesar answered: Cousins Germains of two sisters. Then said the Count: at the combat a man would have thought them natural brethren, than he went forward. Also men occupy their weapon oftentimes in time of peace about sundry exercises, and gentlemen are seen in open shows in the presence of people, women and Princes. Therefore will I have our Courtier a perfect horseman for every saddle. A perfect horseman. And beside the skill in horses and in whatsoever belongeth to a horseman, let him set all his delight and diligence to wade in every thing a little farther than other men, so that he may be known among all men for one that is excellent. Alcibiades excelled other nations in their own ●eates. As it is read of Alcibiades, that he excelled all other nations wheresoever he came, and every man in the thing he had most skill in. So shall this our Courtier pass other men, and every man in his own profession. And because it is the peculiar praise of us Italians to ride well, to manage with reason, Property of Italians. especially rough horses, to run at the ring and at tyl●e, he shall be in this among the best Italians. At tourneyment, in keeping a passage, in fighting at barriers, Property of Frenchmen. he shall be good among the best frenchmen. At Io●o di can, running at Bull, casting of spears and darts, he shall be among the Spaniards excellent. But principally let him accompany all his motion with a certain good judgement and grace, Property of Spaniards if he will deserve that general favour which is so much set by. There be also many other exercises, the which though they depend not throughly upon arms, yet have they a great agreement with them, and have in them much manly activity. Hunt●●●. And of them me think huntynge is one of the chiefest, for it hath a certain likeness with war, and truly a pastime for great men, and fit for one living in court. And it is found that it hath also been much used among them of old tyme. It is meet for him also to have the art of swimming, to leap, to run, Swimming Leaping. Running. Casting the stone. to cast the stone: for beside the profit that he may receive of this in the wars, it happeneth to him many times to make proof of himself in such things, whereby he getteth him a reputation, especially among the multitude, unto whom a man must sometime apply himself. Also it is a noble exercise and meet for one living in court to play at tenyse, where the disposition of the body, Play at tenyse. the quickness and nimeblenesse of every member is much perceived, and almost whatsoever a man can see in all other exercises. And I reckon vaulting of no less praise, which for all it is painfull and hard, Uawting. maketh a man more light and quicker than any of the rest: and beside the profit, if that lightness be accompanied with a good grace, it maketh (in my judgement) a better show than any of the rest. If our Courtier then be taught these exercises more than indifferently well, I believe he may set a side tumbling, climbing upon a cord, and such other matters that taste somewhat of jugglers craft, Tumbling not fit for a Gentleman. and do little beseem a Gentleman. But because we can not always endure among these so painful doings, beside that the continuance goeth nigh to give a man his fill, and taketh away the admiration that men have of things seldom seen, we must continually altar our life with practising sundry matters. To frame himself to the company. Therefore will I have our Courtier to descend many times to more easy and pleasant exercises. And to avoid envy and to keep company pleasantly with every man, let him do whatsoever other men do: so he decline not at any time from commendable deeds, but governeth himself with the good judgement that will not suffer him to enter into any folly: but let him laugh, dally, jest, and dance, yet in such wise that he may always declare himself to be witty and discrete, and every thing that he doth or speaketh, let him do it with a grace. truly, said then the L. Cesar Gonzaga the course of this communication should not be stopped: but if I should hold my peace, I should not satisfy the liberty which I have to speak, nor the desire that I have to understand one thing. And let me be pardoned if where I aught to speak against, I demand a question: because I suppose I may lawfully do it after the example of▪ M. Bernard, who for the to great desire he had to be counted a well-favoured man, hath offended against the laws of our pastime in demanding without speaking against. Behold I beseech ye, said then the duchess, how one error bringeth in a great sort. Therefore who so offendeth and giveth ill example, as M. Bernard hath done, deserveth to be punished not only for his own offence, but for other men's also. Then answered thee▪ L. Cesar: Therefore must I (madam) escape punishment, for that M. Bernard aught to be punished for his own offence and mine both. Nay (quoth the duchess) you ought to have both double punishment. He for his offence, and for being an occasion for you to commit the like: & you for your offence and for taking him for a precedent that did offend. I have not hitherto offended madam, answered the L▪ Cesar. Therefore because I will leave the whole punishment for M. Bernard I will keep silence. And now he held his peace, when the L. Emilia answered: say what pleaseth you, for (by the duchess leave) I pardon this fault, and whosoever shall offend in so small a trespass. Upon that the duchess said: I am well pleased. But take ye heed that ye deceive not yourself, thinking peradventure to be better reported of for mercy then for justice. For in perdoning the offender to much, ye do wrong to him that doth not offend. Yet will not I have my rigour at this time in accusing your mercy to be the cause that we shall loose the hearing of this the L. Caesar's demand. So he, after the duchess & the L. Emilia had made a sign to him, said by and by: if I do well bear in mind, me think (Count Lewis) you have this night oftentimes repeated, that the Courtier aught to accompany all his doings, gestures, demeaners, finally all his motions with a grace, and this, me think, ●e put for a sauce to every thing, without the which all his other properties & good conditions were little worth. And I believe verily that every man would soon be persuaded therein, Grace. for by the virtue of the word a man may say, that whoso hath grace is gracious. But because you have said sundry times that it is the gift of nature and of the heavens, and again where it is not so perfect, that it may with study and diligence be made much more they that be borne so happy and so wealthy with such a treasure (as some that we see (me think therein they have little need of any other teacher, because the bountiful favour of heaven doth (as it were) in spite of them, guide them higher than they covet, & maketh them not only acceptable, but marvelous unto all the world. Therefore I do not reason of this, because the obtaining of it of ourselves lieth not in our power: but such as by nature have one●y so much, that they be apt to become gracious in bestowing labour, exercise, and diligence, I would feign know with what art, with what learning, and by what mean they shall compass this grace, aswell in the exercises of the body (wherein ye think it so necessary a matter) as in all other things that they do or speak. Therefore as you have in praising this qualytye to us engendered (I believe) in all a fervent thirst to comeby it, by the charge ye received of y● L. Emilia, so with ●eaching it us, ye are bound to quench it. Bound I am not (quoth the Count) to teach you to have a good grace, nor any thing else, saving only to show you what a perfect Courtier aught to be. Neither will I take upon me to teach you this perfection, sins a while a go, I said, that the Courtier aught to have the ●eate of wrestling and vawtinge, and such other things, the which how I should be able to teach them not having learned them myself, I am sure ye know it all. It sufficeth that as a good soldier can speak his mind to an armourer of what fashion, of what temper and goodness he will have his harness, and for all that cannot teach him to make it, nor to hammer or temper it: So perhaps I am able to tell you what a perfect Courtier aught to be, but not to teach you how ye should do to be one. Notwithstanding to fulfil your request in what I am able, although it be (in manner) in a proverb that Grace is not to be learned, Grace not to be learned. I say unto you, whoso mindeth to be gracious or to have a good grace in t●e exercises of the body, (presupposing first that he be not of nature unapt) aught to begin betimes, and to learn his principles of cunning men. The which thing how necessary a matter Philip king of Macedon thought it, a man may gather in that his will was that Aristotel so famous a philosopher, Ari●●otle the first that taught the great Alexander. and perhaps the greatest that ever h●th been in the world, should be the man that should instruct Alexander his son in the first principles of letters. And of men whom we know nowadays, mark how well & with what a good grace Sir Galiazzo Sanseverino M. of the horse to the French king, S. Galeaz●o Sanseverino. doth all exercises of the body: & that because, beside the natural disposition of person that is in him, he hath applied all his study to learn of cunning men, & to have continually excellent men about him, and of every one to choose the best of that they have skill in. For as in wrestling, in vaulting, & in learning to handle sundry kind of weapons he hath taken for his guide our M. Peter Mount, who (as you know) is the true & only master of all artificial force & sleight: A good scholar must seek to be like his master. So in riding, in jousting, & in every other feat, he hath always had before his eyes the most perfectest that hath been known to be in those professions: He therefore that will be a good scolar, beside the practysing of good things, must evermore set all his diligence to be like his master, and (if it were possible) change himself into him. And when he hath had some entry, it profiteth him much to behold sundry men of that profession: and governing himself with that good judgement that must always be his guides, go about t● pike out, sometime of one and sometime of an other, sundry matters. And even as the be in the green meadows fleeth always about the grass chousing out flowers: How grace is to be attained So shall our Courtier steal this grace from them that to his seeming have it, & from each one that parcel that shall be most worthy praise. And not do, as a friend of ours, whom you all know, that thought he resembled much king Ferdinand the younger of Arragon, and regarded not to resemble him in any other point but in the often lifting up his head, wrying therewithal a part of his mouth, the which custom the king had gotten by infirmity. And many such there are that think they do much, so they resemble a great man in somewhat, and take many times the thing in him that worst becometh him. But I, imagining with myself oftentimes how this grace cometh, A general rule leaving a part such as have it from above, find one rule that is most general which in this part (me think) taketh place in all things belonging to man in word or deed above all other. And that is to eschew as much as a man may, To avoid curiosity & as a sharp and dangerous rock, Affectation or curiosity & (to speak a new word (to use in every thing a certain Reckelesness, to cover art withal, & seem whatsoever he doth & sayeth to do it without pain, & (as it were) not minding it. And of this do I believe grace is much derived, Reckelesnes, for in rare matters & well brought to pass every man knoweth the hardness of them, so that a readiness therein maketh great wonder. And contrariwise to use force, and (as they say) to hale by the hear, giveth a great disgrace, & maketh every thing how great so ever it be, to be little esteemed. Therefore that may be said to be a very art that appeareth not to be art, To cover art neither aught a man to put more diligence in any thing then in covering it: for in case it be open, it loseth credit clean, and maketh a man little set by. And I remember that I have read in my days, that there were some most excellent Orators, which among other their cares, enforced themselves to make every man believe that they had no sight in letters, & dissembling their cunning, made semblant they▪ orations to be made very simply, and rather as nature & truth lead them, than study and art, the which if it had been openly known, would have put a doubt in the people's mind, for fear lest he beguiled them. You may see then how to show art and such bend study taketh away the grace of every thing. To seem not to mind the thing a man doth excellently well. Which of you is it that laugheth not when our M. Peterpaul danceth after his own fashion with such fine skips and on tiptoe without moving his head, as though he were all of wood, so heedfully, that truly a man would ween he counted his paces. What eye is so blind that perceiveth not in this the disgrace of curiosity, and in many men & women here present the grace of that not regarded agylitie and s●●ghte conveyance (for in the motions of the body many so term it) with a kind of speaking or smiling, or gesture, betokening not to pass upon it, and to mind any other thing more than that, to make him believe that looketh on that he can not do amiss. Here M. Bernard Bibiena not forbearing any longer, said: you may see yet that our M. Robert hath found one to praise his manner of dancing, though the rest of you set little by it. For if this excellency doth consist in Reckelesness, and in showing not to pass upon and rather to mind any other thing then that a man is in hand withal M. Robert hath no peer in the world. For that men should well perceive that he little mindeth it, many times his garments fa●l, from his back, and his slippers from his feet, and danceth on still without taking up again any of both. Then answered the Count: Seeing you will needs have me speak, I will say some what also of our vices. To you not mark, this that you call in M. Robert Reckelesness, is a very curiosity? for it is well known that he enforceth himself with all diligence possible to make a show not to mind it, and that is to mind it to much. And because he passeth certain limits of a mean, that Reckelesne●● of his is curious, and not comely, and is a thing that cometh clean contrary to pass from the drift, (that is to wit) to cover art. Therefore I judge it a no less vice of curiosity to be in Reckelesness (which in itself is praise worthy) in letting a man's clotheses fall of his back, then in Preciseness (which likewise of itself is praise worthy) to carry a man's head so like a malthorse for fear of ruffling his hair, Preciseness. or to keep in the bottom of his cap a looking glass, and a comb in his sleeve, and to have always at his heels up and down the streets a page with a sponge and a brush: for this manner of Preciseness and Reckelesness are to much in the extremity, which is always a vice and contrary to that pure and amiable simplicity, which is so acceptable to men's minds. Mark what an ill grace a man at arms hath, when he enforceth himself to go so bolt upright settled in saddle (as we use to say after the Venetian phrase) in comparison of an other that appeareth not to mind it, and sitteth on horseback so nimbly and close as though he were on foot. How much more do we take pleaser in a gentleman that is a man at arms, and how much more worthy praise is he if he be modest, of few words, and no bragger, than an other that always craketh of himself, & blaspheming with a bravery seemeth to threaten the world. And this is nothing else but a curiosity to seem to be a roister. The like happeneth in all exercises, yea in every thing in the world that a man can do or speak. Then said the L. julian: Music this in like manner is verified in music: where it is a very great vice to make two perfect cords, the one after the other, so that the very sense of our hearing abhorreth it, & of●en times delighteth in a second or in a seven, which in itself is an unpleasant discord and not tolerable: & this proceedeth because the continuance in the perfect tunes engendereth urkesomnesse, and betokeneth a to curious harmony the which in mingling therewithal the unperfect is avoided with making (as it were) a comparison, whereby our ears stand to listen and greedily attend and taste the perfect, and are otherwhile delighted with the disagreement of the second or seven, as it were with a thing little regarded. Behold ye then, answered the Count that curiousness hurteth in this aswell as in other things. They say also that it hath been a proverb among some most excellent poincters of old time, that To much diligence is hurtful, and that Apelles ●ound fault with Protogenes because he could not keep his hands from the table. To much diligence hurtful Then said the L, Cesar: The very same fault (me think) is in our Friar S●r●phin that he cannot keep his hands from the table, especially as long as there is any meat stirring. The Count laughed and went forward: Apelles meaning was, that Protogenes knew not when it was well, which was nothing else but to reprehend, his curyousnesse in his works. This virtue therefore contrary to curiosity which we for this time term Reckelesness, beside that it is the true fountain from the which all grace springeth, it bringeth with it also an other ornament, which accompanyinge anya deed that a man doth, 〈…〉 is thought 〈…〉 to be more cunning 〈…〉, how little so ever it be doth not only by and by open the knowledge of him that doth it, but also many times maketh it to be esteemed much more in effect than it is, because it imprinteth in the minds of the lookers on an opinion, that whoso can so sleightly do well, hath a great deal more knowledge than indeed h● hath: and if he will apply his study and diligence to that he doth, he might do it much better. And to repeat even the very same examples, Mark a man that taketh weapon in hand: ●f going about to cast a dart, or holding in his hand a sword or any other waster, he seeleth himself lightsomely (not thinking upon it) in a ready aptness with such activity, that a man would ween his body & all his members were naturally settled in that disposition and without any pain, though he doth nothing else, yet doth he declare himself unto every man to be most perfect in that exercise. Likewise in dancing, one measure, one motion of a body that hath a good grace, not being forced, doth by and by declare the knowledge of him that danceth. A musitien, if in singing he roll out but a plain note ending in a double relise with a sweet tune, A slight trick betokeneth knowledge so easily that a man would judge he did it at adventure, in that point alone he doth men to understand that his knowledge is far greater than it is indeed. Oftentimes also in peinctinge, one line not studied upon, one draft with the pencil slightly drawn, so it appeareth the hand without the guiding of any study or art, tendeth to his mark, according to the peincters purpose, doth evidently discover the excellency of the workman, about the opinion whereof every man afterward contendeth according to his judgement. The like happeneth also, in a manner, about every other thing. Therefore shall our Courtier be esteemed excellent, and in every thing he shall have a good grace, and especially in speaking, if he avoid curiosity: into which error many men run, and some time more than other, certain of our Lombard's, men that w● b● deemed to be 〈…〉 which after a years travail abroad, come home and begin by and by to speak the Roman tongue, sometime the spanish tongue, or the French, and God wotteth how. And all this proceedeth of an over great desire to show much knowledge: and in this wise a man applieth his study and diligence to get a most odious vice. And truly it were no small travail for me, if I should use in this communication of ours, those ancient Tuscan words, that are not in use among the Tuscans now a days, Ancient muscane words and beesyde that, I believe every man would laugh at me. Then spoke Sir Friderick, In deed reasoning together as we now do●e, peradventure it were not well done to use those ancient Tuscan words: for (as you say) they would be a loathsomeness both to the speaker and to the hearer, and of many they should not be understood without much a do. But he that should writ, I would think he committed an error in not using them: because they gave a great grace and authority unto writings, and of them is compact a tongue more grave and more full of majesty, then of the new. I know not answered the Count, what grace and authority those words can give unto writings that aught to be eschewed, Old words to be esch●ewed both in speaking and writing. not only in the manner of speech that we now use (which you yourself confess) but also in any other manner that can be imagined. For if any man, of how good a judgement so ever he were, had to make an oration of grave matters in the very Counsel chamber of Florence which is the head of Tuscan: or else to common privately with a person of estimation in that city about weighty affairs: or also with the familiarst friend he hath about pleasant matters: or with women or gentlemen about matters of love, either in i●sting or dallying, banqueting, gaming, or where ever else: or in any time or place, or purpose, I am assured he would flee the using of those ancient Tuscan words. And in using them, beside that he should be a laughing stock, he should bring no small lothesomenesse to him that heard them. Therefore me think it a strange matter to use those words for good in writing, that are to be eschewed for naughty in every manner of speech: and to have that which is never proper in speech, What 〈…〉 to be the properest way a man can use in writing, forsomuch as (in mine opinion) writing is nothing else, but a manner of speech, that remaineth still after a man hath spoken, or (as it were) an Image, or rather the life of the words. And therefore in speech, which as soon as the son is pronounced vanisheth a way, peradventure somthinges are more to be borne withal, then in writing. Because writing keepeth the words in store, and referreth them to the judgement of the reader, and giveth time to examine them deeply. And therefore reason willeth that greater diligence should be had therein to make it more trim and better corrected: yet not so, that the written words should be unlike the spoken, but in writing to choose out the fairest and properest of signification that be used in s●eaking. And if that should be lawful in writing, which is not lawful in speaking, there should arise an inconvenience of it (in my judgement) very great: namely, that a man might use a greater liberty in the thing, where he aught to use most diligence, and the labour he bestoweth in writing, in stead of furtherance should hinder him. What is allowed in w yting, is allowed in speaking. Therefore it is certain, whatsoever is allowed in writing, is also allowed in speaking: and that speech is most beautiful that is like unto beautiful writings. And I judge it much more behoufful to be understood in writing then in speaking, because they that writ are not always present with them that read, as they that speak with them that speak. Why writing ought to be more understood, then speaking. Therefore would I commend him, that beside the eschewing of many ancient Tuskane words, would apply himself also to use both in writing and speaking, such as now a days are in use in Tuscan and in other parts of Italy, and that have some grace in the pronunciation. And (in my mind) whoso followeth any other trade is not assured not to run into that curiosity so much blamed, which we have spoken of before. Then spoke Sir Frederick: I cannot deny you, Count Lewi●, that writing is not a manner of speaking. But this I say, if the words that are spoken have any darkness in them, that communication pierceth not the mind of him that heareth: and passing without being understood, waxeth vain and to no purpose: the which doth not happen in writing, for if the words that the writer useth bring with them a little (I will not say difficulty) but covered subtlety, and not so open, as such as be ordinarily spoken, they give a certain greater authority to writing, and make the reader more heedful to pause at it, and to ponder it better, and he taketh a delight in the wittiness and learning of him that writeth, and with a good judgement, after some pains taking, he tasteth the pleaser that consisteth in hard things. And if the ignorance of him that readeth be such, that he cannot compass that difficulty, there is no blame in the writer, neither aught a man for all that to think that tongue not to be fair. Therefore in writing, I hold opinion it is necessary for a man to use the Tuscan words, and only such as have been used among the ancient Tuskans: for it is a great testimonial and approved by time, that they be good and of pithy signification in that they be applied to. And beside this they have t●at grace and majesty that antiquity giveth not only to words, but unto buildings, images, pein●tinges, and to every thing that is of force to preserve it. And many times with this only brightness and dignity they make the form of sentences very fair, and through the virtue and eleganciethereof, every matter how base so ever it be, may be so decked out, that it may deserve very great commendation. But this your custom, that you make so much a do of, appeareth unto me very dangerous, and many times it may be nought. And if any vice of speech be taken up of many ignorant persons, me think for all that it ought not to be received for a rule, nor followed of other. Besides this, customs be many and divers, So many Cities so many diverse manner of speeches in Italy. and ye have not a notable City in Italy that hath not a divers manner of speech from all the rest. Therefore if ye take not the pains to declare which is the best, a man may as well give himself to the Bergamask tongue, as to the Florentine, and to follow your advise it were no error at all. The bargamask tongue the most barbarous in Italy. Me seemeth than who so will be out of doubt and well assured, it is requisite for him to determine with himself to follow on●, that by all men's accord is judged good, & to take him for a guide always and for a shield against such as will go about to find fault, Petrarca. Boccaccio. and that I think ought to be none other, (I mean in the vulgar tongue) but Petrarca & Boccaccio: and who so swerveth from these two, goeth at all adventure, as he that walketh in the dark without light, and therefore many times strayeth from the right way. But we are so hardy nowadays, that we disdain to do as other good men of ancient time have done: that is to say, to take diligent heed to following, without the which I judge no man can write well. Imitation. And me think Virgil declareth a great trial of this, Virgil. who for all that with his so divine a wit and judgement he took all hope from his posterity for any to follow him at any time, yet would he follow Homer. Then the L. Gasper Pallavicin, This disputation (quoth he) of writing in very deed is worth the hearing: Yet were it more to our● purpose, if you would teach in what sort the Courtier aught to speak, for me think he hath more need of that, and he serveth his turn oftener with speaking them with writing. The L. julian answered: There is no doubt, but so excellent and so perfect a Courtier hath need to understand both the one and the other, and without these two qualities peraventure all the rest should not be much worthy praise: therefore if the Count will fulfil his charge, he shall teach the Courtier not only to speak but also to writ well. Then sa●d the Count: I will not (my Lord) undertake this enterprise, for it should be a great folly for me to teach an other that I understand not myself. And though I were skilful in it, yet can I not see how I should think to do the thing in so few words, which great clerk have scase done with such great study & diligence, unto whose writings I would remit our Courtier, if it were so that I were bound to teach him to writ & to speak. The L▪ Cesar then said: the L. julian meaneth the speaking and writing of the vulgar tongue, & not Latin, therefore those writings of great clerk are not for our purpose. But you must show us in this behalf as much as you know, as for the rest, ye shallbe held excused. I have already said, answered the Count But in reasoning upon the Tuskane tongue, perhaps it were rather the L. Iulian● part, than any man's else to give judgement in it. The L. julian said: I cannot, nor of reason aught to speak against him that saith the Tuskane tongue is fairer than all the rest Truth it is, there are many words in Petrarca and Boccaccio worn out of use now a days: Words in Petrarca, & in Boccaccio not to be used and such would I never use neither in speaking nor in writing, and peradventure they themselves if they were now alive would use them no more. Then spoke Sir Frederick: no doubt but they would use them still. And you Lords of Tuscan aught to renew your tongue, and not to suffer it decay, as you do for a man may say now, that there is less knowledge in Florenc●, then in many other places of I●aly. Then answered M Bernar●: those words that are no more in use in Florenc●, do still continued among the men of the country, and are refused of the gentlemen for words corrupt and decayed by antiquity. Then the duchess, let us not serve (quoth she) from our first purpose, but let us make Count Lewis teach the Courtier to speak and to writ well, be it Tuscan or what ever else. The Count answered: I have already spoken (madam) what I know. And I suppose the very same rules that teach the one, may also serve to teach the other. But sins ye command me▪ I will make answer unto ●●r Frederick what cometh in my head, for I am of a contrary opinion to him. And peraventure I shall be driven to answer somewhat more darkly than will be allowed, but it shall be as much as I am able to say And first I say, The vulgar tongue of Italy is a new tongue. that (to my judgement) this our tongue, which we name the vulgar tongue, is tender and new, for all it hath been now used a long while. For in that Italy hath been, not only ve●ed and spoiled, but also inhabited a long time with barbarous people, by the great resort of those nations, the latin tongue was corrupted and destroyed, How the Italian tongue was corrupted. and of that corruption have sprung other tongues. The which like the rivers that depart from the top of the Apennine & run abroad toward the two s●as: so are they also divided, and some died with the latin speech have spread abroad sundry ways, some into one part, and some into another, and one died with barbarousness hath remained in Italy. This then hath a long time been among us out of order and diverse, because there was none that would bestow diligence about it, nor writ in it, ne yet seek to give it brightness or any grace. Yet hath it been afterward brought into better frame in ●usc●n●, then in the other parts of italy. And by this it appeareth that the flower of it hath remained there ever since those first times, because that nation hath kept proper and sweet accents in the pronunciation and an order of grammar, where it was meet, more than the other. And h●th had three noble writers, which wittily both in the words and terms that custom did allow in their time, have expressed their conceits and that hath happened (in my mind) with a better grace to ●etrarca in matters of love, them to any of the other. Petrarca. Dante. Boccacci●, Where there arose afterward from time to time, not only in tuscan, but in all Italy, among gentlemen brought up in court, in arms and in letters, some study to speak and to writ more finely than they did in that first rude age, when the turmoil of the miseries that arose through barbarous nations was not as yet quieted, many words have been left out as well in Florence itself, and in all ●uscan●, as in the residue of Italy, and other brought in, in their stead, and made in this behalf the alteration that happeneth in all worldly things: the which also hath evermore chanced in other tongues. For in case those ancient latin writings had lasted hitherto, Speeches change from time to time. we should see that Euan●e● and Turnus and the other La●in▪ in those days spoke otherwise than did afterward the last kings of the Romans and the first Co●su●. You may see the verses song by the Sa●●i were scantly understood of their posterity: The priests o● Mar●. but because it was so ordained by the first inventors of it, they were not altered for reverence of religion. So from time to time Orators and Poets forsook many words that had been used among their predecessors: for An●onius, Cr●ssus, 〈◊〉, and Ci●●ro eschewed many that Ca●o had used, and Virgil many of E●●ius, and so did the rest. For albeit they had antiquity in great reverence, Men never delighted in words w●rne out with time. Horace. Ci●ero yet did they not esteem them somuch, that they would be so bound to them, as you will have us now. Yea, where they thought good, they spoke against them, as 〈◊〉, that sayeth, his predecessors did foolyshlye praise Pla●●us, which would that we should have the authority to bring up new words. And Cicero in many places reprehendeth many of his predecessors, & to blame S Galb●●, he sayeth that his Orations smelled of antiquity. And affirmeth that E●nius also in some points set little by his predecessors, so that if we will follow them of old time, we shall not follow them. And Virgi● that you say followed. ●omer, followed him not in the tongue. Therefore would I (for my part) always shun the use of those ancient words, except it were in certain clauses, and in them very seldom. And (in my judgement) he that useth them otherwise, committeth a no less error, than whoso would to follow them of old time, feed upon mast, where he hath now abundance of corn found out. And because you say the ancient words only with the brightness of antiquity deck out so highly every matmatter, how base so ever it be, that it may make it worthy great commendation: I say unto you that not of these ancient words only, but of those that be good in deed, I make so small account, that I suppose without the juice of fair sentences they aught of reason to be little set by. Words without fair sentences little worth. For to divide the sentences from the words, is the dividing of the soul from the body, the which cannot be done, neither in the one nor in the other, without destruction ensue upon it. That therefore which is the principal matter & necessary for a Court yet to speak & writ well, Knowledge necessary to speak and writ well. I believe is knowledge. For he that hath not knowledge & the thing in his mind that deserveth to be understood, can neither speak nor writ it. Then must he couch in a good order that he hath to speak or to writ, & afterward express it well with words: what word● ought to be. the which (if Ibe not deceived) aught to be apt, choose, clear, & well applied, & (above all) in use also among the people: for very such make the greatness & gorgeousness of an Oration, so he that speaketh have a good judgement & heedfulness withal, & the understanding to pike such as be of most proper signification for that he intendeth to speak and commend, and tempering them like were after his own mind, applieth them in such part and in such order, that at the first show they may set forth and do men to understand the dignity & brightness of them, as tables of pein●●ing placed in their good and natural light. Things necessary in speaking. And this do I say as well of writing as of speaking, wherein certain things are requisite that are not necessary in writing, as a good voice, not to subtle or soft, as in a woman: nor yet so boisterous and rough, as in one of the Country, but shrill, The voice. clear sweet and well framed with a prompt pronunciation & with fit manners and gestures, which (in my mind) consist in certain mo●ions of all the body not affected nor forced, but tempered with a mannerly countenance and with a moving of the eyes, that may give a grace & accord with the words, & (as much as he can) signify also with gestures the intent & affection of the speaker. But all these things were in vain & of small account if the sentences expressed by the words should not be fair, witty, The sentence●. subtle, fine & grave according to the matter, I doubt, said then M Mo●●●lo, if this Courtier speak with such fineness & gravity among us, there will be some that will not understand him. Nay, every one shall understand him, answered the Count for fineness hindereth not the easiness of understanding. Neither will I have him to speak always in gravity, What he must speak of. but of pleasant ma●ters, of merry conceits, of honest devices, & of jests according to the time, & in all notwithstanding after a pithy manner, & with readiness & variety without confusion, neither shall he in any part show vanity or childish folly. And when he shall then common of a matter that is dark & hard, I will have him both in words and sentences well pointed, to express his judgement, and to make every doubt clear and plain after a certain diligent sort without tediousness. Likewise (when he shall see time) to have the understanding to speak with dignity and vehemency, To speak to raise a●f●●tyons. & to raise those affections which our minds have in them, and to inflame or stir them according to the matter: sometime with a simplicity of such meekness of mind, that a man would ween nature herself spoke, to make them tender and (as it were) drunken w●th sweetness: and with such conveyance of ●asinesse, that whoso heareth him, may conceive a good opinion of himself, and th●nke that he also with very little a do, might attain to that perfection, but when he cometh to the proof shall find himself far wide. I would have our Courtier to speak and writ in the sort, and not only choose gorgeous and fine words out of every part of italy, but also I would judge him worthy praise to use some of those terms both French & Spanish, which by our custom have been admitted. Therefore it should not mislike me, Certain terms out of the French & Spanish, which ●ound not so well in English nor can be applied t● our phrase. falling so to purpose, to say, Vauntcourrour▪ to say, to ascertain, to adventure▪ to say▪ to p●rce through a body with talk, meaning thereby to use a familiarity with him, and to grope him to get of him some perfect knowledge: to say, a royal gentleman, a neat man ●o be about a Prince, and such other terms, so he may think to be understood. Sometime I would have him take certain words in an other signification then that is proper to them, & wresting them to his purpose (as it were) graff them like a graff of a tree in a more lucky stock, Words i● an other signification. to make them more sightly and fair, and (as it were) draw the matters to the sense of the very eyes, and (as they say) make them felt with hand, for the delight of him that heareth, or readeth. Neither would I have him to stick to forge new also, To forge new words and with new figures of speech, deriving them featly from the Latin●, as the Latins in old time, derived from the 〈◊〉. In case then of such learned men both of good wit and judgement, as now a days may be picked out among us, there were some that would bestow their travail to writ after the manner that we have spoken of, in this tongue things worth the reading, we should soon set it in good frame and flowing with terms and good phrases, and so copious that a man might as well writ in it as in any other tongue: and though it were not the mere ancient Tuscan tongue, yet should it be the Italian tongue, common, plentiful, & variable, and (as it were) like a delicious garden full of sundry flowers and fruits. Neither should this be a new matter: for of the four tongues that were in use among the Greek writers, U. tongues of Gre●ce. pikinge out of every word, moods and rules as they thought meet, they raised thereby an other, which was named the Commune tongue, and afterward all five they called with one name the Greek tongue. And albeit the Athenian tongue was more fine, purer, & eloquenter than the rest, yet did not the good writers that were not of Athens borne, so affect it, but in the style of writing, and (as it were) in the smack and property of their natural speech they were well-enough known: neither were they any whit the less regarded for all that, but rather such as would appear over mere Athenians were blamed for it. Among the Latin writers in like case many there were in their days much set buy that were no Romans although there appeared not in them that proper and peculiar pureness of the Roman tongue, which men of an other nation can very seldom attain. In times past T. Livius was not neglected, T. Livius. Virgil. although some one said he found in him mere Padowan: Nor Virgil, for that he was reprehended that he spoke not Roman. And (as you know) there were also read & much setbye in Room many writers of Barbarous nations. But we more precise a great deal than they of old time, do bind ourselves with certain new laws out of purpose: and having the broad beaten way before our eyes, seek through gaps to walk in unknown paths. For in our own tounge● whose office is (as all others) to express well and clearlye the conceits of the mind, we delight in darkness, and calling it the vulgar tongue, The vulgar tongue aught not to be dark will use in it words, that are not only not understood of the vulgar people, but also of the best sort of men and that men of learning, and are not used in any part, not regarding that all good writers of old time blamed such words as were refused of custom, the which you (in my mind) do not well know, for so much as you say, if any vice of speech be taken up of many ignorant parsons, it aught not to be called a custom nor received for a rule of speech. And (as at other times I have hard you say) ye will have again in the stead of Capitolio, we should say Campidoglio: for Hieronymo, Girolam●: Aldace, Mere Tuscan writing of centaine words. for Audace: and for Patron, padrone: & such corrupt & mangled words, because they have been found so written by some ignorant Tuscan of old time, and because the men of the Country speak so in Tuscan now a days. The good use of speech therefore I believe ariseth of men that have wit, and with learning and practice have gotten a good judgement, & with it consent and agreed to receive the words that they think good, which are known by a certain natural judgement, & not by art or any manner rule. Figures of speech, Abuse of grammar rules. Do you not know that figures of speech which give such grace and brightness to an Oration, are all the abuse of Grammar rules, but yet are received and confirmed by use, because men are able to make no other reason but that they delight, and to the very sense of our ears it appeareth they bring a lief and a sweetness? Good custom. And this believe I is good custom, which the Romans, the Napolitans, Things good in every ●unge. the lombards, & the rest are as apt to receive, as the Tuscans. Truth it is, in every tongue some things are always good, as easiness to be understood, a good order, variety, piked sentences, clauses well framed: and on the other side Affectation, & the other contrary to these are to be ●honned. But of words some there are that last a good time and afterward were stolen & clean loose their grace: other some take force and creep into estimation, for as the seasones of the year make leaves and fruits to fall, and afterward garnish the trees a fresh with other: Euenso, doth time make those first words to fall, and use maketh other to springe afresh and giveth them grace and estimation, until they in like sort consumed by little and little with the envious biting of time come to their end, because at the last both we and whatsoever is ours, are mortal. Tongues decayed with time. Consider with yourselves that we have no more any knowledge of the Osca tongue. The provincial tongue, that (a man may say) the last day was renowned of noble writers, now is it not understood of the inhabitants of the country. I believe therefore (as the L. julian hath said) that were Petrarca, and Boccaccio, at this present in lief, they would not use many words that we see in their writings. Therefore (in mine opinion) it is not well done to follow them therein. Yet do I much commend them that can follow that aught to be followed: but notwithstanding I believe it be possible enough to writ well without following, and especially in this our tongue, wherein we may be helped by custom, the which I will not take upon me in the Latin. Then Sir Friderick, why, will you (quoth he) custom should be more appriced in the vulgar tongue, then in the Latin? Nay, both in the one and the other (answered the Count) I judge custom aught to be the mistress. But forsomuch as those men, unto whom the Latin tongue was as proper, as is the vulgar tongue now to us, are no more in the world, we must learn of their writings that they learned by use and custom: neither doth ancient speech signify any thing else but an ancient custom of speech: Aun●ient speech ancient custom of speech. & it were a fond matter to love the ancient speech for nothing else but to speak rather as men did speak, then as men do speak. Did not they then of old time follow, answered Sir Fridericke? I believe, Old writers did not imitate in all points. quoth the Count, many did follow, but not in every point. An if Virgil had altogether followed Hesiodus, he should not have passed him nor Cicero Crassus, nor Ennius his predecessors. Behold Homer, who is so ancient that he is thought of many to be the first heroical Poet aswell of time, as also of excellency of phrase: and whom will you have him to have followed? Some other, answered Sir Friderick, more ancient than he was, which we hear not of, by reason of tomuch antiquity. Whom will you say then Petrarca and Boccaccio followed, said the Count, which (a man may say) were but three days ago in the world▪ I know not, answered Sir Fridericke, but it is to be thought they in like wise bend their mind to following, though we know not of whom. The Count answered: a man may believe that they that were followed, were better than they that did follow: and it were to great a wonder that their name and renown (if they were good) should so soon be clean lost. But I believe their very master was wit, and their own natural inclination and judgement. A man may writ well without imitation. And thereat no man aught to wonder, for (in a manner) always a man by sundry ways may climb to the top of all perfection. And their is no matter, that hath not in it many things of like sort unlike the one to the other, which for all that among themselves deserve a like praise. Mark me music, Music. wherein are harmonies sometime of base son and slow, and otherwhile very quick and of new devices, yet do they all recreate a man: but for sundry causes, as a man may perceive in the manner of singing that Bidon useth, Sundry sorts of music and all delight which is so artificial, counninge, vehement, stirred, and such sundry melodies, that the spirits of the hearers move all and are inflamed, and so listening a man would ween they were lift up in to heaven. And no less doth our Marchetto Cara move in his singing, but with a more soft harmony, that by a delectable way and full of mourning sweetness maketh tender and pierceth the mind, and sweetly imprinteth in it a passion full of great delight. Sundry things in like manner do equally please our eyes so much, that a man shall have much a do to judge in which they most delight. Sundry peincters perfect in sundry kind of trades. Behold in peincting Leonard Vncio, Mantegna, Raphael, Michelangelo, George of Castelfranco: they are all most excellent doers, yet are they in working unlike, but in any of them a man would not judge that there wanted aught in his kind of trade: for every one is known to be of most perfection after his manner. The like is of many Poets both Greek and Latin, which being diverse in writing are alike in praise. Orators also have always had such a diversity among them, as (in a manner) every age hath brought forth & set by one sort of Orators peculiar for that time, which have been unlike & disagreeing not only to their predecessors and followers but also among themselves. Greek orators, As it is written among the Grecians, of Isocrates, Lysias, Eschines & many other, all excellent, but yet like unto none saving themselves. And among the Latins, Carbo, Laelius, Scipio Affricanus, Galba, Sulpitius, Cotta, Graccus, Marcus Antonius, Crassus & so many, Latin orators. that it should be long to repeat them, all good and most diverse one from an other. So that whoso could consider all the Orators that have been in the world, So many orators so many kinds of speech. he should find so many Orators, so many kinds of speech. Me think I remember also that Cicero in a place bringeth in Marcus Antonius to say unto Sulpitius that theridamas are many that follow no man, and yet climb they to a high degree of excellency. D● oratore lib. ●. And speaketh of certain that had brought up a new style & phrase of speaking fair, but not used of the Orators of that time wherein they followed none but themselves. Therefore he affirmeth also that masters should consider the nature of their scholars, and taking it for their guide, Lib. two. direct & prompt them in the way that their wit and natural inclination moveth them unto. For this cause therefore Sir Fridericke do I believe if a man have not an inclination unto some author whatsoever he be, it were not well done to force him to following. Because the virtue of that disposition of his, soon ●●inteth and is hindered, by reason that it is a stray out of the way in which he would have profited, had he not been stopped in it. I know not then how it will stand well, in stead of enriching this tongue, and of giving it majesty and light, to make it poor, slender, bore and dark, and to seek to shut it up into so narrow a room, that ●uerye man should be compelled to follow only Petrarca & Boccaccio, & that we should not also in that tongue, credit Laurence de Medicis, Francis Diaceto, and certain other that notwithstanding are Tuscans, An error to t●●●ate none but Boccaccio and Petrarca. and perhaps of no less learning and judgement than Petrarca and Boccaccio. And truly it should be a great misery to stop without wading any farther than almost the first that ever wrote: and to despair, that so many and so noble wits shall never found out any more than one good manner of speech in the tongue that unto them is proper & natural. But now a days there be some so scrupulous, that (as it were) with a religion & high mysteries of this th●ir Tuscan tongue, put as many as heareth ●hem in such dread, that they bring in like case many gentlemen and learned men into such an awe, that they dare not open their mouth: and confess plainly, that they can not speak the tongue which they have learned of their nurses, even from their cradle. But in this point (me think) we have spoken tomuch. Therefore let us now proceed in our communication of the Courtier. Then answered Sir Friderick: but first I will say this little, which is that I deny not but the opinions and wits of men are divers among themselves: neither do I judge it comely for one that is vehement and quick of nature to take in hand to writ of soft and quiet matters. Nor yet for an other that is severe and grave to writ of merry conceits. For in this point (me think) it is reason every man should apply himself to his own proper inclination, & of this I believe spoke Cicero, when he said that masters should have a consideration to the nature of their scholars, lest they should do like the ill husbandmanne, that sometime in a soil that is good only for wines will sow grain. But it will not sink into my head why in a particular tongue, that is not so proper unto all men, as are discourses and conceits, and many other operations, but an invention contained under certain terms, a man may not with more reason follow them that speak best, then speak at all adventure. And that, as in the Latin tongue a man aught to apply himself to be in the tongue like unto Virgil and Cicero, rather than Silius one Cornelius Tacitus, so in the vulgar tongue why it were not better to follow the tongue of Petrarca and Boccac●io then any man's else: and therein express well his own conceits, and so apply himself as (Cicero saith) to his own natural inclination. And thus shall the difference which you say is between the good Orators, be found to consist in the senses and not in the tongue. Then the Count, I fear me (quoth he) we shall enter into a large sea, and leave our first purpose of the Courtier. But I would know of you, wherein consisteth the goodness of this tongue? Sir Fridericke, answered: In keeping well the property of it: & in taking i● in the signification (using the same style & measure) that all such have done as have written well. I would know then, quoth the Count, whether this style and measure which you speak of, Wherein consisteth the goodness of the tongue. arise of the sentences or of the words? Of the words, answered Sir Friderick. Do you not think then, quoth the Count, that the words of Silius and Cornelius Tacitus, are the very same that Virgil and Cicero use? and taken in the same signification? Sir Fridericke answered: they are the very same in deed, but some ill applied and diversly taken. The Count answered: in case a man should pike out of a book of Cornelius and of Silius, all the words placed in other signification than is in Virgil and Cicero, (which should be very few) would you not then say that Cornelius in the tongue were equal with Cicero, and Silius with Virgil? Then the L. Emilia, me think (quoth she) this your disputation hath lasted to long, and hath been very tedious, therefore it shall be best to defer it until an other tyme. Sir Fridericke, began still to make answer, Many talkers of imitat●●●. but the L. Emilia always interrupted him. At last the Count said: many will judge of styles and talk of numbers and measures, & of following, but they cannot do me to understand what manner a thing style and measure is, and wherein following consisteth: Nor why, things taken out of Homer or any other, are so well couched in Virgil, that they appear rather amplified than followed, and peradventure the occasion thereof is that I am not able to conceive it. But because a great argument that a man understandeth a thing, is the understanding that ●e hath to teach it, I fear me they themselves have small understanding in it, and praise Virgil and Cicero, because they hear them praised of many, not for that they know the difference between them and others, which out of peradventure consisteth not in the observation of two, or three, or of ten words used after a divers manner from other. In Sallust, in Cesar, in Varro, & in other good writers, there are found some terms applied otherwise then Cicero applieth them, and both the one and the other doth well-enough. Because in so trifling a matter the goodness and perfection of a tongue doth not consist as Demosthenes answered Eschines well that had taken him up, demanding him of certain words which he had used and yet were not ancient, Demosthenes' answer to Eschines. what monsters or wondrous matters they were? Whereat Demosthenes laughed, & answered him, that the fortunes of Grece depended not upon them. Even so would I pass full little if a Tuscan should reprehend me for speaking rather Satisfatto, than Sodisfatto: and Honorevole, Diversity of certain Tuscan words with the rest of Italy than Horrevole: and Causa, then Cagione & Populo, then Popolo, & such other matters. Then arose Sir Friderick upon his feet and said: I beseech ye give the hearing of these few words. The L. Emilia answered laughing: upon my displeasure I forbidden any of you to talk any more in this matter, for I will have you to break it of until an other night. But you Count, proceed you in your communication of the Courtier, and let us see how good a memory you have: for I believe, if ye can knit it again where you broke of, ye shall not do a little. Madam, answered the Count, me think the third is broken in sunder, but if I be not deceived, I trow we said that pestilent curiosity doth always give an ill grace unto all things: and contrariwise simplicity and Reckelesness a marvelous good grace. In commendation whereof and in dispraise of curiosity, many other things might be said, yet will I allege but one more, and then have done. All women generally have a great desire to be, Women that peincte themselves to seem fair to men. and when they can not be, at the lest to appear beautiful. Therefore where nature in some part hath not done her devoir therein, they endeavour themselves to supply it with art. Of this ariseth the trimming of the face, with such study and many times pains, the pilling of the brows and forehead, and the using of all those manner ways, and the abiding of such loathsomeness, as you women believe are kept● very secret from men, and yet do all men know them. The La. Constance Fregosa laughed at this, and said: you should do much better to go forward in your communication, and declare how a man may attain a good grace, & speak of courting, then to discover the faults of women without purpose. Nay it is much to purpose, answered the Count, because these defaults that I talk of take this grace from you: for they proceed of nothing else but of curiousness, whereby ye discover openly unto every man the over great desire that ye have to be beautiful. Do you not mark how much more grace is in a woman, that if she doth trim herself, doth it so scarcely & so little, that whoso beholdeth her, standeth in doubt whether she be trimmed or no: then in an other so bedawbed, that a man would ween she had a viser on her face and dareth not laugh for making it chap: nor at any time changeth her colour, but when she apparayleth herself in the morning, and all the rest of the day standeth like an image of wood without moving, shewing herself only in torch light, as crafty marchaundmen do their clotheses in their dark lights. Women that bestow no pain in setting out themselves. How much more than doth a man delight in one, I mean not foul, that is manifestly s●ene she hath nothing upon her face, though she be not so white nor so read, but with her naturals colour somewhat wan, sometime with blushing or through other chance died with a pure redness, with her hear by hap out of order & ruffled, and with her simple and natural gestures, without showing herself to bestow diligence or study, to make her fair? This is that not regarded pureness which best pleaseth the eyes and minds of men, that stand always in awe to be deceived by art. White teeth. white teeth is a good sight in a woman, for sense they are not in so open sight as is the face, but most communly are hid, a man may think she bestoweth not so much labour about them, to make them white, as she doth in the face: yet who so should laugh without cause purposely to show them, should discover the art, & for all their fair whiteness should appear unto all men to have a very ill grace, Fair hands. as Egnatius in Catullius. The like is in the hands, which being delicate, smooth & fair, if they be showed bore at a time when occasion is to occupy them, and not of purpose to show the beauty of them, they leave a very great desire of themselves, and especially after they are covered with gloves again, for a man would judge that in putting them on again she passeth not and little regardeth whether they be in sight or not, Clenlye and precise in places seldom seen. and that they are so fair rather by nature, then by any study or diligence. Have ye not had an eye otherwhile, when either in the streets going to Church, or in any other place, or in sporting, or by any other chance it happeneth that a woman lifteth up her clotheses so high, that she showeth her foot, and sometime a little of her pretty leg unwittingly? And seemeth she not to you to have a very good grace, if ye behold her then with a certain womanly disposition, cleanly and precise, with her shoes of vellute, and her hose sitting clean to her leg? Truly it delighteth me much, and I believe all of you, for every man supposeth that Preciseness in so secret a place and so seldom seen, to be unto that woman rather natural & proper then forced, and that thereby she thinketh to get her no commendation at all. In such sort is curiousenesse avoided and covered, the which you may now conceive how contrary it is, and taketh away the grace of every operation and deed, aswell of the body as of the mind, The mind. whereof hitherto we have spoken but little, and yet aught it not to be omitted, for as the mind is much more worthy than the body, so deserveth it also to be better decked and polished. And how that aught to be in our Courtier (leaving a part the precepts of so many wise Philosophers that write in this matter and define the virtues of the mind, and so subtly dispute of the dignity of them) we will express in few words, applying to our purpose, that it is sufficient he be (as they term it commonly) an honest man and well-meaning: for in this is comprehended the goodness, the wisdom, the manliness and the temperance of the mind, and all other qualities that belong to so worthy a name. To apply a man's good will is profeting. And I reckon him only a true moral Philosopher that will be good, and to that, he needeth few other precepts then that will of his. And therefore said Socrates well, that he thought his instructions had brought forth good fruit when by them he had provoked any one to apply his will to the knowledge and learning of virtue. For they that are come to the point that they covet nothing more than to be good, do easily attain the understanding of all that belongeth thereto: therefore herein we will make no more a do. But beside goodness, the true and principal ornament of the mind in every man (I believe) are letters, although the Frenchmen know only the nobleness of arms, The French men make none account of learning. & pass for nothing beside: so that they do not only not set by letters, but they rather abhor them, and all learned men they count very rascals, and they think it a great villainy when any one of them is called a clerk. Then answered the L. julian, you say very true, this error in deed hath long reigned among the frenchmen. But if Monseigneur de Angoulism have so good luck that he may (as men hope) succeed in the crown, Francis i French king the glory of arms in France doth not so flourish nor is had in such estimation, as letters willbe, I believe. For it is not long sins I was in France, & saw this Prince in the Court there, who seemed unto me beside the handsomeness of person and beauty of visage, to have in his countenance so great a majesty, accompanied nevertheless with a certain lovely courteisy, that the realm of France should ever seem unto him a small matter. I understood afterward by many gentlemen both French and Italian, very much of the most noble conditions, of the greatness of courage, prowess and liberality that was in him: and among other things, it was told me that he highly loved & esteemed letters, and had in very great reputation all learned men, and blamed the frenchmen themselves that their minds were so far wide from this profession, university of Paris. especially having at their doors so noble an university as Paris is, where all the world resorteth. Then spoke the Count: It is great wonder that in these tender years only by the provocation of nature, contrary to the manner of the country he hath given himself to so good a way. And because subjects follow always the conditions of the higher powers, it is possible that it may come to pass (as you say) that the Frenchmen will yet esteem letters to be of that dignity that they are in deed. The which (if they will give ear there to) they may soon be persuaded, forsomuch as men aught to covet of nature nothing so much and that is more proper for them, knowledge. then knowledge: which thing it were a great folly to say or to hold opinion that it is not always good. And in case I might common with them, or with other that were of a contrary opinion to me, I would do my diligence to show them, how much letters (which undoubtedly have been granted of God unto men for a sovereign gift) are profitable and necessary for our lief and estimation. Neither should I want th'examples of so many excellent captains of old time, which all joined the Ornament of letters, with the prowess of arms. How the great Alexander esteemed Homer, Plutarck, in the life of Alexander. For (as you know) Alexander had Homer in such reverence, that he laid his Ilias always under his beds head: and he applied diligently not these studies only, but also the speculations of philosophy under the discipline of Aristotle. Alcibiades increased his good conditions and made them greater with letters, and with the instructions of Socrates. Alcibiades Socrates scholar Also what diligence Cesar used in study, those things which he hath so divinely written himself, make trial. I. Cesar. It is said that Scipio Africanus carried always in his hand the books of Xenophon, Scipio Africanus. wherein under the name of Cyrus he instructeth a perfect king. Paidia Xenophontis. I could recite unto you Lucullus, Sylla, Pompeius, Brutus, and many other Romans & Grecians, but I will do no more but make mention of Hannibal, Hannibal learned. which being so excellent a captain (yet for all that of a fierce nature, and void of all humanity, an untrue dealer, and a despiser of men and of the Gods) had also understanding in letters, & the knowledge of the Greek tongue. And if I be not deceived (I trow) I have read in my time that he left a book behind him of his own making in the Greek tongue. But this kind of talk is more than needeth, for I know all you understand how much the frenchmen be deceived in holding opinion letters to do any hurt to arms. Glory. You know in great matters and aventurous in wars the true provocation is glory: and whoso for lucre's sake or for any other consideration taketh it in hand (beside that he never doth any thing worthy praise) deserveth not the name of a gentleman, but is a most vile merchant. And every man may conceive it to be the true glory, that is stored up in the holy treasure of letters, In letters the true glory. except such unlucky creatures as have had no taste thereof. What mind is so faint, so bashful and of so base a courage, that in reading the acts and greatness of Cesar, Alexander, Scipio, Hannibal, and so many other, is not incensed with a most fervent longing to be like them: Noble courages inflamed in reading the acts of famous captains. and doth not prefer the getting of that perpetual fame, before this rotten life that lasteth two days? Which in despite of death maketh him live a great deal more famous than before. But he that savoureth not the sweetness of letters, cannot know how much is the greatness of glory, which is a long while preserved by them, The unlearned know not glory. and only measureth it with the age of one or two men, for farther he beareth not in mind. Therefore can he not esteem this short glory so much as he would do that, which (in a manner) is everlasting, if by his ill hap he were not barred from the knowledge of it. And not passing upon it so much, reason persuadeth and a man may well believe he will never hazard himself so much to come by it, Why the unlearned seek not to be famous. as he that knoweth it. I would not now some one of the contrary part should allege unto me the contrary effects to confute mine opinion with all: Italians ●aint in arms. and tell me how the Italians with their knowledge of letters have showed small prowess in arms from a certain time hitherto, the which nevertheless is to true. But in very deed a man may well say that the offence of a few, hath brought (beside the great damage) an everlasting reproach unto all other. And the very cause of our confusion, and of the neglecting of virtue in our minds (if it be not clean dead) proceeded of them. But it were a more shameful matter unto us to publish it, then unto the Frenchmen the ignorance in letters. Therefore it is better to pass that over with silence that cannot be rehearsed without sorrow, and leaving this purpose into the which I am entered against my will, The Courtier aught to be learned. return again unto our Courtier, whom in letters I will have to be more then ●ndyfferentlye well seen, at the least in those studies, which they call Humanity, In humanity In the latin ●nd G●e●●e tongue. and to have not only the understanding of the Latin tongue, but also of the Greek, because of the many and sundry things that with great excellency are written in it. Let him much exercise himself in poets, In poets. In orators. and no less in Orators and Historiographers, and also in writing both rhyme and prose, and especially in this our vulgar tongue. In Historiographers. For beside the contentation that he shall receive thereby himself, he shall by this means never want pleasant interteinments with women which ordinarylye love such matters. In writing rhyme and prose. And if by reason either of his other business beside, What is to be done of a man's writings. or of his slender study, he shall not attain unto that perfection that his writings may be worthy much commendation, let him be circumspect in keeping them close, lest he make other men to laugh at him. Only he may show them to a friend whom he may trust, for at the lest wise he shall receive so much profit, that by that exercise he shall be able to give his judgement upon other men's doings. For it happeneth very seldom, that a man not exercised in writing, The not practised can not judge. how learned so ever he be, can at any time know perfectly the labour and toil of writers, or taste of the sweetness and excellency of styles, & those inner observations that often times are found in them of old tyme. And beside that, those studies shall make him copious, and (as Aristippus answered that Tiran) bold to speak upon a good ground with every man. Dionysius. Notwithstanding I will have our Courtier to keep fast in his mind one lesson, & that is this, To be rather wary then bold in all things. The words of flatterers sweet to be always wary both in this and in every other point, and rather fearful then bold, & beware that he persuade not himself falsely to know the thing he knoweth not indeed. Because we are of nature all the sort of us much more greedy of praise than is requisite, & better to our ears love the melody of words sounding to our praise, than any other song or son that is most sweet. And therefore many times, like the voices of Meremaydens, they are the cause of drowning him that doth not well stop his ears at such deceitful harmony. This danger being perceived, there hath been among the ancient wise men that hath written books, Men take no heed to flatterers. how a man should know a true friend from a flatterer. But what aavaileth it? If there be many of them (or rather infinite) that manifestly perceive there are flatterers, and yet love him that flattereth them, & hate him that telleth them the troth, and often times (standing in opinion that he that praiseth them is to scace in his words) they themselves help him forward, and utter such matters of themselves, that the most impudent flatterer of all is ashamed of. Let us leave these blind busardes in their own error, Men flatter themselves. and make our Courtier of so good a judgement, that he will not be given to understand black for white, nor presume more of himself then what he knoweth very manifestly to be true, and especially in those things, which (if he bear well in mind) the L. Cesar rehearsed in his device of pastimes, that we have many times used for an instrument to make many become foolish. But rather, that he may be assured not to fall into any error, How he should avoid flatterers. where he knoweth those praises that are given him to be true: let him not so openly consent to them, nor confirm them so without resistance, but rather with modesty (in a manner) deny them clean, showing always and counting in effect, arms to be his principal profession, and all the other good qualities for an ornament thereof, and principally among soldiers, Letters an ornament of arms. lest he be like unto them that in learning will seem men of war, and among men of war, learned. In this wise for the reasons we have said he shall avoid curyousnesse, and the mean things which he taketh in hand, shall appear very great. Here M. Peter Bembo answered: I know not (Count Lewis) how you will have this Courtier, being learned & of so many other virtuous qualities, to count every thing for an ornament of arms, and not arms and the rest for an ornament of letters. The which without other addition are in dignity so much above arms, as the mind is above the body: because the practising of them belongeth properly to the mind even as the practising of arms doth to the body. The Count answered then: Arms belong to the mind and body both. nay the practicing of arms belongeth aswell to the mind as to the body. But I would not have you (M. Peter) a judge in this cause, for you would be to partial to one of the parts. And forsomuch as this disputation hath already been tossed a long time by most wise men, we need not to renew it, but I count it resolved upon arms side, and will have our Courtier (since I have the faci●ning of him at mi will) think thus also. And if you be of a contrary opinion, tarry till you hear a disputation, where it may be as well lawful for him that taketh part with arms, to use his arms, as they that defend letters use in the defence the very same letters. O (ꝙ M. Pet●r) you rebuked the Frenchmen before for setting little by letters, and declared what a great light of glory they show unto men & how they make them immortal: Petrar●a● Son. 155. & now it seemeth you are in an other opinion·s Do you not remember that. The great Macedo, when he proched near Fires Achils' famous Tomb, thus said and sight: O happy Prince that found a Tromp so clear, Alexander. Homer. And happy he that praised so worthy a wight. And if Alexander envied Achilles not for his deeds but for his fortune that gave him so great luck to have his acts renowned by Homer, Quint. Curt. lib. ● a man may gather he esteemed more the letters of Homer than the arms of Achilles. What other judge then or what other sentence look you for, as touching the dygnity of arms & letters, then that which was given by one of the greatest captains that ever were? the Count answered: I blame the Frenchmen because they think letters hurt the profession of arms: The Courtier a man of war and learned, & I hold opinion that it is not so necessary for any man to be learned, as it is for a man of war. And these two points linked together and aided the one by the other (which is most fit) will I have to be in the Courtier. Neither do I think myself for this to be in an other opinion, but (as I have said) I will not dispute: which of them is most worthy praise, it sufficeth that learned men take not in hand at any time to praise any but great men, & glorious acts, which of themselves deserve praise by their proper essential virtues from whence they arise. Glorious acts a noble Thereat. Beside that, they are a most noble Theme for writers, which is a great ornament, & partly the cause of continuance of writings, that peraventure should not be so much read & set by, if there wanted in them noble matter, but counted vain & of small reputation. Alexander thought not himself inferior. to Achilles. And if Alexander envied Achilles because he was praised of him that did it, yet doth it not consequently follow that he esteemed letters more than arms. Wherein if he had known himself so far wide from Achilles, as in writing he thought all they would be from Homer that should go about to writ of him, I am sure he would much sooner have desired well doing in himself then well speaking in an other. Therefore think I that this was a close praise of himself, and a wishing for that he thought he had not, namely the high excellency of a writer, and not for that he thought with himself he had already obtained, that is to say, the prowess of arms, wherein he counted not Achilles any whit his superior, What Alexander meant by calling Achilles' happy wherefore he called him happy, as it were signifying, where his fame in foretime was not so renowned in the world, as was the fame that by so divine a Poem was clear and excellent, it proceeded not for that his prows and deserts were not such & worthy so much praise: but it arose of fortune that had before hand prepared for Achilles that miracle of nature for a glorious renown & trumpet of his acts. And peradventure again he minded thereby to stir up some noble wit to write of himself, declaring thereby how acceptable it should be to him, forsomuch as he loved & reverenced the holy monuments of letters: about the which we have now spoken sufficient. Nay more than sufficient, answered the L. Lodovicus pius. For I believe there is never a vessel in the world possible to be found so big that shallbe able to receive all the things that you will have in this Courtier. Then the Count, abide yet a while (quoth he) for there be many other things to be had in him yet. Peter of Naples answered: after this manner Cras●us de Medicis shall have great advantage of M. Peter Bembo, at this they all laughed. And the Count beginning a fresh, my Lords (quoth he) you must think I am not pleased with the courtier if he be not also a musitien, and beside his understanding and couning upon the book, have skill in like manner on sundry instruments. The Courtier a musitien. For if we way it well, there is no ease of the labours and medicines of feeble minds to be found more honest and more praise worthy in time of leisure than it. And principally in Courts, where (beside the refreshing of vexations that music bringeth unto each man) many things are taken in hand to please women withal, whose tender and soft breasts are soon pierced with melody and filled with sweetness. Therefore no marvel that in the old times and now a days they have always been inclined to musitiens, and counted this a most acceptable food of the mind. Then the L. Gaspar, I believe music (quoth he) together with many other vanities is meet for women, & peradventure for some also that have the likeness of men, but not for them that be men in deed: who aught not with such delicacies to womanish their minds, and bring themselves in that sort to dread death. Speak it not, answered the Count For I shall enter into a large sea of the praise of Music, and call to rehearsal how much it hath always been renowned among them of old time, & counted a holy matter: Music in estimation in old time. & how it hath been the opinion of most wise Philosophers that the world is made of music, & the heavens in their moving make a melody, & our soul framed after the very same sort, & therefore lifteth up itself & (as it were) reviveth the virtues & force of it with music: wherefore it is written that Alexander was sometime so fervently stirred with it, Alexander stirred with music. that (in a manner) against his will he was forced to arise from banquets and run to weapon, afterward the musitien changing the stroke and his manner of tune, Xenofant. musitien. pacified himself again and returned from weapon to banqueting. And I shall tell you that grave Socrates when he was well stricken in years learned to play upon the harp. Socrates being old learned upon the harp. And I remember I have understood that Plato and Aristotle will have a man that is well brought up, to be also a musitien: and declare with infin●●● reasons the force of music to be to very great purpose in us, and for many causes (that should be to long to rehearse) aught necessarily to be learned from a man's childhood, Why music is good. not only for the supper ficial melody that is hard, but to be sufficient to bring into us a new habit that is good, and a custom inclining to virtue, which maketh the mind more apt to the conceiving of felicity, even as bodily exercise maketh the body more lusty, and not only hurteth not civil matters and warlike affairs, but is a great stay to them. Also Lycurgus in his sharp laws allowed music. And it is read that the Lacedaemon's, Lycurgus. The Lacedaemon's. The Cretenses. Epaminondas. Themistocles the less esteemed for not being a musitien. Chiron. Achilles' a musitien. which were valiant in arms, & the Cretenses used haps and other soft instruments: and many most excellent captains of old time (as Epaminondas) gave themselves to music: and such as had not a sight in it (as Themistocles) were a great deal the less set by. Have you not read that among the first instructions which the good old man Chiron taught Achilles in his tender age, whom he had brought up from his nurse and cradle, music was one? And the wise master would have those hands that should shed so much Trojan blood, to be oftentimes occupied in playing upon the harp? What soldier is there (therefore) that will think it a shame to follow Achilles, omitting many other famous captains that I could allege? Do ye not then deprive our Courtier of music, which doth not only make sweet the minds of men, but also many times wild beasts tame: and whoso savoureth it not, Wield beasts delight in music. a man may assuredly think him not to be well in his wits. Behold I pray you what force it hath, that in times passed alured a fish to suffer a man to ride upon him through the tempestuous sea. Dolphines' delight in music. We may see it used in the holy temples to tender laud and thanks unto God, Music acceptable to God. and it is a credible matter that it is acceptable unto him, and that he hath given it unto us for a most sweet lightning of our travails and vexations. So that many times the boisterous labourers in the fields in the heat of the sun beguile their pain with rude and cartarlyke singing. Labourers. With this the unmannerly countreywoman that ariseth before day out of her sleep to spin and card, Countrywomen. defendeth herself and maketh her labour pleasant. This is the most sweet pastime after reign, wind, and tempest unto the miserable mariners. Mariners. Pylgroms'. Prisoners. With this do the weary pilgromes' comfort themselves in their troublesome and long viages. And often times prisoners in adversity, in fetters, and in stocks. In like manner for a greater proof that the tunablenes of music (though it be but rude) is a very great refreshing of all worldly pains and griefs, a man would judge that nature hath taught it unto nurses for a special remedy to the continual wailings of sucking babes, which at the son of of their voice fall into a quiet and sweet sleep, Sucking babes. forgetting the tears that are so proper to them, and given us of nature in that age for a guess of the rest of our life to come. Here the Count pausing a while the L. julian said: I am not of the L. Gaspar's opinion, but I believe for the reasons you allege and for many other, that music is not only an ornament, but also necessary for a Courtier. But I would have you declare how this and the other qualities which you appoint him are to be practised, and at what time, and in what sort. Because many things that of themselves be worthy praise, oftentimes in practising them out of season seem most foolish. And contrariwise, some things that appear to be of small moment, in the well applying them, are greatly esteemed. Then said the Count: before we enter into this matter, I will talk of an other thing, which for that it is of importance (in my judgement) I b●●eue our Courtier aught in no wise to leave it out. And that is the cunning in drawing, and the knowledge in the very art of peincting. Peincting. And wonder ye not if I wish this feat in him, which now a days perhaps is counted an handicraft and full little to become a gentleman, for I remember I have read that the men of old time, and especially in all Greece would have gentlemen's children in the schools to apply peincting, gentlemen's children learned to peinct. as a matter both honest and necessary. And this was received in the first degree of liberal arts, afterward openly enacted not to be taught to servants and bondmen. Peincting forbidden to bondmen Among the Romans in like manner it was in very great reputation, and thereof sprung the surname of the most noble family of Fabii, for the first Fabius was surnamed ●ictor, Fabius Pictor. because in deed he was a most excellent peinter and so addicted to peincting, that after he had peincted the walls of the temple of Health, he writ therein his name thinking with himself, Temple of health. that for all he was borne in so noble a family which was honoured with so many titles of Co●sulshi●pes and triumphs and other dignities, and was learned and well seen in the law, and reckoned among Orators, to give also an increase of brightness & an ornament unto his renown, by leaving behind him a memory that he had been a peinter. There have not in like manner wanted many other of notable families that have been renowned in this art, of the which (beside that in itself it is most noble and worthy) there ensue many commodities, Necessary in war. and especially in war to draw out cou●treys, plattefourmes, rivers, brydges', castles, holds, fortresses, and such other matters, the which though a man were able to keep in mind (and that is a hard matter to do) yet can he not show them to others. And in very deed who so esteameth not this art, is (to my seeming) far wide from all reason: forsomuch as the engine of the world that we behold with a large sky, so bright with shining stars, and in the mids, The world 〈◊〉 peincting. the earth environed with the Seas, severed in parts with Hills, Dales, and Rivers, and so decked with such diverse trees, beautiful flowers and herbs, a man may say it to be a noble and a great peincting, drawn with the hand of nature and of God: the which whoso can follow in mine opinion he is worthy much commendation. Neither can a man attain to this without the knowledge of many things, as he well knoweth that trieth it. Therefore had they of old time in very great estimation both the art and the artificers, so that it came to the top of all excellency. And of this may a man gather a sufficient argument at the ancient images of marble and metal, which at this day are to be seen. And though peincting be a diverse matter from carving, yet do they both arise of one self fountain (namely) of a good pattern. Ancient images. And even as the images are divine and excellent, Carving. so it is to be thought peinctinges were also, and so much the more, for that they contain in them a greater workemanshipp. Then the L Emilia turning her unto johnchristopher Romano that sat there among the rest, how think you (quoth she) to this judgement, will you grant that peincting containeth in it a greater workmanship, then carving? johnchristopher answered: In my mind carving is of more travail, of more art, and of a more dignity than peincting. Then said the Count Because images are more durable, perhaps a man may say that they are of a more dignity. For sith they are made for a memory, they better satisfy the effect why the● be made, then peincting. But beside memory, both peincting and carving are made also to set out a thing, and in this point hath peincting a great deal the upper hand, that which though it be not so long lasting (to term it so) as carving is, yet doth it for all that endure a long time, and for the while it lasteth, is much more sightly. Then answered johnchristopher▪ I believe verily you think not as ye speak, and all this do you for your Raphaelles' sake. And peradventure to, Raphael. you judge the excellency you know to be in him in peincting to be of such perfection, that carving in marble cannot come to that degree. But weigh with yourself, that this is the praise of the artificer and not of the art. Then he proceeded: and I judge also both the one and the other to be an artificial following of nature. But yet I know not how you can say, that the truth and property that nature maketh, cannot be followed better in a figure of marble or metal, wherein the members are all round, proportioned and measured as nature herself shapeth them, then in a Table where men perceive nothing but the outward sight and those colours that deceive the eyes: & say not to me that being, is not nigher unto the truth then seeming. Why carving is harder than peincting. Again, I judge carving in marble much harder, because if ye make a fault it cannot be amended again, for marble cannot be joined together, but ye must be driven to make a new ●mage, the which happeneth not in peincting, for a man may altar, put to, and diminish, always making it better. The Count said laughing: I speak not for Raphaelles sake, neither aught you to think me so ignorant a person, but I understand the excellency of Michelangelo, Michelangelo of you yourself, & of other men in carving of marble, but I speak of the art & not of the artificers. And you say well, that both the one and the other is the following of nature. But for all that, it is not so, that peinting appeareth and carving is: for although images are all round like the lively pattern, and peincting is only seen in the outward appearance, yet want there many things in images, that want not in penctinges, and especially lights and shadows, for fl●she giveth one light, and Marble an other, and that doth the Peincter naturally follow with clear and dark, more & less, as he seethe occasion, which the graver in marble can not do. And where the Peincter maketh not his figure round, he maketh the muscles and the members in round wise, so that they go to meet with the parts not seen, after such a manner, that a man may very well gather the peincter hath also a knowledge in them & understandeth them. And in this point he must have an other craft that is greater to frame those members, that they may seem short and diminish according to the proportion of the sight by the way of prospective, Prospective. which by force of measured lines, colours, lights and shadows discover unto you also in the outward sight of an upright wall the plainness & farnesse, more and less, as pleaseth him. Wherein the p●in●●●r passeth the carver. Think you it again a trifling matter to counterfeit natural colours, flesh, cloth, and all other coloured things? This can not now the graver in marble do, ne yet express the grace of the sight that is in the black eyes or in azurre with the shining of those amorous beams. He can not show the colour of yellow hear, nor the glistering of armour, nor a dark night, nor a Sea tempest, nor those twincklinges and sperkeles, nor the burning of a City, nor the rising of the morning in the colour of roses with those beams of purple and gold. finally he can not show the sky, the sea, the earth, hills, woods, meadows, gardens, rivers, Cities, nor houses, which the peincter doth all. For this respect (me think) peincting is more noble, & containeth in it a greater workman ship then graving in marble. And among them of old time I believe it was in as high estimation as other things, Remnants of p●inctinge in Room. the which is also to be discerned by certain little remnants that are to be seen yet, especially in places under ground in Room, but much more evidently may a man gather it by old writings, wherein is so famous and so often mention both of the works and workmen, that by them a man may understand in what high reputation they have been always with Princes and Common weals. Therefore it is read that Alexander loved highly Appelles' o● Ephesus, and somuch, Ale●ander 〈◊〉 Appelles. that after he had made him draw out a woman of his, naked, whom he loved most dearly, & understanding that this good peincter, for her marvelous beauty was most fervently in love with her, without any more a do, he bestowed her upon him. Alexander's gift to Appelles. Truly a worthy liberality of Alexander, not to give only treasures and states, but also his own affections and desires, and a token of very great love toward Appelles, not regarding (to please him with all) the displeasure of the woman that he highly loved, who it is to be thought was sore aggrieved to change so great a king for a peincter. Only Appelles drew 〈◊〉 his picture. There be many other signs rehearsed also of Alexander's good will toward Appelles, but he showed plainly in what estimation he had him, when he commanded by open proclamation no other peincter should be so hardy to draw out his picture. Here could I repeat unto you the contentions of many noble peincters with the greatest commendation and marvel (in a manner) in the world. I could tell you with what solemnity the Emperors of old time decked out their triumphs with peinctinges, and dedicated them up in haunted places and how dear it rest them. Estimation of peincting. And that there were some Peincters that gave their works freely, seeming unto them no gold nor silver was enough to value them. And how a table of Protogenes was of such estimation, that Demetrius lying encamped before Rhodes, where he might have entered the city by setting fire to the place where he wist this table was, A table where in Bacchus was painted. for fear of burning it, stayed to bid them battle, and so he won not the city at al. And how Metrodorus a Philosopher & a most excellent peincter was sent out of Athens to L. Paulus to bring up his children and to deck out his triumph he had to make. Metrodorus And also many noble writers have written of this art, which is a token great enough to declare in what estimation it hath been. But I will not we proceed any farther in this communication. Therefore it sufficeth only to say that our Courtier aught also to have a knowledge in peincting, since it was honest & profitable, Profit of peincting. & much set by in those days when men were of a more prowess than they are now. And though he never get other profit or delight in it (beside that it is a help to him to judge of the excellency of images both old and new, of vessels, buildings, old coins, camese, graving and such other matters) it maketh him also understand the beauty of lively bodies, and not only in the sweetness of the fisnamy, but in the proportion of all the rest, aswell in men as other living creatures. lovers aught to have a ●igh● in 〈◊〉. S● then how the knowledge in peinctinge is cause of very great pleasure. And this let them think that do enjoy and view the beauty of a woman so thoroughly that they think themselves in paradise, & yet have not the feat of peinctinge: the which if they had, they would conceive a far greater contentation, for than should they more perfectly understand the beauty that in their breast engendereth such hearts ease. Here the L. Cesar laughed & said: I have not the art of peincting, & yet I know assuredly I have a far greater delight in beholding a woman in the world than Appelles himself that was so excellent whom ye named right now, could have if he were now in lief again. The Count answered: Affection of love. this delight of yours proceedeth not wholly of the beauty, but of the affection which you perhaps bear unto the woman. And if you will tell the troth, the first time you beheld that woman, ye felt not the thousandeth part of the delight which ye did afterward, though her beauty were the very same▪ Therefore ye may conceive how affection beareth agreater stroke in your delight then beauty. I deny not that (quoth the L. Cesar: but as delight ariseth of affection, so doth affection arise of beauty, therefore a man may say for all thee, that beauty is the cause of delight. The Count answered: there be many other things also that beside beauty often times inflame our minds, as manners, knowleage, speech, gestures and a thousand more (which peradventure after a sort may be called beauty to) & above all the knowing a man's self to be beloved: so that without the beauty you reason of, a man may be most fervently in love, but those loves that arise only of the beauty which we discern superficially in bodies, without doubt will bring a far greater delight to him that hath a more skill therein then to him that hath but a little. Therefore returning to our purpose, I believe Appelles conceived a far greater joy in beholding the beauty of Campaspes then did Alexander, for a man may easily believe that the love of them both proceeded of that beauty, Campaspes. & perhaps also for this respect Alexander▪ determined to bestow her upon him, that (in his mind) could know her more perfectly ●hen he did. Have you not read of the five daughters of Croton, U●●oug●te●s of Croton. Zeu●is. which among the rest of that people, Zeusis the peincter chose to make of all five one figure that was most excellent in beauty, and were renowned of many Poets, as they that were allowed for beautiful of him that aught to have a most perfect judgement in beauty? ●ere the L. Cesar, declaring himself not satisfied nor willing to consent by any means, that any man could t●st of the delight that ●e felt in beholding the beauty of a certain woman, but he himself, began to speak▪ & then was there hard a great scraping of feet in the floor with●●herme of loud speaking, and upon that every man turning himself about, saw at the chamber door appear a light of torches, L. Franciscomaria del●a Rovere. and by and by after entered in the L. General with a great and noble train, who was then returned from accompaning the Pope a piece of the way. And at his first entry into the Palace demanding what the Duchess did, he was certe●ied what kind of pastime they had in hand that night, & how the charge was committed to Count Lewis to entreat o● courting. Therefore he hasted him as much as he could to come betime to hear somewhat. And assoon as he had saluted the Duchess & settled the ●es●e that w●re risen up at his coming, he sat him down in the circled among them and certain of the chief of his train, among which were the marquis Phoebus of Ceva, and Ghirardin ●rethern M. Hector of Room, Vincent Calmeta, Horace Floridus & many other▪ And when all was whist, the L. General said: my Lords, my coming should be to hurtful, if I should hindre such good communication as I guess was even now among you. Therefore do you me not this injury to deprive both yourselves and me of this pleasure. Then answered Count Lewis I believe (my Lord) silence aught rather to please all parties then speaking. For seeing it hath been my lot this night before all other to take this travail in hand, it hath now waried me in speaking and I ween all the rest in hearing: because my talk hath not been worthy of this company, nor sufficient enough for the weightiness of the matter I have been charged withal, wherein sins I have little satisfied myself, I reckon I have much less satisfied others. Therefore (my Lord) your luck hath been good to come at the latter end, and now shall it be well done to give the enterprise of that is behind to an other that may succeed in my room. For whosoever he be, I know well he will much better acquit himself then I should do if I went forward with it, being thus weary as I am. This will I in no wise permit, answered the L. julian to be deceived of the promise ye have made me. And I know well the Lord General will not be against the understanding of that point. And what promise was that, quoth the Count? The L. julian answered: To declare unto us in what sort the Courtier aught to use those good conditions & qualities which you say are meet for him. The Lord General, though he we● but a child in years, yet was he wise and descreete more than a man would think belonged unto those tender years of his, & in every gesture he declared with a greatness of mind a certain liveliness of wit, which did sufficiently prognosticate the excellent degree of honour, and virtue whereunto afterward he ascended. Wherefore he said incontinently: if all this be behind yet to be spoken of (me think) I am come in good season. For understanding in what sort the Courtier must use his good conditions & qualities, I shall know also what they are, and thus shall I come to the knowledge of all that have been spoken hitherto. Therefore stick not (Count) to pay this debt, being already discharged of one part thereof. I should not have so great a debt to discharge, answered the Count, if the pains were equally divided, but the fault hath been, in giving a Lady authority to command, that is to partial: and so smiling he beheld the Lady Emilia, which said immediately: you aught not to complain of my partiality, yet sins ye do it against reason, we will give one part of this honour, which you call pains, unto an other: & turning her unto Sir Friderick Fregoso, you (quoth she) propounded this devise o● the Courtier, therefore reason willeth ye should say somewhat in it: & that shallbe to fulfil the L. julians request, in declaring in what sort, manner & time the Courtier aught to practise his good conditions and qualities, and those other things which the Count hath said are meet for him. Then Sir Friderick, Madam (quoth he) where ye will sever the sort, the time and the manner of good conditions & qualities and the well practicing of the Courtier, ye will sever that can not be sundered: for it is these things that make the conditions and qualities good & the practising good. Therefore sins the Count hath spoken so much and so well, & also said somewhat of these circumstances, and prepared for the rest in his mind that he had to say, it were but reason he should go forward until he came to the end. The Lady Emilia answered: Set the case you were the Count yourself, and spoke that your mind giveth you he would do, and so shall all be well. Then said Calmeta, My Lords, sins it is late, lest Sir Friderick should found a excuse to utter that he knoweth, I believe it were well done to defer the rest of the communication until to morrow, and bestow the small time that remaineth about some other pastime without ambition▪ The which being agreed upon of all hands▪ the Duchess w●lled the Lady Margaret & the Lady Constance Fregosa to show them a dance. Wherefore Barletta immediately, a very pleasant musicien and an excellent dancer, who continually kept all the Court in mirth & joy, began to play upon his instruments, and they hand in hand, showed them a dance or two with a very good grace and great pleasure to the lookers on: That done, because it was far in night, the Duchess arrose upon her feet, and so every man taking his leau● reverently of her, departed to his rest. ¶ THE SECOND BOOK OF the Courtier of Count Baldessar Castilio unto. M. Alphonsus Ariosto. NOt without marvel many a time and often have I considered with myself how one error should arise, the which because it is generally seen in old men, a man may believe it is proper and natural unto them: and that is, In error in age. how (in a manner) all of them commend the times past, & blame the times present: dispraising ●ur doings and manners: and whatsoever they did not in their youth: affirming moreover every good custom and good trade of living, every virtue, finally each thing to decline always from ill to worse. And in good sooth it seemeth a matter very wide from reason & worthy to be noted, that ripe age which with long practice is wont to make men's judgements more perfect in other things, should in this behalf so corrupt them, that they should not discern, if the world waxed worse and worse, & the fathers were generally better than the children, we should long ere this time have been come to that utmost degree of ill that can not wax worse. And yet do we see not only in our days, but also in times past that this hath always been the peculiar vice of that age. The which is to be manifestly gathered by the writings of many most ancient authors, and especially comedy writers, which express better than the rest, the trade of man's life. The cause therefore of this false opinion in old men, I believe (in mine opinion) is, for that, years wearing away, carry also with them many commodities, The cause of the error. and among other take away from the blood a great part of the lively spirits that altereth the complexion, & the instruments wax feeble, whereby the soul worketh her effects. Therefore the sweet flowers of delight vade away in that season out of our hearts, as the leaves fall from the trees after harvest, and in stead of open & clear thoughts there entereth cloudy and troublous heaviness accompanied with a thousand heart griefs: so that not only the blood, but the mind is also feeble, nei●her of the former pleasures receiveth it any thing else but a fast memory and the print of the beloved time of tender age, Time of youth. which when we have upon us, the heaven, the earth, and each thing to our seeming rejoiceth and laugheth always about our eyes, and in thought (as in a savoury and pleasant garden) flourisheth the sweet spring time of mirth, so that peradventure it were not unprofitable, when now in the cold season, the Son of our lief (taking away from us our delights) beginneth to draw toward the West, to loose in like case therewithal the mindfulness of them, and to found out (as Themistocles saith) an art to teach us to forget: for the senses of our body are so deceivable, that they beguile many times also the judgement of the mind. Senses of the body Therefore (me think) old men be like unto them, that sailing in a vessel out of an haven, behold the ground with their eyes, and the vessel to there seeming standeth still and the shore goeth: and yet is it clean contrary, for the haven, and likewise the time and pleasures continued still in their estate, & we with the vessel of mortality flying away, go one after an other through the tempestuous sea that swalloweth up & devoureth all things, neither is it granted us at any time to come on shore again, but always beaten with contrary winds, at the end we break our vessel at some rock. The mind of old age. Because therefore the mind of old age is without order subject to many pleasures, it can not taste them: and even as to them that be sick of a fever when by corrupt vapours they have lost their taste, all wines appear mo●●e bitter, though they be precious and delicate in deed: so unto old men for there unaptenes (wherein notwithstanding desire faileth them not (pleasures seem without taste and cold, much differing from those they remember they have proved in foretime, although the pleasures in themselves be the self same. Therefore when they feel themselves void of them, it is a grief, and they blame the time present for ill, not perceiving that this change proceedeth of themselves and not of the tyme. And contrariwise when they call to mind the pleasures past, they remember therewithal the time they had them in, and therefore commend it for good, Things beloved that accumpanye pleasures. because to their weening it carrieth with it a savour of it, which they felt in them when it was present, by reason that in effect our minds conceive an hatred against all things that have accompanied our sorrows, and love such as have accompanied our pleasures. Upon this it cometh that unto a lover it is most acceptable sometime to behold a window though it be shut, because otherwhiles it may be his chance to see his mistress there: in like manner to see a ring, a letter, a garden or any other place or what ever other thing he supposeth hath been a witting testimonial of his pleasures. And contrariwise, often times a fair trimmed and well decked chamber is abhorred of him that hath been kept prisoner in it, or abid therein any other sorrow. And in my days I have known some that will never drink of a cup like unto that wherein in their sickness they had taken a medicine. For even as that window, ring or letter, doth bring to the mind a sweet remembrance unto the one that somuch pleaseth him, for that he imagineth it was a parcel of his pleasures, so unto the other the chamber or cup seemet h to bring with the memory, his sickness or imprisoning again. The very same cause (I believe) moveth old men to praise the times past and discommend the present. Therefore as they talk of other things, so do they also of Courts, affirming such as have been in their memory to be much more excellent and far better furnished with notable men, than we see them to be that are now a days. And immediately when they enter into this kind of talk, they begin to extol with in finyte praises the Courts of Duke Philip, or of Duke Borso, and declare the sayings of Nicholas Piccininus and rehearse that in those times a man should very seldom have heard of a murder committed, Old men's opinion of Courts. and no combattes, no crafts nor deceits: but a certain faithful and loving good meaning among all men and an upright dealing. And in Courts at that time there reigned such good conditions and such honesty that the Courtiers were (in a manner) religious folk: and woe unto him that should have spoken an ill word of an other, or made but a sign otherwise then honestly to a woman. And on the other side, they say in these days every thing is clean contrary, and not only that brotherly love and manerlye conversation lost among Courtiers, but also in Courts there reigneth nothing else but envy and malice, ill manners, and a m●st wanton life in every kind of vice: Envy. Women wanton. Men womanish. A paraile. the women enticefull past shame, and the men womanishe. They dispraise also the apparalle to be dishonest and to soft. To be short, they speak against infinite things, among the which many in very deed deserve to be discommended, for it cannot be excused, but there are many ill and naughty men among us, and this our age is much more full of vices, than was that which they commend. But (me think) they do full ill skanne the cause of this difference, and they be fond persons, because they would have all goodness in the world without any ill, which is unpossible. Contraries For fynce ill is contrary to good, and good to ill, it is (in a manner) necessary by contrariety and a certain counterpeses the one should underprompe and strengthen the other, and where the one wanteth or increaseth, the other to want or increase also: because no contrary is without his other contrary. Who knoweth not that there should be no justice in the world, were it not for wrongs? no stoutness of courage, were there not feynthearted? nor continency, were there not incontinency? nor health, were there not sickness? nor truth, were there not lies? Socrates. Esopus. nor happiness were there not mischances? Therefore Socrates saith well in Plato that he marveleth that Esope made not an Apologus or fable, wherein he might have feigned that God, since he could never couple pleasure and sorrow together, might have knit them with an extremity, so that the beginning of the one should have been the end of the other. For we see no pleasure can delight us at any time if sorrow goeth not before. One contrary followeth an other. Who can love rest well unless he have first felt the grief of weariness? Who savoureth meat, drink, and sleep, if he have not first felt hunger, thirst, and watching? I believe therefore passions and diseases are given to men of nature, not principally to make them subject to them, for it were not meet that she, which is the mother of all goodness, should by her own purposed advise give us so many evils, but since nature doth make health, pleasure and other goodness, consequently after these, were joined diseases, sorrows and other evils. Therefore since virtues were granted to the world for a favour and gift of nature, by and by were vices by that linked contrariety necessarily accompanied with them: so that the one increasing or wanting, the other must in like manner increase or want. Therefore when our old men praise the Courts of times past because there were not in them so vicious men, as some that are in ours, they do not know that there were not also in them so virtuous men, Better wits now then in foretime. as some that are in ours: the which is no wonder, for no ill is so evil, as that which arriseth of the corrupt seed of goodness. And therefore where nature now bringeth forth much better wits than she did tho, even as they that be given to goodness do much better than did those of their time, so also they that be given to ill do much worse. Therefore it is not to be said, that such as abstained from doing ill because they knew not how to do it, deserved in that case any praise: for although they did but a little ill, yet did they the woorste they knew. And that the wits of those times were generally much inferior to these now a days, a man may judge by all that hath proceeded from them, letters, peynctynges, statures, buildings and all other things. Again these old men discommend many things in us, which of themselves are neither good nor bad, only because they did them not: and say it is no good sight to see young men on horseback about the streets and especially upon Mules, nor to wear furs, nor side garments in winter, Things neither good nor bad. norto wear a cap before a man be at the lest xviii. years of age, and such other matters, wherein truly they be much deceived. For these fashions (beside that they be commodious and profitable) are brought up by custom, and generally men delight in them, as at that time they were contented to go in their jacket, fashions set-by in the old tyme. in their breechelesse hose and in their low shoes with lachettes, & (to appear fine) carry all day long a hawk upon their fist, without purpose, and dance without touching a woman's hand, and used many other fashions, the which as they are now stolen, so were they at that time much set by. Therefore may it be lawful for us also to follow the custom of our times, without controlment of these old men, which going about to praise themselves, say: When I was xx. years old I lay with my mother and sisters, The saying of old men. nor a great while after wist I what women meant: and now children are not so soon crept ●ute of the shell, but they know more naughtiness, than they that were come to man's state did in those days: neither be they ware in so saying that they confirm our children to have more wit than their old men. Let them leave therefore speaking against our times, as full of vices: for in taking away them, they take also a way the virtues. And let them remember that among the good men of ancient time, when as the glorious wits flourished in the world, which in very deed were of most perfection in every virtue, and more than manly, there were also many most mischievous, which if they had still lived, should have excelled our ill men somuch in ill, as those good men in goodness, & of this do all Histories make full mention. But unto these old men I ween I have made a sufficient answer. Therefore we will leave apart, this discourse, perhaps to tedious, but not altogether out ●f purpose: and being sufficient to have declared that the Courts of our time are worthy no less praise, than those that old men commend so much, we will attend to our communication that was had about the Courtier, whereby a man may easily gather, in what degree the Court of Urbin was among the rest, Noble wits in the Court of vr●in. and what manner a Prince and Lady they were that had such noble wits attending upon them, and how fortunate all they might call themselves that lived in that familiar fellowship. When the day following therefore was come, there was great and sundry talk between the Gentlemen and Ladies of the court upon the disputation of the night before: which arrose a great part of it, upon the L. generals greedy desire, to understand as much as had been said in the matter, who had inquired it almost of every man: and (as it is always wont to come to pass) it was reported unto him sundry ways, for some praised one thing, some an other, and also ●mong many there was a contention of the Countess' oune meaning, for every man did not so fully bear in mind the matters that had been spoken. Therefore almost the whol● day was spent about talking in this, and assoon as night drew on, the L. General commanded meat to be set on the board, and took all the Gentlemen with him, and immediately after supper he repaired to the Duchess side▪ who beehouldinge so great a company assembled sooner than they had done at other times, said: me think, it is a great weight, Sir Friderick that is laid upon your shoulders, and a great expectation that you must satisfy. Here not tarrying for Sir Friderickes answer, and what great weight (I beseech ye) is it, said then unico Aretino? Who is so foolish that when he can do a thing, will not do it in a fit and due time? reasoning in this wise about the matter, every man sat him down in his wont place and manner with very heedful expectation of the propounded talk. Then Sir Friderick turning him to unico, do you not think then, M. unico (quoth he) that I am laden this night with a great & painful burden, since I must declare in what sort, manner and time, the Courtier hath to practise his good conditions and qualities, and to use those other things that are already said to be meet for him? Me think it is no great matter, answered unico: and I believe a good judgement in the Courtier is sufficient for all this, which the Count said well yesterday night that he ought to have: and in case it be so, without any other precepts, I suppose he may practise well-enough the thing that he knoweth in due time and after a good sort. The which to bring more particularly into rule were to hard a matter, and perhaps more than needeth, for I know not who is so fond to go about his fence, when the rest be in their music: or to go about the streets dancing the Morisco, though he could do it never so well: or going about to comfort a mother that had buried her child, to begin to talk with her of pleasant matters and merry conceits. I believe surely no gentleman will do this, unless he were clean out of his wits. Me think (M. unico) quoth Sir Friderick then, ye harp to much upon your extremities. For it happeneth otherwhile a man is so fond that he remembreth not himself so easily, and oversights are not all alike. And it may be, that a man shall abstain from a common folly which is to manifest, as that is you speak of, To observe time. to go dance the Morisco in the market place, and yet shall he not refrain from praising himself out of purpose, from using a noisome sauciness, from casting out otherwhile a word thinking to make men laugh, which for that it is spoken out of time will appear cold and without any grace, and these oversights often times are covered with a certain veil that suffereth a man not to forget who doth them, unless he take no heed to them: and although for many causes our sight descerneth but little, yet for ambitions sake it is darkened in especial, for every man willingly setteth forth himself in that he persuadeth himself he knoweth▪ whether this persuasion of his Bee ●●ue or false. Therefore the well behaving of a man's self in this case (me think) consisteth in a certain wisdom and judgement of choice, and to know more and l●sse what increaseth or diminisheth in things, to practise them in due time or out of season. And for all the Courtier be of so good a judgement that he can discern these differences, yet shall he the sooner compass that he seeketh, if his imagination he opened with some rule, and the way●s showed him, and (as it were) the places where he should ground himself upon, then if he should take himself only to the generalty. forsomuch as therefore the Count ye●sterday night entreated upon Courtyership so copiously and in so good a manner, he hath made me (truly) conceive no small fear and doubt that I shall not so thoroughly satisfy this noble audience in the matter that lieth upon me to discourse in, as he hath done in that was his charge. Yet to make myself partner in what I may of his praise, and to be sure not to err (at the lest in this part) I will not contrary him in any point. Wherefore agreeing to his opinions, and be●ide the rest, as touching nobleness of birth, wit and disposition of person & grace of countenance, I say unto you that to get him praise worthily and a good estimation with all men, and favour with such great m●n as he shall attend upon, me think it behouffull he have the understanding to frame all his life and to set forth his good qualities generally in company with all men without purchasing himself envy. The which how hard a matter it is of itself, a man may consider by the sildomenesse of such as are seen to attain to that point: because we are all the sort of us in very deed more inclined of nature to dispraise faults, then to commend things well done. And a man would think that many by a certain rooted malice, Many● 〈◊〉 to find faults. although they manifestly discern the goodness, enforce themselves with all study and diligence to find in us either a fault or at the least● the likeness of a fault. Therefore it behoveth our Courtier in all his doings to be chary and heedful, and what so he saith or doth to accompany it with wisdom, and not only to set his delight to have in himself parts and excellent qualities, but also to order the tenor of his life after such a trade, that the whole may be answerable unto these parts, and see the self same to be always and in every thing such, that it disagree not from itself, but make one body of all these good qualities, so that every deed of his may be compact and framed of all the virtues, as the stoics say the duty of a wiseman is: although not withstanding always one virtue is the principal, Stoic●, but all are so knit and linked one to an other, that they tend to one end, and all may be applied and serve to every purpose. Therefore it behoveth he have the understanding to set them forth, To set out one quality with another and by comparison and (as it were) contrariety of the one, sometime to make the other the better known: as the good p●inct●rs with a shadow make the lights of high places to appear, and so with light make low the shadows of plains, and meddle divers colours together, so that through that diversity both the one and the other are more sightly to behold, and the placing of the figures contrary the one to the other is a help to them to do the feat that the peincters mind is to bring to pass. Loweline●se. So that lowliness is much to be commended in a Gentleman that is of prowess and well seen in arms: and as that fierceness seemeth the greater when it is accompanied with sobermoode, even so doth sobermood increase and show itself the more through fierceness. Therefore little speaking, much doing, and not praising a man's own self in commendable deeds, dissembling them after an honest sort, doth increase both the one virtue and the other in a person that can discretely use this trade: and the like is to be said in all the other good qualities. Therefore will I have our Courtier in that he doth or saith to use certain general rules, General rules. the which (in my mind) contain briefly as much as belongeth to me to speak. And for the first and chief let him avoid (as the Count said well in that behalf yester night) above all things curiosity. Avoid curiosity. afterward let him consider well what the thing is he doth or speaketh, the place where it is done, in presence of whom, in what time, the cause why he doth it, his age, his profession, Circumstances. the end whereto it tendeth, and the means that may bring him to it: and so let him apply himself discretely with these advertisements to whatsoever he mindeth to do or speak. After Sir Fridericke had thus said, he seemed to stay a while Then said M. Morello of Ortona: Me think these your rules teach but little. And I for my part am as skilful now as I was before you spoke them, although I remember I have hard them at other times also of friars with whom I have been in confession, and I ween they term them circumstances. Then laughed Sir Fridericke and said: if you do well bear in mind, the Count willed yesternight that the chief profession of the Courtier should be in arms, and spoke very largely in what sort he should do it, therefore will we make no more rehearsal thereof: An example of the circumstances. yet by our rule it may be also understood, that where the Courtier is at a skirmish, or assault, or battle upon the land, or in such other places of enterprise, he aught to work the matter wisely in separating himself from the multitude, and undertake his notable and bold feats which he hath to do with as little company as he can, and in the sight of noble men that be of most estimation in the camp, and especially in the presence and (if it were possible) before the very eyes of his king or great parsonage he is in service withal: for in deed it is meet to set forth to the show things well done. And I believe even as it is an ill matter to seek a false renown, and in the thing he deserveth no praise at all, so is it also an ill matter to defraud a man's self of his due estimation, Praise to be sought for. & not to seek that praise, which alone is the true reward of virtuous enterprises. And I remember I have known of them in my time that for all they were of prowess, Grosheaded persons. yet in this point they have showed themselves but grossheaded, and put their life in as great hazard to go take a flock of shiepe, as in being the foremost to scale the walls of a battered town, the which our Courtier will not do if he bear in mind the cause that bringeth him to the war, The cause to venture life is estimation. which aught to be only his estimation. And if he happen moreover to be one to show feats of Chivalry in open sights at tilt, tourney, or joco di can or in any other exercise of the person, Open shows. remembering the place where he is, and in presence of whom, he shall provide before hand to be in his armour no less handsome and sightly then sure, Ready in his armour. and feed the eyes of the lookers on with all things that he shall think may give him a good grace, & shall do his best to get him a horse set out with fair harness and sightly trappinges, A horse well trimmed. and to have proper devices, apt poesies, and witty inventions that may draw unto him the eyes of the lookers on, witty inventions. as the Adamant stone doth iron. He shall never be among the last that come forth into the lists to show themselves, considering the people, and especially women take much more heed to the first than to the last: Not of the last to come forth. because the eyes and minds that at the beginning are greedy of that novelty, note every little matter and print it, afterward by continuance they are not only full, but weighed of it. Therefore was there a noble Stageplaier in old time that for this respect would always be the first to come forth to play his part. Q. Roscius co●oe●us. In like manner also if our Courtier do but talk of arms, he shall have an eye to the profession of them he talketh withal and according to that frame himself, A respect to the talk of arms. and use one manner of talk with men, and an other with women: and in case he will touch any thing sounding to his own praise, he shall do it so dissemblingly as it were at a chance & by the way and with the discretion and wariness that count Lewis showed us yesterday. Do you not now think (M. Morello) that our rules can teach somewhat? Trow you not that friend of ours I told you of a few days a go had clean forgotten with whom he spoke, & why? When to entertain a gentlewoman whom he never saw before, at his first entering in talk with her, he began to tell how many men he had slain and what a hardy fellow he was, and how he could play at twohandsworde and had never done until he had taught her how to defend certain strokes with a Pole-axe being armed and how unarmed, & to show how (in a man's defence) to lay hand upon a dagger, so that the poor gentlewoman stood upon thorns, and thought an hour a thousand year till she were got from him, for fear lest he would go nigh to kill her as he had done those other. Into these errors run they that have not an eye to the circumstances which you say ye have heard of Friars. Therefore I say of the exercises of the body, some there are that (in manner) are never practised but in open show, as running at Tilt, Barriers, joco di Can, and all the rest that depend upon Arms. Therefore when our Courtier taketh anya of these in hand, first he must provide to be so well in order for Horse, harness, Well provided for open shows. and other fournitures beelonging thereto, that he want nothing. And if he see not himself throughelye furnished in all points, let him not meddle at all. For if he do not well, it can not be scused that it is not his profession. After this, he ought to have a great consideration in presence of whom he showeth himself, and who be his matches. For it were not meet that a Gentleman should be present in person and a doer in such a matter in the country, where the lookers on & the doers were of a base sort. Then said the L. Gaspar Pallavicin. In our country of Lombary these matters are not passed upon, for you shall see there young Gentlemen upon the holy days come dance all the day long in the Sun with them of the country, & pass the time with them in casting the bar, in wrestling, running and leaping. And I believe it is not ill done. For no comparison is there made of nobleness of birth, but of force and slight, in which things many times the men of the country are not a whit inferior to Gentlemen, & it seemeth this familiar conversation containeth in it a certain lovely freeness. This dancing in the son, answered Sir Fridericke, can ● in no case away withal: & I can not see what a man shall gain by it. How to practise feats with men of the country. But whoso will wrestle▪ run and leap with men of the country, aught (in my judgement) to do it after a sort: to prove himself and (as they are wont to say) for courtesy, not to try mastery with them: and a man aught (in a manner) to be assured to get the upper hand, else let him not meddle with all, for it is to ill a sight and to foul a matter and without estimation to see a Gentleman overcome by a Cartar and especially in wrestling. Therefore I believe it is well done to abstain from it, at the leastwise in the presence of many, because if he overcome, his gain is small, and his loss in being overcome very great. Also they play at tennis (in manner) always in open sight, & this is one of the common games which the multitude with their presence much set forth. Play at tennis. I will have our Courtier therefore to do this and all the rest beside handling his weapon, as a matter that is not his profession: and not seem to seek or look for any praise for it, nor be acknown that he bestoweth much study or time about it, The fond toys of some. although he do it excellently well. Neither shall he be like unto some that have a delight in music, and in speaking with whom soever always when he maketh a pause in their talk, begin in a voice as though they would sing. Other walking in the streets or in the churches, go always dancing. Other meeting in the market place or wheresoever any friend, make a gesture as though they would play at sense, or wrestle, according as their delight is. Here said the L. Cesar Gonzaga, we have in Roomés a young Cardinal that doth better than so, which feeling himself lusty of person leadeth as many as come to visit him (though he never saw them before) into a garden, and is very instant upon them to strip themselves into their doublet to leap with him. Sir Fridericke laughed, afterward he proceeded on. There be some other exercises that may be done both openly and privately, as dancing: and in this I believe the Courtier aught to have a respect, for if he danceth in the presence of many and in a place full of people, he must (in my mind) keep a certain dignity, Dancing. tempered notwithstanding with a handsome and sightly sweetness of gestures, and for all he feeleth himself very nimble and to have time and measure at will, yet let him not enter into that swiftness of feet and doubled footinges, Dancing privately. that we see are very comely in our Barletta, and peradventure were unseemly for a Gentleman, although privately in a chamber together as we be now, I will not say but he may do both that, and also dance the morisco & braulles, yet not openly unless he were in a mask. And though it were so that all men knew him, it skilleth not, for there is no way to that, if a man will show himself in open sights about such matters, whether it be in arms, or out of arms. To be i● mask. Because to be in a mask bringeth with it a certain liberty and licence, that a man may among other things take upon him the form of that he hath best skill in, and use bent study and preciseness about the principal drift of the matter wherein he will show himself, and a certain Re●keles●ess about that is not of importance, which augmenteth the grace of the thing, as it were to disguise ● young man in an old man's attire, Manner of disguising, but so that his garments be not a hindrance to him to show his nimbleness of person. And a man at arms in form of a wield shepherd, or some other such kind of disguisinge, but with an excellent horse and well trimmed for the purpose. Because the mind of the lookers on runneth forthwith to imagine the thing that is offered unto the eyes at the first show, and when they behold afterward a far greater matter to come of it then they looked for under that attire, it delighteth them and they take pleasure at it. Therefore it were not meet in such pastimes and open shows, where they take up counterfeiting of false visages, The prince in mask not to take the shap of a prince. a prince should take upon him to be like a prince in deed, because in so doing, the pleasure that the lookers on receive at the novelty of the matter should want a great deal, for it is no novelty at all to any man for a prince to be a prince. And when it is perceived that beside his being a prince, he will also bear the shape of a prince, he loseth the liberty to do all those things that are out of the dignity of a prince. And in case there should any contention happen especially with weapon in these pastimes, he might easily make men believe that he keepeth the person of a prince because he will not be beaten but spared of the rest: beside that, doing in sport the very same he should do in good earnest when need required, it would take away his authority in deed and would appear in like case to be play also. But in this point the prince stripping himself of the person of a prince, and mingling himself equally with his underlings (yet in such wise that he may be known) with refusing superiority, let him calenge a greater superiority, namely, to pass other men, not in authority, but in virtue, & declare that his prows is not increased by his being a prince. Therefore I say that the Courtier aught in these open sights of arms to have the self same respect according to his degree. But in vaulting, wrestling, running & leaping, I am well pleased he flee the multitude of people, or at the lest be seen very seldom times. For there is nothing so excellent in the world, In some exercises flee the multitude. that the ignorant people have not their fill of, and smallly regard in often beholding it. People have son● their fill. The like judgement I have in music: but I would not our Courtier should do as many do, that assoon as they come to any place, & also in the presence of great men with whom they have no acquaintance at all, Some set out themselves unadvisedly. without much entreating set out themselves to show as much as they know, yea & many times that they know not, so that a man would ween they came purposely to show themselves for that, & that it is their principal profession. How to show music. Therefore let our Courtier come to show his music as a thing to pass the time withal, and as he were enforced to do it, and not in the presence of noble men, nor of any great multitude. And for all he be skilful & doth well understand it, yet will I have him to dissemble the study and pains that a man must needs take in all things that are well done. And let him make semblant that he esteemeth but little in himself that quality, but in doing it excellently well make it much esteemed of other men. Then said the L. Gaspar Pallavicin. There are many sorts of music aswell in the breast, as upon instruments, therefore would I gladly learn which is the best, and at what time the Courtier aught to practise it. Me think answered Sir Friderick, prick song is a fair music, so it be done upon the book surely and after a good sort. Prick song. But to sing to the lute is much better, because all the sweetness consisteth in one alone, To sing to the l●te. and a man is much more heedful and understandeth better the feat manner and the aer or vain of it, when the ears are not busied in hearing any more than one voice: and beesyde every little error is soon perceived, which happeneth not in singing with company, for one beareth out an other. But singing to the Lute with the dyttie (me think) is more pleasant than the rest, singing with 〈◊〉. for it addeth to the words such a grace and strength, that it is a great wonder. Instruments with treats. Also all instruments with freates are full of harmony, because the tunes of them are very perfect, and with ease a man may do many things upon them that fill the mind with the sweetness of music. And the music of a set of Uioles doth no less delight a man, A set of viols. A man's breast. for it is very sweet and artificial. A man's breast giveth a great ornament and grace to all these instruments, in the which I will have it sufficient that our Courtier have an understanding. Yet the more counninger he is upon them, the better it is for him, without meddling much with the instruments that Minerva and Alcibiades refused, Shawms. Dulcimers. Harp. because it seemeth they are noisome. Now as touching the time and season when these sorts of music are to be practised: I believe at all times when a man is in familiar and loving company, Time to practise music. having nothing else a do. But especially they are meet to be practised in the presence of women, because those sights sweeten the minds of the hearers, & make them the more apt to be pierced with the pleasantness of music, & also they quicken the spirits of the very doers. I am well pleased (as I have said) they flee the multitude, and especially of the unnoble. But the seasoning of the whole must be discretion, discretion. because in effect it were a matter unpossible to imagine all cases that fall. And if the Courtier be a righteous judge of himself, he shall apply himself well enough to the time, and shall discern when the hearer's minds are disposed to give ear and when they are not. He shall know his age, for (to say the truth) it were no meet matter, but an ill sight to see a man of any estimation being old, Old men. horeheaded and toothless, full of wrinkles with a lute in his arms playing upon it & singing in the mids of a company of women, although he could do it reasonably well. And that, because such songs contain in them words of love, and in old men love is a thing to be jested at: although otherwhile he seemeth among other miracles of his to take delight in spite of years to set a fire frozen hearts. Then answered the L. julian: do you not bar poor old men from this pleasure [Sir Fridericke] for in my time I have known men of years have very perfect breasts and most nimble fingers for instruments, much more than some young men. I go not about quoth Sir Fridericke, to bar old men from this pleasure, but I will bar you these Ladies from laughing at that folly. And in case old men will sing to the lute, let them do it secretly, How old men should practise music. and only to rid their minds of those troublesome cares and grievous disquietinges that our life is full of: and to taste of that excellency which I believe Pythagoras and Socrates savoured in music. And set case they exercise it not at all: for that they have gotten a certain habit and custom of it, they shall savour it much better in hearing, than he that hath no knowledge in it: For like as the arms of a smith that is weak in other things, because they are more exercised, be stronger than an other bodies that is sturdy, but not exercised to work with his arms: even so the ears that be exercised in music do much better and sooner discern it, and with much more pleasure judge of it, than other, how good & quick soever they be that have not been practised in the variety of pleasant music: because those musical tunes pierce not, but without leaving any taste of themselves pass by the ears not accustomed to hear them although the very wild beasts feel some delight in melody. This is therefore the pleasure meet for old men to take in music. The self same I say of dancing, for in deed these exercises ought to be left of before age constraineth us to leave them whether we will or no. It is better then, answered here M. Morello half chafed, to except all old men and to say that only young men are to be called Courtiers. Then laughed Sir Fridericke and said: Note [M. Morello] whether such as delight in these matters, if they be not young men, do not study to appear young, and therefore die their hear and make their beard grow twice a week, Old men that will seem young against nature. and this proceedeth upon that nature saith to them in secret, that these matters are not comely but for young men. All the Ladies laughed, because they knew these words touched M. Morello, and he seemed somewhat out of patience at the matter. Yet are there other enterteinmentes with women, said immediately Sir Fridericke, meet for old men. And what be these, quoth M. Morillo▪ to tell fables? And that to, answered Sir Fridericke. But every age (as you know) carrieth with him his thoughts, & hath some peculiar virtue & some peculiar vice. And old men for all they are ordinarily wiser than young men, The nature of old men. more continent, & of a better foresight, yet are they withal m o'er lavish in words, more greedy, harder to please, more fearful, always chafing in the house, sharp to their children, and will have every man wedded to their william. The nature of young men. And contrariwise, young men are hardy, easy to be entreated, but more apt to brawling and chiding, wavering and unsteadfast, that love and unlove all at a time: given to all their delights, and enemies to them that tell them of their profit. But of all the other ages, Man's state most temperate. man's state is most temperate, which hath now done with the cursed pranks of youth, and not yet grown to ancienty. These than that be placed (as it were) in the extremities, it is behouffull for them to know how to correct the vices with reason, that nature hath bred in them. Therefore ought old men to take heed of much praising themselves, The behaviour of old men. and of the other vices, that we have said are proper to them, & suffer the wisdom and knowledge to bear stroke in them that they have gotten by long experience, and be (as it were) Oracles, to the which every man should haunt for counsel, and have a grace in uttering that they know, applying it aptly to the purpose, accompanying with the grace of years a certain temperate and meery pleasantness. In this wise shall they be good Courtiers, and be well entertained with men and women, and every man will at all times be glad of their company, without singing or dancing: and when need requireth they shall show their prowess in matters of weight. The behaviour of young men. The very same respect and judgement sh●ll young men have, not in keeping the fashion of old men (for what is meet for the one, were not in all points so fit for the other, and it is a common saying, to much gravytee in young men is an ill ●igne) but in correcting the natural vices in them. Therefore delight I in a young man, and especially a man at arms, if he have a certain sageness in him and few words, and somewhat demure, Sageness. without those busy gestures and unquiet manners which we see so many times in that age: for they seem to have a certain gift above other young men. Beesyde that, this mild beehavyour containeth in it a kind of syghtelye fierceness, because it appeareth to be stirred, not of wrath but of judgement, and rather governed by reason then appetite: and this (in manner) always is known in all men of stomach, and we see it likewise in brute beasts, that have a certain noble courage and stoutness above the rest: as th● Lion and the Eagle, Noble courage in brute beasts. neither is it void of reason, forsomuch as that violente and sudden motion without words or other token of collar which with all force bursteth out together at once (as it were the shot of a gun) from quietness, which is contrary to it, is much more violent and furious, then that which increaseth by degrees and waxeth hot by little and little. Therefore such as going about some enterprise, are so full of words, that they leap and skip and can not stand still, it appeareth they be ravished in those matters, and (as o●re M. Peter▪ Mount sayeth well) they do like children, that going in the night sing for fear, as though that synginge of theirs should make them pluck up their spirits to be the boulder. Even as therefore in a young man a quiet & ripe youth is to be commended, because it appeareth that lightness (which is the peculiar vice of that age) is tempered and corrected: Lightness. even so in an old man a green and lively old age is much to be esteemed, because it appeareth that the force of the mind is so much, that it heateth & giveth a certain strength to that feeble and cold age, & maintaineth it in that middle state, which is the better part of our life. But in conclusion all these good qualities shall not suffice our Courtier to purchase him the general favour of great men, Gentlemen and Ladies, if he have not also a gentle and loving behaviour in his daily conversation. And of this I believe verily it is a hard matter to give any manner rule, Behaviour in daily conversation. for the infinite and sundry matters that happen in practising one with an other: forsomuch as among all the men in the world, there are not two to be found that in every point agreed in mind together. Therefore he that must be pliable to be conversant with so many, So many men so many minds. ought to guide himself with his own judgement. And knowing the difference of one man & an other, every day altar fashion and manner according to the disposition of them he is conversant withal. And for my part I am not able in this behalf to give him other rules then the aforesaid, which our M. Morello learned of a child in confessing himself. Here the L. Emilia laughed and said: you would rid your hands of pains taking [Sir Fridericke] but you shall not escape so, for it is your part to minister talk until it be bed time. And what if I have nothing to say (madam.) How then? answered Sir Fridericke. The L. Emilia said: we shall now try your wit. And if all be true I have heard, there have been men so witty & eloquent, that they have not wanted matter to make a book in the praise of a fly, other in the praise of a quartain fever, an other in the praise of bauldnes, doth not your heart serve you to find out somewhat to say for one night of Courting? We have already, answered Sir Fridericke, spoken as much as will go nigh to make two books. But since no excuse shall serve me, I will speak until you shall think I have fulfilled though not my duty, yet my power. I suppose the conversation which the Courtier aught chief to be pliable unto with all diligence to get him favour, Conversation with his prince. is the very same that he shall have with his prince. And although this name of conversation bringeth with it a certain equality that a man would not judge can reign between the master and the servant, yet will we so term it for this once. I will have our Courtier therefore (beside that he hath and doth daily give men to understand that he is of the prowess which we have said aught to be in him) to turn all his thoughts & force of mind to love, and (as it were) to reverence the Prince he serveth above all other things, and in his will, manners and fashions, to be altogether pliable to please him. Here without any longer stay, Peter of Naples said: of these▪ To please his prince. Courtiers nowadays ye shall find enough, for (me think) in few words ye have peincted us out a jolly flatterer. You are far deceived, answered Sir Fridericke, Flatterers. for flatterers love not their Lords nor their friends, the which I say unto you I will have principally in our Courtier: and to please him and to obey his commandments whom he serveth, may be done without flattery, for I mean the commandments that are reasonable and honest, or such as of themselves are neither good nor bad, as is gaming and pastime, and giving himself more to some one exercise then to an other. And to this will I have the Courtier to frame himself, though by nature he were not inclined to it: so that whensoever his lord looketh upon him, His behaviour in his princes presence. he may think in his mind that he hath to talk with him of a matter that he will be glad to hear. The which shall come to pass if there be a good judgement in him to understand what pleaseth his prince and a wit and wisdom to know how to apply it, & a bend will to make him pleased with the thing which perhaps by nature should displease him. And having these principles, he shall never be sad before his prince nor melancholy, nor so solein as many, that a man would ween were at debate with their Lords, which is truly an hateful matter. He shall not be ill tunged, and especially against his superiors, Not ill tunged. which happeneth often times: for it appeareth that there is a storm in courts that carrieth this condition with it, that always look who receiveth most benefits at his lords hands, and promoted from very base degree to high estate, The most made of worst reporters. he is evermore complaining and reporteth worst of him: which is an uncomely thing, not only for such as these be, but even for such as be ill handled in deed. Our Courtier shall use no fond sauciness. Not saucy. No prattler of news. He shall be no carrier about of trifling news. He shall not be overseen in speaking otherwhile words that may offend, where his intent was to please. He shall not be stubborn and full of contention, Not stubborn. as some busy bodies that a man would ween had none other delight but to vere and stir men like flies, and take upon them to contrary every man spitefully without respect. He shall be no babbler, not given to lightness, no liar, no boaster, N● babbler. No liar. No boaster. No flatterer. nor fond flatterer, but sober, and keeping him always within his bounds, use continually, and especially abroad, the reverence and respect that becometh the servant toward the master. And shall not do, as many that meeting a Prince how great soever he be, The behaviour of some fond persons toward great men. if they have once spoken with him before, come toward him with a certain smiling and friendly countenance, as though they would make of one their equal, or show favour to an inferior of theirs. Very seldom or (in manner) never shall he crave any thing of his Lord for himself, Why he shall not sue for himself. lest the lord having respect to deny it him for himself, should happen to grant it him with displeasure, which is far worse. Again in suing for others, he shall discretely observe the times, and his suit shall be for honest and reasonable matters, His suit for others. and he shall so frame his suit, in leaving out those points that he shall know will trouble him, and in making easy after a comely sort the lets, that his Lord will evermore grant it him: and though he deny it, he shall not think to have offended him whom he meant not to do▪ for, because great men often times after they have denied request to one that hath suid to them with great instance, The imagination of princes. think the person that laboured to them so earnestly for it, was very greedy of it, and therefore in not obtaining it, hath cause to bear him ill will that denied him it, and upon this suspicion they conceive an hatred against the person, & can never afterward brook him nor afford him good countenance. He shall not press into secret places He shall not covet to press into the chamber or other secret places where his Lord is withdrawn, unless he be bed, for all he be of great authority with him: because great men often times when they are privately gotten alone, love a certain liberty to speak and do what they please, & therefore will not be seen or herd of any person that may lightly deem of them, and reason willeth no less. Therefore such as speak against great men for making of their chamber persons of no great quality in other things but in knowing how to attend about their person (me think) commit an error: Great men should make of their chamber men of no great estimation. because I can not see why they should not have the liberty to refresh their minds, which we ourselves would have to refresh ours. But in case the Courtier that is enured with weighty affairs, happen to be afterward secretly in chamber with him, he ought to change his coat & to differr grave matters till an other time and place, & frame himself to pleasant communication, and such as his lord will be willing to give ear unto, lest he hinder that good mood of his. But herein & in all other things, let him have an especial regard, that he be not cumbrous to him. And let him rather look to have favour and promotion offered him, Not to sue for p romotions. then crave it so openly in the face of the world, as many do, that are so greedy of it, that a man would ween the not obtaining it, grieveth them as much as the loss of life: The grief of some for anger. and if they chance to enter into any displeasure, or else see other in favour, they are in such anguish of mind, that they can by no means dissemble the malice, & so make all men laugh them to scorn: and many times they are the cause that great men favour some one, Th● joy of some in a mean authority. only to spite them withal. And afterward if they happen to enter in favour that passeth a mean, they are so drunken in it, that they know not what to do for joy: & a man would ween that they witted not what were become of their feet and hands, and (in a manner) are ready to call company to behold them and to rejoice with them, as a matter they have not been accustomed withal. Of this sort I will not have our Courtier to be. Behaviour in receiving promotion. I would have him esteem favour and promotion, but for all that, not to love it so much, that a man should think he could not live without it. And when he hath it, let him not show himself new or strange in it: nor wonder at it when it is offered him: nor refuse it in such sort as some, that for very ignorance receive it not, and so make men believe that they acknowledge themselves unworthy of it. Yet aught a man always to humble himself somewhat under his degree, and not receive favour & promotions so easily as they be offered him, but refuse them modestly, showing he much esteemeth them, and after such a sort, that he may give him an occasion that offereth them, to offer them with a great deal more instance: because the more resistance a man maketh in such manner to receive them, the more doth he seem to the prince that giveth them to be esteemed, and that the benefit which he bestoweth is so much the more, as he that receiveth it seemeth to make of it, thinking himself much honoured thereby. And these are the true and perfect promotions that make men esteemed of such as see them abroad: Promotions not begged. because when they are not craved, every man conjectureth they arise of true virtue, and so much the more, as they are accompanied with modesty. Then said the L. Cesar Gonzaga: me think ye have this clause out of the Gospel where it is written: When thou art bed to a marriage, go and sit thee down in the lowest room, that when he cometh that bed thee, he may say, Friend come higher, and so sha●● it be an honour for thee in the sight of the gests. Sir Fridericke laughed and said: It were to great a sacrilege to steal out of the Gospel But you are better learned in scripture than I was ware of: then he proceeded. See into what danger they fall sometime, that rashly before a great man entre into talk unrequired: The rashness of some. and many times that Lord to scorn them withal, maketh no answer and turneth his head to the other hand: and in case he doth make answer, every man perceiveth it is done full skornfullye. Therefore to purchase favour at great men's hands, there is no better way then to deserve it. Neither must a man hope when he seethe an other in favour with a Prince, for whatsoever matter, To deserve favour. in following his steps to come to the same, Not to counterfeit other men's doings Some ready in their jests because every thing is not fit for every man. And ye shall find otherwhile some one that by nature is so ready in his meerye jests, that what ever he speaketh bringeth laughter with it, & a man would ween that he were borne only for that: and if another that hath a grave fashion in him, of how good a wit so ever he be, attempt the like, it will be very cold & without any grace, so that he will make a man abhor to hear him, and in effect will be like the ass, that to counterfeit the dog would play with his master. Therefore it is meet each man know himself and his own disposition, and apply himself thereto, and consider what things are meet for him to follow, and what are not. Before ye go any farther, said here M. Vincent Calmeta, if I have well marked, me thought ye said right now, that the best way to purchase favour, is to deserve it: & the Courtier ought rather to tarry till promotions be offered him, then presumptuously to crave them. I fear me lest this rule be little to purpose, and me think experience doth us very manifestly to understand the contrary: because nowadays very few are in favour with Princes but such as be malapert. And I wot well you can be a good witness of some, that perceiving themselves in small credit with their Princis, are come up only with presumption. As for such as come to promotion with modesty, I for my part know none, and if I give you respite to bethink yourself, I believe ye will find out but few. And if you mark the French Court, which at this day is one of the noblest in all Christendom, ye shall found that all such as are generally in favour there, have in them a certain malapertn●sse, and that not only one with an other, but with the king himself. Do you not so say, answered Sir Fridericke, for in France there are very modest and courteous gentlemen. The french gentlemen without ceemonies. Truth it is, that they use a certain liberty and familiarity without ceremonies, which is proper and natural unto them, & therefore it aught not to be termed malapertness. For in that manner of theirs, although they laugh and jest at such as be malapert, yet do they set much by them that seem to them to have any prowess or modesty in them. Calmeta answered: Spaniards mark the Spaniards the seem the very masters of Courtly fashions, and consider how many ye found that with women and great men are not most malapert, & so much worse than the frenchmen, in that at the first show they declare a certain modesty. And no doubt but they be wise in so doing, because (as I have said) the great men of our time do all favour such as are of these conditions. Then answered Sir Friderick: I can not abide (M. Vincent) that ye should defame in this wise the great men of our time, because there be many notwithstanding the love modesty: the which I do not say of itself is sufficient to make a man esteemed, but I say unto you, when it is accompanied with great prowess it maketh him much esteemed that hath it. And though of itself it lie still, the worthy deeds speak at large, and are much more to be wondered at, then if they were accompanied with presumption or rashness. Many spaniardes be saucy. I will not now deny but many Spaniards there be full of malapertness: but I say unto you, they that are best esteemed, for the most part are very modest. Again some other there be also so cold, that they flee the company of men to out of measure, and pass a certain degree of mean: so that they make men deem them either to fearful or to high minded. And this do I in no case allow, What modesty aught to be. neither would I have modesty so dry and withered, that it should become rudeness. But let the Courtier, when it cometh to purpose, be well spoken, and in discourses upon states, wise and expert: and have such a judgement that he may frame himself to the manners of the country where ever he cometh. Then in lower matters, let him be pleasantly disposed, and reason well upon every matter, but in especial tend always to goodness. Not envious person, no caryar of an ill tongue in his head: nor at any time given to seek prefarment or promotion any naughty way, nor by the mean of any subtle practice. Then said Calmeta: I will assure you all the other ways are much more doubtful and harder to compass, then is that you discommend: because now a days (to rehearse it again) great men love none but such as be of that condition. Do you not so say; answered then Sir Fridericke, for that were to plain an argument that the great men of our time were all vicious and naught, which is untrue, for some there be that be good. But if it fell to our courtiers lot to serve one that were vicious and wicked, assoon as he knoweth it, let him forsake him, What he must do in service with the wicked. lest he taste of the bitter pain that all good men feel that serve the wicked. We must pray unto god, answered Calmeta, to help us to good, for when we are once with them, we must take them with all their faults, for infinite respects constrain a Gentleman after he is once entered into service with a Lord, not to forsake him. But the ill luck is in the beginning: and Courtiers in this case are not unlike unlucky fowls bread up in an ill vale. Me think, quoth Sir Fridericke, duty ought to prevail before all other respects, When a man may forsake his master. but yet so a gentleman forsake not his Lord at the war or in any other adversity, and be thought to do it to follow Fortune, or because he wanted a mean to profit by, at all other times I believe he may with good reason, and ought to forsake that service, that among good men shall put him to shame, for all men will imagine that he that serveth the good, is good, and he that serveth the ill, is ill. I would have you to clear me of one doubt that I have in my head, quoth then the L. Lodovicus Pius, namely, whether a gentleman be bound or not, How and in what princes are to be obeyed. while he is in his Princis service, to obey him in all things which he shall command, though they were dishonest and shameful matters. In dishonest matters we are not bound to obey any body, answered Sir Fridericke. And what (replied the L. Lodovicus Pius) if I be in service with a Prince who handleth me well, and hopeth that I will do any thing for him that may be done, and he happen to command me to kill a man, or any other like matter, aught I to refuse to do it? You aught, answered Sir Fridericke, to obey your Lord in all things that tend to his profit and honour, not in such matters that tend to his loss and shame. Therefore if he should command you to conspire treason, ye are not only not bound to do it, but ye are bound not to do it, both for your own sake and for being a minister of the shame of your Lord. Things otherwhile seem good that be ill. Truth it is, many things seem at the first sight good, which are ill: and many ill, that notwithstanding are good. Therefore it is lawful for a man sometime in his lords service to kill not one man alone, but ten thousand, and to do many other things, which if a man way them not as he aught, will appear ill, and yet are not so in deed. Then answered the L. Gaspar Pallauici●. I beseech you let us hear you speak somewhat in this case, and teach us how we may discern things good in deed, from such as appear good. I pray you pardon me, quoth Sir Fridericke, I will not at this time enter into that, for there were to much to be said in it: but all is to be referred to your discretion. Clere ye me at the lest of another doubt, replied the L. Gaspar. And what doubt is that, quoth Sir Fridericke? This answered the L. Gaspar: I would know where I am charged by my master in express words in an enterprise or business what ever it be, Whether a man may follow a part of his own mind in a commission. what I have to do therein: if I, at the deed doing thinking with myself in doing it more or less, or otherwise then my commission, to bring it more prosperously to pass and more for his profit that gave me that commission, whether aught I to govern myself according to the first charge without passing the bounds of the commission, or else do the thing that I judge to be best? Then answered Sir Friderick: In this point I would give you the judgement with the example of Manlius Torquatus, T. Manlius Torq. caused his ●onne to be slain for fight contrary to commandment which in that case for overmuch affection slew his son, if I thought him worthy great praise, which (to say the troth) I do not: although again I dare not discommend him, contrary to the opinion of so many hundredth years. For out of doubt, it is a dangerous matter to serve from the commandments of a man's superiors, trusting more in his own judgement then in theirs, whom of reason he aught to obey: Because if his imagination fail him and the matter take ill success, he runneth into the error of disobedience, and marreth that he hath to do, without any manner excuse or hope of pardon. Again in case the matter come well to pass according to his desire, Commandments of the superioure pours are to be obeyed. he must thank his fortune, and no more a do. Yet in this sort a custom is brought up to set little by the commandments of the superior pours. And by his example that bringeth the matter to good pass, which peraventure is a wise man and hath discoursed with reason and also aided by fortune, afterward a thousand other ignorant persons and light headed will take a stomach to adventure in matters of most importance to do after their own way, and to appear wise and of authority, will serve f●om the commission of their heads, which is a very ill matter, and often times the cause of infinite errors. what he that receiveth a charge aught to do. But I believe in this point, the person whom the matter toucheth aught to scan it deeply, and (as it were) put in a balance the goodness and commodity that is like to ensue unto him in doing contrary to that he is charged, admytting his purpose, succeed according to his hope: and counterpose on the other side the hurt and discommodity that arriseth, if in doing otherwise then he is commanded, the matter chance to have ill success: and knowing that the hurt may be greater and of more importance, if it succeed ill, than the profit, if it happen well, he aught to refrain, and in every point to observe his commission. And contrariwise, if the profit be like to be of more importance, if it succeed well, than the hurt, if it happen amiss, I believe he may with good reason take in hand to do the thing that reason and judgement shall set before him, & leave somewhat a side the very form of the commission, after the example of good merchant men, that to gain much, adventure a little, and not much, to gain a little. I allow well that he have a regard to the nature of the Lord he serveth, The nature of the L. ●o be considered and according to that, frame himself. For in case he be rigorous (as many such there are) I would never counsel him, if he were my friend, to vary in any parcel from the appointed order, lest it happen unto him, as a master Inginner of Athens was served, unto whom P. Crassus Mut●anus being in Asia and going about to batter a town, The cruelty of Mutianus. sent to demand of him one of the two shipmastes that he had seen in Athens to make a Ramm to beat down the walls, and said he would have the greater. This Inginner, as he that was very cunning in deed, knew the greater would not very well serve for this purpose, and because the lesser was more easy to be carried, and also fitter to make that ordinance, he sent that to Mutianus. After he had understood how the matter passed, he sent for the poor Inginner and asked him why he obeyed him not, and not admitting any reason he could allege for himself, made him to be stripped naked, beaten and whipped with rods, so that he died, ●eemyng to him in steed of obeying him, he would have counseled him: therefore with such rigorous men, a man must look well to his doings. But let us leave a part now this practise of the superiors, Conversation with a man's equals. and come down to the conversation that a man hath with his equals or somewhat inferiors, for unto them also must a man frame himself, because it is more universally frequented, and a man findeth himself oftener emonge them, then among his superiors. Although there be some fond persons that being in company with the greatest friend they have in the world, Some fellowship them themselves always with the best appareled. if they meet with one better appareled, by and by they cleave unto him: and if an other c●me in place better than he, they do the like unto him. And again, when the Prince passeth through the market place, through churches, or other haunted places, they make all men give them room with their elbows till they come to their heels, Men that will se●me to be in favour. and though they have nothing to say to him, yet will they talk with him & keep him with a long tale, laugh, clap the hands, and nod the head, to seem to have weighty business, that the people may see they are in favour. But because these kind of men vouchsafe not to speak but with great men I will not we should vouchsafe to speak of them. Then the L. julian, Since ye have (quoth he) made mention of these that are so ready to fellowship themselves with the well appareled, I would have you to show us in what sort the Courtier should apparel himself, what kind of garment doth best become him, and how he should fit himself in all his garments about his body: because we see infinite variety in it, and some are arrayed after the French fashion, some after the Spanish attier, an other will seem a Dutcheman. Neither want we of them also that will clothe themselves like Turks: Some wear beards, other do not. Of raiment and apparel. Therefore it were a good deed in this variety, to show how a man should choose out the best. Sir Fridericke said: In very deed I am not able to give any certain rule about raiment, but that a man should frame himself to the custom of the most. And since (as you say) this custom is so variable, and Italians are so desirous to take up other men's fashions, I believe every man may lawfully apparail● himself at his pleasure. But I know not by what destiny it cometh that Italy hath not, as it was wont to have, a fashion of atti●r known to be● the Italian fashion, for although the bringing up of these new fashions maketh the first to appear very gross, yet w●re they peradventure a token of liberty, where these have been a pronosticate of bondage, the which (me think) now is plainly enough fulfilled. And as it is written, when Darius the year before he fought with Alexander had altered his sword he wore by his side, which was a Persian blade, into the fashion of Macedony, it was interpreted by the Soothsayers, how this signified, Caldaei. that they into whose fashion Darius had altered the form of his Persian blade should become rulers of Persia: Even so where we have altered our Italian fashions into strange, me think, it signified, that all they into whose fashions ours were changed, should come in to overrun us: I taly a prey to all nations the which hath be●n ●o true, for there is not now a nation left that hath not made us their prey, so that there remaineth little behind to prey upon, & yet for all that cease they not to pray still. But I will not enter into communication of sorrow: therefore it shallbe well to speak of the raiment of our Courtier, the which so it be not out of use, nor contrary to his profession, in the rest (I think) it will do well-enough, so the wearer be satisfied withal. frenchmen use long was●es. Dutchmen short. Truth it is, that I would love it the better if it were not extreme in any part, as the Frenchman is wont to be sometime over long, and the Dutchmanne overshorte, but as they are both the one and the other amended and brought into better frame by the Italians. Grave apparel. Moreover I will hold always with it, if it be rather somewhat grave and ancient, Black colour. then garish. Therefore me think a black colour hath a better grace in garments then any other, and though not thoroughly black, yet somewhat dark, and this I mean for his ordinary apparel. For there is no doubt, but upon armour it is more meet to have sightly and meery colours, Colours upon armour. and also garments for pleasure, cut, pompous and rich. Likewise in open shows about triumphs, games, maskeries, and such other matters, because so appointed there is in them a certain liveliness and mirth, which in deed doth well set forth feats of arms & pastimes. But in the rest I could wish they should declare the solemnity that the Spanish nation much observeth, Solemnity of spaniardes for outward matters many tim●s, are a token of the inward. Then said the L. Cesar Gonzaga: I would not stick much at this, for so a gentleman be of worthiness in other matters, his garments neither increase nor minish reputation. Sir Friderick answered: ye say true. Yet which of us is there, that seeing a gentleman go with a garment upon his back quartered with sundry colours, or with so many points tied together, and all about with laces and fringes set overthwart, will not count him a very disard or a common iestar? Neither disard, quoth M. Peter Bembo, nor iestar would a man count him, that had lived any while in Lombary, for there they go all so. Why then, answered the Duchess smiling, if they go all so, it aught not to be objected to them for a vice, this kind of attier being as comely and proper to them, as it is to the Venetians to wear their long wide sleeves, and to the Florentines, their hoods. I speak no more of Lombary, quoth Sir Fridericke, then of other places, for in every nation ye shall find both foolish and wise. But to speak that I think is most requisite as touching apparel, I will have the Courtier in all his garments handsome and clenlye, and take a certain delight in modest Preciseness, but not for all that after a womanish or light manner, neither more in one point, then in an other, as we see many so curious about their hear, Delights of men. that they forget all the rest. Other delight to have their teeth fair. Other in their beard. Other in buskines. Other in caps. Other in coyffes. And so it cometh to pass, that those few things which they have cleanly in them, appear borrowed ware, and all the rest, which is most fond, is known to be their own. But this trade will I have our Courtier to flee by my counsel, with an addition also, that he aught to determine with himself what he will appear to be, and in such sort as he desireth to be esteemed so to apparel himself, and make his garments help him to be counted such a one, even of them that hear him not speak, nor see him do any manner thing. I think it not meet, quoth then the L. Pallavicin, neither is it used among honest men to judge men's conditions by their garments, and not by their words and deeds, for many a man might be deceived: and this proverb arriseth not without cause: the habit maketh not the Monk. I say not▪ answered Sir Friderick, that men should give a resolute judgement by this alone, of men's conditions, and that they are not known by words and deeds, more than by the garments. But I say that the garment is withal no small argument of the fancy of him that weareth it, The ●arment judgeth the mind. although otherwhile it appear not true. And not this alone, but all the behaviours, gestures and manners, beeside words and deeds, are a judgement of the inclination of him in whom they are seen. And what things be those, answered the L. Gaspar, that you find we may give judgement upon, that are neither words nor deeds. Then said Sir Fridericke: You are to subtle a Logicien, but to tell you as I mean, Operations. some Operations there are that remain after they are done, as building, writing, and such other: Some remain not, as these that I mean now. Therefore do I not count in this purpose, going, laughing, looking, and such matters to be Operations, and notwithstanding outwardly do give many times a knowledge of that is within. Tell me, did you not give your judgement upon that friend of ours we communed of this morning paste, to be a foolish and light person, assoon as you saw he wried his head and bowed his body, and invited with a cheerful countenance the company to put of their caps to him? So in like manner when you see one gaze earnestly with his eyes abashed, like one that had little wit: or that laugheth so fond as do those dumb men, Gozzuti, Men in the mountains with great bottles of flesh under their chin, through the drinking of snow water. with the great wens in their throat, that devil in the Mountains of Bergamo, though he neither speak ne do any thing else, will you not count him a very fool? Ye may see them that these behaviours; manners and gestures, which I mind not for this time to term Operations, are a great matter to make men known. But me think there is an other thing that giveth and dimynisheth much reputation: namely, the choice of friends, with whom a man must have inward conversation. For undoubtedly reason willeth that such as are coupled in streicte amity and unseparable company, should be also alike in will, in mind, Choice of friend's. in judgement and inclination. So that who so is conversant with the ignorant or wicked, he is also counted ignorant and wicked. And contrariwise he that is conversant with the good, wise, and dyscreete, he is reckoned such a one. For it seemeth by nature, that every thing doth willingly fellowship with his like. Therefore I believe that a man ought to have a respect in the first beeginning of these friendships, for of two near friends, who ever knoweth the one, by and by he imagineth the other to be of the same condition. Then answered M. Peter Bembo: To be bound in friendship with such agreement of mind as you speak of, me think in deed a man aught to have great respect, not only for getting or losing reputation, but because now adays ye find very few true friends. Neither do I believe that there are any more in the world, those Pylades & Orestes, Theseus and Pirithous, nor Scipio and Laelius▪ but rather it happeneth daily, I wot not by what destiny, that two friends which many years have lived together with most hearty love, yet at the end beguile one an other, in one manner or other, either for malice, or envy, or for lightness, or some other ill cause: and each one imputeth the fault to his fellow, of that which perhaps both the one and the other deserveth. Therefore because it hath happened to me more than once to be deceived of him whom I loved best, and of whom I hoped I was beloved above any other person, I have thought with myself alone otherwhile to be well done, never to put a man's trust in any person in the world, nor to give himself so for a prey to friend how dear and loving so ever he were, that without stop a man should make him partaker of all his thoughts, as he would his own self: because there are in our minds so many dens and corners, that it is unpossible for the wit of man to know the dissymulations that lie lurking in them. I believe therefore that it is well done to love and away with one more than another, according to the deserts and honesty: but not for all that so to assure a man's self, with this sweet bait of friendship, that afterward it should be to late for us to repent. Then Sir Fridericke, Truly (quoth he) ●he loss should be much more than the gain, if that high degree of friendship should be taken from the fellowship of man, Friendship necessary for the life of man which (in mine opinion) ministereth unto us all the goodness contained in our life: and therefore will I in no case consent to you, that it is reasonable; but rather I can find in my heart to conclude, and that with most evident reasons, that without this perfect friendship, men were much more unlucky, than all other living creatures. And albeit some wicked and profane taste of this holy name of friendship, yet is it not for all that to be so rooted out of men's minds; and for the trespass of the ill, to deprive the good of so great a felicity. And I believe verily for my part, there is here among us more than one couple of friends, whose love is indissoluble and without any guile at all, & to endure until death, with agreement of will, no less than those men of old time, whom you mentioned right now. And so is it always, when beside the inclination that cometh from above, a man chouseth him a friend like unto himself in conditions. And I mean the whole to consist among the good and virtuous men, because the friendship of the wicked, Friend ship of two together. is no friendship. I allow well that this knot, which is so streicte, knit or bind no more than two, else were it in a hazard: for (as you know) three instruments of music are hardlier brought to agreed together then two. I would have our Courtier therefore to find him out an especial and hearty friend, if it were possible, of that sort we have spoken of. Then according to their deserts and honesty, love▪ honour, and observe all other men, and always do his best to fellowship himself with men of estimation that are noble and known to be good, more than with the unnoble and of small reputation, so he be also beloved and honoured of them. And this shall come to pass if he be gentle, lowly, freeherted, easy to be spoken to, A man's duty toward his friend. & sweet in company, humble and diligent to serve, and to have an eye to his friends profit and estimation, as well absent as present, bearing with their natural defaults that are to be borne withal, without breaking with them upon a small ground, and correcting in himself such as lovingly shall be told him, never prefarring himself before other men in seeking the highest and chief rooms of estimation, neither in doing as some that a man would ween despised the world, and with a noisome sharpness will tell every man his duty, and beside that they are full of contention in every trifling matter, & out of time, they comptroule whatsoever they do not themselves, & always seek cause to complain of their friends, which is a most hateful thing. Here when Sir Friderick had made a stay, the L. Gaspar Pallavicin said: I would have you to express somewhat more particularly this conversation with friends, than you do, for in deed ye keep yourself to much in the general, and touch unto us things (as it were) by the way. How by the way answered Sir Fridericke? Would you have me to tell you also the very words that a man must use? Suppose you not then we have sufficiently communed of this? I think yea, answered the L. Gaspar. Yet do I desire to understand also some particular point of the manner of entertainment among men and women, which (me think) is a very necessary matter, considering the most part of a man's time is spent therein in Courts, and if it were always after one manner wise, a man would soon wax weary of it. Me think, answered Sir Fridericke, we have given the Courtier a knowledge in so many things, that he may well vary his conversation and frame himself according to the inclination of them he accompanieth himself withal, presupposing him to be of a good judgement, and therewithal to guide himself. And according to the time otherwhile, have an eye to grave matters and sometime to pastimes & games. And what games, quoth the L. Caspar? Sir Friderick answered: Let us ask counsel of Friar Seraphin that daily inventeth new. But in good earnest, replied the L. Gaspar, do you not think it a vice in the Courtier to play at Dice and Cards? Dice and Cards. I think it none, quoth Sir Fridericke, unless a man apply it tomuch, & by reason of that, setteth aside other things more necessary, or else for none other intent but to get money, and to beguile his fellow, and in his loss, fume and take on so, that it might be thought a token of covetousness. The L, Gaspar answered: The play at Chests. and what say you to the game at chests? It is truly an honest kind of of entertainment & witty, quoth Sir Friderick. But me think it hath a fault, which is, that a man may be to couning at it, for who ever will be excellent in the play of chests, I believe he must beestowe much time about it, and apply it with so much study, that a man may assoon learn some noble science, or compass any other matter of importance, and yet in the end in beestowing all that labour, The mean knowledge is best inthe play at Chests. he knoweth no more but a game. Therefore in this I believe there happeneth a very rare thing, namely, that the mean is more commendable, than the excellency. The L. Gaspar answered: There be many Spaniards excellent at it, & in many other games, which for all that bestow not much study upon it, nor yet lay aside the compassing of other matters. Beleave not the contrary answered Sir Fridericke, Spaniards dissemble their study in the play at Chests. but they beestowe much study upon it, although feiningly. As for those other games ye speak of beeside chests, peraventure they are like many which I have seen that serve to small purpose, but only to make the common people wonder. Therefore (in mine opinion) they deserve none other praise or reward, than the great Alexander gave unto him, the standing a far of, did so well broach Chiche peason upon a needle. But because fortune, as in many other things, so in the opinion of men seemeth to bear a great stroke, it is sometime seen that a gentleman, Some worthy in deed. smally regarded of great men. how well conditioned ever he be, & endowed with many qualities, shall be little set by of a great man, & (as they say) groweth not in favour with him, & without any cause why, that a man may discearn. Therefore when he cometh into his presence without any acquaintance before hand, with the rest about him, though he be witty & ready in his answers, & showeth himself handsomely well in his behaviours, in his conditions & words, & in what ever belongeth unto him, yet will that Lord set light by him, & rather give him an ill countenance, than esteem him: and of this will arise that the rest immediately will frame themselves to their lords mind, & it shall seem unto every man that he is little worth, neither will any man regard him, or make of him, or laugh at his pleasant sayings, or set any thing by him, but will beeginne all to serve him sluttish pranks, and make him a Cousin, neither shall good answers suffice the poor soul, nor yet the taking of things as spoken in jest, for even the very Pages will be at him, so that were he the fairest conditioned man in the world, he can not choose but be thus ba●ted and jested at. And contrariwise, ignorant men otherwhile ●n favour. if a Prince be inclined to one that is most ignorant, that can nei●her do nor say any thing, his manners and behaviours (be they never so fond and foolish) are many times commended with acclamation and wonder of all men, and it seemeth that all the Court beholdeth and observeth him, and every man laugheth at his boarding and certain cartarlike ●estes, that should rather move a man to vomit, then to laugh: so addicted and stiff men be in the opinions that arise of the favours and disfavoures of great men. Therefore will I have our Courtier the best he can (beside his worthiness) to help himself with wit and art, and when ever he hath to go where he is strange and not known, let him procure there go first a good opinion of him, before he come in person, and so work, that they may understand there, how he is in other places with Lords, Ladies and gentlemen in good estimation: Good opinion. because that fame, which seemeth to arise of the judgements of many, engendereth a certain assured confidence of a man's worthiness, which afterward finding men's minds so settled and prepared, is easily with deeds maintained and increased, beeside that a man is eased of the trouble that I feel, when I am asked the question who I am, and what is my name. I can not see what this can help, answered M. Bernard Bibiena, for it hath sundry times happened unto me, and I believe to many more, after I had grounded in my mind by report of many men of judgement a matter to be of great perfection before I had seen it, when I had once seen it, it feinted much, and I was much deceived in mine imagination, and this proceeded of nothing else, but of giving to much credit to fame and report, Report deceiveth. and of conceiving in my mind so great an opinion, that measuring it afterward with the truth, the effect, though it were great and excellent, yet in comparison of that I had imagined of it, seemed very slender unto me. Even so (I fear me) may also come to pass of the Courtier. Therefore I can not see how it were well done to give these expectations, and to send that fame of a man before: because our minds many time's fashion and shape things, which is unpossible afterward to answer to and fulfil, The report of things that the eye is judge of▪ may deceive. and so doth a man loose more than he gaineth by it. Here Sir Friderick said: Things that unto you and many more are less in effect then the fame is of them, are for the most part of that sort, that the eye at the first sight may give a judgement of them. As if you have never been at Naples or at Room, when you here men common of it, you imagine much more of it, than perhaps you found afterward in sight. But in the conditions of men it is not alike, because that you see outwardly is the lest part. Therefore in case the first day you hear a gentleman talk, ye perceive not the worthiness in him that you had before imagined, you do not so soon loose the good opinion of him, as you do in the things wherein your eye is by and by a judge. But you will look from day to day, Things in the judgement ●f the mind. to have him disclose some other hid virtue, keeping notwithstanding always that steadfast imprinting which you have, risen by the words of so many. And this man then being (as I set case our Courtier is) of so good qualities, he will every hour strengthen you more and more, to give credence to that fame, for that with his doings he shall give you a cause, and you will ever surmise somewhat more to be in him, than you see. And certainly it can not be denied, but these first imprintinges, The fir●● conceiving of a thing in one's mind. have a very great force, and a man aught to take much heed to them. And that you may understand of what weight they be, I say unto you, that I have known in my days a gentleman, An example what report can do. who albeit he was of sufficient mannerly behaviour and modest conditions and well seen in arms, yet was he not in any of these qualities so excellent, but there were many as good and better. Notwithstanding as luck served him) it befell that a gentlewoman entered most fervently in love with him, & this love daily increasing through declaration that the young man made to agreed with her in that beehalf, and perceiving no manner mean how they might come to speak together, the gentlewoman provoked with to great passion opened her desire to an other gentlewoman, by whose mean she hoped upon some commodity, this woman neither in blood nor in beauty was a whit inferior to the first. Upon this it came to pass that she, perceiving her talk ●o effectually of this young man, whom she never saw, and knowing how that gentlewoman, whom she witted well was most discreet and of a very good judgement, loved him ertreemelye, imagined forthwith that he was the fairest, the wisest, the discreetest, and finally the worthiest man to be beloved that was in the world: and so without seeing him fell so deep in love with him, that she practised what she could to come by him, not for her friend, but for her own self, and to make him answerable to her in love, the which she brought to pass without any great a do, for (to say the troth) she was a woman rather to be sought upon then to seek upon others. Now hear a pretty chance. It happened no long time after, that a letter which this last gentlewoman writ unto her lover came to the hands of another, that was a noble woman of excellent qualities and singular beauty, who being (as the most part of women are) inquisitive and greedy to understand secrets and especyallye of other women, opened the letter, and in reading it perceived it was written with an extreme affection of love. And the sweet words full of fire that she read, first moved her to take compassion on that Gentlewoman (for she knew very well from whom the letter came and to whom it went) afterward they had such force, that scanning them in her mind, and considering what manner a man this was like to be, that could bring the woman into such love, by and by she fell in love with him, and that letter was more effectual to work in this case, than peradventure it would have been if it had been sent her from the young man himself. And as it chanceth sometime, poison prepared in a dish of meat for some great man, killeth him that tasteth first of it, so this poor gentlewoman because she was to greedy, drank of the amorous poison that was ordained for an other. What shall I say to you? The matter was very open and spread so abroad, that many women beeside these, partly in despite of the other, and partly to do as the other did, bent all their study and diligence to enjoy his love, and for a season played as children do at ●hopch●rie, and the whole proceeded of the first opinion which that woman conceived that heard him so praised of an other. women's deeds out of reason. Now the L. Gaspar Pallavicin answered here smiling: You to confirm your judgement with reason, allege unto me women's doings, which for the most part are void of all reason. And in case you would tell all, this good fellow thus favoured of so many women was some dolt, and a man in deed not to be regarded, because the manner of them is always to cleave to the worst, and like sheep to do that they see the first do, be it well or ill: beeside that they be so spiteful among themselves▪ that if he had been a monstrous creature they would surely have stolen him one from an other. Here many began and (in manner) all, to speak against the L. Gasp●r, but the Duchess made them all to hold their peace. Afterward she said smiling: If the ill which you speak of women were not so far wide from the truth, that in speaking it, it hurteth and shameth rather the speaker then them, I would suffer you to be answered. But I will not have you, in speaking against you with a number of reasons, forsake this your ill custom, because you may be sharply punished for this offence of yours: which shall be with the ill opinion that all they will conceive of you that hear you talk in this wise. Then answered Sir Fridericke: Say not, my L· Gaspar, that women are so void of reason, though sometime they apply themselves to love more, through the judgement of others than their own, for great men and many wise men, do often times the like. And if it be lawful to tell the troth, you yourself and all we here have many times, & do at this present credit the opinion of others, more than our own. And that it is true, not long ago there were certain verses showed here, that bore the name of Sanazarus, and were thought of every body very excellent, and praised out of reason, What opinion doth. afterward when they were certainly known to be an other man's doing, they lost by and by their reputation, & seemed worse than mean. And where there was song in the Duchess presence, here a certain Anthem, it never delighted nor was reckoned good, until it was known to be the doing of josquin de Pris. But what token will you have more plainer of opinion? Do you not remember where you yourself drank of one self wine, sometime ye said it was most perfect, and an other time, without all taste? and that because you had been persuaded they were two sorts, the one of the Coost of Genua, and the other of this soil: and when the error was opened, by no means you would believe it: that false opinion was grounded so stiffly in your head, which arrose notwithstanding of other men's words. Therefore aught the Courtier diligently to apply in the beeginning to give a good imprinting of himself, and consider what a harmful and deadly thing it is, to run in the contrary. Men that counterfeit to be pleasant And in this danger more than other men do they stand that will make profession to be very pleasant and with this their meerie fashion, purchase them a certain liberty, that lawfully they may say & do what cometh in their mind, without thinking upon it. For such men many times enter into certain matters, which when they can not get out again, will afterward help themselves with raising laughter, and it is done with so ill a grace that it will in no wise frame, whereby they bring a very great loathsomeness upon as many as see or hear them, & they remain very cold and without any grace or countenance. Sometime thinking thereby to be subtle witted and full of jests, in the presence of honourable women, yea, and often times to them themselves, Filthy talk. they thrust out filthy & most dishonest words: and the more they see them blush at it, the better Courtiers they reckon themselves, & still they laugh at it, and rejoice among themselves at this goodly virtue they think they have gotten them. But they practise this beastliness for none other cause, but to be counted Good fellows. Good fellows. This is the name alone which they deem worthy praise, and which they brag more of, then of any thing else, and to get it them, they speak the foulest and shamefullest villainies in the world. Many times they shoulder one an other down the stairs, Ruffianlye pranks. and hurl billettes and bricks, one at an others head. They hurl handfuls of dust in men's eyes. They cast horse and man into ditches, or down on the side of some hill. Then at table, pottage, sauce, gelies, and what ever cometh to hand, into the face it goith. And afterward laugh: and whoso can do most of these tricks, he counteth himself the best and galantest Courtier, and supposeth that he hath won great glory. And in case otherwhile they get a gentleman in these their pleasant pastimes, that will not give himself to such horseplay, they say by and by: He is to wise, we shall have him a Counsellor, he is no good fellow. But I will tell you a worse matter. Some there be that contend and say wager, who can eat and drink more unsavoury and stinking things, and so abhorring & contrary to man's senses, that it is not possible to name them, without very great loathsomeness. And what things be those, quoth the L. Lodovicus Pius? Sir Friderick answered: Let the marquess Phoebus tell you, for he hath often seen it in France, and peradventure felt it. The marquess Phoebus answered: I have seen none of these things done in France more than in Italy. But look what good things the Italians▪ have in their garments, in feasting, Italians borrow of the French man. in bancketting, in feats of arms and in every other thing that belongeth to a Courtier, they have it all of the Frenchmen, I deny not, answered Sir Friderick, but there are also among the Frenchmen very honest and sober gentlemen, and for my part I have known many (without peradventure) worthy all praise. But yet some there are of little good manner: Spanya a●ree with Italians in conditions. and to speak generally (me think) the Spaniards agreed more with Italians, in conditions, than Frenchmen: because (in my mind) the peculiar quiet gravity of the Spaniards is more agreeable to our nature then the quick liveliness that is perceived in the French nation almost in every gesture: Gravitye in Spaniards. which is not to be discommended in them, liveliness in French men. but is rather a grace, for it is so natural and proper to them, that there is no manner affecting or curiosity in it. There are many Italians that would feign counterfeit their fashion, and can do nought else but shake the head in speaking, and make a leg with an ill grace, and when they come out of their doors into the City, French fashions. go so fast that good footmen can scant overtake them, and with these manners they ween themselves good Frenchmen, and to have of that liberty: which (iwis) chanceth very seldom saving to such as are brought up in France and have learned that fashion from their childhood. The like is to be said in the knowleag of sundry tongues, which I commend much in our Courtier, and especially Spanish and French, because the intercourse of both the one nation & the other is much haunted in Italy, To have sundry languages. & these two are more agreeable unto us then any of the rest, and those two Princes for that they are very mighty in war and most rial in peace, have their Court always furnished with valiant gentlemen, which are dispersed throughout the world, and again we must needs practise with them. I will not now proceed to speak any more particularly of matters to well known, as that our Courtier aught not to profess to be a glutton nor a drunkard, nor riotous and unordinate in any ill condition▪ nor filthy and uncleanly in his living, with certain rude & boisterous behaviours that smell of the plough and cart a thousand mile of, for he that is of that sort, it is not only not to be hoped that he will make a good Courtier, but he can be set to no better use then to keep sheep. And to conclude, I say that (to do well) the Courtier ought to have a perfect understanding in that we have said is meet for him, so that every possible thing may be easy to him, and all men wonder at him, and he at no man: meaning notwithstanding in this point that there be not a certain lofty and unmannerly stubbornness, Some commend not things well done. as some men have that show themselves not to wonder at the things which other men do, because they take upon them that they can do them much better: and with their silence discommend them as unworthy to be spoken of, and will make a gesture (in a manner) as though none beeside were (I will not say their equal, but) able to conceive the understanding of the profoundness of their couning. Therefore aught the Courtier to shonn these hateful manners, & with gentleness & courtesy praise other men's good deeds: and though he perceive himself excellent and far above others, yet show that he esteameth not himself for such a one. But because these so full perfections are very seldom found in the nature of man, and perhaps never, yet aught not a man that perceiveth himself in some part to want, to lay aside his hope to come to a good pass, Many places to be commended beeside the best. though he can not reach to that perfect & high excellency which he aspireth unto: because in every art there be many other places beeside the best, all praiswoorthye: and he that striveth to come by the highest, it is seldom seen that he passeth not the mean. I will have our Courtier therefore, if he found himself excellent in any thing beeside arms, How a man should show his counin●. to set out himself, and get him estymatyon by it after an honest sort, and be so dyscreete and of so good a judgement, that he may have the understanding after a comely manner, and with good purpose to allure men to hear or to look on that he supposeth himself to be excellent in: making semblant always to do it, not for a brag and to show it for vainglory, but at a chance, & rather prayed by others, then coming of his own free william. And in every thing that he hath to do or to speak, if it be possible, let him come always provided and think on it before hand, showing notwithstanding, the whole to be done ex tempore, and at the first sight. As for the things he hath but a mean skill in, let him touch them (as it were) by the way, without grounding much upon them, yet in such wi●e that a man may believe he hath a great deal more cunning therein, than he uttereth: as certain poets sometime that harped upon very subtle points of Philosophy, or other sciences, and peraventure had small understanding in the matter. And in that he knoweth himself altogether ignorant in, Sometime a man's ignorance is to be confessed. I will never have him make any profession at all, nor seek to purchase him any fame by it: but rather when occasion serveth, confess to have no understanding in it. This, ꝙ Calmeta, would Nicholetto never have done, which being a very excellent Philosopher, and no more skilful in the law then in fleeing, when a Governor of Padua was minded to give him one of those Lectures in the law, he would never yield at the persuasion of many Scholars, to deceive the opinion which the governor had conceived of him, & confess that he had no understanding in it: but said still that he was not in this point of Socrates opinion, for it is not a Philosophers part to say at any time, that he hath no understanding. I say not, answered Sir Fridericke, that the Courtier should of himself go say he hath no understanding, without it be required of him: for I allow not this fondness to accuse & debase himself. Again I remember some otherwhile the in like sort do willingly disclose some matters, Men utter things to their shame many times. which although they happened perhaps without any fault of theirs, yet bring they with them a shadow of slander, as did a gentleman (whom you all know) which always when he heard any mention made of the batta●●e beeside Parma against king Charles, he would by and by declare how he fled away, and a man would ween that he saw or understood nothing else in that journey: Afterward talking of a certain famous just, he rehearsed continually how he was overthrown: and many times also he seemed in his talk to seek how he might bring into purpose to declare that upon a night as he was going to speak with a gentlewoman, he was well beaten with a cudgel. Such trifling follies I will not have our Courtier to speak of. But me think when occasion is offered to show his skill in a matter he is altogether ignorant in, it is well done to avoid it. If necessity compel him, How he should do in a matter he hath no skill in. let him rather confess plainly his lack of understanding in it, than hazard himself, and so shall he avoid a blame that many deserve nowadays, which I wot not through what corrupt inward motion or judgement out of reason, do always take upon them to practise the thing they know not, and lay aside that they are skilful in: and for a confirmation of this, I know a very excellent musitien, Men that take in hand things they have no skill in. which leaving his music a part hath wholly given himself to versifiing, and thinketh himself a great clerk therein, but in deed he maketh every man to laugh him to scorn, and now hath he also clean lost his music. An other, one of the chieffest peincters in the world, neglecting his art wherein he was very excellent▪ hath applied himself to learn philosophy, wherein he hath such strange conceits and monstrous fancies, that withal the peinctinge he hath he can not peinct them. And such as these there be infinite. Some there be that knowing themselves to have an excellency in one thing, make their principal profession in an other, in which not withstanding they are not ignorant, but when time serveth to show themselves in that they are most skilful in, they do it always very perfectly: and otherwhile it cometh so to pass, that the company p●rceiuinge them so couning in that which is not their profession, they imagine them to be much better in that they profess in deed. This art in case it be coupled with a good judgement, discontenteth me nothing at all. Then answered the L. Gaspar Palavicin: I think not this an art, but a very deceit, and I believe it is not meet for him that will be an honest man to deceive at any time. This quoth Sir Fridericke, is rather an ornament that accompanieth the thing he doth, than a deceit: and though it be a deceit, yet is it not to be disallowed. Will you not say also, that he that beateth his fellow, where there be two playing at fence together, beeguyleth him, and that is because he hath more art than the other. And where you have a jewel that unsett seemeth fair, afterward when it cometh to a goldsmiths hands that in well setting it maketh it appear much more fairer, will you not say that the goldsmith deceiveth the eyes of them that look on it? And yet for that deceit, deserveth he praise, for with judgement and art a couninge hand doth many times add a grace and ornament to ivory, or to silver, or to a stone that is fair in sight, setting it in g●lde. We say not then that this art or deceit (in case you will so term it) deserveth any manner blame. Also it is not ill for a man that knoweth himself skilful in a matter, to seek occasion after a comely sort to show his feat therein, and in lykecase to cover the parts he thinketh scant worthy praise, yet notwitastandinge all after a certain wary dissimulation. king Ferdinand of Naples. Do you not remember how king Ferdinand without making any show to seek it, took occasion very well to stryppe himself sometime into his doublet? and that because he knew he was very well made and nimble withal. And because his hands were not all of the fairest, he seldom plucked of his gloves, and (in manner) never. And few there were that took heed to this wariness of his. Me think also I have read, I. Caesar that julius Caesar ware for the nonce a garland of Laurel, to hide his baldness withal. But in these matters a man must be very circumspect and of a good judgement lest he pass his bounds: for to avoid one error often times a man falleth into an other, and to get him praise, purchaseth blame. Therefore the surest way in the world, is, for a man in his living and conversation▪ In honest mean 〈◊〉 living. to govern himself always with a certain honest mean, which (no doubt) is a great and most sure shield against envy, the which a man aught to avoid in what he is able. I will have our Courtier also take heed he purchase not the name of a liar, nor of a vain person, which happeneth many times and to them also that deserve it not. No liar. Therefore in his communicatyon let him be always heedful not to go out of the likelihood of truth, yea and not to speak to often those truths that have the face of a lie, as many do, that never speak but of wonders, and will be of such authority, that every uncredible matter must be believed at their mouth. Other, at the first entering into a friendship with a new friend, to get favour with him, the first thing they speak, swear that there is not a person in the world whom they love better and they are willing to jeopardy their life for his sake, and such other matters out of reason, and when they part from him makewi●e to weep, and not to speak a word for sorrow, Thus because they would be counted to loving worms, they make men count them liars, and fond flatterers. But it were to long a matter and tedious to reckon up all vices that may happen in conversation. Therefore, for that I desire in the Courtier, it sufficeth to say (beesyde the matters rehearsed) that he be such a one that shall never want good communication and fit for them he talketh withal, and have a good understanding with a certain sweetness to refresh the hearer's minds, & with meerie conceits and jests to provoke them to solace & laughter, Conceits and jests. so that without being at any time loathsome or satiate he may evermore delight them. Now I hope my L. Emilia will give meleave to hold my peace, which in case she deny me, I shall by mine own words be convicted not to be the good courtier I have told you of, for not only good communication, which neither at this time nor perhaps at any other ye have heard in me: but also this I have, such as it is, doth clean fail me. Then spoke the L. General: I will not have this false opinion to stick in the head of any of us, that you are not a very good Courtier, for (to say ye●ruth) this desire of yours to hold your peace proceedeth rather because you would be rid of your pain, then for that ye want talk. Therefore that it may not appear in so noble assembly as this is, and in so excellent talk, any parcel be left out, say you not nay to teach us how we should use these jests you have made mention of, This discourse of jests▪ is taken out of Cicero de Orat. lib. two. and show us the art that belongeth to all this kind of pleasant speech to provoke laughter and solace after an honest sort, for (in mine opinion) it is very necessary and much to purpose for a Courtier. My Lord, answered Sir Friderick, jests and meerie conceits are rather a gift, and a grace of nature, then of art, but yet there are some nations more readier in it then other some, as the Tuscans, which in deed are very subtle. Also it appeareth proper to the Spaniards to invent meerie conceits. Yet are there many notwithstanding both of this nation and other also that in to much babbling pass sometime their bounds and were unsavoury and fond, Respects in issuing. because they have no respect to the condition of the person they common withal, to the place where they be, to the time, to the gravity and modesty which they aught to have in themselves. Then answered the L. General: You deny that there is any art in jests, & yet in speaking against such as observe them not with modesty and gravity and have not respect to the time and to the person they common withal, me think ye declare that this may also be taught and hath some doctrine in it. These rules my Lord, answered Sir Fridericke, be so general that they may be applied to every matter, and help it forward. But I have said there is no art in jests, Ca●illatio. because (me think) they are only of two sorts: whereof the one is enlarged in communication that is long and without interruption: as is seen in some men that with so good an utterance and grace and so pleasantly declare and express a matter that happened unto them or that they have seen and heard, that with their gesture and words they set it before a man's eyes, and (in manner) make him feel it with hand, and this peradventure for want of an other term we may call festivity or else Civility. Dic●citas. The other sort of jests is very brief, and consisteth only in quick & subtle sayings, as many times there are heard among us, and in nicks, neither doth it appear that they are of any grace without that little biting, Di●●●. and these among them of old time were also called Sayings, now some term them Privy taunts. I say therefore in the first kind, which is a meerye manner of expressing, there needeth no art, because very nature herself createth and shapeth men apt to express pleasantly and giveth them a countenance, gestures, a voice, and words for the purpose to counterfeit what they lust. In the other of Privy taunts what can art do? Sins that quippie aught to be shot out and hit the prick before a man can discern that he that speaketh it can think upon it, else it is cold and little worth. Therefore (think I) all is the work of wit and nature. Then took M. Peter Bembo the matter in hand, and said: The L. General denieth not that you say: namely that nature and wit bear not the chieffest stroke, especially as touching invention, but it is certain that in each man's mind, of how good a wit soever he be, there arise conceits both good and bad, and more and less, but then judgement and art death polished and correct them, and chouseth the good and refuseth the bad. Therefore laying aside that beelonge●h to wit, declare you unto us that consisteth in art: that is to weet, of jests and meery conceits that move laughter, which are meet for the Courtier and which are not, and in what time and manner they aught to be used: for this is that the L. General demandeth of you. Then Sir Frid●ricke said smiling: There is never a one of us here that I will not give place unto in every matter, and especially in jesting, unless perhaps follies: which make men laugh many times more than witty sayings▪ were also to be allowed for jests. And so turning him to Count Lewis and to M. Bernarde Bibiena, he said unto them. These be the masters of this faculty, of whom in case I must speak of meerie sayings, I must first learn what I have to say. Count Lewis answered: Me think you beegin now to practise that you say ye are not skilful in, which is, to make these Lords laugh in mocking M. Bernarde and me, because every one of them woteth well that the thing which you praise us for, is much more perfectly in you. ●herefore in case you be weary, it is better for you to sue to the Duchess that it would please her to defer the remnant of our talk till to morrow, then to go about with craft to rid your hands of pains taking. Sir Friderick began to make answer, but the L. Emilia interrupted him immediately and said: It is not the order that the disputation should be consumed upon your praise, it sufficeth ye are very well known all. But because it cometh in my mind that you (Count) imputed to me yesternight, that I divided not the pains taking equally, it shall be well done that Sir Frydericke rest him a while and the charge of speaking of jests we will commit to M. Bernarde Bibiena, for we do not only know him very quick witted in talking without intermission, but also it is not out of our memory that he hath sundry times pormysed to write of this matter. And therefore we may think he hath very well thought upon it all this while, and aught the better to satisfy us in it. afterward when there shall be sufficiently spoken of jests▪ Sir Fridericke shall proceed forward again with that he hath yet behind concerning the Courtier. Then said Sir Fridericke: Madam, I know not what I have left behind any more, but like a travailer on the way now weary of the peinefulnesse of my long journey at noon tide, I will rest me in M. Bernardes' communication at the sown of his words, as it were under some fair free that casteth a goodly shadow at the sweet roaring of a plentiful and lively springe: afterward (may hap) being somewhat refreshed I may have somewhat else to say. M. Bernarde answered laughing: If I show you the top ye shall see what shadow may be hoped for at the leaves of my tree. To hear the roaring of the lively spring ye speak of, it may happen be your chance so to do, for I was once turned into a spring: not by any of the gods of old time, but by our friar Marian. And from that time hitherto I never wanted water. Then began they all to fall in a laughing, because this pleasant matter which M. Bernarde meant that happened to him in Room● in the presence of Galeotto Cardinal of S, Petro in Vincula, was well known to them all. After they had ceased laughing the L. Emilia said: Leave now making us laugh with practising of jests, and teach us how we should use them, and whence they are derived, and what ever else ye know in this matter. And for losing any more time beegyne out of hand. I doubt me, quoth M. Bernarde, it is late, and least my talk of pleasant matters should seem unpleasant and tedious, perhaps it were good to defer it till to morrow. Here incontinently ma●ye made answer that it lacked yet a good d●ale of the ●oure when they were w●nt to leave of reasoning. Then M. Bernarde turning to the Duchess & the to L. Emilia, I will not refuse this labour (quoth he) although I be wont to marvel at the boldness of them that dare take upon them to sing to the lute, when our james Sausecondo standeth by, even so aught not I in the presence of hearers that have much better understanding in that I have to say, than I myself, take upon me to entreat of jests. Nevertheless lest I should show a precedent to any of these Lords to refuse that they shall be charged withal, I will speak as breeflye as I can possible what cometh in my mind as touching matters that cause laughter, Homo animal risibile. which is so proper to us that to describe a man the common saying is, He i● a living creature that can laugh: because this laughing is perceived only in man, & (in manner) always is a token of a certain iocundenesse and meerie mood that he feeleth inwardly in his mind, which by nature is drawn to pleasantness and coveteth quietness and refreshing, for which cause we see men have invented many matters, as sports, games and pastimes, and so many sundry sorts of open shows. And because we bear good will to such as are the occasion of this recreation of ours, the manner was among the kings of old time, among the Romans, the Athenians and many other, To ●●ne the eyes of the ●●ople. to get the good will of the people withal, and to feed the eyes and minds of the multitude, to make great Theatres, and other public buildings, and there to show new devices of pastimes, running of horses and Chariots, fightings of men together, strange beasts, Comedies, Tragedies, and dances of antic. Neither did the grave Philosophers shonn these sights, for many times both in this manner and at banquets they refreshed their weeryesome minds, in those high discourses and divine imaginations of theirs. The which in likewise all sorts of men are willing to do, for not only Ploughmen, Mariners, and all such as are enured with hard and boisterous exercises, with hand, but also holy religious men and prisoners that from hour to hour wait for death, go about yet to seek some remedy and medicine to refresh themselves. Whatsoever therefore causeth laughter, the same maketh the mind jocund and giveth pleasure, nor suffereth a man in that instant to mind the troublesome greeffes that our life is full of, Therefore (as you see) laughing is very acceptable to all men, and he is much to be commended that can 'cause it in due time and after a comely sort. But what this laughing is, and where it consisteth, & in what manner sometime it taketh the veins, the eyes, the mouth and the sides, Wherein laughing matters consist. and seemeth as though it would make us burst, so that what ever resistance we make, it is not possible to keep it, I will leave it to be disputed of Democritus, the which also in case he would promise' us, he should not perform it. The place therefore and (as it were) the hedspring that laughing matters ar●ise of, consisteth in a certain deformity or ill favouredness, because a man laugheth only at those matters that are disagreeing in themselves, and (to a man's seeming) are in ill plight, where it is not so in deed. I wot not otherwise how to expound it, but if you will beethinke yourself, ye shall perceive the thing that a man always laugheth at, is a matter that soundeth not well, and yet is it not in ill sitting. What kind of ways therefore th●se be that the Courtier aught to use in causing laughter and of what scope, I will assay in what I can to utter unto you as far as my judgement can give me, because to make men laugh always is not comely for the Courtier, nor yet in such wise as frantic, drunken, foolish and fond men and in like manner common jesters do: And though to a man's thinking Courts cannot be without such kind of persons, yet deserve they not the name of a Courtier, but each man to be called by his name and esteemed such as they are. The scope and measure to m●ke 〈◊〉 laugh in taunting must also be diligently 〈…〉 who he is that is taunted, for it provoketh no laughter to mock and scorn a silly soul in misery and calamity, nor yet a naughty knave and common ribald, because a man would think that these men deserved to be otherwise punished, then in jesting at. And men's minds are not bend to scoff them in misery, unless such men in their mishap br●gg and boast of themselves and have a proud and haughty stomach. Again a respect must be had to them that are generally favoured and beloved of every man, and that bear stroke, because in mocking and scorning such a one, a man may sometime purchase himself dangerous enmity. Who are to be jested at. Therefore it is not amiss to scoff and mock at vices that are in persons not of such misery that it should move compassion, nor of such wickidness● that a man would think they deserved not to go on the ground, nor of such authority that any little displeasure of theirs may be a great hindrance to a man. You shall understand moreover that out of the places jesting matters are derived from, a man may in like manner pike grave sentences to praise or dispraise. And otherwhile with the self same words: as to praise a liberal man that partaketh his goods in common with his friends, Praise or dispraise in the self words. the common saying is, That he hath is none of his own: The like may be said in dispraise of one that hath stolen or compassed that he hath by other ill means. It is also a common saying, she is a woman of no small price when a man will praise her for her virtues, for her wisdom & goodness: The very same may be said of a woman that looketh to be kept sumptiouslye: But it cometh oftener to purpose that a man in this case serveth his turn with the self same places then with the self same words. As within these few days three Gentlemen standing at mass together in a Church where was a gentlewoman one of the three was in love withal, there came a poor beggar & stood before her requiring her alms, & so with much instance and lamenting with a groaning voice repeated many times his request: yet for all that did she not give him her alms, nor deny it him in making sign to departed in God's name, but stood musing with herself as though she minded another matter. Then said the gentleman that loved her to his two companions, see what I may hope for at my mistress hands, which is so cruel, that she will neither give the poor naked soul dead for hunger, that requireth her with such passion & so instantly, her alms, ne yet leave to departed, so much she rejoiceth to beehoulde with her eyes one that is brought low with misery and that in vain requireth her reward. One of the two answered: it is no cruelty, but a privy admonition for you to do you to weete that your mistress is not pleased with him that requireth her with much instance. The other answered: Nay, it is rather a lesson for him, that although she give not that is required of her, yet she is willing enough to be suid to▪ See here, because the gentlewoman sent not the poor man away, there arrose one saying of great dispraise, one of modest praise and another of nipping board. To return therefore to declare the kinds of jests appertaining to our purpose, I say (in mine opinion) there are of three sorts, although Sir▪ Friderick▪ Ré. hath made mention but of two. The one a civil & pleasant declaration without interruption, which consisteth in the effect of a thing. The other a quick and subtle readiness, Dicto. which consisteth in one saying alon●. Therefore will we add a third sort to these, which we call Boards or meerie Pranks, wherein the process is long and the sayings short and some deeds with all. Cicero mentioneth not this last kin● of jests. The first therefore that consisteth in communication without interruption are in the sort (in a manner) as though a man would tell a tale. And to give you an example, when Pope Alexander the sixth died and Pius the third created, being then in Room and in the Palace, your Sir antony Agnello of Mantua my L. Duchess, and communing of the death of the one and creation of the ●ther, and therein making sundry discourses with certain friends of his, he said: Sirs, in Catullus time gates began to speak without tongue and to hear without ears and in that sort discovered advouteries. Now although men be not of such worthiness as they were in those days, yet perhaps the gates that are made, a great sort of them, especially here in Room, of ancient Marble, have the same virtue they had then. And for my part I believe that these two will clear us of all our doubts, in case we will ask counsel of them. Then those Gentlemen mused much at the matter and attended to see to what end it would come, when Sir Anthony following on still up and down lift up his eyes, as at a sudden, to one of the two gates of the hall where they walked: and staying a while with his finger he showed his company the inscriptyon over it, which was Pope Alexander's name, and at the end of it was V and I, because it should signify (as ye know) the sixth. Alexander PP. VI And said: See here, this gate saith Alexander PaPa. VI which signifieth he hath been Pope through the force he hath used, and hath prevailed more thereby then with right and reason. Now let us see if we may of this other understand any thing of the new Bishop: and turning him as at adventure to the other gate, pointed to the inscription of one N. two PP. and even V which signifieth Nicholaus Papa Quintus, N. PP. V and immediately he said: Good Lord ill newis, see here this gate saith Nihil Papa Valet. See now how this kind of jests is proper and good and how sitting it is for one in Court, whether it be true or false a man saith, for in this case it is lawful to feign what a man lusteth without blame: and in speaking the truth, to set it forth with a feat lie, augmenting or diminishing according to the purpose. But the perfect grace & very pith of this, is to set forth so well & without pein● not only in words but in gestures, the thing a man pourposeth to express, that unto the hearers he may appear to do before their eyes the things he speaketh o●. And this expressed manner in this wise hath such force, that otherwhile it setteth forth and maketh a matter delight very much, which of itself is not very meerie nor witty. And although these protestations need gestures, and the earnestness that a lively voice hath, yet is the force of them known also otherwhile in writing. Giornata. vii●. Novella. two. Who laugheth not when john Boccaccio in the eight journey of his hundredth tales declareth how the priest of Varlungo strained himself to sing a Kyrie and a Sanctus, when he perceived Belcolore was in the Church? These be also pleasant declarations in his tales of Calandrino and many other. Gior. viii. Novel. two. & vi. Gior. ix. Novel. iii & v. After the same sort seemeth to be the making a man laugh in counterfeiting or imitating (how ever we list to term it) of a man's manners, wherein hitherto I have seen none pass our M. Robert of Bari. This were no small praise ꝙ M. Robert, if it were true▪ for than would I surely go about to counterfeit rather the good than the bad: and if I could liken myself to some I know, I would think myself a happy man. But I fear me I can counterfeit nothing but what maketh a man laugh, which you said before consisteth in vice. M. Bernarde answered: In vice in deed, but that that standeth not in ill plight. And weet you well, that this counterfeiting we speak of, can not be without wit, for beeside the manner to apply his words and his gestures, and to set before the hearer's eyes the countenance and manners of him he speaketh of, he must be wise, and have great respect to the place, to the time and to the persons with whom he talketh, and not like a common jester pass his bounds, which things you wonderfully well observe, and therefore I believe ye are skilful in all. Counterfeiters of m●ns manners. For undoubtedly it is not meet for a gentleman to make weeping and laughing faces, to make sons and voices, and to wrestle with himself alone as Berto doth, to apparel himself like a lob of the Country as doth Strascino, and such other matters, which do well become them, because it is their profession. But we must by the way and privily steal this counterfeiting, always keeping the assay of a gentleman, without speaking filthy words, or doing uncomely deeds, without making faces and antiques, but frame our gestures after a certain manner, that who so heareth and seethe us, may by our words and countenances imagine much more than he seethe and heareth, and upon that take occasion to laugh. He must also in this counterfeiting take heed of to much taunting in touching a man, Nips that touch a man. especially in the ill favouredness of visage or ill shape of body. For as the mishaps and vices of the body minister many times ample matter to laugh at, if a man can discretely handle it, even so the using of this manner to bitingly is a token not only of a common jester, but of a plain enemy. Therefore must a man observe in this point (though it be hard) the fashion of our M. Roberte, as I have said, which counterfeiteth all men and not with out touching them in the matters wherein they be faulty and in presence of themselves, and yet no man findeth himself aggrieved, neither may a man think that he can take it in ill part. And of this I will give you no example, because we all see infinite in him daily. Also it provoketh much laughter (which nevertheless is contained under declaration) when a man repeateth with a good grace certain defaults of other men, so they be mean and not worthy greater correction: as foolish matters sometime simply of themselves alone, sometime annexed with a little ready nipping fondness. Likewise certain extreme curious & matters. Otherwhile a great and well forged lie: As few days ago our M. Cesar declared a pretty foolish matter, which was, that being with the Mayor of this City, he saw a Country man come to him to complain that he had an Ass stolen from him, Foolish mat●ers. and after he had told him of his poverty and how the thief deceived him, to make his loss the greater he said unto him: Sir if you had seen mine Ass you should have known what a cause I have to complain●, for with his pad on his back a man would have thought him very Tully himself▪ And one of our trai● meeting a herd of Goats before the which was a mighty great Ramm Goat, he stayed and with a marvelous countenance, said: Mark me this Goat, he seemeth a Saint Paul. The L. Gasper saith he knew an other, which for that he was an old servant to Hercules duke of Ferrara, did offer him two pretty boys which he had, to be his pages, and these two died both before they came to his service. The which when the duke understood, he lamented lovingly with the father, saying that he was very sorry, because when he saw them upon a time he thought them handsome and witty children. The father made answer, nay my Lord, you saw nothing, for within these few days they were become much more handsomer and of better qualities than I would ever have thought, and sang together like a couple of hawks. And one of these days a Doctor of ours beehouldinge one that was judged to be whipped about the market place, and taking pity upon him because the poor soul's shoulders bled sore, and went so soft a pace, as though h● had walked about for his pleasure to pass the time withal he said to him: Go on a pace poor fellow that thou mayst be the sooner out of thy pain. Then he turning about and beehoulding him that so said (in a manner) with a wonder, staid a while without any word, afterward he said: When thou art whipped go at thy pleasure, for now will I go as I shall think good. You may remember also the foolish matter that not long a go the Duke rehearsed of the Abbot that being present upon a day when Duke Fridericke was talking where he should bestow the great quantity of rubbyshe that was cast up to say the foundation of this palace, working daily upon it, The judgement of an Abbot. said: My Lord, I have well beethoughte me where you shall beestowe it, let there be a great pit digged and into that may you have it cast without any more ado. Duke Fridericke answered him not without laughter: And where shall we beestowe then the quantity of earth that shall be cast out of that pit? The abbot said unto him: Let it be made so large that it may well receive both the one and the other. And so for all the Duke repeated sundry times, the greater the pit was, the more earth should be cast out of it, yet could he never make it sink into his brain, but it might be made so large that it might receive both the one and the other: and he answered him nothing else but make it so much the larger. Now see what a good forecast this Abbot had. Then said M. Peter Bembo: And why tell you not that, of your great Captain of Florence that was beeseaged of the Duke of Calabria within Castellina? Where there were found upon a day in the town certain quarrels poisoned that had been shot out of the camp, he wrote unto the Duke, if the war should proceed so cruelly, he would also put a medicine upon his gunnstones, & then he that hath the worst, hath his mends in his hands. M. Bernarde laughed and said: If you hold not your peace (M. Peter) I will tell whatsoever I have seen myself and heard of your Venetians, which is not a little, and especially when they play the riders. Do not I beesech ye, answered M. Peter, for I will keep to myself two other very pretty once that I know of your Florentines. M. Bernarde said: They are rather of the Seneses, for it often happeneth among them. As within these few days one of them hearing certain letters read in the Counsel chamber, in which for avoiding to often repetition of his name that was spoken of, this term was many times put in, il Prelabato (wh●ch signifies the aforename?) he saidunto him the read them: Soft, stay there a little and tell me, this prelibato what is he? A friend to our commonalty? M. Peter laughed, than he proceeded: I speak of Florentines and not of Seneses. Speak it hardly, ꝙ y● L. Emilia and bash not for the matter. M. Peter said, when the Lords of Florence were in war against the Pisanes, they were otherwhile out of money by reason of their great charges, & laying their heads together upon a day in the counsel chamber what way were best to make provision to serve their turn withal, after many devices propounded, one of the auntientest Citizens said: I have found two ways, A florentines devise. whereby without much travail we may in a small while come by a good portion of money. Whereof the one is (because we have no readier rent than the custom at the gates of Florence) where we have XI gates, let us with speed make XI more, and so shall we double our revenue. The other way is, to set up a mint in Pistoia and an other in Prato no more nor less than is here within Florence: and there do nothing else day and night but coin money, and all Ducats of gold, and this device (in mine opinion) is the speedier and less chargeable. They fell a laughing apace at the subtle device of this Citizin and when laughing was ceased the L. Emilia said: Will you (M. Bernarde) suffer M. Peter thus to jest at Florentines without a revenge? M. Bernarde answered smiling: I pardon him this offence, for where he hath displeased me in jesting at Florentines, he hath pleased me in obeying of you, the which I would always do myself. Then said the L. Cesar: I hea●d a Brescian speak a jolly gross matter, which being this year in Venice at the feast of the Ascension, Upon the ascension day A ●r●at fair in Uenice· A fair vessel of pleasure in Venice made Galliwise. Every year upon the Ascension day the Duke with all the counsel ●oith in it a mile or two into the sea, and there casteth ● ring of gold into it thinking by this yearly ceremony they so marry the Sea that it will never leave the City on dry land: rehearsed in a place where I was to certain mates of his, the goodly matters he had seen there, what sundry merchandise, what plate, what sorts of spices, and what cloth & silk there was, then how the Signoria issued out with a great pomp in the Bucentoro to wed the Sea, in which were so many gentlemen well appareled, so many sorts of instruments & melodies that a man would have thought it a paradise. And when one of his companions demanded him what kind of music did please him best of all that he had heard there, he said: All were good, yet among the rest I saw one blow in a strange trumpet, which at every push thrust it into his throat more than two handful, and then by and by drew it out again, and thrust it in a fresh, that you never saw a greater wondre. Then they all laughed, understanding the fond imagination of him that thought the blower thrust into his throat that part of the Sagbout that is hid in putting it back again. Then M. Bernarde went forward: Those Affectations and curiosities that are but mean, bring a loathsomeness with them, but when they be done out of measure they much provoke laughter. As otherwhile when some men are heard to speak of their auntientrye and nobleness of birth: sometime women of their beauty and handsomeness: As not long ago a gentlewoman did, which at a great feast being very sad & musing with her s●lf, it was demanded of her, what she thought upon that should make her so sad. And she made answer, I thought upon a matter which as oft as it cometh into my mind doth much trouble me, and I can not put it out of my heart: which is, where in the day of general judgement all bodies must arise again and appear naked before the judgement seat of Christ, I can not abide the grief I feel in thinking that mine must also be seen naked. Such Affectations as these be because they pass the degree, do rather provoke laughter then loathsomeness. Those feat lies now that come so well to purpose, how they provoke laughter ye all know. ●eat lies. And that friend of ours that suffereth us not to want, within these few days rehearsed one to me that was very excellent. Then said the L. julian: What ever it were, more excellenter it can not be, nor more sutler than one that a Tuscan of ours, which is a merchant man of Luca, affirmed unto me the last day for most certain. Tell it us, quoth the Duchess. The L. julian said smiling: This merchant man (as he saith) being upon a time in Polonia, Polonia. determined to buy a quantity of Sables, minding to bring them into Italy & to gaigne greatly by them. And after much practicing in the matter, Muscovia▪ where he could not himself go into Moscovia because of the war between the king of Polonia & the Duke of Moscovia, he took order by the mean of some of the Country that upon a day appointed certain merchant men of Moscovia should come with their Sables into the borders of Polonia, and he promised also to be there himself to bargain with them. This merchant man of Luca travailing then with his company toward Moscovia, arrived at the river of Boristhenes, Boristh●●●●▪ which he found hard frozen like a marble stone, and saw the Moscovites, which for suspicion of war were in doubt of the Polakes, were on the other side, and nearer came not than the breadth of the river. So after they knew the one the other, making certain signs, the Moscovites began to speak aloud & told the price how they would cell their Sables, but the cold was so extreme, that they were not understood, because the words before they came on the other side where this merchant of Luca was and his interpreters, were congealed in the aere and there remained frozen and stopped. So that the Polakes that knew the manner, made no more ado but kindled a great fire in the midst of the river (for to their seeming that was the point whereto the voice came hot before the frost took it) and the river was so thick frozen that it did well bear the fire. When they had thus done the words that for space of an hour had been frozen, began to thaw and came down, making a noise as doth the snow from the mounteignes in may, and so immediately they were well understood, but the men on the other side were first departed, and because he thought that those words asked to great a price for the Sables, he would not bargain, & so came away without. Then they laughed all. And M. Bernarde, truly (quoth he) this that I will tell you is not so subtle, yet is it a pretty matter. and this it is. Where talk was a few days ago of the country or world newly found out by the mariners of Portugal, An ape played at chests. and of strange beasts and other mat●ers brought from thence, that friend I told you of, affirmed that he had seen an Ape, very divers in shape from such as we are accustomed to see, that played excellently well at Chests. And among other times upon a day before the king of Portugal the Gentleman that brought herr played at Chests with herr, where the Ape showed some draughts very suttill▪ so that she put him to his shifts, at length she gave him checkmate. Upon this the gentleman being somewhat vexed (as communlie they are all that loose at that game) took the king in his hand which was good and bog (as the fashion is among the Portugals) and reached the Ape a great knock on the head. To loose at chests vexeth men. She forthwith leapt aside complaining greatly, and seemed to require justice at the kings hands for the wrong done her. The gentleman afterward called her to play with him again, the which with signs she refused a while, but at last was contented to play an other game, and as she had done the other time before, so did she now drive him to a narrow point. In conclusion: the Ape perceiving she could give the gentleman the mate, thought with a new device she would be sure to escape without any more knocks, and privily conveyed her right hand without making semblant what her intent was, under the gentilmans left elbow, leaning for pleaser upon a little taffeta coushin, and snatching it slightly away, at one instant gave him with her left hand a mate with a pawn, and with her right hand cast the coushin upon her head to save her from strokes, than she made a gambol before the king joyfully, in token (as it were) of her victory. Now see whether this Ape were not wise, circumspect and of a good understanding. Then spoke▪ the L. Cesar Gonzaga: It must needs be that this ape was a Doctor among other Apes and of much authority: and I believe the common weal of the Apes of India sent her into Portugal to get a name in a strange country. At this every man laughed, both for the lie and for the addition made to it by the L. Cesar. So proceeding on in his talk M. Bernarde said: You have understood therefore what jests are that be of effect and communication without interruption asmuch as cometh to mind: therefore it shall be well now we speak of such as consist in one saying alone, and have a quick sharpness that lieth briefly in a sentence or in a word. And even as in the first kind of meerie talk a man must in his protestation and counterfeiting take heed that he be not like common jesters and parasites, and such as with fond matters move men to laugh, so in this brief kind the Courtier must be circumspect that he appear not malicious and venomous and speak taunts and quippies only for spite and to touch the quick, because such men often times for offence of the tongue are chastised in the whole body. Of those ready jests therefore that consist in a short saying, such are most lively that arise of doubtfulness, These two examples are put in Italian, because they have no grace in t●e En●lish tongue by reason of the doubtfulness of the woo●d●s that may be taken two sundry ways▪ yet is the English as plentiful of these 〈◊〉 as any other tongue, wherein Sir Thomas Moor excelled in-out time. though always they provoke not laughing, for they be rather praised for witty, then for matters oflaughter. Come pochi di sono disse il nostro M. Hannibal pall. otto ad uno che li pro ponea un maestro per insegnare Grammatica a suoi figlivogli, et poi che gliel hebbe laudato per molto dotto, venendo al salario, disse, che oltre a●i danari volea una camera fornita per habitare et dormire, perch esso non havea letto. Allhor M. Hannibal subito rispose, & come puo egli esser dotto se non ha' letto? See how well he took advantage at the diverse signification of haver letto (which is interpreted both to have a bed and to have read.) But because these doubtful words have a pretty sharpness of wit in them, being taken in a contrary signification to that all other men take them, it appeareth (as I have said) that they rather provoke a man to wondre than to laugh, except when they be joined with other kinds of sayings. The kind therefore of witty sayings that is most used to make men laugh, is when we give ear to hear one thing, and he that maketh answer, speaketh an other and is alleged contrary to expectation, and in case a doubt be annexed therewithal, them is it very witty and pleasant. Come laltr hieri disputandosi di far vn bell mattonato nel camerino della S. Duchessa, Matronato A pa●●ment. dopo molte parole Voi M. Io. Christoforo diceste, Se noi potessimo havere il ves covo di Potentia, & farlo been Spianare, saria molto a proposito, perch egli e il pia bell matto nato ch'io vedessi may. Ogn'un rise molto, perch dividendo quella parola matto nato faceste lo ambiguo, poi dicendo che Si havesse a spianare un vescouo et metterlo per pavimen to d'un camerino fu fuor d'opinione di chi ascoltava, Matto nato A natural fool. cosi riusci il motto argutissimo et risibile. But of doubtful words there be many sorts, therefore must a man be circumspect and choose out terms very artificially, and leave out such as make the jest cold, and that a man would ween were haled by the hear, jests that are to nipping. or else (as we have said) that have to much bitterness in them. As certain companions being in a friends house of theirs, who had but one eye, after he had desired the company to tarry dinner with him, they departed all saving one, that said: And I am well pleased to tarry, for I see a void room for one, and so with his fingers poyncted to the hole where his eye had been. See how bitter and discourtious this is passing measure, for he nipped him without a cause and without being first pricked himself: and he said the thing that a man might speak against blind men. Such general matters delight not, because it appeareth they are thought upon of purpose. And after this sort was the saying to one without a nose: And where dost thou fasten thy spectakles? Or, wherewithal dost thou smell roses at the time of the year? But among other meerie sayings, they have a very good grace that arryse when a man at the nipping talk of his fellow taketh the very same words in the self same sense, and returneth then back again pricking him with his own weapon. To ninke a man with his own words. As an attorney in the law, unto whom in the presence of the judge his adversary said, what barke●●e thou? forthwith he answered.: Because I see a thief. And of this sort was also, Catullus answer to Philippus. when Galeotto of Narni passing through Sienna stayed in a street to inquire for an y●n, and a Senese seeing him so corpulente as he was, said laughing: Other men carry their bougettes beehind them, and this good fellow carrieth his before him. Galeotto answered immediately: So must men do in the Country o● thieves. To change a letter or sulable. There is yet an other sort called in Italian Bischizzi, and that consisteth in changing or increasing, or diminisshinge of a letter or syllable. As he that said: Thou shouldest be better learned in the Latrine tongue then in the Greek. And to you (madam) was written in the superscription of a letter, To the Lady Emilia Impia. It is also a meerye device to mingle together a verse or more, taking it in an other meeninge then the Author doth, or some other common saying. Sometime in the very same meaning, but altringe a word, as a Gentleman said that had a foul and scoulinge wife: when he was asked the question how he did, he answered: Virgil. The 〈◊〉 churches of Room. Think thou thyself, for Furiarum maxima juxta me cubat. And M. Hierom Donato going a visiting the Stations of Room in Lente, in company with many other Gentlemen, met with a knot of fair Roman Ladies, and when one of those gentlemen had said. ovid. Of wanton dames Room hath like store, As stars be in the sky. As many boys preserved for love, As Kids in pastures lie. Q●ot coelum stellas, tot habet tua Roma Puellas, by and by he added. Pascua quotque hoedos, tot habet ●ua Roma cinaedo●, showing a rout of young men that came on the other side. And Marc-antonio della Torte said after the manner to the bishop of Padua, Where there was a Nounrye in Padua under the charge of a religious person much esteemed for his good life and learning, it happened that this father hauntinge much to the Nounrye very familiarly, and confessing often the Sisters, beegat five of them with child, where there were not passing five more in all. And when the matter was known, the father would have fled, and wi●t not how. The bishop caused him to be apprehended, and upon that, he confessed that he had gotten those five Nounnes with child through the temptation of the devil, so that the Bishop was fully bend to chastise him sore. And because this man was learned, he had many friends, which altogether assayed to help him, and among the rest there went also M. Marc-antonio to entreat for him. The Bishop would in no wise give ear to them. At length they being instant upon him and commending the guilty, and excusing him through the commodity, of place, frailty of man and many other causes▪ the Bishop said: I will do nothing for you, because I must make account unto God of this. And when they had replied again, the Bishop said: what answer shall I make unto god at the day of judgement, Yield an account of thy husbandry. when he shall say unto me Red Rationem villicationis tue? M. Marc-antonio answered him immediately: Marry my lord the very same that the Gospel saith: Dominé quinque talenta tradidisti mihi, ecce alia quinque superlucratus sum. Lord, thou deliveredst unto me v. talents, behold I have gained ●. more. Then could not the Bishop abstain laughing and he assuaged much his anger and the punishment that he had ordained for the offender. It is likewise very pre●ie to allude to names and to feign somewhat, for that he the talk is of, is so called, or else because he doth some such thing. As not long sins Proto da Luca (which as you know is one merely disposed) ask the bishopric of Calio, To allude to names. the Pope answered him: dost thou not know that Calio, in the Spanish tongue is as much to say as, I hold my Peace, and thou art a great prater? Therefore it were unfitting for a Bishop at any time in naming his title to make a lie, Double signification of Calio. now Calia, hold thy peace then. To this Proto gave an answer, the which although it were not in this sort yet was it no less pretty than this. For after he had often put him in remembrance of this his suit & saw it take none effect, at last he said: Holy father, in case your holiness do give me this bisshoppricke, it shall not be without a profit to you, for than will I surrender two offices into your hands. And what offices hast thou to surrender into my hands, quoth the Pope? Proto answered: I shall surrender unto you Officium principale, and Officium beatae Mariae. Double signification of Off●ciu●. Then could not the Pope though he were a very grave person, abstain from laughing. An other also in Padua said Ca●phurnius was so named, because he was wont to heat fourneyses. And upon a day when I asked Phedra how it happeneth, where prayer is made in the Church upon goodfridaye not only for Chrystyans, but also for Pagans and for jews, there was no mention made of the Cardinals, as there was of Bishops and other prelate's. He answered me, that the Cardinals were contained in the Collet, Oremus pro haereticis et Schismaticis. And our Count Lewis said that I reprehended a lady of love for occupying a certain kind of lie that shined much, because when she was trimmed therewithal, I might see myself in her face, and for that I was ill favoured I could not abide to look upon myself. In this manner was that M. Camillo Paleotto said unto M. Anthonio Porcaro, which reasoning of a companion of his that under confession had said unto the Priest that he fasted with all his heart, and went to Mass and to holy service and did all the good deeds in the world, said: This fellow in stead of accusing praiseth himself. Unto whom M. Camillo answered: nay, he rather confesseth himself of these matters, because he reckoneth the doing of them great sin. Do you not remember how well the L. General said the last day, when johnthomas Galeotto wondered at one that demanded two hundredth Ducats for a horse? for when johnthomas said that he was not worth a farthing, because among other ill properties he had, he could not abide weapons, neither was it possible to make him come nigh where he saw any, the L. General said (willing to reprehend him of cowardice) if the horse hath this property that he can not abide weapons, I marue●le he asketh not a thousand Ducats. Also sometime a man speaketh the very same word, but to another end then the common use is. As, when the Duke was passing over a very swift river, he said to the trumpeter: go on. The trumpeter turned him back with his cap in his hand and after a reverent manner, said: It shallbe yours my lord. It is also a pleasant manner of jesting, when a man seemeth to take the words and not the meaning of him that speaketh. As this year a Dutch man in Room meeting in an evening our M. Phillipp Beroaldo whose Scholar he was, said unto him: Domine magister, Deus der vobis bonum sero. And Beroaldo answered incontinently: Tibi malum cito. And Diego de Chignognes' being at table with the Great Captain, Ferdinando ●onsaluo. Note here the double signif catio n of Vino Diego took it not for wine but for, god came, He came indeed (quoth Diego, meaning it by Chri●●e) and thou knewest him ●ot: whereby he signif ed to t●e hearers that Spaniarde to be of the beleaf that Chri●t is not yet come. when an other Spaniarde that sat there had said, Vino dios (calling for wine) Diego answered him again: Vino, y nolo conocistes, to nip him for a marrane. Also▪ M, james Sadoleto said unto Beroaldo, that had ●ould him how he would in any wise go to Bolonia what is the cause that maketh you thus to leave Room where there are so many pleasures, to go to Bolonia full of disquietness? Beroaldo answered: I am forced to go to Bolonia for three Countess. And now he had lift up three fingers of his left hand to allege three causes of his going, when M. james suddenly interrupted him and said: The three counts that make you go to Bolonia are, Count Lewis da San Bonifacio, Count Hercules Rangon and the Count of Pepoli. Than they all laughed because these three Countess' ha● been Beroaldoes' Scholars and were propre young men and applied their study in Bolonia. This kind of meerye jesting therefore maketh a man laugh much, because it bringeth with it other manner answers then a man looketh for to hear: and our own error doth naturally delight us in these matters, which when it deceiveth us of that we look for, we laugh at it. But the terms of speech and figures that have any grace and grave talk, Counts taken here bot●●or respects or cause's an● also for Earls. are likewise (in a manner) always comely in jests and meerye pleasantness. See how words placed contrariwise give a great ornament, when a contrary clause is set against another. The same manner is often times very meerye and pleasant. As, Contrary words. a Genuese that was very prodigal and lavysh in his expenses being reprehended by a usurer, who was most covetous, that said unto him: And when wilt thou leave casting away▪ thy substance? Then he answered: When thou leavest stealing of other men's. And because (as we have already said) from the places that we derive jests from, that touch a man, we may many times from the very same take grave sentences to praise and commend, To ent●●●pre otherwise then ● man meaneth it is a very comely and honest manner both for the one and the other purpose, when a man consenteth to and confirmeth the self same thing that the other speaketh, but interpreteth it otherwise then he meaneth. As within these few days a Priest of the Country saying Mass to his parishioners, after he had told them what holy days they should have that week, he beegane the general confession in the name of all the people, and said: I have sinned in ill doing, in ill speaking, in ill thinking, and the rest that followeth, making mention of all the deadly sins. Then a Gossip of his and one that was very familiar with the Priest to sport with him, said to the standers buy: Bear record, Sirs, what he confesseth with his own mouth he hath done, for I intend to present him to the Bishop for it. The very same manner used Sallazza della Pedrata to honour a Lady of love withal. With whom en●ringe in talk, after he had praised herr beeside her virtuous qualities for her beauty also, she answered him that she deserveth not that praise, because she was now well stricken in years. And he than said to her: That is in you of age, is nothing else but to liken you unto the angels, which were the first and are the auntientest creatures that ever God made. Also meerie sayings are much to the purpose to nip a man, aswell as grave sayings to praise one, so the metaphors be well applied, and especially if they be answered, and he that maketh answer continued in the self same metaphor spoken by the other. And in this sort was answered to M. Palla Strozzi, Palla Strozzi. which banished out of Florence, and sending thither one of his about certain affairs, Cosimo de Medici. said unto him after a threatening manner: Tell Cosmus de Medicis in my name that The henn sitteth abroad. The messenger did the errand to him, as he was willed. And Cosmus without any more deliberation, answered him immediately: Tell M. Palla in my name again, that Hens can full ill sit abroodé out of the nest. With a metaphor also M. Camillo Porcaro commended honourably the Lord Marc-antonio Colonna, The Lord Marcus Antonius Columna. who understanding that M. Camillo in an Oration of his had extolled certain noble men of Italy that were famous in martial prowess, and among the rest had made most honourable mention of him, after rendringe due thanks, he said to him: You (M. Camillo) have done by your friends as some merchant men play by their money, which finding a sergeant Ducat, to dispatch him away, cast him into a heap of good ones and▪ so utter him: Even so you, to honour me withal, where I am little worth, have set me in company with so excellent and virtuous personages, that through their prowess, I may peradventure pass for a good one. Then M. Camillo made answer: They that use to counterfeit Ducats, guilt them so that they seem to the eye much better than the good: therefore if there were to be found counterfeiters of men, as there be of Ducats, a man might have a just cause to suspect you were false, being (as you are) of much more fair and brighter metal than any of the rest. You may see that this place is common both for the one and the other kind of jests, & so are many more, of the which a man might give infinite examples, and especially in grave sayings. As the great Captain said, which (being set at table and every room filled) saw two Italian Gentlemen standing buy that had done him very good service in the war, suddenly he start up and made all the rest to arise to give place to those two, and said: Make room Sirs for these gentlemen to sit at their meat, for had not they been we should not have had now wherewithal to feed ourselves. He said also to Diego Garzia that persuaded him to remove out of a dangerous place that lay open upon gunnshott: Sins god hath not put fear into your mind, put not you it into mine. And king Lewis, Lewis the xii which is now French king, where it was said unto him soon after his creation, that then was the time to be even with his enemies that had done him so much injury while he was Duke of Orleans. He made answer: That the French king hath nothing ado to revenge the wrongs done to the Duke of Orleans. A man toucheth also in jest many times with a certain gravity without moving a man to laugh. As Gein Ottomani ●●other to the great Turk, Gein Ottomani when he was prisoner in Room, he said: justinge (as we used it in Italy) seemed to him overgreat a dalliance, and a trifle to that should be in deed. And he said, when it was told him that king Ferdinand the younger was nimble and quick of person in renning, leaping, vaulting and such matters, in his country slaves used these exercises, but great men learned from their childhood liberality and were renowned for that. And in a manner after the same sort, saving it had a little more matter to laugh at, was that the archbishopp of Florence said unto Cardinal Alexandrino, That men have nothing but Substance, a body and a soul: Their Substance is at lawyers disposing, their Body at Phisitiens, and their Soul at divines. Then answered the L. julian: A man might add unto this the saying of Nicholetto: wh●ch is, that it is seldom seen a Lawyer to go to law, nor a physician take medicine, nor a divine a good Christian. M. Bernarde laughed, than he proceeded: Of this there be infinite examples spoken by great Princes and very grave men. Comparasons. But a man laugheth also many times at comparasons. As our Pistoia wrote unto Seraphin: I send thee back again thy great male which is like thyself. If ye remember well Seraphin was much like a male. Again, there be some that have a pastime to liken men and women to horses, to dogs, to birds, and often times to coffers, to stools, to carts, to candlesticks, which sometime hath a good grace and otherwhile very stolen. Therefore in this point a man must consider the place, the time, the persons, and the other things we have so many times spoken of, Then spoke the L. Gaspar Pallavicin: The comparison that the L. john Gonzaga made of Alexander the great to M. Alexander his son, was very pleasant. I wot not what it was, answered M. Bernarde. The L Gaspar said: the L. Ioh● was playing at dice (as his use is) and had lost a numbered of Ducats and was still on the losing hand, and M. Alexander his son, which for all he is a child delighteth no less in play then his father, stood very still to beehould him and seemed very sad. The Count of Pianella, that was there present with many other Gentlemen, said: See (my Lord) M. Alexander is very heavy for your● loss, and his heart panteth waiting when luck will come to you that he may get some of your winnings: therefore rid him of this grief, and before ye loose the rest, give him at the lest one Ducat that he may go play him too, among his companions. Then said the L. john: You are deceived, for Alexander thinketh not upon such a trifle, but as it is written of Alexander the great, while he was a child, understanding that Philipp his father had discomfited a great army, and conquered a certain kingdom, he fell in weeping, and when he was asked the question why he wept, he answered, because he doubted that his father would conquerr so many Countries, that he should have none left for him to conquerr: Even so now Alexander my son is sorry and ready to weep in seeing me his father loose, because he doubteth that I shall loose so much, that I shall leave him nothing at all to loose. When they had a while laughed at this M. Bernarde went forward. A man must take heed also his iesling be not wicked, and that the matter extend not (to appear quy●witted) to blasphemy, and study therein to invent new ways: blasphemy. Lest herein, where a man deserveth not only blame, but also sharp punishment, he should appear to seek a praise, which is an abominable matter. And therefore such as these be, that go about to show their pregnant wit with small reverence to Godward, deserve to be excluded out of every Gentylmans' company. And no less, Filthy and bawdy persons in talk. they that be filthy and bawdy in talk, and that in the presence of women have no manner respect, and seem to take none other delight but to make women blush for shame, and upon this go seeking out meerye and jesting words. As this year in Ferrara at a banckett in presence of many Ladies there was a Florentine and a Senese, which for the most part (as you know) are enemies together. The Senese said to nipp the Florentine: We have married Sienna to the Emperor and given him Florence in dowerye. And this he spoke because the talk was abroad in those days, that the Seneses had given a certain quantity of money to the Emperor, and he took the protection of them upon him. The Florentine answered immediately: But Sienna shallbe first ridden (after the French phrase, but he spoke the Italian word) and then shall the do weary afterward be pleaded for at good leisure. You may see the taunt was witty, but because it was in presence of women it appeared baw die and not to be spoken. Then spoke the L. Gaspar Pallavicin: Women have none other delight but to hear of such matters, and yet will you deprive them of it. And for my part I have been ready to blush for shame at words which women have spoken to me oftener than men. And I speak not of such women as these be, quoth M. Bernarde, but of the virtuous that deserve to be reverenced and honoured of all gentlemen. The L. Gaspar said: It were good we might find out some pretty rule how to know them, because most communlie the best in appearance are clean contrary in effect. Then said M. Bernarde smiling: Were not the L. julian here present that in every place is counted the protector of women, I would take upon me to answer you, but I will not take his office from him. Here the L. Emilia in like manner smiling, said: Women need no defendor against an accuser of so small authority. Therefore let the L. Gaspar alone in this his froward opinion, risen more because he could never find woman that was willing to look upon him, then for any want that is in women, and proceed you in your communication of jests. Then M. Bernarde, truly madam (quoth he) me think I have named unto you many places, out of the which a man may pike pleasant and witty sayings, which afterward have so much the more grace, as they are set forth with a comely protestation. Yet may there be alleged many other also, as when to increase or diminish, things be spoken that uncrediblye pass the likelihood of truth. And of this sort was that Marius da Volterra said by a prelate that thought himself so taule a person, that as he went into Saint Peter's, he stooped for hitting his head against the great beam over the porch. Also the L. julian here said that Golpino his servant was so lean and dry, that in a morning as he was blowing the fire to kindle it, the smoke bore him v● the chimney unto the tonnell, and had gone away with him had he not stuck on cross at one of the holes above▪ And M. Augustin Bevazzano told, that a covetous man ne which would not cell his corn while it was at a high g he price, when he saw afterward it had a great fall, for desperation he hanged himself upon a beam in his chamber, and a servant of his hearing the noise, made speed, and seeing his master hung, forthwith cut in sunder the rope and so saved him from death: afterward when the covetous man came to himself, he would have had his servant to have paid him for his halter that he had cut. Of this sort appeareth to be also that Laurence the Medicine said unto a cold jester: thou shouldest not make me laugh if thou ticklidest me. The like he answered unto an other foolish person, who in a morning had found him in bed very late and blamed him for sleeping so much, saying unto him: I have now been in the new and old market place, afterward I went out at the gate of San Gallo to walk about the walls, and have done a thousand ●ther matters, and you are yet in bed. Then said Laurence: that I have dreamt in one hour is more worth, than all that you have done in four. It is also pretty when one reprehendeth a thing which a man would not think he minded to reprehend. As the marquis Friderick of Mantua our Duchess father, being at table with many gentlemen, one of them after he had eaten up his dish of broth, said: By your leave my L. marquis. And when he had so said, he beegane to sup up the rest that remained in the dish. Then said the marquis by and by: Ask leave of the swine, for thou dost me no wrong at all. Also M. Nicholas Leonicus said, to touch a noble man that was falsely reported to be liberal: Guess you what liberality is in him, that doth not only give away his own good but other men's also. That is in like manner an honest and comely kind of jesting that consisteth in a certain dissimulation, when a man speaketh one thing and privily meaneth another. Dissimulation. I speak not of the manner that is clean contrary, as if one should call a dwarf a giant: and a black man, white: or one most ill-favoured, beautiful, because they be to open contraries, although otherwhile also they stir a man to laugh. But when with a grave and dry speech in sporting a man speaketh pleasantly that he hath not in his mind. As when a gentleman told M. Augustin Folietta a loud lie and earnestly did affirm it, because he thought he scase believed it. At last M. Augustin said: Gentleman, if you will ever do me pleaser, be so good to me as to quiet yourself in case I do not believe any thing you say. Yet when he replied again and bound it with an oath to be true, at length he said: Sins you will have me, I am content to believe it for your sake, for to say the truth I would do a greater thing for you then this cometh to. In a manner after the same sort Don Giovanni di Cardona said of one that would forsake Rome: In mine opinion this fellow is ill advised, for he is so wicked that in abiding in Rome it may be his chance in time to be made a Cardinal. Of this sort is also that Alphonsus Santacroce said, which a little before having certain injuries done him by the Cardinal of Pavia, and walking without Bolonia with certain Gentlemen nigh unto the place of execution, and seeing one newly hanged there, turned him that way with a certain heavy look and said so loud that every man might hear him: Thou art a happy man that hast nothing ado with the Cardinal of Pavia. jesting grounded upon scoffing meet for great men. And the kind of jesting that is somewhat grounded upon scoffing seemeth very meet for great men, because it is grave and witty and may be used both in sporting matters and also in grave. Therefore did many of old time and men of best estimatyon use it: As Cato, Scipio, Affricanus minor. But above all they say Socrates t●e Philosopher excelled in it. And in our time King Alphonsus the first of Arragon: which upon a time as he went to dinner took many rich jewels from his fingers, for wetting them in washing his hands, and so gave them to him that stood next him as though he had not minded who it was. This servant had thought sure the king marked not to whom he gave them, and because his head was busied with more weighty affairs, would soon forget them clean, and thereof he took the more assurance, when he saw the King asked not for them again. And when the matter was passed certain days, weeks and months without hearing any word of it, he thought surely he was safe. And so about the years end after this matter had happened, an other time as the king was in like manner going to dinner, he stepped forth and put out his hand to take the kings rings. Then the king rounding him in the ear, said: The first is well for thee, these shall be good for an other. See this taunt how pleasant, witty and grave it is, To name an ill thing with honest words. and worthy in very deed for the noble courage of an Alexander. Like unto this manner grounded upon scoffing there is also an other kind, when with honest words, a man nameth a vicious matter or a thing that deserveth blame. Frumpe●. As the great Captain said unto a Gentleman of his, that after the journey of Cirignola and when all things were already in safety, met him as richly armed as might be, ready to fight. Then the great Captain turning to him Don Vgo di Cardona, said: Fear ye not now any more Seatempest, for Saint Hermus hath appeared. And with this honest word he gave him a nick. Because you know Saint Hermus doth always appear unto Mariners after a tempest and giveth a token of calm. And the meaning of the great captain was, that when this gentleman appeared it was a sign the danger was already clean passed. Again M. Octavian Vbaldi●o being in Florence in company with certain of the best Citizens and reasoning together of soldiers, one of them asked him whether he knew Antonello da Forli which was then fled out of the state of Florence. M. Octavian answered: I have no great knowledge of him, but I have heard him always reported to be a quick soldier. Then said an other Florentin. It appeareth he is quick, for he tarried not so long as to ask leave to departed. They be also pretty taunts when a man of the very communication of his fellow taketh that he would not, and my meaning is in that sort, as our Duke answered the Captain that lost Saint Leo. Pope Alexander uj usurped the dukedom of Urbin and gave it to his son Cesar Borgia. communlye called Duca valentino. When this state was taken by Pope Alexander and given to Duke Valentin, the Duke being in Venice at that time I speak of, many of his subjects came continually to give him secret information how the matters of state passed, and among the rest, thither came also this Captain, which after he had excused himself the best he could, laying the fault in his unluckiness, he said: My Lord doubt ye not, my heart serveth me yet to work a mean that Saint Leo may be recovered again. Then answered the Duke: trouble not thyself any more about that, for in losing it thou haste wrought a mean that it may be recovered again. Certain other sayings there are, when a man that is known to be witty speaketh a matter that seemeth to proceed of folly. As the last day M. Camillo Paleotto said by one: that fool, as soon as he beegane to were rich, died. There is like unto this manner a certain witty & kind dissimulation, when a man (as I have said) that is wise maketh semblant not to understand that he doth understand. Dessimulation. As the marquis Friderick of Mantua, which being sued too by a prating fellow that complained upon certain of his neighbours taking the Pigeons of his Dovehouse with snares, and held one continually in his hand hanging by the foot in a snare, which he had found so dead, he answered him that there should be a remedy for it. This fellow never satisfied, not once but many a time repeated unto him his loss, showing always the Pigeon so hanged, and said still: But I beseech you, how think ye (my Lord) what should a man do in this matter? The marquis at length said: By mine advise the Pigeon aught in no wise to be buried in the Church, for sins he hath so hanged himself, it is to be thought that he was desperate. In a manner after the same sort was that Scipio Nasica said unto Ennius. For when Scipio went unto Ennius' house to speak with him & called to him in the street, a maiden of his made him answer that He was not at home, And Scipio heard plainly Ennius himself say unto his maiden to tell him that he was not at home, so he departed. Within a while after Ennius came unto Scipio's house, and so likewise stood beneethe and called him. Unto whom Scipio himself with a loud voice made answer that, He was not at home. Then said Ennius: What, do not I know thy voice? Scipio answered: Thou hast small Courtesy in thee, the last day I believed thy maiden that thou waste not at home, and now wilt not thou believe me myself? It is also pretty when one is touched in the very same matter that he hath first touched his fellow. To touch in the same matter a man is touched. As Alonso Carillo being in the Spanish Court and having committed certain youthful parts that were of no great importance, was by the kings commandment carried to prison, and there abode for one night. The next day he was taken out again, and when he came to the Palace in the morning, he entered into the chamber of presence that was full of gentlemen & Ladies, and jesting together at this his imprisonment, mistress Boadilla said: M. Alonso, I took great thought for this mishap of yours, for all that knew you were in fear lest the king would have hanged you. Then said immediately Alonso: In deed mistress, I was in doubt of the matter myself to, but yet I had a good hope that you would have begged me for your husband. See how sharp and witty this is. The manner of Spain. Because in Spain (as in many other places also) the manner is, when a man is lead to execution, if a common harlot will ask him for her husband, it saveth his life. In this manner also did Raphael the pein●ter answer two Cardinals (with whom he might be familiar) which to make him talk, found fault in his hearing with a table he had made, where Saint Peter and Saint Paul were: saying, that those two pictures were to read in the face. Then said Raphael by and by: My lords, wonder you not at it, for I have made them so for the nonce, because it is to be thought that Saint Peter and Saint Paul are even as read in heaven as you see them here, for very shame that their Church is governed by such men as you be. A semblant of laughing. Also those jests are pleasant, that have in them a certain privy semblant of laughter. As when a husband lamented much and bewailed his wife that had hanged herself upon a figgtree, an other came to him and plucking him by the sleeve, said: friend, may I receive such pleaser as to have a graft of that figgtree to graft in some stock of mine Orchard? There be certain other jests that be patient and spoken softly with a kind of gravity. As a man of the Country carrying a coffer upon his shoulders, chanced therewithal to give Cato a hard push, and afterward said: Give room. Cato answered: With a certain gravity. Haste thou any thing upon thy shoulders beeside that coffer? It is also a matter of laughter when a man hath committed an error and to amend it speaketh a matter pourposelye that appeareth foolish, and yet is applied to the end that he hath appointed, and serveth his turn therewithal that he seem not out of countenance and dismayed. A matter that seemeth foolish. As not long sins two enemies being together in the Counsel chamber of Florence (as it happeneth often in those Commune weals) the one of them, Altoviti. which was of the house of Altoviti, slept, and he that sat next unto him for a sport, where his adversary that was of the house of Alamanni, Alamanni. had said nothing neither then nor before, stirring him with his elbow made him awake, and said unto him: Hearest thou not what such a one saith? Make answer, for the Lords ask for thine advise. Then did Altoviti all sleepy arise upon his feet and without any more deliberation said: My Lords, I say the clean contrary to that Alamanni hath spoken. Alamanni answered: what? I have said nothing. Altoviti said inmediatlye: To that thou wilt speak. In this manner also did your M. Seraphin the physician here in Urbin say unto a man of the Country, which had received such a stroke upon the eye, that in very deed it was out, yet thought he best to go seek to M. Seraphin for remedy. When he saw it though he knew it was past cure, yet to pluck money out of his hands as that blow had plucked the eye out of his head, he promised him largely to heal it. And so he was in hand with him every day for money, putting him in comfort that within six or seven days, he should beegine to see with it again. The poor country man gave him the little he had, but when he saw him so prolong the matter, he beegane to find himself aggrieved with the Physitien, and said that he was nothing the better, neither could he see any more with that eye, then if he had had none at all in his head. At length M. Seraphin perceiving there was no more to be gotten at his hands, said: Brother mine, thou must have patience, thou haste clean lost thine eye and no remedy is there for it, pray God thou loose not thine other withal. The Country man seeing this, fell in weeping, and lamented much and said: Master mine, you have pilled me and rob me of my money, I will complain to the Duke, and made the greatest outcries in the world. Then said M. Seraphin in a rage and to clear himself: Ah thou vyllein knave: thou wouldst then have two eyes as Cityzins and honest men have, wouldst thou? Get thee hence in the Dyvelles' name. And these words were thrust out with such fury that the poor silly man was dismayed, and held his peace, To interpret a matter merely. and soft and fair departed in god's name, thinking that he himself had been in the wrong. It is also pretty when a man declareth or interpreteth a matter meerilie. As in the Spanish Court in a morning there came into the Palace a knight who was very ill-favoured: and his wife, that was very beautiful, both appareled in white Damask, Dame ask. and the Queen said unto Alonso Carillo: How think ye Alonso by these two? Madam, answered Alonso, me think the Lady is the Dame, and he the ask, which signifieth a foul person and uglesome. Also when Raphael de Pazzi saw a letter that the Prior of Messina had written to a mistress of his, the superscription whereof was: This letter be given to the cause of my grief. Esta carta s●ha da dare a qui en causa mi penar, me think (quoth he) this letter is directed to Paul Tholossa. Imagine you how the standers buy laughed at it, for they all knew that Paul Tholossa had lent ten thousand Ducats to the Prior of Messina, and because he was very lavish in his expenses, he could find no way to pay his debt. It is like unto this, Familiar admonition in manner of counsel. when a man giveth familiar admonition in manner of counsel, but dissemblingly. As Cosmus de Medicis said unto a friend of his that had more riches than wit, and by Gosmus means had compassed an office without Florence, and at his setting forth asking Cosmus what way he thought best for him to take to execute this office well: Cosmus answered him: Apparel thyself in scarlate, and speak little. Of this sort was that Count Lewis said unto one that would pass for an unknown person in a certain dangerous place, and witted not how to disguise himself, and the Count being demanded of his advise therein, answered: Apparel thyself like a Doctor, or in some other raiment that wise men use to wear. Also jannotto de Pazzi said unto one that minded to make an arming coat of as many divers colours as might be invented: Take the words and deeds of the Cardinal of Pavia. matters disagreeing: A man laugheth also at certain matters disagreeing. As one said the last day unto M. Antony Rizzo of a certain Forliveses: Guess whether he be a fool or not, for his name is Bartholomew. That seem to agreed. And an other: Thou seekest a rider and hast no horses. And this man wanteth nothing but good & a horse. And at certain other that seem to agreed. As within these few days where there was a suspicion that a friend of ours had caused a false advoution of a benefice to be drawn out, afterward when an other Priest fell sick. Antony Torello said unto him: What dost thou linger the matter, That agreed not: why dost thou not send for thy Clerk and see whether thou cannest hit upon this other benefice? Likewise at certain that do not agreed. As the last day when the Pope had sent for M. johnluke of Pontremolo and M. Dominick dalla Porta, which (as you know) are both crookbacked, and made them Auditors, The Rota in Room is such an other matter as the Court of the Arches in England. saying that he intended to bring the Rota into a right frame M. Latin Juvenal said: Our holy father is deceived if he think that he can bring the Rota into a right frame with two crooked persons. Also it provoketh laughter, when a man granteth the thing that is told him and more, but seemeth to understand it otherwise. As Captain Peralta being brought into the lists to fight the combat with Aldana and Captain Molart that was Aldanas' patrine requiring Peralta to swear whether he had about him any Saint john's Gospel or charm and enchantment, to preserve him from hurt. Peralta swore that he had about him neither Gospel, nor enchantment, nor relic, nor any matter of devotion wherein he had any faith. Then said Molart to touch him to be a mar●ane: Well no more words in this for I believe without swearing that you have no faith also in Christ. Metaphors. It is pretty moreover to use metaphors at a time in such purposes. As our M. Marc-antonio that said to Botton da Cesena, who had vexed him with words: Botton, Bottom, thou shalt one day be the bottom, and the halter shallbe the bottonhole. And also when Marcanconio had made a comedy which was very long and of sundry acts▪ man will use. And although all kind of jests move a man to laugh, diverse effects in jests. yet do they also in this laughter make diverse effects. For some have in them a certain cleanness and modest pleasantness. Other bite sometime privily, otherwhile openly. Other have in them a certain wantonness. Other make one laugh assoon as he heareth them. Other the more a man thinketh upon them. Other in laughing make a man blush withal. Other stir a man somewhat to anger. But in all kinds a man must consider the disposition of the minds of the hearers because unto persons in adversity oftentimes meery toys augment their affliction: and some infirmities there be, that the more a man occupieth medicine about them, the worse they were. In case therefore the Courtier in jesting and speaking meerie conceits have a respect to the time, to the persons, to his degree, and not use it to often (for pard it bringeth a loathsomeness if a man stand evermore about it, all day in all kind of talk and without purpose) he may be called pleasant and featconceyted. So he be heedful also that he be not so bitter and biting, that a man might conjecture he were an envious person in pricking without a cause, or for plain malice, or men of to great authority (which is lack of discretion) or of to much misery (which is cruelty) or to mischievous (which is vanity) or else in speaking matters that may offend them whom he would not offend (which is ignorance.) For some there be that think they are bound to speak and to nip without regard, as often as they can, how ever the matter go afterward. And among these kind of persons are they, The small respect some have in jesting. that to speak a word which should seem to come of a readiness of wit▪ pass not for staining of a worthy gentilwomans' honesty, which is a very naughty matter and worthy sore punishment. Because in this point women are in the number of silly souls and persons in misery, & therefore deserve not to be nipped in it, for they have not weapon to defend themselves. But beeside these respects he that willbe pleasant and full of jesting, must be shaped of a certain nature apt to all kind of pleasantness, and unto that frame his fashions, gestures and countenance, the which the more grave, steady & set it is, somuch the more maketh it the matters spoken to seem witty and subtle. But you (Sir Fridericke) that thought to rest yourself under this my tree without leaves & in my withered reasonings, I believe you have repent yourself, and you reckon ye are entered into the baiting place of Montefiore. A paltock 〈◊〉 ynn. Therefore it shall be well done for you like a well practised Courrier (to avoid an ill hos●erie) to arise somewhat before your ordinary hour and set forward on your journey. Nay, answered Sir Fridericke, I am come to so good an hosterie, that I mind to tarry in it longer than I had thought at the first. Therefore I will rest me yet a while. until you have made an end of all the talk ye have beegone withal. Whereof ye have left out one parcel that ye named at the beeginning: which is, Meerie Pranks, and it were not well done to deceive the company of it. But as you have taught us many pretty matters concerning jests, and made us hardy to use them through example of so many singular wits, great men, Princis, Kings and Popes, I suppose ye will likewise in Meerie Pranks so boulden us, that we may take a courage to practise some against you yourself. Then said M. Bernarde smiling: You shall not be the first, but perhaps it will not be your chance, for I have so many times been served with them, that it maketh me look well about me: As dogs, after they have been once scaulded with hot water, are afeard of the cold. How be it sins you will have me to speak somewhat of this to, What is a Meerye pranck●. I believe I may rid my hands of it in few words. And in mine opinion a Meerie Prank is nothing else, but a friendly deceit in matters that offend not at all or very little. And even as in jesting to speak contrary to expectation moveth laughter, so doth in Meerie Pranks to do contrary to 〈◊〉. And these do so much the more delight and are to be praised, as they be witty and modest. For he that 〈◊〉 work a Meerie Prank without respect, doth many 〈◊〉 offend and then arise debates and fore hatred. But the places that a man may dirive Merry Pranks from are (in a manner) the very same that be in jests. Therefore to avoid repetition of the●, I will say no more but that there be two kinds of Meerie Pranks, every one of which may afterward be divided into more parts. The one is, when any man whoever he be, is deceived wittily, and after a feat manner and with pleasantness. The other, when a man layeth (as it were) a net, and showeth a piece of a bait so, that a man runneth to be deceived of himself. The first is such, as the Meerie Prank was, that within these few days was wrought unto a couple of great Ladies (whom I will not name) by the mean of a Spaniarde called Castilio. Then the Duchess, and why (ꝙ she) will you not name them? M. Bernarde answered: Because I would not have them to take it in ill part. Then said the Duchess again, smiling: It is not against good manner sometime to use Meerie Pranks with great men also. And I have heard of many that have been played to Duke Fridericke, to king Alphonsus of Arragon, to Queen Isabel of Spain, and to many other great Princis, and not only they took it not in ill part, but rewarded very largely them that played them those parts. M. Bernarde answered: neither upon this hope do I intend to name them. Say as pleaseth you quoth the Duchess. Then proceeded M. Bernarde and said: Not many days since in the Court that I mean, there arrived a man of the Country about Bergamo, to be in service with a Gentleman of the Court: which was so well set out with garments and so finely clad; that for all his bringing up was always in keeping Oxen and could do nothing else, yet a man that had not heard him speak would have judged him a worthy Gentleman. And so when those two Ladies were informed that there was arrived a Spaniarde, servant to Cardinal Borgia whose name was Castilio, a very witty man, a musitien, a dancer and the best Courtier in all Spain, they longed very much to speak with him, and sent incontinently for him, and after they had received him honourably, they caused him to sit down, and began to entertain him with a very great respect in the presence of all men, and few there were present that knew him not to be a Bergamask Cowherd. Therefore seeing those Ladies entertain him with such respect, and honour him so much, they fell all in a laughing, the more because the seely fellow spoke still his native language the mere Bergamaske tongue. The worst speech in all Italy. But the Gentlemen that devised this Prank, had first told those Ladies that among other things he was a great dissembler and spoke all tongues excellently well, and especially the Country speech of lombardy so that they thought he feigned, and many times they beehelde the one the other with certain marueilinges, and said: What a wonderful matter is this, how he counterfeiteth this tongue? In conclusion this communication lasted so long that every man's sides ached for laughing, and he could not choose himself but uttre so many tokens of his nobleness of birth, that at length those Ladies (but with much ado) believed he was the man that he was in deed. Such Meerie Pranks we see daily, When a man is a feared o● nothing. but among the rest they be pleasant that at the first make a man aghast and after that, end in a matter of surety, because he that was deceived laugheth at himself when he perceiveth he was a feared of no●●ing. As liing upon a time in Paglia, Paglia is a 〈◊〉 ●illage in the utmost bounds of the territory o● Sienna. there chanced to be in the very same ynn three other good fellows, two of Pastoia and one of Prato, which after supper (as the manner is for the most part fell to gaming. And not long after, one of the Pistoiens losing his rest, had not a farthing left him to bless himself, but began to chafe, to curse, and to ban and to blaspheme terribly, and thus tearing of God he went to bed. The other two after they had played a while, agreed to work a Meerie Prank with him that was gone to bed. And when they perceived that he was fallen in sleep, they blew out the candles and raked up the fire and beegane to speak aloud, and to make the greatest hurly-burly in the world, making wise to contend together about their game. The one said: Thou tookest the card underneath. The other denying it said: Thou hast viede upon flush, let us mount: and such other matters with such noise that he that slept awoke, and hearing them at play and talking even as though they had seen the cards, did a little open his eyes: when he saw there was no manner light in the chamber, he said: What a devil mean you to cry thus all night? afterward he laid him down again to sleep. The other two companions gave him no manner answer, but still continued in their purpose until he awoke better & much wondered, and when he saw for certainty that there was neither fire nor any kind of light and perceived they played still and fell in contention, he said: And how can ye see the cards without light? The one of the two answered: I ween thou hast lost thy sight aswell as thy money. Seest thou not that we have here two candles? He that was in bed lift up himself upon his elbows and in a manner angered, said: Either I am drunken or blind, or else you make a lie. The two arrose and went to bed darkelong, laughing and making wise to believe that he went about to mock them. And he again said to them: I tell you troth I see you not. At length the two beegane to seem to wonder much, and the one said to the other: By good Lord, I believe he speaketh in good earnest, reach me the candle, and let us see lest perhaps he have some impediment in his sight. Then thought the poor wretch surely that he had been blind, and weeping dounright, said: O Sirs, I am blind: The greatest pilgromag● in Italy. and forthwith he beegane to call upon our Lady of Loreto and to beeseche her to pardon him his blasphemies and cursing for the loss of his money. But his two companions put him in good comfort and said: it is not possible but thou shouldest see us. It is some fancy that thou haste conceived in thine head. O good lord answered the other, it is no fancy, nor I see no more than if I had never had eyes in my head. Thy sight is clear enough, quoth the two. And the one said to the other: Mark how well he openeth his eyes? And how fair they be to look to? And who would believe but he could see? The poor soul wept faster, and cried God mercy. In conclusion they said unto him: See thou make a vow to go divoutlye to our lady of Loreto barefoot and barelegged, for that is the best remedy that may be had. And in the mean space we will go to Aquapendente and the other towns here about to seek for some physician, Aquapendente is a town of the Pope's xii. miles from Paglia and will help the in what we can. Then did the seely soul kneel upon his knees in the bed, and with abundance of tears and very bitter repentance for his blaspheming, made a solemn vow to go naked to our lady of Loreto and to offer unto her a pair of eyes of silver, and to eat no flesh upon the wenesdaye nor eggs upon the Fridaye, and to fast bread and water every Saturday in worship of our lady: If she give him the grace to receive his sight again. The two companions entering into an other chamber, lighted a candle, and came with the greatest laughter in the world before this poor soul, who for all he was rid of so great an anguish as you may think he had, yet was he so astonished with his former fear, that he could not only not laugh, but not once speak a word, and the two companions did nothing else but stir him, saying that he was bound to perform all those vows, for that he had received the grace he asked. Of the other kind of Meerie Pranks when a man deceiveth himself, I will give you none other example, When a man deceiveth himself. but what happened unto me myself not long sins. For this shrovetide that is past, my lords grace of Saint Peter ad vincula, which knoweth full well what a delight I have when I am in maskerie to play Meerie Pranks with friars, having first given order as he had devised the matter, came upon a day with my L. of Arragon & certain other Cardinals, to the windows in the banks, making wise to stand there to see maskers pass to and fro, as the manner of Room is. I being in maskerie passed buy, and when I beheld on the one side of the street a friar standing (as it were) in a study with himself, I judged I had found that I sought for, and forthwith ran to him, like a greedy hawk to her prey, and when I had asked him and he told me who he was, I made semblant to know him, and with many words beegane to make him believe that the marshal went about to seek him for certain complaints against him, and persuaded him to go with me to the chancery and there I would save him. The friar dismayed and all trembling seemed as though he witted not what to do, & said that he doubted taking in case he should go far from Saint Celso. Still I put him in good comfort, and said so much to him that he leapt up behind me, and then me thought my device was fully accomplished. And I beegane to ride my horse by and by up and down the merchant's street, which went kicking & winsing. Imagine with yourselves now what a fair sight it was to beehould a friar on horseback behind a masker, his garments fleeing abroad & his head shaking to and fro, that a man would have thought he had been always falling. With this fair sight, the gentlemen beegane to hurl eggs out at the windows, and afterward all the bankers and as many as were there, so that the hail never fell with a more violence from the sky, than there fell eggs out from the windows▪ which for the most part came all upon me. And I for that I was in masker's passed not upon the matter, and thought verily that all the laughing had been for the friar and not for me, and upon this went sundry times up and down the Banks always with that fury of hell behind me. And though the friar (in manner) weeping beesought me to let him go down and not to show such shame to the weed, yet did the knave afterward privily cause eggs to be given him by certain Lackayes set there for the nonce, & making wise to greepe me hard for falling, squeezed them in my bosom, and many times on my head, and otherwhile in my forehead, so that I was foul arrayed. Finally when every man was weary both of laughing and throwing eggs, he leapt down from beehind me, and plucking his hood backward showed me a great bush of hear, and said: M. Bernarde, I am a horse keaper in the stable at Saint Peter ad Vincula and am he that looketh to your mulett. Then wist I not which prevailed moste in me, grief, anger or shame. Yet for the less hurt I fled toward my lodging, and the next morning I durst not show my head abroad. But the laughing at that Meerie Prank did not endure the day following only, but also lasteth (in a manner) until this day. And so when they had a while renewed the laughing at rehearsing this again▪ M. Bernarde proceeded. To feign the doing of a matter. It is also a good and pleasant kind of Meerie Pranks, from whence in like manner jests are derived, when one believeth that a man will do a matter which he will not in deed. As when I was in an evening after supper upon the bridge of Leo, & going together with Cesar Boccadello sporting one with an other, we began to take houldfast the one of the others arms, as though we would have wrestled, because than we perceived no man about the bridge. & being in this manner together, there came two Frenchmen by, which seeing us thus striving, demanded what the matter ment, and stayed to part us, thinking we had been at debate in good earnest. Then said I incontinently: Help sirs, for this poor gentleman at certain times of the moon is frantic, and see now how he striveth to cast himself of the bridge into the river. Then did the two renn and laid hand upon Cesar with me and held him streict. And he (saying always that I was out of my wit) struggled the more to wind himself out of their hands, and they greeped him somuch the harder. At this the people assembled to beehoulde our ruffling together, and every man ran, and the more poor Cesar laid about him with his hands and feet (for he beegane now to enter into collar) the more resort of people there was, and for the great strength he put, they believed verily that he would have leapt into the river, and therefore held they him the streicter, so that a great throng of people carried him to the ynn above ground, all tourmoiled and without his cap, pale for wrath and shame that nothing he spoke could prevail, partly because those Frenchmen understood him not, and partly because I also carrying him to the ynn did always bewail the poor souls ill luck, that was so waxed out of his wit. Now (as we have said) of Meerie Pranks a man may talk at large, but it sufficeth to repeat that the places whence they are derived be the very same which we have said of jests. Giornat. viii. Novel. iii Novel. v. Novel. vi. Novel. ix. Giornat ix. Novel. iii Novel. v. Pontius a scholar of Pa●●a. As for examples, we have infinite which we see daily: and among the rest there are many pleasant in the tales of Boccaccio, as those that Bruno and Buffalmacco played to their Calandrino, and to M. Simon: and many other of women, which in very deed are witty and pretty. I remember also I have known in my days many that have been meerilie disposed in this manner, and among the rest a Scholar in Padua borne in Sicilia called Pontius, which seeing upon a time a man of the country have a couple of fat capons, feininge himself to buy them, was at a point with him for the price, and bed him ●ome with him to his lodging, for beeside his price he would give him somewhat to break his fast withal. And so brought him to a place where was a styple that stood by himself, alone severed from the Church, that a man might go round about him, and directly over against one of the four sides of the styple was a lane. Here Pontius, when he had first beethought himself what he had to do, said unto the man of the country: I have laid these Capons on a wager with a fellow of mine, who saith that this tour compasseth xl. foot▪ and I say no, and even as I met with thee I had bought this packthrid to measure it, therefore before we go to my lodging I will try which of us hath won the wager. And in so saying he drew the packthrid out of his sleeve, and put the one end of it into the man of the countries hand, and said: give here, and so took the Capons: and with the other end he beegane to go about the bell tour, as though he would have measured it, making first the man of the country to stand still, and to hold the packthrid directly on the contrary side of the tour to that, that was at the head of the lane, where assoon as he came, he drove a nail into the wall, to the which he tied the packthrid, and leaving it so, went his ways without any more a do down the lane with the Capons. The man of the Country stood still a good while, always looking when he would have done measuring. At length after he had said many times, what do you so long? he thought he would see, and found that Pontius held not the line, but a nail that was driven into the wall, which only remained for payment of his Capons. Of this sort Pontius played many Meerie Pranks. And there have been also many other pleasant men in this manner, as Gonella, Meliolo in those days, and now our friar Seraphin and friar Marian here and many well known to you all. And in very deed this kind is to be praised in men that make profession of nothing else. But the Meerie Pranks that the Courtier aught to use, must (by mine advise) be somewhat wide from immoderate jesting. He aught also to take heed that his Meerie Pranks turn not to pilfering, Pilferinge. as we see many naughtipackes▪ that wander about the world with divers shifts to get money, feigning now one matter, now an other. And that they be not to bitter, & above all that he have respect and reverence, Reverence to women. aswell in this, as in all other things, to women, and especially where the staining of their honesty shall consist. Then the L. Gaspar, truly, M. Bernarde (quoth he) you are to partial to these women. And why will you that men should have more respect to women than women to men? Set not you as much by your honesty, as they do by theirs? Think you then that women aught to nip men both with words and mocks in every matter without any regard, and men should stand with a flea in their ear, and thank them for it? M. Bernarde answered: I say not the contrary, but women in their jests and Meerie Pranks aught to have the respects to men which we have spoken of. Yet I say with more liberty ma●●hey touch men of small honesty, than men may them. And that because we ourselves have established for a law, that in us wanton lief is no vice, nor default, nor any slander, and in women it is so great a reproach and shame, that the that hath once an ill name, whether the report that goeth of her be true or false, hath lost her credit for ever. Therefore sins the talking of women's honesty is so dangerous a matter to offend them sore, I say that we aught to touch them in other matters and refrain from this. For when the jest or Meerie prank ●ippeth to sore, it goeth out of the bounds which we have already said is fit for a gentleman. Here M. Bernarde making a little stop, the L. Octavian Fregoso said smiling: My L. Gaspar can make you an answer to this law which you allege that we ourselves have made, Women. that it is not perchance so out of reason, as you think. For sins women are most unperfect creatures and of little or no worthiness in respect of men, it beehoved for that they were not apt to work any virtuous deed of themselves, that they should have a bridle put upon them with shame and fear of infamy, that should (in manner) by force bring into them some good condition. And continency was thought more necessary in them, than any other, 〈◊〉 to have assurance of children. So that very force hath driven men withal inventions, policies, and ways possible to make women continent, and (in manner) granted them in all things beeside to be of small worthiness, and to do the clean contrary always to that they aught to do. Therefore sins it is lawful for them to serve out of the way in all other things without blame, if we should touch them in those defaults, wherein (as we have said) they are to be borne withal, and therefore are not unseemly in them, and pass full little upon it, we should never move laughter. For you have already said, that Laughter is provoked with certain things that are disagreeing. Then spoke the Duchess: Speak you (my L. Octavian) of women thus, and then complain that they love you not. The L. Octavian answered: I complain not of it, but rather I thank them for it, sins in not loving of me, they bind not me to love them. Neither to I speak after mine own opinion, but I say that the L. Gaspar might allege these reasons. M. Bernarde said: truly women should make a good bargain, if they could make attonementes with such two great enemies as you and the L. Gaspar be. I am not their enemy answered the L. Gaspar, but you are an enemy to men. For in case you will not have women touched in this honesty of theirs, you aught aswell to appoint them a law not to touch men, in that which is asmuch shame to us, as incontinency to women. And why was it not as meet for Alonso Carillo to make the answer which he gave maistres Boadilla of the hope that he had to save his lief, in that she would take him to husband as it was for her to say first: All that knew him thought the king would have hanged him▪ Boccaccio. Giornat. iii Novel. vi. Giornat. seven. Novel. seven. And why was it not as lawful for Richard Minutoli to beguile Philippelloes wief, & to trane her to that bain, as it was for Beatrice to make Egano her husband arise out of his bed, and Anichin to beeswadell him with a cudgel, after she had lain a good space with him? And the other that tied the packthrid to her great toe, and made her own husband believe that he was not himself, Giorna. seven. Novel. viii. sins you say those Meerie Pranks of women in Boccaccio are so witty & pretty. Then said M. Bernarde smiling: My lords, forsomuch as my part hath been to entreat only of jests, I intend not to pass my bounds therein, & I suppose I have already showed why I judge it not meet to touch women neither in word nor deed about their honesty, and I have also given them a rule not to nip men where it grieveth them. But I say that those Meerie pranks and jests which you (my L. Gaspar) allege, as that Alonso said unto M. Boadilla, although it somewhat touch honesty: yet doth it not discontent me, because it is set far enough of, and is so privy, that it may be simply understood, so, that he might have dissembled the matter, and affirmed that he spoke it not to that end. He spoke an other (in mine opinion) very unseemly, which was: When the Queen passed by M. Boadillas' house, Alonso saw peincted with coals all the gate over, such kind of dishonest beasts, as are peincted all out ynnes in such sundry wise, and coming to the Countess of Castagneto said unto her: See (madam) the heads of the wield beasts that M. Boadilla killeth every day in hunting. Mark you this, though it were a witty metaphor, and borrowed of Hunters▪ that count it a glory to have many wield beasts heads nailed at their gates, yet is it dishonest and shameful jesting. Beeside that, it was not in answering, for an answer hath much more courtesy in it, because it is thought that a man is provoked to it, and it must needs be at a sudden. But to return to our matter of the Meerie Pranks of women, I say not that they do well to beeguile their husbands: but I say that some of the deceits which Boccaccio reciteth of women, are pretty and witty enough, and especially those you have spoken of yourself. But in mine opinion the prank that Richard Minutoli wrought, doth pass the bounds, and is much more bitterer then the Beatrice wrought. For Richard Minutoli took much more from Philippellos wife, then did Beatrice from Egano her husband: because Richard with that privy policy enforced her, and made her to do of herself that she would not have done: And Beatrice deceived her husband to do of herself that she lusted. Then said the L. Gaspar: for no other cause can a man excuse Beatrice but for love, which aught to be allowed aswell in men as in women. Then answered M. Bernarde: truly the passions of love bring with them a great excuse of every fault, yet judge I (for my part) that a Gentleman that is in love, aught aswell in this point as in all other things, to be void of dissimulation, and of an upright meaning. Love without dissimulation. And if it be true that it is such an abominable profit & trespass to use tradiment against a man's very enemy: consider you how much more heinous that offence is against a person whom a man loveth. Tradiment against one beloved. And I believe each honest lover sustaineth such pains, such watchings, hasardeth himself in such dangers, droppeth so many tears, useth so many means and ways to please the woman whom he loveth, not cheeflye to come buy her body, The true end of lovers desires. but to win the fortress of that mind, to break in pieces those most hard Diamonds, to heat that cold ice, that lie many times in the tender breasts of these women. And this do I believe is the true and sound pleasure, and the end whereto the intent of a noble courage is bend. And for my part truly (were I in love) I would like it better to know assuridlye that she whom I loved and served loved me again with heart, and had bend her mind toward me, without receiving any other contentation, then to enjoy her and to have my fill of her against her own will, for in that case I should think myself master of a dead carcase. Therefore such as compass their desires by the mean of these Meerie Pranks, which may perhaps rather be termed Tradimentes then Meerie Pranks, do injury to other, Unhonest lovers. and yet receive they not for all that the contentation which a man should wish for in love, possessing the body without the william. The like I say of certain other that in love practise enchantments. sorceries, and otherwhile plain force, sometime means to cast them in sleep and such like matters. Gifts in 〈◊〉 And know for a sooth, that gifts also diminish much the pleasures of love, because a man may stand in doubt whether he be beloved or not, but that the woman maketh a countenance to love him, to far the better by him: therefore ye see that the love of Ladies and great women is esteemed, because it appeareth that it can arise of none other cause, but of perfect and true love, neither is it to be thought that a great Lady will at any time show to bear good will to her inferior, unless she love him in very deed. The answered the L Gaspar: I deny not that the intent, the pains and dangers of lovers aught not principally to have their end directed to the victory rather of the mind then of the body of the woman beloved. But I say that these deceits which you in men term Tradimentes, and in women Meerie pranks, are a very good mean to come to this end, because always he that possesseth the body of women, is also master of the mind. And if you beethinke you well, Philippellos wife after her great lamentatyon for the deceit wrought her by Richard, knowing how much more savoury the kisses of a lover were then her husbands, turning her rigour into tender affection toward Richard, from that day forward loved him most deerlye. You may perceive now that his continual hauntinge, his presents, and his so many other tokens, which had been so long a proof of his good will toward her, were not able to compass that, that his beeyinge with her a small while did. Now see this Meerie Prank or Tradiment (how ever you will term it) was a good way to wynn the fortress of that mind. Then M. Bernarde, you (quoth he) make a surmise, which is most false, for in case women should always give their mind to him that possesseth their body, there should be none found that would not love their husbands more than any person in the world beesyde, where it is seen not to be so. But john Boccaccio was (as you be) with out 'cause an enemy to women. The L. Gaspar answered: I am no enemy of theirs, but (to confess the troth) few men of worthiness there be that generally set any store by women, although otherwhile, to serve their turn withal, they make wise to the contrary. Then answered M. Bernarde: You do not only injury to women, but to all men also that reverence them: Notwithstanding (as I have said) I will not serve from my first purpose of Meerie Pranks, and undertake such an enterprise so hard, as is the defence of women against you, that are a valiant champion. Therefore I will end this my communication, which perhaps hath been longer than needed, but out of peraventure not so pleasant as you looked for. And sins I see the Ladies so quiet and bear these injuries at your hands so patiently as they do, I will hensefurth believe that some part of that which the L. Octavian hath spoken is true: Namely That they pass not to be ill reported of in every other matter, so their honesty be not touched. Then a great part of the women there, for that the Duchess had beckoned to them so to do: arrose upon their feet, Orpheus was torn in pieces with women. & ran all laughing toward the L. Gaspar, as they would have buffeted him & done as the wood women did to Orpheus saying continually: Now shall we see whether we pass to be ill spoken of or no. Thus partly for laughing, and partly for the rising of every one from his seat, it seemed the sleep that now beegane to enter into the eyes and head of some of them departed, but the L. Gaspar said: See I pray you where they have not reason on their side, they will prevail by plain force, & so end the communication, giving us leave to departed with stripes. Then answered that L. Emilia: Not (ꝙ she) it shall not be so: for when you perceived M. Bernarde was weary of his long talk, you began to speak so much ill of women, thinking you should find none to gainsay you. But we will set into the field a fresher knight that shall fight with you, because your offence shall not be so long unpunished. So turning her to the L. julian that hitherto had said little, she said unto him: You are counted the protector of the honour of women, therefore it is now high time to show that you come not by this name for nothing, and in case ye have not been worthily recompensed at any time for this profession hitherto, now must you think that in putting to flight so bitter an enemy, you shall bind all women to you much more, and so much, that where they shall do nothing else but reward you, yet shall the bondage still remain fresh, and never cease to be recompensed. Then answered the L. julian: Me think (madam) you show great honour to your enemy, and very little to your defender: for undoubtedly the L. Gaspar hath said nothing against women, but it hath been fully answered by M. Bernarde. And I believe every one of us knoweth, that it is meet the Courtier bear very great reverence to ward women, and a discreet and courtiouse person aught never to touch their honesty neither in board, nor in good earnest. Therefore to dispute of this so open a truth, were (in manner) to put a doubt in manifest matters. I think well that the L. Octavian passed his bounds somewhat in saying that Women are most unperfect creatures and not apt to work any virtuous deed, and of little or no worthiness in respect of men. And because many time's credit is given to men of great authority, although they speak not the full truth, and also when they speak in board, the L. Gaspar hath suffered himself to be lead by the L. Octavians words to say that Men of wisdom set no store by them, which is most false. For I have known few men of worthiness at any time that do not love and observe women, Men of worthiness observe women. the virtue and consequently the worthiness of whom I deem not a jot inferior to men's. Yet if we should come to this contention, the cause of women were like to quail greatly, because these Lords have shaped a Courtier that is so excellent and of so many divine qualities, that whoso hath the understanding to consider him to be such a one as he is, will imagine that the deserts of women can not attain to that point. But in case that matter should be equally divided, we have first need of so witty & eloquent a person as is Count Lewis & Sir Fridericke, to shape a gentlewoman of the Palace with all perfections due to a woman, as they have shaped the Courtier with the perfections beelonging to a man. And then if he that defended their cause were any thing witty and eloquent, I believe (because the truth will be a help to him) he may plainly show that women are as full of virtues as men be. The Lady Emilia answered: Nay, a great deal more, and that it is so you may see▪ virtue is the female, and vice is the male. The L. Gaspar then laughed, and turning him to M. Nicholas Phrisio, what is your judgement Phrisio (quoth he) Phrisio answered: I am sorry for the L. julian that he is so seduced with the promises and flattering words of the L. Emilia to renn into an error to speak the thing which for his sake I am ashamed of. The L. Emilia answered smiling: you will sure be ashamed for your own sake, when you shall see y● L. Gaspar after he is convicted, confess his own error and yours to, and demand that pardon which we will not grant him. Then spoke the Duchess: Because it is very late, I will we defar the whole until to morrow, the more for that I think it well done we follow the L. julians counsel, that before we come to this disputation we may have a gentlewoman of the Palace so fashioned in all perfections, as these Lords have fashioned the perfect Courtier. Madam quoth the L. Emilia then, I pray God it fall not to our lot to give this enterprise to any confederate with the L. Gaspar, lest he fashion us for a gentlewoman of the Court, one that can do naught else but look to the kitchen and spinn. Then said Phrisio: In deed that is an office fit for herr. Then the Duchess, I have a good hope in the L. julian (quoth she) who will (for the good wit and judgement I know he is of) imagine the greatest perfection that may be wished in a woman, and in like manner express it well in words, and so shall we have somewhat to confound the L. Gaspar's false accusations withal. Madam, answered the L. julian, I wot not whether your device be good or no to commit into my hands an enterprise of so great weight, for (to tell you the troth) I think not myself able enough. Neither am I like the Count and Sir Fridericke, which with their eloquence have shaped such a Courtier as never was, nor I believe ever shallbe. Yet if your pleasure be so that I shall take this burden upon me, let it be at the lest with those conditions that the other have had before me: namely, that every man, where he shall think good, may reply against me, and this shall I reckon not overthuartinge but aid, and perhaps in correcting mine errors we shall find the perfection of a gentlewoman of the Palace which we seek for. I trust, answered the Duchess, your talk shall be such, that little may be said against you. Therefore settle your mind to think upon only this and fashion us such a gentlewoman that these our adversaries may be ashamed to say, that she is not equal with the Courtier in virtue: of whom it shall be well done Sir Friderick speak no more, for he hath but so well set him forth, especially sins we must compare a woman to him. I have (madam) answered Sir Friderick, little or nothing now left to speak of the Courtier, and the I did think upon, M. Bernardes' jests have made me forget. If it be so quoth the Duchess, assembling together to morrow beetimes, we shall have leiser to accomplish both the one & the other. And when she had so said, they arrose all upon their feet, and taking their leave reverently of the Duchess every man withdrew him to his lodging. ¶ THE third BOOK OF the Courtier of Count Baldessar Castilio unto. M. Alphonsus Ariosto. englished at the request of the Lady marquess of Northampton, in anno 1551. IT is read that Pythagoras very wittily and after a suttill manner found out the measure of Hercules body, in that he knew that the space where every five years they kept the games or prices of Olympus in Achaia nigh unto Elis before jupiter Olympicus Temple, Pisis ad iovem Olimpicum. was measured by Hercules himself: and appointed a furlong of ground there of six hundredth and five and twenty of his own feet: and the other furlongs which after his time were cast out in diverse parts of Greece by his successors, Plin. lib. two. cap. xxiii. de nature. histor. were also of six hundredth and five and twenty of their feet, but for all that somewhat shorter than his. Pythagoras knew forthwith by that proportion how much Hercules' foot was bigger than all the other men's feet, and so the measure of his foot once known, he gathered the all Hercules body proporcionally in greatness exceeded all other men's, so much, as that furlong, all other furlongs. You may then (gentle M. Alphonsus) by the very same reason easily gather by this lest part of all the rest of the body, how far the Court of Urbin excelled all the other in Italy. The Court of Urbin. For if the sports & pastimes (that are used to none other end but to refresh the wearisome minds after earnest labours) far passed all such as are commonly used in the other Courts of Italy: What (guess you) were all the virtuous practices, whereunto all men had their minds bend, & were fully & wholly addicted. And of this I may be bold to make my vaunt, nothing mistrusting but to be credited there in, considering I go not about to praise so ancient antiquities wherein I might, if I were disposed, feign what I lusted: but of this I speak, I am able to bring forth many men of worthy credence, for sufficient trial, which as yet are in lief and have themselves seen and marked well the living & conversation of such as in times past excelled in that Court. And I reckon myself bound (for that lieth in me to do) to stretch forth my force with all diligence to defend this famous memory from mortal oblivion, and with my pen to make it live in the minds of our posterity, whereby perhaps in time to come there shall not want that will envy this our time. For there is no man that readeth of the wonderful families of times past, but in his mind he conceiveth a certain greater opinion of them that are written upon, than it appeareth those books can express though they have been written with perfection: Even so do we consider that all the readers of this our travail (if at the lest wise it shall deserve so much favour, that it may come to the sight of noble men & virtuous Ladies) will cast in their mind & think for a surety, that the Court of Urbin hath been much more excellent and better furnished with notable men, than we are able to express in writing. And in case so much eloquence were in me, as there was prowess in them, I should need none other testimony to make such give full credence to my words, as have not seen it. When therefore the company was assembled in the accustomed place the day following at the due hour, and set with silence, every man turned his eyes to Sir Fridericke and to the L. julian, waiting when the one of them would beegine to speak his mind. Wherefore the Duchess, after she had been still a while, 〈◊〉 L. julian (quoth she) every man's desire is to see this your gentlewoman well set forth, and if you show us her not in such manner, that all her beauties may be discerned, we will suspect that you are ieolous over her▪ The L. julian answered: Madam, if I reckoned her beautiful, I would show you her without any other settingfurth, and in such wise as Paris did beehoulde the three Goddesses. juno. Minerva. Venus. But in case these Ladies be not a help to me to trim her (who can do it right well) I doubt me, that not only the L. Gaspar and Phrisio, but all the other Lords here shall have a just cause to speak ill of her. Therefore sins she is yet in some part deemed beautiful, perhaps it shall be better to keep her close and see what Sir Friderick hath yet beehind to speak of the Courtier, which (no doubt) is much more beautiful than my woman can be. That I had in mind, answered Sir Fridericke is not so necessary for the Courtier, but it may be left out, and no hurt done: yea, it is a contrary matter almost to that hitherto hath been reasoned of. And what matter is it then, quoth the Duchess? Sir Fridericke answered, I was purposed, in what I could, to declare the causes of these companies and ordres of knights brought up by great Princis under diverse standards, Order of S. Michael. Of the Garter. Of the Golden Flisé. as is that of Saint Michael in the house of France, the order of the Garter under the title of Saint George in the house of England, the Golden Flice in the house of Burgony, & how these dignities be given, and in what sort they that deserve are disgraded from them, how they first came up, who were the founders of them, and to what end they were ordained, because we see that these knights in great Courts are always highly esteemed. I minded also, if time had sufficed me, beside the diversity of manners used in the Courts of christian Princes in feasting & appeeringe in open shows, Great Turké The Sophy. to speak somewhat also of the great Turks: but much more particularly of the Sophy's king of Persia: for when I understood by merchant men a long time trafficked in that country, the noble men there to be very full of prowess and well mannered and use in their conversation one with an other, and in women's service, and in all their practisinges much courtesy and great sobriety, and when time serveth, in martial feats, in sportings, and undertaking enterprises much sumptuousness, great liberality & bravery, I delighted to know what order they take in these things which they set most store by, wherein their Pomps consist and braveries of garments & armour, wherein they differ from us, and wherein we agreed, what kind of entertainment their women use, and with what sober mode they show favour to, who so is in their love service: but to say the truth, it is no fit time now to enter into this talk, especially sins there is other to be said, and much more to our purpose then this. Yes, ꝙ the L. Gaspar, both this and many other things be more to the purpose, then to fashion this gentlewoman of the Palace, forsomuch as the very same rules that are given for the Courtier, serve also for the woman, for aswell aught she to have respect to times & places and to observe (asmuch as her weakness is able to bear) all the other properties that have been somuch reasoned upon, as the Courtier. And therefore in stead of this, it were not perhaps amiss to teach some particular points that belong to the service about a Princis person, for no doubt the Courtier aught to know them and to have a grace in doing them. Or else to speak of the way that he aught to take in the bodily exercises, how to ride, to handle weapon, & wrestle, and wherein consisteth the hardness of these feats. Then spoke the Duchess, smiling: Princis are not served about their persons with so excellent a Courtier as this is. As for the exercises of body & strength and slightness of person, we will leave them for M. Peter Mount here to take charge to teach them when he shall think most meet, for presently the L. julian hath nothing else to speak of, but of this woman, whom (me think) you now beegine to have a fear of, & therefore would bring us out of our purpose. Phrisio answered: certain it is, that now it is needless and out of purpose to talk of women, especially being yet behind somewhat to be spoken of the Courtier, for the one matter aught not to be mingled with the other. You are in a great error, answered the L. Cesar Gonzaga, for like as no Court, how great ever it be, can have any sightliness, or brightness in it, or mirth without women, nor any Courtier can be gracious, pleasant or hardy, nor at any time undertake any gallant enterprise of chivalry unless he be stirred with the conversation and with the love & contentation of women, even so in like case the Courtiers talk is most unperfect ever more, if the intercourse of women give them not a part of the grace wherewithal they make perfect and deck out their playing the Courtier. The L. Octavian laughed and said: Beehoulde a piece of the bait that bringeth men out of their wits. Then the L. julian turning him to the Duchess, Madam (quoth he) sins it is so your pleasure, I will speak that cometh to mind, but with very great doubt to satisfy. And i wiss a great deal less pain it were for me to fashion a lady that should deserve to be Queen of the world, than a perfect gentlewoman of the Court, for of herr I wot not where to fett any pattern, but for a Queen I should not need to seek far, and sufficient it were for me only to imagine the heavenly conditions of a lady whom I know, and through seeing them, direct all my thoughts to express plainly with words the thing that many see with their eyes, and where I could do no more, yet should I fulfil my duty in naming her. Then said the Duchess: Pass not your bounds (my L. julian) but mind the order taken, and fashion the gentlewoman of the Palace, that this so worthy a mistress may have him that shall worthily serve her. The L. julian proceeded: for a proof therefore (Madam) that your commandment may drive me to assay to do, yea the thing I have no skill in, I shall speak of this excellent woman, as I would have her. And when I have fashioned her after my mind, and can afterward get none other, ovid. lib. xiii melam: I will take her as mine own, after the example of Pygmalion. And where as the L. Gaspar hath said, that the very same rules that are given for the Courtier▪ serve also for the woman, I am of a contrary opinion. For albeit some qualities are common and necessary aswell for the woman as the man, yet are there some other more meeter for the woman then for the man, and some again meet for the man, that she aught in no wise to meddle withal. Wherein th● woman should differ from the 〈◊〉 The very same I say of the exercises of the body. But principally in her fashions, manners, words, gestures and conversation (me think) the woman aught to be much unlike the man. For right as it is seemly for him to show a certain manliness full and steady, so doth it well in a woman to have a tenderness, soft and mild, with a kind of womanly sweetness in every gesture of herres, that in going, standing and speaking what ever she lusteth, may always make her appear a woman without any likeness of man. Adding therefore this principle to the rules that these Lords have taught the Courtier, I think well, she may serve her turn with many of them, and be endowed with very good qualities, as the L. Gaspar saith. In what they agr●●. For many virtues of the mind I reckon be as necessary for a woman, as for a man▪ Likewise nobleness of birth, avoiding Affectation or curiosity, to have a good grace of nature in all her doings, to be of good conditions, wyttye, foreseeing, not haughty, not envious, not ill tunged, not light, not contentious, not untowardlye, to have the knowledge to wynn and keep the good will of her Lady and of all others, to do well and with a good grace that exercises comely for women. Beauty. Me think well beauty is more necessary in her then in the Courtier, for (to say the truth) there is a great lack in the woman that wanteth beauty. She aught also to be more circumspect and to take better heed that she give no occasion to be ill reported of, and so to behave herself, that she be not only not spotted with any fault, but not so much as with suspicion. Because a woman hath not so many ways to defend herself from slanderous reports, as hath a man. But for somuch as Count Lewis hath very particularly expressed the principal profession of the Courtier, and willeth it to be in Marsiall feats, me think also beehouffull to utter (according to my judgement) what the Gentilwoman● of the Palace aught to be: in which point when I have throughly satisfied, virtues of the mind. I shall think myself rid of the greatest part of my duty. Leaving therefore a part the virtues of the mind that aught to be common to her with the Courtier, Commune properties. as wisdom, nobleness of courage, staidenesse, and many more, and likewise the conditions that are meet for all women, as to be good and discreet, to have the understanding to order her husbands goods and her house and children when she is married, and all those parts that beelonge to a good huswief: I say that for her that liveth in Court, me think there belongeth unto her above all other things, Sweetness in language. a certain sweetness in language that may delight, whereby she may gently entertain all kind of men with talk worth the hearing and honest, and applied to the time and place, and to the degree of the person she communeth withal: Accompaniing with sober and quiet manners and with the honesty that must always be a stay to all her deeds, Liveliness of wit. a ready liveliness of wit, whereby she may declare herself far wide from all dullness: but with such a kind of goodness, that she may be esteemed no less chaste, A mean. wise and courteise, then pleasant, feat conceited & sober: & therefore must she keep a certain mean very hard, & (in a manner) dirived of contrary matters, and come just to certain limits, but not pass them. This woman aught not therefore (to make herself good and honest) be so skemish and make wise to abhor both the company and the talk (though somewhat of the wantonness) if she be present, Wanton talk. to get her thence by and by, for a man may lightly guess that she feigned to be so coy to hide that in herself, which she doubted others might come to the knowledge of: & such nice fashions are always hateful. Neither aught she again (to show herself free and pleasant) speak words of dishonesty, To much familiarity. nor use a certain familiarity without measure & bridle, and fashions to make men believe that of her, that perhaps is not▪ but being present at such kind of talk, she aught to give the hearing with a little blushing & shamefastness. Likewise to eschew one vice that I have seen reign in many: namely, To speak and give ear to ill reports of other women. to speak & willingly to give ear to such as report ill of other women: for such as in hearing the dishonest behaviours of other women disclosed, are offended at the matter, and make wise not to credit and (in manner) to think it a wonder that a woman should lead an unclean lief, they make proof the sins this fault seemeth unto them so foul a matter, they commit it not. But those that go always harking out the loves of others & disclose them so point by point, and with such joy, it seemeth that they envy the matter, & that their desire is to have all men know it, that the like may not be imputed to them for a trespass, and so they turn it to certain laughters with a kind of gesture, whereby they make men to suspect at the very same instant that they take great contentation at it. And of this arriseth, that men although to their seeming they give diligent ear to it, for the most part conceive an ill opinion of them and have them in very small reputation, and (to their weening) with these behaviours are enticed to attempt them farther. And many times afterward they renn so far at rovers, that it purchaseth them worthily an ill name, and in conclusion are so little regarded, that men pass not for their company, but rather abhor them. And contrariwise, Honest women esteemed with all men. there is no man so shameless and high minded, but beareth a great reverence toward them that be counted good & honest, because that gravity tempered with knowledge and goodness, is (as it were) a shield against the wanton pride and beastliness of saucy merchants. Wherefore it is seen that one word, a laughter or a gesture of good will (how little soever it be) of an honest woman, is more set by of every man, than all the toys & wanton gestures of them that so lavishly show small shamefastness. And where they lead not in deed an unclean lief, yet with those wanton countenances, ●abblinge, scornfulness, and such scoffing conditions they make men to think they do. And forsomuch as words that are not grounded upon some pithy foundation, are vain and childish, the gentlewoman of the Palace, beeside her discretion to understand the condition of him she talketh withal, to entertain him honestly, must needs have a sight in many things, and a judgement in her communication to pike out such as be to purpose for the condition of him ●he talketh withal, behaviour ●n ●alke. and be heedful that she speak not otherwhile where she would not, words that may offend him. Let her beware of praising herself undiscreatly, or being to tedious that she make him not weary. Let her n●t go mingle with pleasant and laughing talk, matters of gravity: nor yet with grave, jests and feat conceits. Let her not foolishly take upon her to know that she knoweth not, Curiosity. but soberly seek to be esteemed for that she knoweth, avoiding (as is said) Curiosity in all things. In this manner shall she be endowed with good conditions, & the exercises of the body comely for a woman shall she do with an exceeding good grace, & her talk shall be plenteous and full of wisdom, honesty, and pleasantness: and so shall she be not only beloved but reverenced of all men, and perhaps worthy to be compared to this great Courtier, aswell for the qualities of the mind as of the body. Wha● the L. julian had hitherto spoken, ●e ●e●de his peace, and settled himself as though he had made an end of his talk. Then said the L. Gaspar: Not doubt (my L. julian) but you have decked gaily out this gentlewoman, and made her of an excellent condition: Yet me seemeth that you have gone generally enough to work, and named in her certain things so great, that I think in my mind you are ashamed to expound them, and have rather wished them in her, after the manner of them that sometime wish for things unpossible and above nature, than taught them. Therefore would I that you declared unto us a little better, what exercises of the body are meet for a gentlewoman of the Palace, and in what sort she ●ught to entertain, and what those many things ●e which you say she aught to have a sight in: & whether wisdom, nobleness of courage, staidness and those many other virtues that you have spoken of, your meaning is should help her about the overseeinge only of her house, children and household (the which nevertheless you will not have her principal profession) or else to entertain, and to do these exercises of the body with a good grace: and in good fellowship take heed ye put not these seely virtues to so vile an occupation that they may be ashamed of it. The L julian laughed and said: you can not choose (my L. Gaspar) but still you must utter your ill stomach against women. But certes me thought I had spoken sufficient, and especially before such audience, that I believe none here, but understandeth concerning the exercises of the body, that it is not comely for a woman to practise feats of arms, riding, playing at tennis, wrestling, and many other things that beelonge to men. Then said unico Aretino: among them of old time the manner was that women wrestled naked with men, but we have lost this good custom together with many more. The L. Cesar Gonzaga replied to this. And in my time I have seen women play at tennis, practise feats of arms, ride, hunt, and do (in a manner) all the exercises beeside, that a gentleman can do. The L. julian answered: Sins I may fashion this woman after my mind, I will not only have her not to practise these manly exercises so sturdy and ●oisterous, but also even those that are meet for a woman, I will have her to do them with heedfulness and with the soft mildness that we have said is comely for her. Dancing. Sing●●ge. Speculation of music. And therefore in dancing I would not see her use to swift & violent tricks, nor yet in singing or playing upon instruments those hard and often divisions that declare more counninge than sweetness. Instruments of 〈◊〉 Likewise the instruments of music which she useth (in mine opinion) aught to be fit for this purpose. Imagine with yourself what an unsightly matter it were to see a woman play upon a tabor or drum, or blow in a flute or trumpet, or any like instrument: and this because the boisterousness of them doth both cover and take away that sweet mildness which setteth so forth every deed that a woman doth. Therefore when she cometh to dance, or to show any kind of music, she aught to be brought to it which suffering herself somewhat to be prayed, How she should come to show her feats. and with a certain bashfulness, that may declare the noble shamefastness that is contrary to headiness. She aught also to frame her garments to this intent, and so to apparel herself that she appear not fond and light. But forsomuch as it is lifull & necessary for women to set more by their beauty then men, and sundry kinds of beauty there are, this woman aught to have a judgement to know what manner garments set her best out, Garments. and be most fit for the exercises that she intendeth to undertake at that instant▪ & with them to array herself. And where she perceiveth in her a sightly and cheerful beauty, she aught to farther it with gestures, Beauty. words and apparel, that all may betoken mirth. In like case an other that feeleth herself of a mild and grave disposition, she aught also to accompany it with fashions of the like sort, to increase that that is the gift of nature. In like manner where she is somewhat fat●er or leaner than reasonable size, or wanner, or browner, to help it with garments, but feiningly as much as she can possible, and keeping herself clenlye and handsome, show always that she bestoweth no pain nor diligence at all about it. And because the L. Gaspar doth also ask what these many things be she aught to have a sight in, and how to entertain, and whether the virtues aught to be applied to this entertainment, I say that I will have her to understand that these Lords have willed the Courtier to know: A judgement in exercises not mee●e for her. and in those exercises that we have said are not comely for her, I will at the lest she have that judgement, that men can have of the things which they practise not, and this to have knowledge to praise and make of Gentlemen more and less according to their deserts. And to make a brief rehearsal in few words of that is already said, Qualities for a gentlewoman. I will that this woman have a sight in letters, in music, in drawing or peinctinge, and skilful in dancing, and in devising sports and pastimes, accompanying with that discreet sobermode and with the giving a good opinion of herself, the other principles also that have been taught the Courtier. And thus in conversation, in laughing, in sporting, in jesting, finally in every thing she shall be had in very great price, and shall entertain accordingly both with jests & feat conceits meet for her, every person that cometh in her company. And albeit staidness, nobleness of courage, temperance, strength of the mind, virtues. wisdom and the other virtues a man would think beelonged not to entertain, yet will I have her endowed with them all, not somuch to entertain (although notwithstanding they may serve thereto also) as to be virtuous: and these virtues to make her such a one, that she may deserve to be esteemed, and all her doings framed by them. I wonder then, ꝙ the L▪ Gaspar smiling, sins you give women both letters, and staidness, & nobleness of courage & temperance, ye will not have them also to bear rule in Cities & to make laws, & to lead armies, & men to stand spinning in the kitchen. The L. julian answered in like manner smiling: Perhaps to, this were not amiss, them he proceeded. Do you not know that Plato (which in deed was not very friendly to women) giveth them the overseeing of Cities, & all other martial offices he appointeth to men? Think you not there were many to be found that could aswell skill in ruling Cities & armies, as men can? But I have not appointed them these offices, because I fashion a waiting gentlewoman of the Court, not a queen. I see well you would covertly have up again the slanderous report that the L. Octavian gave women yesterday: namely That they be most unperfect creatures, and not apt to work anya virtuous deed, and of very little woorthiness and of no value in respite of men: But surely both he & you should be in very great error if ye thought so. Then said the L. Gaspar: I will not have up again matters already past, but you would feign press me to speak some word that might offend these Lady's minds, to make them my foes, as you with flat●ringe them falsely will purchase their good william. But they are so wise above other, that they love truth better (although it make not so much with them) then false praises: Neither take they it in ill part for a man to say, that Men are of a more woorthiness, and they will not let to confess that you have spoken great wonders, and appointed to the gentlewoman of the Palace certain fond unpossible matters, and so many virtues that Socrates and Cato and all the Philosophers in the world are nothing to her. For to tell you the plain troth, I marvel you were not ashamed somuch to pass your bounds, where it aught to have sufficed ye to make this gentlewoman of the Palace beautiful, sober, honest, welspoken, and to have the understanding to entertain without running in slander, with dancing, music, sports, laughing, jests, & the other matters that we see daily used in Court: But to go about to give her the knowledge of all things in the world, and to appoint her the virtues that so seldom times are seen in men, yea and in them of old time, it is a matter that can neither be held withal nor scantly heard. Now that women are unperfect creatures and consequently of less woorthiness than men, and not apt to conceive those virtues that they are, I purpose not to affirm it, because the prowess of these Ladies were enough to make me a liar. Yet this I say unto you, that most wise men have left in writing, A woman the default of nature. that nature, because she is always set and bend to make things most perfect, if she could, would continually bring forth men, and when a woman is borne, it is a slackness or default of nature, and contrary to that she would do. As it is also seen in one borne blind, lame, or with some other impediment, and in trees many fruits that never ripen: Even so may a woman be said to be a creature brought forth at a chance and by hap, and that it is so, mark me the works of the man and the woman, and by them make your proof of the perfection of each of them. Howbeit sins these defaults of women are the wit of nature that hath so brought them forth, we aught not for this to hate them, nor faint in having less respect to them then is meet, but to esteem them above that they are, me thinketh a plain error. The L. julian looked the L. Gaspar would have proceeded on still, but when he saw now that he held his peace, he said: Of the unperfectness of women me think you have alleged a very cold reason, whereunto (albeit may hap it were not now meet to enter into these subtle points) I answer according to the opinion of him that is of skill, and according to the truth, that Substance in what ever thing it be, can not ●eceiue into it more or less: Substanti● non recipes maius aut minus. for as no stone can be more perfectly a stone, than an other: as touching the being of a stone: nor one block more perfectly a block, than an other: no more can one man be more perfectly a man then an other, & consequently the male kind shall not be more perfect, than the female, as touching his Formal substance: for both the one and the other is contained under the Species of Homo, Homo both man and woman. and that wherein they differ is an Accidental matter and no essential. In case you will then tell me that the man is more perfect then the woman, though not as touching the essential, yet in the Accidents, I answer that these accidents must consist either in the body or in the mind: if in the body, because the man is more sturdier, nimbler, lighter, and more abler to endure travail, I say that this is an argument of small perfection: for among men themselves such as abound in these qualities above other, are not for them the more esteemed: and in war, where the greatest part of painful labours are and of strength, the stoutest are not for all that the most set buy. If in the mind, I say, what ever things men can v●derstande, the self same can women understand also▪ and where it pierceth the capacity of the one, it may in likewise pierce the others. Here after the L. Iulian ●ad made a little stop, he proce●●e● smiling: Do you not know that this principle is held in Philosophy, Who so is tender of flesh is apt of mind? ●herfore there is no doubt, but women being tenderer of flesh, are also apt of mind, and of a more inclined wit to musinges and speculations, than men. Afterward he followed on. But leaving this a part, because you said that I should make my proof of the perfection of each of them by the works, I say unto you, if you consider the effects of nature, you shall find that she bringeth women forth as they be, not at a chance, but fittlye necessary for the end. For albeit she shapeth them of body not stout and of a mild mind, with many other qualities contrary to men's, yet do the conditions of each of them stretch unto one self end, concerning the self same profit. For even as through that weak feebleness women are of a lesser courage, so are they also by the very same more wary. Therefore mothers nourish up children & fathers instruct them, & with manliness provide for it abroad, that they with careful diligence store up in the house, which is no less praise. In case you will then consider the ancient Histories (albeit men at all times have been very sparing in writing the praises of women) and them of latter days, ye shall find that continually virtue hath reigned aswell among women as men: Women have achieved great enterprises. Women learned. and that such there have been also that have made war & obtained glorious victories, governed realms with great wisdom and justice, and done what ever men have done. As touching sciences, do you not remember ye have read of so many that were well seen in Philosophy? In philosophy. In poetry. In Rhetoric. Other, that have been most excellent in poetry? Other, that have pleaded, & both accused and defended before judges most eloquently? Of handicrafts, long it were to rehearse, neither is it needful to make any rehearsal thereof. If then in the essential substance the man is no more perfect than the woman, nor yet in the Accidents (and of this beeside reason, the experiences are seen) I wot not wherein this his perfection should consist. And because you said that Nature's intent i● always to bring forth things most perfect, & therefore if she could, would always bring forth a man, and that the bringing a woman forth is rather a default and slackness of nature, than her intent, I answer you that this is full and wholly to be denied, neither can I see why you may say that nature intendeth not to bring forth women, without whom mankind can not be preserved, whereof nature herself is more desirous then of any thing else, because through the means of this fellowship of male & female she bringeth forth children, that restore the received benefits in their childhood to their fathers in their old days, in that they nourish them: afterward they renew them, in beegettinge th●m selves also other children, of whom they look in their old age to receive it, that being young they beestowed upon their fathers: whereby nature (as it were) turning her about in a circle, fulfilleth an everlastingness, and in this wise giveth an immortality to mortal men. Sins then to this, the woman is as needful as the man, I can not discern for what cause the one is made by hap more than the other. Truth it is that Nature intendeth always to bring forth matters most perfect, & therefore meaneth to bring forth man in his kind, but not more male than female. Yea were it so that she always brought forth male, then should it without peradventure be an unperfectness: for like as of the body and of the soul there arriseth a compound more nobler than his parts, which is, man: Even so of the fellowship of male and female there arriseth a compound preserving mankind, without which the parts were in decay, & therefore male and female by nature are always together, neither can the one be without the other: Right so he aught not to be called the male, that hath not a female (according to the definition of both the one and the other) nor she the female that hath not a male. male can not b● without female. And for somuch as one kind alone betokeneth an imperfection, the divines of old time refer both the one and the other to God: Wherefore Orpheus said that jupiter was both male and female: And it is read in Scripture that God fashioned male and female to his likeness. And the poets many times speaking of the Gods, meddle the kinds together. Then the L. Gaspar, I would not (quoth he) we should entre into these subtle points, for these women will not understand us. And albeit I answer you with very good reasons, yet will they believe, or at the least make wise to believe that I am in the wrong, and forthwith will give sentence as they lust. Yet sins we are entered into them, only this will I say, that (as you know, it is the opinion of most wise men) the man is likened to the Form, form. Mattier. the woman to the Mattier: & therefore as the Form is perfect●r than the Mattier, yea it giveth him his being, so is the man much more perfect than the woman. And I remember that I have heard (when it was) that a great Philosopher in certain Problems of his, saith: Whens cometh it that naturally the woman always loveth the man, Aristot. ●physic. xviii. that hath been the first to receive of her, amorous pleasure●? And contrariwise the man hateth the woman that hath been the first to couple in that wise with him? and adding thereto the cause, affirmeth it to be this: For that in this act the woman receiveth of the man perfection, and the man of the woman imperfection: and therefore every man naturally loveth the thing that maketh him perfect, and hateth that maketh him unperfect. And beeside this a great argument of the perfection of the man, and of the imperfection of the woman, is, that generally every woman wisheth she were a man, by a certain provocation of nature, that teacheth her to wish for her perfection. The L. julian answered suddenly: The seely poor creatures wish not to be a man to make them more perfect, but to have liberty, and to be rid of the rule that men have of their own authority challenged over them. And the similitude which you give of the Mattier & form, is not alike in every point: because the woman is not made so perfect by the man, as is the Mattier by the Form for the Mattier receiveth his being of the Form, and can not stand without it: yea the more Mattier forms have, the more imperfection they have withal, & severed from it, are most perfect: but the woman receiveth not her being of the man, yea as she is made perfect by the man, so doth she also make him perfect: whereby both the one and the other come together to beegete children: the which thing they can not do any of them by themselves. The cause then of the continual love of the woman toward the first that she hath been with, and of the hatred of the man toward the first woman, I will not affirm to be that your Philosopher allegeth in his Problems, but I impute it to the sureness and stableness of the woman, and wavering of the man, and that not without natural reason: for sins the male is naturally hot, by that quality he taketh lightness, stirring and unsteadfastness, and contrariwise the woman through cold, quietness, steady weightiness, and more earnest imprintinges. Then the L. Emilia turning her to the L▪ julian, for love of god (quoth she) come once out of these your Mattiers and forms and males and females, and speak so that you may be understood: for we have heard and very well understood the ill that the L. Octavian and the L. Gaspar have spoken of us: but sins we understand not now in what sort you stand in our defence, m● think therefore that this is a straiing from the purpose, and a leaving of the evil imprinting in every man's mind that these our enemies have given of us. Give us not this name answered the L. Gaspar, for more metre it were for the L. julian, which in giving women false praises, declareth that there are none true for them. The L. julian said then: doubt ye not (madam) all shall be answered to▪ But I will not rail upon men so without reason, as they have done upon women. And if perchance there were any one here that meant to pen this our talk, I would not that in place where these Mattiers and forms were understood, the arguments and reasons which the L. Gaspar allegeth against you should be seen unanswered to. I wot not, my L. julian, quoth then the L. Gaspar, how in this you can deny, that the man is not through his natural qualities more perfect than the woman, Heat much p●rfect●r t●en cold. which of complexion is cold and the man hot, and much more nobler and perfecter is heat then cold, because it is active and forth bringing: and (as you know) the element poureth down here among us only heat, and not cold, which pierceth not the works of nature: and therefore because women are cold of complexion, I think it is the cause of their feinthertednes and fearfulness. Will you still, answered the L. julian, enter into subtle points? you shall perceive yourself at every time to come into a greater peck of troubles: & that it is so, hearken to. I grant you, the heat in itself is more perfect than cold, Heat. but this followeth not in meddled matters & compounded, for in case it were so, the body that were most hot should be most perfect: which is false, because temperate bodies be most perfect. I do you to weete moreover, Women cold of complexion. that the woman is of complexion cold in comparison of the man: which for overmuch heat is far wide from temper: but as touching herself, she is temperate, or at the lest nearer to temper then the man, why the woman is more temperate than the man. because she hath that moisture within her of equal portion with the natural heat, which in the man through overmuch drought doth sooner melt & consume away. She hath also such a kind of cold that it resisteth & comforteth the natural heat, and maketh it nearer to temper, & in the man overmuch heat doth soon bring the natural warmth to the last degree, the which wanting nourishment, Men so●ner dry than women. consumeth away: and therefore, because men in generation sooner wax dry then women, it happeneth oftentimes that they are of a shorter lief. Wherefore this perfection may also be given to women, the living longer than men, they accomplish it, The perfection of women abou● men. that is the intent of nature more than men. Of the heat that the element poureth down upon us, we talk not now, because it is diverse in signification to it which we entreat upon: the which sins it is nourisher of all things under the sphere of the moon aswell hot as cold, it can not be contrary to cold. Fearfulness in women. But the fearfulness in women although it beetokeneth an imperfection, yet doth it arise of a praiswoorthie cause, namely the subtleness & readiness of the spirits, that convey speedily the shapes to the understanding, & therefore are they soon out of patience for outward matters. Full well shall you see many times some men, Heady persons. that dread neither death nor any thing else, yet are they not for all that to be called hardy, because they know not the danger, and go forth like harbraines where they see the way open, and cast no more with themselves, & this proceedeth of a certain grossness of the dulled spirits: Courage. therefore a fond person can not be said to be stoutherted, but very courage in deed cometh of a proper advisement & determined will so to do, and to esteem more a man's honesty and duty, than all the perils in the world, and although he see none other way but death, yet to be of so quiet an heart & mind that his senses be not to seek nor amazed, but do their duty in discoursing and beethinkinge, even as though they were most in quiet. Of this guise and manner we have seen & heardsay many great men to be, likewise many women, which both in o●de time & presently have showed stoutness of courage and brought matters to pass in the world worthy infinite praise, no less than men have done. Then said Phrisio: these matters began, when the first woman in offending made others to offend also against god, Eue. and for inheritance left unto mankind death, afflictions, sorrows, and all other miseries and calamities, that be felt now adays in the world. The L. julian answered: Sins you will also farther your purpose with entering into scripture, do you not know that the same offence was in like manner amended by a woman? Our Lady. Which hath profited much more than she hindered us, so that the trespass acquitted with so worthy a deed, is counted most happy. But I purpose not now to tell you, how much in dignity all creatures of mankind be inferior to the virgin our Lady, for meddling holy matters with these our fond reasonings: Nor rehearse how many women with infinite steadfastness have suffered cruel death under Tirannes' for the name of Christ: nor them that with learning in disputation have confuted so many Idolaters. And in case you will answer me, that this was a miracle and the grace of the holy ghost, I say unto you that no virtue deserveth more praise, then that which is approved by the testimony of god. Many other also of whom there is no talk, you yourself may look upon, especially in reading Saint Hierom, which setteth out certain of his time with such wonderful praises, ● Hierom. that they might suffice the holiest man that can be. Imagine then how many there have been of whom there is made no mention at all: because the seely poor souls are kept close without the pompous pride to seek a name of holiness among the people, Religious men that now a days many men have, accursed Hypochrites, which not minding, or rather setting small store buy, the doctrine of Christ, that willeth a man when he fasteth, to anoint his face, that he may appear not to fast, and commandeth prayer, alms deeds, and other good works, to be done, not in the market place, nor synagogues, but in secret, So that the left hand know not of the right, they affirm no treasure in the world to be greater, then to give a good example, and thus hanging their head aside and fastening their eyes upon the ground, spreading a report about, that they will not once speak to a woman, nor eat any thing but raw herbs, smoky, with their side garments all to ragged and torn, they beeguile the simple: but for all that, they abstain not from falsifiing wills, sowing mortal hatred between man and wife, and otherwhile poison: using sorcery, enchantments and all kind of ribaldry, and afterward allege a certain authority of their own head, that saith: Si non caste, tamen caute▪ and with this ween to heal every grea●esore, and with good reason to persuade him that is not heedful that God forgiveth soon all offences how heinous ever they be, so they be kept close and no ill example arriseth of them. Thus with a veil of holiness, and this mischievous devise, many times they turn all their thoughts to defile the chaste mind of some woman, often times to sow variance between brethren, to govern states, to set up the ●ne and pluck down the other, to chop of heads, to imprison and banish men, to be ministers of the wickedness, and (in a manner) the storers and hoorders up of the robberies that many Princes commit. Other past sh●me delight to seem delicate & smooth, with their crown minionlye shaven, and well clad, and in their gate lift up their garment to show their hose sit clean, and the handsomeness of person in making courteisie. Other use certain buy looks and gestures even at mass, which they hold opinion become them well, and make men to beehoulde them: mischievous and wicked men, and clean void not only of all religion but of all good manner. And wh●n their naughty lief is laid to them, they make a jest at it, and give him a mock that telleth them of it, and (as it were) count their vises a praise. Then said the L. Emilia: Such delight you have to speak ill of Friars, that ye are fallen into this talk without all purpose. But you commit a great offence to murmur against religious persons▪ & without any profit ye burden your conscience: for were it not for them, that they pray unto god for us, we should yet have far greater plagues than we have. Then laughed the L. julian and said: How guessed you so even (Madam) that I spoke of Friars, sins I named them not? But forsooth this that I say, is not called murmuring, for I speak it plain and openly. And I mean not the good, but the bad & wicked, of whom I have not yet spoken the thousandeth part of that I know. Speak you not now of Friars, answered the L. Emilia: for I think it (for my part) a grievous offence to give ear to you, and for hearing you any more, I will get me hens. I am well pleased, quoth the L. julian, to speak no more of this. But to return to the praises of women, I say that the L. Gaspar shall not find me out any notable man, Women not inferior to ●en. but I will find his wife or sister or daughter of like merit and otherwhile above him. Beeside that, many have been occasion of infinite goodness to their men, and sometime broken them of many errors. Therefore sins women are (as we have declared) naturally as apt for the self same virtues, as men be, and the proof thereof hath been often seen, I wot not why, in giving them that is possible they may have & sundry times have had and still have, I aught to be deemed to speak wonders, as the L. Gaspar hath objected against me: Considering that there have ever been in the world and still are, women as nigh the woman of the Palace whom I have fashioned, as men nigh the man whom these Lords have fashioned. Then said the L. Gaspar: those reasons that have experience against them (in my mind) are not good. And iwis, if I should happen to ask you what these great women are or have been, so worthy praise, as the great men whose wives, sisters, or daughters they have been, or that have been occasion of any goodness, or such as have broken them of their errors, I▪ believe it would cumber you shreudlye. Surely, answered the L. julian, none other thing could cumber me, but the multitude of them: And if time served me, I would tell you to this purpose the Histories of Octavia wife to Marcus Antonius and sister to Augustus. Octavia. Porcia. Cecilia. Cornelia▪ Of Porcia daughter to Cato and wife to Brutus. Of Caia Cecilia wife to Tarqvinius Priscus. Of Cornelia daughter to Scipio, and of infinite other, which are most known. And not only these of our Country, but also Barbarious, as that Alexandra which was wife to Alexander King of the jews, who after the death of her husband, Alexandra▪ Egesipp. lib. ●. cap. 1●. seeing the people in an uproar, and already run to weapon to slay the two children which he had left behind him, for a revenge of the cruel and streict bondage that their father had always kept them in, she so beehaved herself, that suddenly she assuaged that just fury, and in a moment, with wisdom made those minds favourable to the children, which the father in many years with infinite injuries had made their most enemies. Tell us at the least, answered the L. Emilia, how she did. The L. julian said: She perceiving her children in so great a jeopardy, immediately caused Alexander's body to be cast out into the mids of the market place, afterward calling unto her the Citizens, she said, that she knew their minds were set on fire with most just fury against her husband: She assuaged the fury of the people. For the cruel injuries which he wickedly had done them, deserved it: and even as when he lived, she did her best always to withdraw him from so wicked a lief, so now she was ready to make a trial thereof, and to help them to chastise him even dead, as much as she might, and therefore should take that body of his and give it to be devoured of Dogs, and rent it in pieces in the cruelest m●ner they could imagine. But yet she desired them to take pity upon the innocent children, that could not only be in no fault, but not so much as weetting of their father's ill doings. Of such force were these words, that the raging fury once conceived in all that people's minds was suddenly assuaged, and turned into so tender an affection, that not only with one accord they chose those children for their heads and rulers, but also to the dead corpse they gave a most honourable burial. Here the L. julian made a little pause, Laodice. afterward he proceeded. Know you not that Mithridates wyef and Sisters showed a far less fear of death, than Mithridates himself? And Asdruballes wife, than Asdrubal himself? Know you not that Harmonia daughter to Hiero the Syracusan, Harmonia. would have died in the burning of her Country? Then Phrisio, where obstinacy is bend, no doubt (quoth he) but otherwhile ye shall found some women that will never change purpose, as she that could no longer call her husband pricklouse, with her hands made him a sign. Obstinacy called steadfastness. The L. julian laughed and said: Obstinacy that is bend to a virtuous end, aught to be called steadfastness, Epicharia. as in Epicharia a libertine of Room, which made privy to a great conspiracy against Nero, was of such steadfastness, that being rend with all the most cruel torments that could be invented, never uttered any of the partners: And in the like peril many noble gentlemen & Senators, fearfully accused brethren, friends, and the dearest & best beloved persons to them in the world. What say you of this other, Leena bit in sunder her tongue & spit it in the face of Hippias the Tiran. Plin lib, 34. cap. 8. called Leena? In whose honour the Athenians dedicated before the castle gate a lioness of metal without a tongue, to beetoken in her the steady virtue of silence. For she being in like sort made privy to a conspiracy against the Tirannes', was not aghast at the death of two great men her friends, and for all she was torn with infinite and most cruel torments, never disclosed any of the conspirators. Then said the L. Margare● Gonzaga: Me seemeth that ye make to bre●f rehearsal of these virtuous acts done by women. For although these our enemies have heard them and read them, yet they make wise not to know them, and would feign the memory of them were lost. But in case ye will do us to understand them, we will at the lest honour them. Then answered the L. julian: With a good william. Now will I tell you of one, that did such a deed as I believe the L. Gaspar himself will confess that very few men do. And beegane. In Massilia there was in times past an usage, which is thought came out of Greece: and that was, that openly there was poison laid up meddled with Cicuta, Cicuta a bemi●ous her be horrible of savour, one kind whereof is supposed to be hemlock. and it was leeful for him to take it that alleged to the Senate that he aught to be rid of his lief for some discommodity that he felt therein, or else for some other just cause: to the intent that who so had suffered to much adversity or tasted over great prosperity, he might not continued in the one, or change the other. In the presence therefore of Sextus Pompeius. Here Phrisio not tartyn●e to have the L. julian p●oceade farther, this, me seemeth (quoth he) is the begining of some long tale. Then the L. julian turning him to the L. Margaret, said: See, Phrisio will not suffer me to speak. I would have told you now of a woman, that after she had showed the Senate that she aught of right to die, glad and without any fear, took in the presence of Sextus Pompeius the poison with such steadfastness of mind and with such wise and loving exhortations to hers, that Pompeius and all the rest that beeheld in a woman such knowledge and steadiness in the trembling passage of death, remained (not without tears) astonished with great wonder. Then the L. Gaspar smiling, & I again remember (ꝙ he) that I have read an Oration, wherein an unfortunate husband asketh leave of the Senate to die, and allegeth that he hath a just cause, for that he can not abide the continual weerisomnes of his wives chatting, and had leiffer drink of that poison which you say was laid up openly for these respects, then of his wives scoldinges. The L. julian answered: How many seely poor women should have a just cause to ask leave to die, for abiding, I will not say the ill words, but the most evil deeds of their husbands? For I know some myself, that in this world suffer the pains which are sai● to be in hell. Be there not again, trow you, answered the L. Gaspar, many husbands that are so tormented with their wives, that every hour they wish for death? And what displeasure, quoth the L. julian, can women do their husbands, that is so without remedy, as those are which husbands do their wives? which though not for love, yet for fear are obedient to their husbands. Sure it is in deed, quoth the L. Gaspar, that the little they do well otherwhile, cometh of fear, for few there are in the world that secretly in their mind hate not their husbands. Nay, clean contrary, answered the L. julian: and in case you will remember what you have read, it is to be seen in all Histories, that always (in a manner) wives love their husbands better than they their wives. When have you ever seen or read that a husband hath showed such a token of love toward his wife, as did Camma toward her husband? Camma. I wot not, answered the L. Gaspar, what she was, nor what token she showed. Nor I, quoth Phrisio. The L. julian answered: Give ear. And you (my L. Margaret) look ye bear it well away. This Camma was a most beautiful young woman, An example of the true love of a wife toward her husband. Plutarc. endowed with such modesty and honest conditions, that no less for them, then for her beauty she was to be wondered at: and above other things with all her heart she loved her husband's, who had to name Synattus. It happened that an other Gentleman of greater authority than Synattus, and (in a manner) head ruler and Tirann of the City where they dwelled, fell in love with this young woman: and after he had long attempted by all ways and means to compass her, and all but lost labour, beethinkinge himself that the love she bore her husband, was the only cause that withstood his desires, he caused this Synattus to be slain. Thus instant upon her afterward continually, other fruit could he never get of her, than what he had before. Wherefore this love daily encreasinge, he was fully resolved to take her to wife, for all in degree she was much inferior to him. So suit being made to her friends by Sinoris (for so was the lover named) they took in hand to persuade her to be contented with it: Declaring that to agreed thereto, was very profitable, and to refuse it, perilous for her and them all. She after she had a while gainsaied them, at length made answer that she was contented. Her kinsfolk brought this tidings to Sinoris, which passing measure glad, gave order to have this marriage made out of hand. After they were then both come for this purpose solemnly into the Temple of Diana, Camma had caused to be brought to her a certain sweet drink which she had made, and so before the image of Diana in the presence of Sinoris she drank the one moiety. afterward, with her own hand (for this was the usage in marriages) she gave the remain to the bridegroom, which drank it clean up. Camma assoon as she saw her device take effect, kneeled her down very joyful before the image of Diana, and said: O Goddess, thou that knowest the bottom of my heart, be a good witness to me, how hardly after my dear husband deceased, I have refreined from killing myself, and what peines I have sustained to endure the grief to live in this bitter lief, in which I have felt none other joy or pleasure, but the hope of the revenge which I perceive now is come to effect. Therefore with gladness and contentation I go to find out the sweet company of that soul, which in lief and death I have always more loved than mine own self. And thou Caitiff, that weeneddest to have been my husband, in stead of a marriage bed, give order to prepare thee a grave, for of thee do I here make a sacrifice to the shadow of Synattus. Synoris amazed at these words, and already feeling the operation of the poison within him that put him to great pain, proved many remedies, but all prevailed not. And Camma had fortune so favourable on her side, or what ever else, that before she died, she had knowledge that Sinoris was dead. When she heard of that, with very great contentation she laid her upon her bed, with her eyes to heaven, continually calling upon the name of Synattus, and saying. O most sweet mate, sins now I have bestowed for the last tokens upon thy death, both tears and revenge, and perceive not that I have any thing yet behind to do for thee here, I flee the world and this without thee a cruel lief, which for thy sake only in times past was dear to me. Come therefore and meet me (o my Lord) and embrace as willingly this soul, as she willingly cometh to thee. And speaking these words, and with her arms spread, as though she would at that instant have embraced him, died. Say now Phrisio, what think you by this? Phrisio answered: Me think you would make these Ladies weep. But let us set case this was true, I say unto you that we find no more such women in the world. another example of fresher years. The L. julian said: Yes, that there be, and that it is so, give ear. In my days there was in Pisa a gentleman whose name was M. Thomas, of what house, I remember not, Thomaso Lucchese. for all I heard my father often times tell it, which was his great friend. This M. Thomas then, passing upon a day in a little v●ssell from Pisa toward Sicilia about his affairs, was overtaken with certain foists of Moors, that were on the back of him unawares & before the governors of the vessel had espied them. And for all the men within, defended themselves well, yet because they were but few and the enemies many, the vessel with as many as were on board was taken by the Moors, some hurt, some whole, as fell to their lot, and among them M. Thomas, which had played the man and slain with his own hand a brother of one of the Captains of those foists: For which matter the Captain full of wrath, as you may conjecture by the loss of his brother, would have him for his prisoner, and beating and buffeting him daily, brought him into Barbary, where in great misery he determined to keep him alive his captive and with much drugetye. All the rest, some one way, some an other, within a space were at liberty, and returned home, and brought tidings to his wife, called M. Argentin and children, M. Argentin. of the hard lief and great affliction which M. Thomas lived in, and was like without hope to live in continually, unless God wonderfully helped him. The which matter when she and they understood for a certainty, attempting certain other ways for his deliverance, and where he himself was fully resolved to end his lief, there happened a careful affection and tender pity so to quicken the wit and courage of a son of his called Paul, that he had respect to no kind of danger, & determined either to die or to deliver his father. The which matter he brought to pass & with such privy conveyance, that he was first in Ligurno before it was known in barbary that he was parted thence. Here hens M. Thomas (being arrived in safety) writ to his wife, and did her to weet his setting at liberty, & where he was, and how the next day he hoped to see her. The honest gentlewoman filled with so great and sudden joy, that she should so shortly aswell through the zeal as prowess of her son, Inordinate affection. see her husband whom she loved so much, where she once surely believed never to have seen him again, after she had read the letter she lifted her eyes to heaven & calling upon the name of her husband, fell stark dead to the ground, and with no remedy done to her, did the departed soul return to the body again. A cruel sight, and enough to temper the wills of men and to withdraw them from coveting ●o fervently superfluous joys. Then said Phrisio smilinge: What know you whether she died for sorrow or not, understanding her husband was coming home? The L. julian answered: Because the rest of her lief was nothing agreeable thereto. But I ween rather the soul could not tarry the linger to see him with the eyes of her body, & therefore forsook it, and drawn out thence with coveting, fled by and by where in reading the letter, her thought was fled. The L. Gaspar said: it may be that this woman was overloving, because women in every thing cleave always to the extremity, which is ill. And see, for that she was overloving ●●e did ill to herself, to her husband and to her children, in whom she turned into bitterness the pleasure of that dangerous and desired liberty of his. Therefore you aught not to allege her for one of the women, that have been the cause of so great goodness. The L. julian answered: I allege her for one of them that make trial that there are wives which love their husbands. For of such as have been occasion of great profits in the world I could tell you of an infinite number, and rehearse unto you so ancient, that wellnigh a man would judge them fables. And of such as among men have been the inventors of such kind of matters, Aspasia loved and taught the eloquent Pericles' Duke of Athens. Nichostrata. Hermione. Corinna. Sappho. that they have deserved to be deemed Goddesses, as, Pallas, Ceres, the Sybilles', by whose mouth god hath so oftentimes spoken and discovered to the world matters to come. And such as have taught very great men, as, Aspasia, and Diotima the which also with sacrifice drove of a plague ten years that should have fallen in Athens. I could tell you of Nichostrata mother to E●ander, which showed the Latins their letters. And of an other woman also that was masters to Pindarus Liricus. And of Corinna and Sappho, which were most excellent in Poetry: but I will not seek matters so far of, I say unto you that leaving the rest apart, of the greatness of Room perhaps women were a no less cause than men. This, quoth the L. Gaspar, were good to understand. The L. julian answered: Women the cause of the greatness of Room. hearken to it then. After Troy was won, many Troyans', that in so great a destruction escaped, fled some one way, some another: of which, one part, that by many Sea storms were tossed and tumbled, T●b●ri●▪ came into Italy in the coo●t where the Te●er entereth into the Sea: so landing to provide for their necessaries, beegane to go a forraginge about the Country. The women that tarried behind in the ships, imagined among themselves a profitable device, that should make an end of their perilous and long Sea wandering, and ●n stead of their lost Country recover them a new. And after they had laid their heads together, in the mens absence, they set fire on the ships, Rom●. and the first that beegane this work was called Roma. Yet standing in fear of the men's displeasure that were retiring back again, they went to meet with them, and embracing and kissing in token of good will, some their husbands, An aun●●●n● custom among the Roman●● some their ne●t a kin, they assuaged that first brunt: afterward they disclosed to them quietly the cause of their witty enterprise. Wherefore the Troyans', on the one side, for need, and one the other for being courteiouslye received of the inhabitants, were very well pleased with that the women had done, and there dwelled with the Latins in the place where afterward was Room. And of this arrose the ancient custom among the Romans, that women meeting their kinsfolk, kissed them. Now ye see what a help these women were to give the begining to Room. And the Sabine women were a no less help to the increase of it, Women ● help to the increase of Room. than were the Tro●ane to the first beeginning: for when Romulus had purchased him the general hatred of all his neighbours, for the ravin that he made of their women, he was assailed with war on all sides, the which for that he was a valiant man, he soon rid his hands of with victory: only the war with the Sabines excepted, which was very sore, because Titus Tatius king of the Sabines was very puissant and wise. T. Tatius, Whereupon after a sore bickering between the Romans and Sabines, with very great loss on both sides, preparing for a fresh and cruel battle, the Sabine women clad in black, with their hear scattered and haled, weeping, comfortless, without fear of weapons now bend to give the onsett, came into the mids between their fathers and husbands, beeseachinge them not to file their hands with the blood of their fatherinlawes and sonninlawes, and in case it were so that they repined at this alliance, they should bend their weapons against them: for much better it were for them to die, then to live widows ●r fatherless and brotherless, and to remember that their children had been begotten of such as had slain their fathers, or they themselves of such as had slain their husbands. With these pitiful wailings, many of them carried in their arms their young babes, of whom some beegane already to leuse their tongue and seemed to call and sport with their grandfathers, unto whom the women showing forth their nephews and weeping, said: Beehoulde your own blood that in such rage ye seek to shed with your own hands. Of such force was in this case the affection and wisdom of the women, that there was not only concluded between the two kings enemies together, an indissoluble friendship and league, but also (which was a more wonderful matter) the Sabines came to devil in Room, and of two peoples was made one, and so did this accord much increase the strength of Room: thanked be the wise and courageous women which were so rewarded of Romulus, ●0. c●●iae, that parting the people into thirty bands, gave them the names of the Sabine women. Here the L. julian pausinge a while, and perceiving that the L. Gaspar spoke not, trow you not (ꝙ he) that these women were occasion of goodness to their men, and helped to the greatness of Room? The L. Gaspar answered: Not doubt, they were worthy much praise. But in case you would aswell tell t●e faults of women, Sp. Torpeius daughter corrupted with money by T. Tatius. as their well doing, you would not have kept hid, that in this war of T. Tatius a woman betrayed Room, & taught the enemies the way to take the Capitolium, whereby the Romans were wellnigh all undone. The L. julian answered: You mention me one ill woman, and I tell you of infinite good. And beeside the afore named, I could apply to my purpose a thousand other examples of the profit cone to Room by women, and tell you why there was once a Temple builded to Venus armata▪ Venus' armata and an other to Venus calua, Venus calua. and how the feast of handmaidens was instituted to juno, because the Handmaidens once delivered Room from the guiles of the enemies. But leaving all these things a part, that courageous act for discovering the conspiracy of Catilina, for which Cicero is so praised, had it not cheeflye his begining of a common woman, which for this may be said to have been the occasion of all the good that Cicero boasteth he did the common weal of Room? And in case I had sufficient time, Fului●. I would (may hap) show you also that women have oftentimes corrected men of many vices: but (I fear me) my talk hath already been overlong and cumbrous. Therefore sins I have according to my pour fulfilled the charge that these Ladies have given me, I mean to give place to him that shall speak more worthier matters to be heard, than I can. Then the L. Emilia▪ do you not deprive (ꝙ she) women of the true praises due unto them. And remember though the L. Gaspar and perchance the L▪ Octavian to, hear you with noisomeness, yet do we and these other Lords hearken to you with pleasure. Notwithstanding the L. julian wou●●e there have ended, but all the lords beegane to ent●eat him to speak●, Wherefore he said laughing: Lest I should provoke my L. Gaspar to be mine enemy any more than he is, I will but briefly tell you of certain that come into my mind, leaving many that I could recite unto you. Afterward he proceeded. When Philipp Demetrius son, was about the City of Scio, and had loyed siege to it, he caused to be proclaimed, that what ever bondmen would forsake the City and flee to him, he promised them liberty and their masters wives. The spite of wom●n for this so shameful a proclamation was such, that they came to the walls with weapon, & fought so fiercely, Philippus king of Mac●doni● son to Deme●●●●s. that in a small time they drove Philipp away with shame and loss, which the men could not do. T●ese self same women being with their husbands. Father's and brethren that went into banishment, ●fter th●y came into Leuconia, did a no le●se glorious act, than this was. For the Erythreans that were there with their ●●derate●, made war against these Sciotis, which not able to hould● out, came to accord with composition to departed only i● their doublet and shirt out of the City. The women hearing of this so shameful a composition, were much offended, reviling them, that leaving their weapons, they would issue out like naked men among their enemies. And when they made answer that it was already so conditioned, they willed them to carry their shield and spear, and leave their clotheses, and answer their enemies that this was their array. And in so doing by their women's counsel, they covered a great part of the shame, which they could not clean avoid. Likewise when Cirus had discomfitted in a battle the army of the Persians', The stout heart of women. as they ran a way, in their fleeing they met with their women without the gates, who coming to them, said: Wither flee ye you cowards? Intend ye perhaps to hide you in us from whence ye came? These and such like words the men hearing and perceiving how much in courage they were inferior to their women, were ashamed of themselves, and returning back again to their enemies fought with them a fresh and gave them the overthrow. When the L. julian had hitherto spoken, he s●ayed, and turning him to the Duchess, said: Now (Madam) you will licence me to hold my peace. The L. Gaspar answered: It is time to hold your peace, when you know not what to say more. The L. julian said smiling: You provoke me so, that ye may chance be occupied all night in hearing the praises of women. And ye shall understand of many Spartan women that much rejoiced at the glorious death of their children: and of them that forsook them or slew them with their own hands when they hard they used dastardliness. Again how the Saguntine women in the destruction of their Country, took weapon in hand against Hannibal's soldiers. And how the army of the Dutch men vanquished by Marius, their women not obteininge their suit to live free in Room in service with the virgin's vestals, killed themselves every one with their young children. And a thousand more that all ancient Histories are full of. Then said the L. Gaspar: tush (my L. julian) God woteth how these matters passed, for those times are so far from us, that many lies may be told, & none there is that can reprove them. The L. julian said: In case you will measure in every time the worthiness of women with men's, ye shall find that they have never been nor yet presently are any whit inferior to m●n. For leaving apart those so ancient, if ye come to the time when the Goths reigned in Italy, ye shall find that there was a queen among them Amalasunta that ruled a long while with marvelous wisdom. Amalasunta. Theodolinda Theodora. Afterward Theodolinda queen of the langobards, of singular virtue. Theodora Empress of Greece. And in Italy among many other was a most singular Lady the Countess Matilda, Countess Matilda. who praises I leave to be told of Count Lewis, because she was of his house. Nay quoth the Count, it is your part, for you know it is not meet that a man should praise his own. The L. julian continued on. V●bin. Mantua. Ferra●a. And how many famous in times past find you of this most noble house of Montefeltro? How many of the house of Gonzaga, of Este and Pij? In case we will then speak of the time present, we shall not need to seek Examples far fett, for we have them in the house. But I will not serve my purpose with them whom we see in presence, lest ye should seem for courteisie to grant me it, that in no wise ye can deny me. And to go out of Italy●, remember ye, in our days we have seen Ann French Queen a very great Lady, Ann french Queen. no less in virtue then in State: and if in justice and mildness, liberality and holiness of lief, ye lust to compare her to the Kings Charles and Lewis (which had been wyef to both of them) you shall not find her a jot inferior to them. L. Margaret. Beehoulde the Lady Margaret daughter to the Emperor Maximilian, which with great wisdom and justice hitherto hath ruled and still doth her State. But omitting all other, tell me (my L. Gaspar) what king or what Prince hath there been in our days, or yet many years before in Christendom, that deserveth to be compared to Queen Isabel of Spain? ●●●bel Queen of Spain. The L. Gaspar answered: king Ferdinand her husband. The L. julian said: This will I not deny. For sins the Queen thought him a worthy husband for her and loved and observed him somuch, it can not be said nay, but he deserved to be compared to her. And I think well the reputation he got by her was a no less dowerie than the kingdom of Castilia. Nay, answered the L. Gaspar, I believe rather of many of king Ferdinandes acts Queen Isabel bore the praise. Praise of her Then said the L. julian: In case the people of Spain, the Nobles, private persons, both men & women, poor & rich, be not all agreed together to lie in her praise, there hath not been in our time in the world a more clear example of true goodness, stoutness of courage, wisdom, religion, honesty, courteisie, liberality, to be brief, of all virtue, than Queen Isabel. And where the renown of that Lady in every place and with all Nations is very great, they that lived with her and were present at all her doings, do all affirm this renown to be sprung of her virtue and deserts. And whoso will way her acts, shall soon perceive the truth to be so. For leaving apart infinite things that make trial of this, and might be told, if it were our purpose, every man knoweth that in the first beginning of her reign, she found the greatest part of Castilia possessed by great Astates: Yet recovered she the whole again, so justly and in such sort that they dispossessed themselves continued in a great good affection, and were willing to make surrender of that they had in possession. It is also a most known thing with what courage and wisdom she always defended her realms from most puissant enemies. And likewise to her alone may be given the honour of the glorious conquest of the kingdom of Granada, which in so long and sharp a war against stubborn enemies, that fought ●or their livelihood, for their lief, for their law, and to their weening in God's quarrel, declared evermore with counsel and with her own person somuch virtue & prowess, as perhaps in our time few Princis have had the stomach, not only to follow her steps, but to envy her. Beeside this, all that knew her, report that there was in her such a divine manner of government, that a man would have weened that her will only was almost enough to make every man without any more business, to do that he aught: so that scase durst a man in his own ●ome & in secret commit any thing that he suspected 〈◊〉 would displease her. And of this a great part was 'cause the wonderful judgement which she had in knowing and thousinge ministers meet for the offices she intended to place them in. And so well could she join the rigour of justice with the mildness of mercy and liberality, that there was no good person in her days that could complain he had been smallly rewarded, ne anya ill, to sore punished. Wherefore among her people toward her, there sprang a very great reverence derived of love and fear, which in all men's minds remaineth still so settled, that a man would think they looked she that should beehoulde them from heaven, and there above either praise or dyspraise them. And therefore with her name, & with the ways which she ordained, those Realms are still ruled, in wise that albeit her lief wanteth, yet her authority liveth, like a whie●e that long swynged about with violence, keepeth the same course a good while after of itself, though no man move it any more. Consider you beeside this (my L. Gaspar) that in our time all the great men of Spain and renowned in what ever thing, have been made by Queen Isabel. Ferdinando. Gonsaluo. And the great Captain Gonsalue Ferdinand was more setbye for it, then for all his famous victories and excellent and courageous acts, that in peace & war have made him so notable and famous, that in case fame be not unkind, she will for ever spread abroad to the world his immortal praises, and make proof that in our age we have had few Kings or great Princis, that by him have not been surmounted in noble courage, knowleage and all virtue. To return therefore to italy, I say unto you that we have not wanted here also most excellent Ladies. Queens of Naples. For in Naples we have two Queens, and not long a go in Naples likewise di●d the other Queen of Hungarye, Queen of Hungary. as excellent a Lady as you know any, and to be compared well enough to the mighty and glorious king Matthew Coruin her husband. Likewise the Duchess Isabella of Arragon most worthy sister to king Ferdinand of Naples, Dut. Isabel of Arragon. which as gold in the fire, so in the storms of fortune hath she showed her virtue and prowess. If you will come into Lombary▪ Isabel Marq. of Mantua. you shall mark the Lady Isabella marquis of Mantua, whose most excellent virtues should receive great wrong in speaking of them so temperately, as whose will speak of them in this place must be driven to do. I am sorry moreover that you all knew not the Duchess Beatrice of Milan her sister, that you might never again wonder at a woman's wit. Dut. Beatrice of milan Dut. Elionor of Fer●ara. And the Duchess Elionor of Arragon Duchess of Ferrara, & mother to both these Ladies whom I have named, was such a one, that her most excellent virtues gave a good trial to all the world, that she was not only a worthy daughter to a king, but also deserved to be a Queen over a far greater State than all her ancestors possessed. And to tell you of an other: How many men know you in the world, would abide the bitter strokes of fortune so patiently, as Queen Isabella of Naples hath done? Which for all the loss of her kingdom, banishment and death of king Fridericke her husband and two sons, Queen Isabel of Naples. and imprisonment of the Duke of Calabria her eldest, yet still showeth herself a Queen: and so beareth out the miserable inconveniences of wretched poverty, that every man may see, though she hath changed fortune, yet hath ●he not altered condition. I omit the naming unto you of infinite other great Ladies, Pisan●●▪ and also women of low degree, as many Pisanes that in defence of their country against Florentines, have declared that noble courage without any fear of death, that the most invincible courages could do that ever were in the world: Wherefore certain of them have been renowned by many noble poets. I could tell you of certain most excellent in letters, in music, in peinctinge, in caruinge, but I will not any more go searching out among these examples, which are most known to you all. It sufficeth, that if in your minds ye think upon women whom you yourselves know, it shall be no hard matter for you to understand, that they are not most commonly in prowess or worthiness inferior to their fathers, brethren and husbands: and that many▪ have been occasion of goodness to men, and many times broken them of many of their vices. And where presently there are not found in the world these great Queens that go to conquer far Countries, and make great buildings, Pyramids & Cities, as Thomiris Queen of Scythia, Artemisia, Zenobia, Semiramis, or Cleopatra, no more are there also men like unto Caesar, Alexander, Scipio, Lucullus, & the other noble Roman Capitanes. Say not so, answered then Phrisio laughing, These queens gave themselves to all their appetites. for presently there are more found like Cleopatra or Semiramis, then ever there were. And though they have not so many states, pours & riches, yet there wanteth not in them good will to counterfeit them at the lest in giving themselves to pleasure, & satisfying all their lusts asmuch as they may. The L. julian said: You will ever Phrisio pass your bounds. But in case there be found some Cleopatres, there want not for them infinite Sardanapalles, Sardanapal●s a king in Assiria monstrous in all kind of lechery. which is much worse. Make not this comparison ꝙ the L. Gaspar then, & believe not that men are so incontinent, as women be: and where they were so, yet should it not be worse. For of the incontinency of women arise infinite inconveniences, that do not of men's. And therefore (as it w●s well said yesterday) they have wisely ordained that it may be lawful for them to be out of the way without blame in all other things, that they may apply their force to keep themselves in this one virtue of chastity, without the which children were uncertain, and the bond that knitteth all the world together by blood and by the love that naturally each man hath to that is borne him, should be lewsed. Therefore a wanton lief in women is less to be borne withal then in men, that carry not their children nine months in their body. Then answered the L. julian: Doubtless these be pretty arguments that ye make, I marvel you put them not in writing. But tell me. For what cause is it ordained that a wanton lief should not be so shameful a matter in men, as in women? Considering if they be by nature more virtuous and of greater prowess, The wanton lief of m●n make women unchaste. they may also the easilier keep themselves in this virtue of continency: & children should be no more nor less certain, for if women w●re given to wanton living, so men were continent, and consented not to the wantonness of women, they among themselves and without any other help could not bear children. Men have calenged a 〈◊〉. But if you will tel the troth, you yourself know, that we have of our own authority claimed a liberty, whereby we will have self same offences in us very light and otherwhile worthy praise, and in women not sufficiently to be punished, but with a shameful death, or at the lest everlasting slander. Therefore sins this opinion hath taken root, me thinketh it a meet matter to punish them in like manner sharply, that with lies bring up a slander upon women. And I believe that every worthy gentleman is bound to defend always with weapon, where niede requireth, the truth: and especially when he knoweth any woman falsely reported of to be of little honesty. And I, answered the L. Gaspar smiling, do not only affirm to be every worthy gentilmans duty that you say, but also take it for great courtesy and honesty to cover some offence that by mishap or overmuch love a woman is renn into. And thus you may see that I am more on women's side, where reason beareth me out, than you be. I deny not that men have taken a little liberty, and that because they know by the common opinion, that to them wanton living is not so slanderous as to women, which through the weakness of their kind, are much more inclined to appetites, than men: and in case they abstain otherwhile from satisfying their lusts, they do it for shame, not that will is not most ready in them, and therefore have men laid upon them fear of slander for a bridle, to keep them (in a manner) whether they will or not in this virtue, without the which (to say the troth) they were little to be set buy: for the world hath no profit by women, but for getting of children. But the like is not of men, which govern Cities, armies, and do so many other weighty matters, The continency of Alexander toward Barius' wife and daughters. Q. Cur● lib. iii Ca●thago nova. The continency of Scipio toward a young Lady betrothed to Allucius a lord among the C●ltiberians▪ Xenocrates. the which (sins you will so have it) I will not dispute, how women could do, it sufficeth they do it not. And when it was meet for men to make trial of their continency, aswell how they passed women in this virtue, as in the rest, although you grant it not. And about this, will not I rehearse unto you so many Histories or fables, as you have done, I remit you to the continency only of two most mighty personages, youthful and upon their victory, which is wont to make haute men of lowest degree. And the one is, the great Alexander toward the most beautiful women of Darius his enemy and discomfited. The other, Scipio, unto whom being XXIIII years of age, and having won by force a City in Spain, there was brought a most beautiful and noble Damisell taken among many other. And when Scipio understood that she was affiansed to be a Lord of the Country, he did not only abstain from all dishonest act toward her, but undefiled restored her to her husband and a large gift withal. I could tell you of Xenocrates, which was so continent, that a most beautiful woman lying naked by his side and dallying with him and using all the ways sh● could (in which matters she was very well practised) she had never the pour to make him once show the lest sign of wantonness, for all she bestowed a whole night about it. And of Pericles that did no more but hear one praise with overmuch earnestness the well favouredness of a boy, Pericles reprehended Sophocles for saying O puerum pulchrum. and he took him up sharply for it. And of many other most continent of their own free will, and not for shame or fear of punishment, that compelleth the greatest part of women to keep themselves upright in this virtue, which notwithstanding deserve much praise withal: and whoso falsely bringeth up of them a slanderous report of uncleanness of living, is worthy (as you have said) very sore punishment. Then spoke the L. Cesar which had held his peace a good while: judge you in what sort the L. Gaspar speaketh in the dispraise of women, when these are the matters that he speaketh in their praise. But if the L. julian will give me leave, that I may in his stead answer him certain few matters, as touching where (in mine opinion) he hath falsely spoken against women, it shall be good for him & me both. For he shall rest him a while, & shall afterward the better go forward to speak of some other perfection of the gentlewoman of the Palace, and I shall have a good turn that I have occasion to execute jointly with him this duty of a good knight, which is to defend the truth. Marry I beseech ye, answered the L. julian: for me think I have already fulfilled according to my power, that I aught, and this communication now is out of the purpose that I went about. The L Cesar then beegane: I will not now speak of the profit that the world hath by women beeside the bearing of children, for it is well enough declared how necessary they be, not only to our being, but also to our well being. But I say (my L Gaspar) that in case they be as you affirm more inclined to appetites, than men, and notwithstanding abstain more than men (which you yourself grant) they are so much the more worthy praise, as their kind is less able to withstand natural appetites. And if you say they do it for shame, I can not see but for one virtue you give them two. Shame. For in case shame can do more in them then appetite, and through it refrain from ill doing, I esteem this shame (which in conclusion is nothing else but fear of slander) a most seldom virtue and reigning in very few men. And if I could without infinite reproach to men, tell how many of them be drowned in unshamefastness and impudency (which is the vice contrary to this virtue) I should infect these devout ears that hear me. And for most part these kind of injurious persons both to god and nature, are men well stricken in years, Injurious persons to God and nature. which profess some preesthoode, some philosophy, some divinity, and rule Common weals with such Cato's gravity in countenance, that it maketh an outward show of all the honesty in the world, and always allege woman kind to be most incontinent, where they at no time find themselves more aggrieved, then at the want of their natural lustiness, that they may satisfy their abominable desires, which still abide in the mind after nature hath taken them from their body, and therefore many times find out ways, where force preveyleth not. But I will not tell farther. It fuffyceth for my purpose ye grant the women abstain more from unclean living, than men. And sure it is, that they are not kept short with any other bridle, than what they put upon themselves. And that it is true, the most part of them that be kept under with overstreict looking to, or beaten of their husbands or fathers, are less chaste, than they that have some liberty. But generally a great bridle to women, is the zeal of true virtue and the desire of good name, which many that I have known in my days more esteem, Zeal of true virtue and good report. than their own lief. And in case you will tell the troth, every one of us hath seen most noble young men, discreet, wise, of prows & well-favoured spend, many years in loving, sparing for nothing that might entice, tokens, suits, tears: to be short, whatsoever may be imagined, and all but lost labour. And if it might not be told me that my conditions never deserved I should be beloved, I would allege myself for a witness, which more than once through the unchangeable and overstedfaste honesty of a woman was nigh deaths door. The L. Gaspar answered: marvel you not thereat for women that are suid to, always refuse to fulfil his request that suiths to them, but those that are not suid to, sue to others. The L. Cesar said: I never knew them that have been suid to by women, but many there be that perceiving they have attempted in vain and spent their time fondly, renn to this noble revenge, and say that they had plenty of the thing which they did but cast in their mind. Slanderous persons of women's honesties. And to their weening, to report ill and to study for inventions how to bring up slanderous tales of some worthy gentlewoman, is a kind of Courtiers. But these kind of persons that knavishelye make their vaunt of any woman of price, be it true or false, deserve very sore correction & punishment. And if it be otherwhile bestowed upon them, it can not be said how much they are to be commended that do this office. For in case they tell lies, what mischief can be greater than to take from a worthy woman with guile the thing which she more esteameth then her lief? And no other cause, but the aught to make her renowned with infinite praises. If again, it be true they say, what pain can suffice so traitorous a person, that rendereth such ingratitude in recompense to a gentlewoman, which won with his false flattringes, feigned tears, continual suits, bewailings, crafts, deceits, and perjuries hath suffered herself to be lead to love overmuch, afterward without respect, hath given herself unheedfullie for a pray to so wicked a spirit? But to answer you beeside to this wonderful continency of Alexander & Scipio which you have alleged, I say, that I will not deny but each of them did a deed worthy much praise. Notwithstanding lest ye should say that in rehearsing to you ancient matters, I told you fables, I will allege a woman of our time of base degree, An example of true continency. who notwithstanding showed a far greater continency than any of these two great astates. I say unto you therefore y●. I knew once a well-favoured and tender young woman, whose name I tell you not, for giving matter to many lewd persons to report ill, which assoon as they understand a woman to be in love, make an ill descanting upon it. She therefore beloved of a worthy and fair conditioned young Gentleman, was bend with heart and mind to love him. And of this not I alone, unto whom of her own accord she uttered trustfullye the whole matter, no otherwise then if I had been, I will not say a brother, but an inward sister of herres, but all that beehelde herr in company of the beloved young m an, were well weettinge of her passion. She thus fervently loving, as a most loving mind could love, continued two years in such contynencie, that she never made any token to this young man of the love that she bore him, but such as she could not hide from him. At no time she would speak with him, nor receive any letters from him or tokens, where there never passed day but she was tempted with both the one and the other. And how she longed for it, that wot I well, for if otherwhile she could privily get any thing that had been the young man's, she was so tender over it, that a man would have thought that of it had sprung her lief and all her joy. Yet would she never in so long a time content him with other, then to beehoulde him and be seen of him again, & sometime happening to be at open feasts, dance with him as she did with others. And because there was no great difference in their degree, she and the young man coveted that so great a love might have a lucky end, and be man and wife together. All the men and women in the City desired the same, saving her cruel father, which of a wayward and strange opinion minded to beestowe her upon an other more wealthy. And this was not by the unlucky maiden otherwise gainstood, then with most bitter tears. And after this unfortunate marriage was concluded with great compassion of the people there, and despair of the poor lovers, yet did not this stroke of fortune serve to root up so grounded a love in the heart of each other, but lasted afterward the term of three years, albeit she full wisely dissembled it, & sought every way to cut in sunder those desires, which now were past hope. And in this while she followed on still in her set purpose of continency, and perceiving she could not honestly have him, whom she worshipped in the world, she chose not to have him at all, and continued in her wonted not to accept messages, tokens nor yet his looks. And in this resolved determination the seely soul vanquished with most cruel affliction, and waxed through long passion very faint, at the three years end, died. Rather would she forgoo her contentations and pleasures so much longed for, finally her lief, than her honesty. And yet wanted she no means nor ways to fulfil her desire most secretly, and without peril either of slander or any other loss. And for all that, refrained she from the thing of herself that she so much coveted, and for the which she was so continually attempted by the person whom alone in the world her desire was to please. And to this was she not driven for fear or any other respect, but only for the zeal of true virtue. What will you say of an other? another example of a maiden. that for six months almost nighily lay with a most dear lover of herres, yet in a garden full of most savoury fruits, tempted with her own most fervent longing and with the petitions and tears of him that was more dear to herr then her own self, refrained from tasting of them. And for all she was wrapped and tied in the streict chain of those beloved arms, yet never yielded she herself as vanquished, but preserved undefiled the flower of her honesty. Trow you not (my L. Gaspar) that these be deeds of continency● alike to Alexander's? Which most fervently enamoured not with the women of Darius, but with this renown and greatness, that pricked him forward with the spurs of glory to abide pains and dangers to make himself immortal, set at naught not only other things, but his own lief, to get a name above all men? and do we marvel with such thoughts in his heart that he refrained from a thing which he coveted not greatly? for sins he never saw those women before, it is not possible that he should be in love with them at a blush, but rather perhaps abhorred them for Darius his enemies sake. And in this case every wanton act of his toward them, had been an injury and not love. And therefore no great matter if Alexander, which no less with nobleness of courage then martial prowess subdued the world, abstained from doing injury to women. The continency in like case of Scipio is doubtless much to be commended, Scipio. yet if ye consider well, not to be compared to these two women's: for he in like manner also refrained from a thing that he coveted not, being in his enemies country, a fresh Captain, in the beeginning of a most weighty enterprise, leaving beehind him in his Country such expectation of himself, & having beeside to give account to rigorous judges, y● often times chastised not only the great, but the lest offences of all, & among them he witted well he had enemies, knowing also if he had otherwise done, because she was a noble dansel & espoused to a noble man, he should have purchased him so many enemies & in such sort, that many would have driven of & perchance have set him clean beeside his victory. Thus for so many respects & so weighty, he abstained from a light & hurtful appetite, in showing continency & a freeherted welmeaning, the which (as it is written) got him all the hearts of that people: and an other army stood him in stead with favour to vanquish men's hearts, which perhaps by force of arms had been invincible. Gn. Noevius Val. Antiates. So that this may rather be termed a warlike policy, then pure continency: Albeit beeside, the report of this matter is not all of the purest, for some writers of authority affirm that this Damsel was enjoyed of Scipio in the pleasures of love: and of this I tell you ye may depose upon. Phrisio said: Perhaps ye have found it in the Gospel. I have seen it myself, answered the L. Cesar, and therefore I have a much more certeintye of this, Alcibiades was Socrates' scholar the welfavouredst young boy in all Athens, than you or any man else can have that Alcibiades arrose no otherwise from Socrates' bed then children do from their father's beds: for to say the truth, a strange place and time was bed and night to view with fired mind the pure beauty which is said Socrates loved without any unhonest desire, especially loving better the beauty of the mind, then of the body: but in boys, not in old men, for all they were wiser. And in good sooth a better example could not have been piked out to praise the continency of men, Xenocrates. than this of Xenocrates, which occupied in his study fastened and bound by his profession, which is Philosophy, that consisteth in good manners, Lais of Corinth. & not in words, old, clean spent of his natural lustiness, nothing able, not not in making proffer to be able, refrained from a common haunted woman, which for the names sake might abhor him. I would sooner have believed he had been continent, if he had declared any token to have been come to his right senses again, and in that case have used continency: or else abstained from the thing which old men covett more than the battles of Venus, Old men desirous of wine. namely from wine. But to establish well continency in old age, it is written that he was full and laden with it. And what can be said to be more wider from the continency of an old man, than drunkenness? And in case the shonning of Venus' matters in that slow and cold age deserveth so much praise, how much should it deserve in a tender maiden, as those two I have told you of? Of which the one most streic●lye bridlinge all her senses, not only denied her eyes their light, but also took from the heart those thoughts, which alone had been a most sweet food a long time to keep him in lief. The other fervently in love, being so often times alone in the a●mes of him whom she loved more a great deal then all the world beeside, fighting against her own self and against him that was more dear to her then her own ●elfe, overcame that fervent desire, that many times hath and doth overcome so many wise men. Trow ye not now (my L. Gaspar) that writers may be ashamed to make mention of Xenocrates in this case, and to reckon him for chaste? where if a man could come buy the knowledge of it, I would lay a wager that he slept all that night until the next day dinner time, like a dead body buried in wine: and for all the stirring that woman made, could not once open his eyes, as though he had been cast into a dead sleep. Here all the men and women laughed, and the L. Emilia, surely, my L. Gaspar (quoth she) if you will beethinke yourself a little better, I believe you shall find out some other pretty example of continency alike unto this. The L. Cesar answered: Is not this other (think ye Madam) a goodly example of continency which he hath alleged of Pericles? I muse much that he hath not aswell called to rehearsal the continency and pretty saying that is written of him that a woman asked to great a sum of for one night, and he answered her, that He minded not to buy repentance so dear. Demosthenes' answer to Lais of Corinth that asked him xxiiii▪ li. for one night. They ceased not laughing, and the L. Cesar. after he had stayed a while, my L. Caspar (quoth he) pardon me, if I tell troth. For in conclusion these be the wondered continencies that men writ of themselves, accusing women for incontinent, in whom are daily seen infinite tokens of continency. And certe●●e if ye ponder it aright, there is no fortress so impringable, nor so well fenced that being assaulted with the thousandeth part of the inginnes and guiles that are practised to conquer the steady mind of a woman, would not yield up at the first assault. How many trained up by great astates and enriched through them and advanced to great promotion, having in their hands their fortresses, holds and Castles, whereupon depended their whole state, their lief and all their goods, without shame or care t● be named Traiters▪ have disloyally given them to whom they aught not? Traitors. And would god in our days there were such scarcity of these kind of persons, that we might not have much more a do to found out some one, that in this case hath done that he aught, then to name such as have failed therein. See you not so many other that daily wander about to kill men in thickettes, thieves. and rovinge by sea, only to rob men's money? How many Prelates make merchandise with the goods of the Church of god? Prelates. How many Lawyers falsify testaments? Lawyers, What perjuries make they? How many false evidences, only to get money? How many physicians poison the diseased, Phisitiens. only for it? How many again for fear of death do most vile matters? And yet all these so stiff and hard battles doth a tender & delicate young woman gainstand many times, for sundry there have been, that have chose rather to die then to loose their honesty: Then said the L. Gaspar: These (my L. Cesar) be not I believe, in the world nowadays. The L. Cesar answered: And I will not allege unto you them of old time. But this I say, that many might be found out, and are daily, that in this case pass not for death. And now it cometh into my mind that when Capua was sacked by the French m●n (which is not yet so long since, but you may full well bear it in mind) a well favoured young gentlewoman of Capua, being lead out of her house where she had been taken by a company of Gascoignes, Examples of the chastity of women. when she came to the river that runneth by Capua, she feigned to pluck on her shoe, insomuch that her leader let her go a little, and she straight way threw herself into the river. Vlturno▪ What will you say ●f a poor Country wench, that not many months ago at Gazuolo beeside Mantua gone into the field a lea●inge with a sister of herres, sore a thirst entered into a house to drink water, where the good man of the house, that was young, seeing her meetly well-favoured and alone, taking her in his arms, first with fair words, afterward with threatenings attempted to frame her to do his pleasure, and where she strived still more obstinately, at length with many blows and by force overcame her. She thus tossed and sobbing, returned into the field to her sister, and for all the instance that she made upon herr, would never disclose to herr what outrage she received in that house, but still drawing homeward, and showing herself appeased by little and little, and to speak without desturbance, she gave her certain instructions. Afterward when she came to the Olio, which is the river that runneth by Gazuolo, Olio▪ keeping her somewhat a louf from her sister, that knew not nor imagined that she minded to do, suddenly cast herself into it. Her Sister sorrowful and weeping, followed down by the rivers side as fast as she could, which carried her a good pace away, and every time the poor soul appeared above water, her sister threw in to her a cor●e that she had brought with her to bind the corn withal. And for all the cord came to her hands more than once (for she was yet nigh enough to the bank) the steadfast and resolved girl always refused it and pushed it from her. And thus shonninge all succour that might save her lief, in a short space died. She was neither stirred by nobleness of blood, nor by fear of death or slander, but only by the grief of her lost maidenheade. Now by this you may gather, how many other women do deeds most worthy memory, sins (as a man may say) three days a go, this hath made such a trial of her virtue, and is not spoken of, ne yet her name known. But had not the death followed at that time of the Bishop of Mantua uncle to our Duchess, the bank of the Olio in the place where she cast herself in, had now been garnished with a very fair sepulture, for a memory of so glorious a soul, that deserved somuch the more clear renown after death, as in lief it dwelled in an unnoble body. Here the L. Cesa● took respite a while, afterward he se● forward: In my days also in Room there happened a like chance, and it was, that a well-favoured and well borne young gentlewoman of Room, A chance that happened to a gentlewoman in Room. being long followed after of one that showed to love her greatly, would never please him with any thing, not not somuch as a look. So that this fellow by force of money corrupted a waiting woman of herres, who desirous to please him to fingers more money, was in hand with her mistress upon a day, no great holy day, to go visit Saint Sebastianes' Church. One of the seven. Churches of Room two. miles with out the City. And giving the lover intelligence of the whole, and instructing him what he had to do, lead the young gentlewoman into one of the dark. Caves under ground, that whoso go to Saint Sebastianes' are w●nt to visit. And in it was the young man first closely hid, which perceiving himself alone with her whom he loved so much, beegane every way to exhort her with as fair language as he could, to have compassion upon him, and to change her former rigour into love. But when he saw all his prayers could take none effect, he turned him to threatenings. And when they prevailed not, he all to beat her. In the end he was full and wholly bent to have his purpose, if not otherwise, by force, and therein used the help of the naughty woman that had brought her thither. Yet could he never do so much as make her grant to him, but in words & deeds (although her force was but small) always the silly young woman defended herself in what she could possible. So that what for the spite he conceived, when he saw he could not get his will, and what fo● fear lest the matter should come to her kinsfolks care & make him punished for it, this mischievous person with the aid of the woman that doubted the same, strangled the unlucky young woman, and there left her, and running his way provided for himself for being found out again. The waiting woman blinded with her own offence, witted not to flee, and being taken upon certain susspitions, confessed the whole matter, and was therefore punished according to her deserts. The body of the constant and noble gentlewoman with great honour was taken out of the cave and carried to burial within Room▪ with a garland of Laurel about her head, accompanied with an infinite number of men & women: among which was not one that brought his eyes to his home again without tears. And thus generally of all the people was this rare soul no less be wailed then commended. But to tell you of them that you yourself know, remember you not that ye have heard tell, as the Lady Foelix della Rovere was on her journey to Saona, Lady Foelix della Rovere. doubting lest certain sails that were descried a far of, had been Pope Alexander's vessels that pursued her, was utterly resolved, if they had made toward her, and no remedy to escape, to cast herself into the Sea. And this is not to be thought that she did upon any lightness, for you aswell as any man, do know with what a wit and wisdom the singular beauty of that Lady is accompanied. I can no longer keep in silence a word of our Duchess, Praise of the Duchess that lead a widows lief with the Duke. who living XV years in company with her husband, like a widow, hath not only been steadfast in not uttringe this to any person in the world, but also when she was persuaded by her own friends to forsake this widowheade, she chose rather to suffer banishment, poverty, and all other kind of misery, then to agreed to that, which all other men thought great favour and prosperity of fortune. And as he still proceeded in talking of this, the Duchess said: Speak of somewhat else, and no more ado in this matter, for ye have other things enough to talk of. The L Cesar followed on. Full well I know that you will not deny me this (my L. Gaspar) nor you Phrisio. Not doubtless, answered Phrisio: but One maketh no number. Then said the L. Cesar: Truth it is that these so great effects and rare virtues are s●ene in few women. Yet are they also that resist the battles of love, all to be wondered at, and such as otherwhile be overcome deserve much compassion. For surely the provocations of lovers, the crafts that they use, the snares that they lay in wa●te are such and so applied, that it is to great a wonder, that a tender girl should escape them. What day, what hour passeth at any time that the young woman thus laid at is not tempted by her lover with money, The careful diligence of lovers. tokens, and all things that he can imaginn may please her? At what time can she ever look out at a window, but she seethe continually the earnest lover pass by? With silence in words, but with a pair of eyes that talk. With a vexed and faint countenance. With those kindled sighs. Often times with most abundant tears. When doth she at any time issue out at her doors to Church or any other place, but he is always in the face of her? And at every turning of a lane meeteth her in the teeth, with such heavy passion painted in his eyes that a man would ween that even at that instant he were ready to die? I omit his preciseness in sundry things, inventions, meery conceits, undertaking enterprises, sports, dances, games, maskeries, jousts, tourneimentes, the which things she knoweth all to be taken in hand for her sake. Again, in the night time she can never awake, but she heareth music, or at the lest that unquiet spirit about the walls of her house casting forth sighs & lamentable voices. If by a hap she talketh with one of her waiting women about her, she (being already corrupted with money) hath strait way in a readiness some pretty token, a letter, a ●ime, or some such matter to present her in the lovers behalf: & here entering to purpose, maketh her to understand how this silly soul burneth, how he setteth little by his own lief, to do her service, & how he seeketh nothing of her but honesty, & that only his desire is to speak with her. Here then for all hard matters are found out remedies, sergeant keys, laders of ropes, ways to cast into sleep, a trifling matter is peincted out, examples are alleged of others that do much worse: so that every matter is made so easy, that she hath no more trouble, but to say, I am content. And in case the poor soul maketh resistance but a while, they ply her with such provocations, and find such means, that with continual beating at, they break in sunder that is a let to her. And many there be that perceiving they can not prevail with fair words, fall to threatenings, & say that they will tell their husbands they are, that they be not. Other bargain boldly with the fathers and many times with the husbands which for money or promotion sake give their own daughters and wives for a prey against their wil Other seek by enchantments, and witchcrafts to take from them the liberty that god hath granted to souls, wherein are seen wonderful conclusions. But in a thousand year I could not repeat all the crafts that men use to frame women to their wills, which be infinite. And beeside them which every man of himself findeth out, there hath not also wanted that hath wittily made books, and beestowed great study to teach how in this beehalfe women are to be deceived. Now judge you how from so many nets these simple doves can be safe, tempted with so sweet a bait. And what great matter is it then, in case a woman knowing herself somuch beloved & worshipped many years together, of a noble & fair conditioned young man, which a thousand times a day hasardeth his lief to serve her, & never thinketh upon other but to please her with the continual beating which the water maketh when it pierceth the most hard marble stone, at length is brought to love him? Is this (think you) so heinous a trespass, that the silly poor creature taken with so many enticements, deserveth not, if the worst should fall, the pardon that many times murderers, thieves, melons and traiters have? Will you have this vice so uncomperable great, that because one woman is found to r●nn into it, all women kind should be clean despised for it, & generally counted v●ide of continency? Not regarding that many are found most invincible, that against the continual flickeringe provocations of love are made of Diamonds, and stiff in their infinite steadiness, more than the rocks against the surges of the Sea? Then the L. Gaspar when the L· Cesar stayed talking, began to make him answer, but the L. Octavian smiling: Tush for love of god (quoth he) grant him the victory, for I know ye shall do small good, and me think I see you shall not only make all the women your enemies, but also the more part of the men. The L. Gaspar laughed and said: Nay, the women have rather great cause to thank me. For had not I contraryed the L. julian and the L. Cesar, they should not have come to the knowledge so many praises as they have given them. Then said the L. Cesar: The praises which my L. julian and I have given women, and many more beeside, were most known, therefore they have been but superfluous. Who weteth not that without women no contentation or delight can be felt in all this lief of ours? which (set them aside) were rude and without all sweetness, and rougher than the lief of forest wild beasts? Who knoweth not that women rid our hearts of all vile and dastardlye imaginations, vexations, miseries, and the troublesome heaviness that so often times accompanieth them? And in case we will consider the truth, we shall know moreover as touching the understanding of great matters, that they do not stray our wits, The ●oc●a●ions of love. but rather quicken them, and in war make men past fe●●e and hardy passing measure. And certess it is not possible, that in the heart of man, where once is entered the flame of love, there should at any time reign cowardliness. For he that liveth, always coveteth to make himself as lovely as he can, and evermore dreadeth that he take no foil, that should make him little set by of whom he desireth to be much set by: and passeth not to go a thousand times in a day to his death, to declare himself worthy of that love. Therefore whoso could gather an army of lovers, that should fight in presence of the ladies they loved, should subdue the whole world, on less against it on the contrary part there were an other army likewise in love. And to abide by, the houldinge out of Troy X. years against all Greece: Why Troy▪ withstood all▪ Greece ● years. proceeded of nothing else but of certain lovers, which when they intended to issue out abroad to fight, armed themselves in the presence of their Ladies, and many times they helped them themselves, and at their setting forth rounded them some certain word, that set them on fire and made them more than men. Afterward in fighting they wi●● well that they were beeheld from the walls and Towers by the Ladies, wherefore they deemed every bold enterprise that they undertook, was commended of them, which was the greatest reward to them that they could have in the world. Many there be that hold opinion that the victory of king Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, against the king of Granada was cheeflye occasioned by women, Women the cause of the conquest of the kingdom of Granata. for the most times when the army of Spain marched to encounter with the enemies, Queen Isabel set forth also with all her Damsels: and there were many noble gentlemen that were in love, who till they came within sight of the enemies, always went communing with their Ladies. afterward eachone taking his leave of his, in their presence marched on to encounter with the enemies, with that fierceness of courage, that love and desire to show their Ladies that they were served with valiant men, gave them. Whereupon it befell many times that a very few gentlemen of Spain put to flight & slu● an infinite number of Moors, thanked be the courteious and beloved women. Therefore I wot not (my L. Gaspar) what wayward judgement hath lead you to dispraise women. Women the cause of worthy 〈◊〉 Do you not see that of all comely exercises and which delight the world, the cause is to be referred to no earthly thing, but to women? Who learneth to dance featlye for other, but to please women? Who applieth the sweetness of music for other cause, but for this? Who to w●ite in meeter, at the lest in the mother tongue, but to express the affections caused by women? judge you how many most noble Poems we had been without both in Greek and Latin, Francisco▪ Pe●rarea. had women been smallly regarded of poets. But leaving all other a part, had it not been a very great loss, in case M. Francis Petrarca, that writ so divinlye his loves in this our tongue, had applied his mind only to Latin matters: as he would have done, had not the love of the Damsel Laura sometime strayed him from it? I name not unto you the fine wits that are now in the world, and here present, which daily bring forth some noble frut●, and no●wythstandynge take their ground only of the virtue and beawtye of women. See whether Solomon minding to writ mystically very high and heavenly matters, S●lomon to cover them with a gracious veil, did not feign a fervent Dialogue full of the affection of a lover with his woman, seeming to him that he could not find here beeneth among us any likeness more meet and agreeing with heavenly matters, than the love toward women: and in that wise and manner minded to give us a little of the smack of that divinity, which he both for his understanding and for the grace above others, had knowledge of. Therefore this needed no disputation (my L, Gaspar) or at the lest so many words in the matter. But you in gainsaiing the truth have hindered the understanding of a thousand other pretty matters and necessary for the perfection of the gentlewoman of the Palace. The L. Gaspar answered: I believe there can no more be said. Yet if you suppose that the L. julian hath not garnished her throughly with good conditions, the fault is not in him, but in him that hath so wrought that there are no ●o virtues in the world: ●or all that there be, he hath beestowed upon her. The Duchess said smilinge: Well, you shall see that the L. julian will yet find out more beeside. The L. julian answered: In good sooth (Madam) me seemeth I have sufficiently spoken. And for my part I am well pleased with this my woman. And in case these Lords will not have her as she is, let them leave her to me. Here when all was whilt, Sir Fridericke said: My L. julian, to give you occasion to say somewhat else, I will but ask you a question, Entertainment. as touching that you have willed to be the principal profession of the gentlewoman of the palace. And this it is, that I long to know how she should behave herself in a point that (to my seeming) is most necessary. For albeit the excellent qualities which you have given her contain in them discretion, knowleage, judgement, sleight, sobermoode, and so many other virtues, whereby of reason she aught to have the understanding to entertain every man and in all kind of purpose, yet think I notwithstanding above any other thing that it is requisite for her to know what belongeth to communication of love. To tal●e of love. For even as every honest Gentilmanne for an instrument to obtain the good will of women, practiseth those noble exercises, precise fashions and good manners which we have named, even so to this purpose applieth he also his words, and not only when he is stirred thereto by some passion, but often times also to do honour to the woman he talketh withal, seeming to him that to declare to love her is a witness that she is worthy of it, and that her beauty and worthiness is such, that it enforceth every man to serve her. Therefore would I know, how this woman in such a case should behave herself uprightly, and how to answer him that loveth her in deed, and how him that maketh false semblant: and whether she aught to dissemble the understanding of it, or be answerable, or shonn the matter, and how to handle herself. Then said the L. julian: It were first needful to teach her to know them that make semblant to love, and them that love in deed: Afterward for being answerable in love or not, I believe she aught not to be guided by any other man's will, but by her own self. Sir Fridericke said: Teach you her then what are the most certain and surest tokens to discern false love from true, and what trial she shall think sufficient to content herself withal, to be out of doubt of the love showed her. The L. julian answered smiling: That wot not I, because men be nowadays so crafty, that they make infinite false semblantes, and sometime weep, when they have in deed a greater lust to laugh. Therefore they should be sent to the constant I'll under the Arch of faithful lovers. But lest this woman of mine (which is my charge and no man's else, because she is my creature) should renn into those errors which I have seen many other renn into, I would say that she should not be light of credence that she is beloved: nor be like unto some, that not only make not wise they understand him not that communeth with them of love, be it never so far of, but also at the first word accept all the praises that be given them: or else deny them after such a sort, that it is rather an alluring for them to love them they common withal, than a withdrawing of themselves. Therefore the manner of entertainment in reasoning of love that I will have my woman of the Palace to use, shall be always to shonn beeleavinge that whoso talketh of love, loveth her any whit the more. And in case the Gentleman be (as many such there are abroad) malapert, and hath small respect to her in his talk, she shall shape him such an answer, that he shall plainly understand she is not pleased withal. Again, if he be demure and useth sober fashions and words of love covertly, in such honest manner, as I believe the Courtier whom these Lords have fashioned will do, the woman shall make wise not to understand him, and shall draw his words to another sense, seeking always soberly with the discretion and wisdom that is already said becometh her, to stray from that purpose. But in case the communication be such that she can not feign not to understand it, she shall take the whole (as it were) for a meerie device, and make wise that she knoweth it is spoken to her rather to honour her withal, then that it is so in deed, debasinge her deserts and acknowledging at the Gentilmans courtesy the praises which he giveth her: & in this sort she shall be counted discreet, and shall be on the surer hand for being deceived. Thus me seemeth the gentlewoman of the Palace aught to behave herself in communication of love. Then Sir Friderick, You debate this matter, my L. julian (quoth he) as though it were requisite, that all such as speak with women of love, should tell lies, and seek to deceive them, the which in case it were so, I would say your lessons were good. But if this gentleman that entertaineth, loveth in very deed, and feeleth the passion that so tormenteth men's hearts sometime, consider you not in what pain, in what calamity and death ye put him in, when at no time you will that the woman shall believe him in any thing he saith about this purpose? Shall oaths, tears, and so many other tokens then, have no force at all? Take heed (my L. julian) lest a man may think that beeside the natural cruelty which many of these women have in them, you teach them get more. The L. julian answered: I have spoken, not of him that loveth, but of him that entertaineth with communication of love, wherein one of the necessariest points is, that words be never to seek: and true lovers as they have a burning heart, so have they a cold tongue, with broken talk and sudden silence. Therefore (may hap) it were no false principle to say: He that loveth much, speaketh little. Howbeit in this I believe there can be given no certain rule, by reason of the diversity of men's manners. And I wot not what I should say, but that the woman be good & heedful, and always bear in mind, that men may with a great deal less danger declare themselves to love, than women. The L. Gaspar said laughing: Why (my L. julian) will not you that this your so excellent a woman shall love again, at the lest when she knoweth cer●einlye she is beloved? considering if the Courtier were not loved again, it is not likely he would continued in loving her: and so should she want many favours, and chiefly the homage and reverence, wherewithal lovers obey and (in a manner) worship the virtue of the women beloved. In this, answered the L. julian, I will not counsel her. But I say pardee to love, as you now understand, I judge it not meet, but for unmarried women. For when this love can not end in matrimony, the woman must needs have always the remorse and pricking that is had of vn●efull matters, and she putteth in hazard to stain the renown of honesty, that standeth her so much upon. Then answered Sir Fridericke smiling: Me think (my L. julian) this opinion of yours is very sour and crabbed, & I beleave you have learned it of some Friar Preacher, of them that rebuke women in love with lay men, that their part may be the more. Married women, And me seemeth you sort over hard laws to married women, for many there be that their husbands bear very sore hatred unto without cause, and ●ipp them at the heart, sometime in loving other women, otherwhile in working them all the displeasures they can imagine. Some are compelled by their fathers to ●ake old men full of diseases, uglesome & weigh ward that make them lead their lief in continual misery. And in case it were leeful for such to be divorced and severed from them they be ill coupled withal, perhaps it were not to be allowed that they should love any other than their husband. But when either through the stars, their enemies, or through the diversity of complexion, or any other casualty it befalleth, that in bed, which aught to be the nest of agreement and love, the cursed fury of hell soweth the seed of his venom, which afterward bringeth forth disdain, susspition and the pricking thorns of hatred, that tormenteth those unlucky souls bound cruelly together in the fast linked chain that can not be broken but by death, why will not you have it leeful for this woman to seek some ●asement for so hard a scourge? and give unto an other that which her husband not only regardeth not, but rather clean abhorreth? I hold well, that such as have meet husbands and be beloved of them, aught not to do them injury: but the other in not loving him that loveth them do themselves injury. Nay, they do themselves injury in loving other beeside their husband, answered the L julian. Yet sins not loving is not many times in our will, if this mishap chance to the woman of the Palace, that the hatred of her husband or the love of an other bendeth her to love, I will have her to grant her lover nothing else but the mind: nor at any time to make him any certain token of love, neither in word nor gesture, nor any other way that he may be fully assured of it. Then said M. Robert of Bari smiling, I appeal (my L. julian) from this judgement of yours, and I believe I shall have many fellows. But sins you will teach this currishness (that I may term it so) to married women, will ye also have the unmarried to be so cruel and discourtious? and not please their lovers at the lest in somewhat? In case my woman of the Palace, answered the L. julian, be not married, minding to love, How maidens should love. I will have her to love one, whom she may mary, neither will I think it an offence if she show him some token of love. In which matter I will teach her one general rule in few words, and that is, That she show him whom she loveth all tokens of love, A general ●ule. but such as may bring into the lovers mind a hope to obtain of her any dishonest matter. And to this she must have a great respect, because it is an error that infinite women renn into, which ordinarily covett nothing somuch as to be beautiful: and because to have many lovers they suppose is a testimony of their beauty, they do their best to win them as many as they can. Therefore often times they renn at rovers in behaviours of small modesty, and leaving the temperate sobermoode that is so sightly in them, use certain wanton countenances, with bawdy words and gestures full of unshamefastness, holding opinion that men mark them and give care to them willingly for it, & with these fashions make themselves beloved, which is false: because the signs and tokens that be made them, spring of an appetite moved by an opinion of easiness, not of love. Therefore will not I that my woman of the Palace with dishonest behaviours should appear as though she would offer herself unto whoso will have her, and allure what she can the eyes and affection of who so beehouldeth her: but with her deserts and virtuous conditions, with amiableness and grace drive into the mind of whoso seethe her the very love that is due unto every thing worthy to be beloved: and the respect that always taketh away hope from whoso mindeth any dishonest matter. He than that shall be beloved of such a woman, The love of honest women. aught of reason to hold himself contented with every little token, and more to esteem a look of herres with affection of love, then to be altogether master of an other. And to such a woman I wot not what to add more, but that she be beloved of so excellent a Courtier, as these Lords have fashioned, and she likewise to love him, that both the one and the other may have full and wholly his perfection. After the L. julian had thus spoken he held his peace, when the L. Gaspar laughing, now (quoth he) you can not complain that the L. julian hath not fashioned this woman of the Palace most excellent. And if perdee there be any such to be found, I say that she deserveth well to be esteemed equal with the Courtier. The L. Emilia answered: I will at all times be bound to find her, when you find the Courtier. M. Robert said then: Doubtless it can not be said nay, but the L. julians woman which he hath fashioned is most perfect. Yet in these her last properties as touching love, me seemeth not withstanding that he hath made her somewhat over crabbed, & especially where he will have her in words, gestures and countenance to take clean away all hope from the lover, & settle him as nigh as she can in despair. For (as all men know) the desires of man stretch not to such kind of matters, whereof there is no hope to be had. And although at times some women there have been, that perhaps bearing themselves lofty of their beauty and worthiness: the first word they have said to them that communed with them of love hath been, that they should never look to come buy any thing of them that liked them: yet in countenance, and dalliance together they have afterward been more favourable to them, so that with their gentle deeds they have tempered in part their proud words. But if this woman both in words, deeds and behaviours take hope quite away, I believe our Courtier, if he be wise, will never love her, and so shall she have this imperfection, that she shall be without a lover. Then the L. julian, I will not (quoth he) have my woman of the Palace to take away the hope of every thing, Honest love. but of dishonest matters, the which, in case the Courtier be so courteious and discreet, as these Lords have fashioned him, he will not only not hope for, but not once motion. For if beauty, manners, wit, goodness, knowleage, sobermoode, and so many other virtuous conditions which we have given the woman, be the cause of the Courtiers love toward her, the end also of this love must needs be virtuous: and if nobleness of birth, skilfulness in martial feats, in letters, in music, gentleness, being bath in speech & in behaviour endowed with so many graces, be the means wherewithal the Courtier compasseth the woman's love, the end of that love must needs be of the same condition that the means are by the which he cometh to it. Beeside that, Sundry kindeso● beauty. as there be in the world sundry kinds of beauty, so are there also sundry desires of men: and therefore it is seen that many, perceiving a woman of so grave a beauty that going, standing, jesting, dalyinge, and doing what she lusteth, so tempreth all her gestures, that it driveth a certain reverence into whoso beholdeth her, are aghast and a feared to serve her: and rather drawn with hope, love those garish and enticefull women, so delicate and tender, that in their words, gestures and countenance declare a certain passion somewhat feeble, that promiseth to be easily brought and turned into love. Some to be sure from deceits, love certain other so lavish both of their eyes, words and gestures, that they do what ever first cometh to mind, with a certain plainness that bideth not their thoughts. There want not also many other noble courages, that seeming to them that virtue consisteth about hard matters (for it is over sweet a victory to overcome that seemeth to an other impringable) are soon bend to love the beauties of those women, that in their eyes, words and gestures declare a more churlish gravity than the rest for a trial that their prowess can enforce an obstinate mind, and bend also stubborn wills & rebels against love, to love. Therefore such as have so great affiance in themselves, because they reckon themselves sure from deceit, love also willingly certain women, that with a sharpness of wit, & with art it seemeth in their beauty that they hide a thousand crafts. Or else some other, that have accompanied with beauty a certain scornful fashion in few words, little laughing, after a sort as though (in a manner) they smallly regarded whoso ever beehouldeth or serveth them. Again there are found certain other, that vouchsafe not to love but women that in their countenance, in their speech and in all their gestures have about them all handsomeness, all fair conditions, all knowledge, and all graces heaped together, like one flower made of all the excellencies in the world. Therefore in case my woman of the Palace have scarcity of these loves proceeding of an ill hope, she shall not for this be without a lover: because she shall not want them that shallbe provoked through her deserts and through the affiance of the prowess in themselves, whereby they shall know themselves worthy to be beloved of her. M. Robert s●ill spoke against him, but the Duchess to aid him that he was in the wrong, confirming the L. julians opinion: after that she added: We have no cause to complain of the L. julian, for doubtless I think that the woman of the Palace whom he hath fashioned, may be compared to the Courtier, and that with some advantage: for he hath taught her to love which these Lords have not done their Courtier. Then spoke unico Aretino: It is meet to teach women to love, because I never saw any that could do it, for almost continually all of them accompany their beauty with cruelty and unkindness toward such as serve them most faithfully, Beautiful women cruel. and which for nobleness of birth, honesty and virtue deserved a reward for their good will: & yet many times give themselves for a prey to most blockish and cowardly men & very assheades, and which not only love them not, but abhor them. Therefore to shone these so foul oversights, perhaps it had been well done first to have taught them to make a choice of him that should deserve to be beloved, and afterward to love him. The which is not necessary in men, for they know it to well of themselves: and I myself can be a good witness of it, because love was never taught me, but by the divine beauty and most divine manners of a Lady, so that it was not in my will not to worship her: and therefore needed I therein no art nor teacher at all. And I believe that the like happeneth to as many as love truly. Therefore the Courtier hath more need to be taught to make him beloved then to love. Then said the L Emilia: Do you now reason of this then, M. unico. unico answered: Me think reason would that the good will of women should be gotten in serving and pleasing them. But it, wherein they reckon themselves served and pleased, I believe must be learned of women themselves, which oftentimes covett such strange matters, that there is no man that would imagine them, & otherwhile they themselves wot not what they should long for: therefore it were good you (Madam) that are a woman, & of right aught to know what pleaseth women, should take this pain, to do the world so great a profit. Then said the L. Emilia: For somuch as you are generally most acceptable to women, it is a good likelihood that you know all the ways how their good will is to be gotten. Therefore is it pardee meet for you to teach it. Madam, answered unico, I can give a lover no profitabler advise then to procure that you bear no stroke with the woman whose good will he seeketh. For the small qualities which yet seemed to the world sometime to be in me, with as faithful a love as ever was, were not of such force to make me beloved, as you to make me be hated. Then answered the L. Emilia: God save me (M. unico) for once thinking and much more for working any thing that should make you be hated. For beeside that I should do that I aught not, I should be thought of a slender judgement to attempt a matter unpossible. But sins ye provoke me in this sort to speak of that pleaseth women, I will speak of it, and if it displease you, lay the fault in yourself. I judge therefore, that whoso intendeth to be beloved, aught to love and to be lovely: How to obtain the good will of women and these two points are enough to obtain the good will of women. Now to answer to that which you lay to my charge, I say that every man knoweth and seethe that you are most lovely. Marry whether ye love so faithfully, as you say ye do, I am very doubtful and perhaps others to. For, your being over lovely, hath been the cause that you have been beloved of many women: and great rivers divided into many arms become small brooks: so love likewise scattered into more than one body hath small force. But these your continual complaints and accusing of the women whom you have served of unkindness (which is not likely, considering so many deserts of yours) is a certain kind of discretion, to cloak the favours, contentations and pleasures which you have received in love, and an assurance for the women that love you and that have given themselves for a prey to you, that you will not disclose them. And therefore are they also well pleased, that you should thus openly show false loves to others, to cloak their true. Wherefore if haply those women that you now make wise to love, are not so light of beleaf, as you would they were, it happeneth because this your art in love beeginneth to be discovered, and not because I make you to be hated. Then said M. unico: I intend not to attempt to confute your words, because me seemeth it is aswell my destiny not to be believed in truth, as it is yours to be believed in untruth. say hardly M. unico, answered the L. Emilia, that you love not so, as you would have believed ye did. For if you did love, The law of love. all your desires should be to please the woman beloved, and to will the self same thing that she willeth, for this is the law of love. But your complaining so much of her, beetokeneth some deceit (as I have said) or else it is a sign that you will that, that she willeth not. Nay (quoth M. unico) there is no doubt but I will that, that she willeth, which is a sign I love her: but it grieveth me because she willeth not tha●, that I will, which is a token she loveth not me, according to the verse same law that you have alleged. The L. Emilia answered: He that taketh in hand to love, must please and apply himself full and wholly to the appetites of the wight beloved, and according to them frame his own: and make his own desires, servants: and his very soul, like an obedient handmaiden: nor at any time to think upon other, but to change his, if it were possible, into the beloved wights, & reckon this his chief joy and happiness, for so do they that love truly. My chief happiness were jump, answered M. unico, if one will alone ruled her soul and mine both. It lieth in you to do it, answered the L. Emilia. Then spoke M. Bernarde interrupting them: Doubtless, who so loveth truly, directeth all his thaughtes, without other men's teaching, to serve and please the woman beloved. But because these services of love are not otherwhile well known, I believe that beeside loving and serving, it is necessary also to make some other show of this love, so manifest, that the woman may not dissemble to know that she is beloved: yet with such modesty, that it may not appear that he beareth her little reverence. And therefore you (Madam) that have beegone to declare how the soul of the lover aught to be an obedient handmaiden to the beloved, teach us withal, I beseech you, this secret matter, which me think is most needful. The L. Cesar laughed and said: If the lover be so bashful, that he is ashamed to tell it her, let him writ it her. To this the L. Emilia said: Nay, if he be so discreet, as is meet, before he maketh the woman to understand it, he aught to be out of doubt to offend her. Then said the L. Gaspar: All women have a delight to be suide to in love, although they were minded to deny the suit. The L. julian said, you are much deceived. For I would not counsel the Cour●er at any time to use this way, except he were sure not to have a repulse. What should he then do? quoth the L. Gaspar. The L. julian answered: How a ma● should disclose his love to a woman. In case you will needs writ or speak to her, do it with such sobermoode, and so warily, that the words may first attempt the mind, and so doubtfully touch her intent and will, that they may leave her a way and a certain issue to feign the understanding that those words contain love: to the intent if he find any danger, he may draw back and make wise to have spoken or written it to an other end, to enjoy these familiar cherishinges and dalliances with assurance, that oftentimes women show to such as should take them for friendship, afterward deny them assoon as they perceive they are taken for tokens of love. Wherefore such as be to rash and venture so saucily with certain furies and plunges, oftentimes loose them, and worthily: for it dispeaseth always every honest gentlewoman, to be little regarded of whoso without respect seeketh for love at her before he hath served her. Therefore (in my mind) the way which the Courtier aught to take, to make his love known to the woman me think should be to declare them in signs and tokens more than in words. For assuredly there is otherwhile a greater affection of love perceived in a sigh, in a respect, in a fear, then in a thousand words. afterward, to make the eyes the trusty messengers, that may carry the ambassades of the heart: because they oftentimes declare with a more force what passion there is inwardly, then can the tongue, or letters, or messages, so that they not only disclose the thaughtes, but also many times kindle love in the heart of the person beloved. For those lively spirits that issue out at the eyes, because they are engendered nigh the heart, entering in like case into the eyes that they are leveled at, like a shaft to the prick, naturally pierce to the heart, as to their resting place and there are at trust with those other spirits: and with the most subtle and fine nature of blood which they carry with them, infect the blood about the heart, where they are come to, and warm it: & make it like unto themselves, and apt to receive the imprinting of the image which they have carried away with them. Wherefore by little and little coming and going the way through the eyes to the heart, and bringing back with them the tunder and striking iron of beauty & grace, these messengers kindle with the puffing of desire the fire that so burneth, ●he●pes. and never ceaseth consuming, for always they bring some matter of hope to nourish it. Therefore it may full well be said, that The eyes are a guide in love, especially if they have a good grace & sweetness in them, black, of a clear and sightly blackness, or else grey, meery and laughing, and so comely and piercing in beehouldinge, as some, in which a man thinketh verily that the ways that give an issue to the spirits are so deep, that by them he may see as far as the heart. The eyes therefore lie lurking like soldiers in war lying in wait in ambushment, and if the form of all the body be well-favoured and of good proportion, it draweth unto it and allureth whoso beehouldeth it a far of, until he come nigh: and assoon as he is at hand, the eyes shoot, and like sorcerers, beewitch, and especially when by a right line they send their glistering beams into the eyes of the wight beloved at the time when they do the like, because the spirits meet together, and in that sweet encounter the one taketh the others nature and quality: as it is seen in a sore eye, that beehoulding steadily a sound one, giveth him his disease. Therefore me think our Courtier may in this wise open a great parcel of the love to his woman. Truth it is that in case the eyes be not governed with art, they discover many times the amorous desires more unto whom a man would least: for through them (in a manner) visibly shinefurth those burning passions, which the lover minding to disclose only to the wight beloved, openeth them many times also also unto whom he would most soon hide them from. Therefore he that hath not lost the bridle of reason, handleth himself heedefullye, and observeth the times & places: and when it needeth, refraineth from so steadfast beehouldinge, for all it be a most savoury food, Open love. because An open love is to hard a matter. Count Lewis answered: Yet otherwhile to be open it hurteth not: because in this case many times men suppose that those loves tend not to the end which every lover coveteth, when they see there is little heed taken to hide them, and pass not whether they be known or no: and therefore with denials a man challengeth him a certain liberty to talk openly and to stand without susspition with the wight beloved: Which is not so in them that seek to be secret, because it appeareth that they stand in hope of, and are nigh some great reward, which they would not have other men to know. I have also seen a most fervent love springe in the heart of a woman toward one, that seemed at the first not to bear him the lest affection in the world, only for that she heard say, that the opinion of many was, that they loved together. And the cause of this (I believe) was, that so general a judgement seemed a sufficient witness, that he was worthy of her love. And it seemed (in a manner) that report brought the ambassade on the lovers beehalfe much more truer and worthier to be beleaven, than he himself could have done with letters, or words, or any other person for him: therefore sometime this common voice not only hurteth not, but far●hereth a man's purpose. The L. julian answered: Loves that have report for their messenger, are very perilous to make a man pointed to with a finger. And therefore who ever intendeth to walk this race warily, needs must he make countenance to have a great deal less fire in his stomach, then in deed he hath, and content himself with that, that he thinketh a trifle, and dissemble his desires, 〈◊〉, afflictions & pleasures, and many times laugh with mouth when the heart weary, and show himself lavish of that he is most covetous of▪ and these things are so hard to be done, that (in a manner) they are unpossible. Therefore if our Courtier would follow my counsel, I would exhort him to keep his loves secret. Then said M. Bernarde: yo● must then teach 〈◊〉 him, & me think it is much to purpose: for beeside privy signs that some make otherwhile so closely, that (in a manner) without any gesture, the person whom they covett, in their countenance and eyes read what they have in the heart, I have sometime heard between two lovers a long and a large discourse of love, whereof yet the standers by could not plainly understand any particular point, nor be out of doubt that it was of love, such was the discretion & heedfulness of the talker: for without making any manner show that they were not willing to be heard, they rounded privily the words only that were most to purpose, & all the rest they spoke aloud, which might be applied to divers meanings. Then spoke Sir Friderick: to reason thus in piecemeal of these rules of secretness, were a taking of an infinite matter in hand: therefore would I that we spoke somewhat rather how the lover should keep and maintain his Ladies good will, which me think is much more necessary. The L. julian answered: I believe the means that serve him to compass it, serve him also to keep it, & all this consisteth in pleasing the woman beloved, To maintain good william. without offending her at any time. Therefore it were a hard matter to give any certain rule, because whoso is not discrete, infinite ways committeth oversights, which otherwhile seem matters of nothing, and yet offend they much the woman's mind. And this happeneth more than to others, to such as be mastered with passion: as some that whenso ever they have opportunity to speak with the woman they love, lament and beewaile so bitterly, and covet many times things so unpossible, that through this unreasonableness they are loathed of them. Other, if they be pricked with any ieolosie, stomach the matter so grievously, that without stop they burst out in railing upon him they suspect, and otherwhile it is without trespass either of him or yet of the woman, and will not have her speak with him, nor once turn her eyes on that side where he is. And with these fashions many times, they do not only offend the woman, but also they are the cause that she bendeth herself to love him. Because the fear that a lover declareth to have otherwhile lest his Lady forsake him for the other, beetokeneth that he acknowleageth himself inferior in deserts and prowess to the other, and with this opinion the woman is moved to love him. And perceiving that to put him out of favour he reporteth all of him, although it be true, yet she believeth it not, and notwithstanding loveth him the more. Then said the L. Cesar: I confess that I am not so wise that I could refrain speaking ill of my fellow lover, except you could teach me some other better way to dispatch him. The L. julian answered smiling: It is said in a Proverb, An Italian proverb. When a man's enemy is in the water up to the middle, let him reach him his hand, and help him from danger: but when he is up to the chin, set his foot on his head and drown him out of hand. Therefore certain there be that play so with their fellow lovers, and until they have a sure mean to dispatch them, go dissembling the matter, and rather show themselves friends th●n otherwise. Afterward when occasion serveth them so fitly, that they know they may overthrow them with a sure riddance, reporting all evil of them, be it true or false, they do it without sparing, with art, How a woman's good will is to be drawn from a man's rival. deceit and all ways that they can imagine. But because I would not like that our Courtier should a●● any time use any deceit, I would have him to withdraw the go●d will of his mistress from his felowlover with none other art, but with loving, with serving and with being virtuous, of prowess, discreet, sober, in conclusion with deserving more than he, and with being in every thing heedful and wise, refrayninge from certain lewd follies, into the which often times many ignorant renn, and by sundry ways. For in times past I have known some that in writings and speaking to women used evermore the words of Poliphilus, and ruffled so in their subtle points of Rhetoric, Men that profess to be to loving in words. that the women were out of conceit with their own selves, and reckoned themselves most ignorant, and an hour seemed a thousand year to them, to end that talk and to be rid of them. Other, brag and boast to by yond all measure. Other speak things many times that redound to the blame and damage of themselves, as some that I am wont to laugh at, which make profession to be lovers, & otherwhile say in the company of women: I never found woman that ever loved me, The fondness of some lovers. and are not weetinge that the hearers by and by judge that it can arise of none other cause, but that they deserve neither to be beloved, nor yet so much as the water they drink, and count them assheades, and would not love them for all the good in the world: seeming to them that in case they should love them, they were less worth, than all the rest that have not loved them. Other, to purchase hatred to some fellow lover of theirs, are so fond that in like manner in the company of women they say: Such a one is the luckiest man in the world, for once, he is neither well-favoured, nor sober, nor of prowess, neither can he do or say more than other men, and yet all women love him▪ and ren● after him▪ and thus uttringe the spite they bear him for this good luck, although neither in countenance nor deeds he appeareth lovely, yet make they them believe that he hath some hid matter in him, for the which he deserveth the love of so many women, wherefore the women that hear them talk of him in this wise, they also upon this beleaf are moved to love him much more. Then Count Lew● laughed and said: I assure you our Courtier if he be discreet, will never use this blockishenes, to get him the good will of women. The L. Cesar Gonzaga answered: nor yet an other that a Gentleman of reputation used in my days, who shall be nameless for the honour of men. The Duchess answered: tell us at the least what he did. The L. Cesar said: this man being beloved of a great Lady, Blockish over sights. at her request came privily to the town where she lay. And after he had seen her and communed with her, as long as they thought meet and had time and leisure thereto, at his leave taking with many bitter tears & sighs in witness of the extreme grief he felt for this departing, he required her to be always mindful of him. And afterward he added withal, That she would discharge his ynn, for sins he came thither at her request. he thought me●te that he should not stand to the charges of his being there himself. Then began all the Ladies to ●augh, and said that he was most unworthy of the name of a Gentleman: and many were ashamed with the self shame that he himself should worthily have felt, if at any time he had gotten so much understanding, that he might have perceived so shameful an oversight. Then turned the L. Gaspar to the L. Cesar and said: Better it had been to have omitted the rehearsal of this matter for the honour of women, than the naming of him for the honour of men. For you may well imagine what a judgement that great Lady had in loving so unreasonable a creature. And perhaps to, of many that served her, she chose him for the most discreatest, leaving behind, and showing ill will unto them that he was not worthy to wait upon. Count Lewi● laughed and said: Who woteth whether he was discreet in other things or not, Love maketh men commit great 〈◊〉. and was out of the way only about inns? But many times for overmuch love men commit great follies. And if you will tell the truth, perhaps it hath been your chance to commit more than one. The L. Cesar answered smiling: Of good fellowship let us not discover our own oversights. Yet we must discover them, answered the L. Gaspar, that we may know how to amend them, than he proceeded. Now that the Courtier knoweth how to wynn and keep the good will of his Lady, and take it from his fellow lover, you (my L. julian) are debtor to teach her to keep her loves secret. The L. julian answered: Me think I have sufficiently spoken, therefore get ye now an other to talk of this secret matter. Then M. Bernarde and all the rest beegane a fresh to be in hand with him instantly, and the L. julian said: you will tempt me. Ye are all the sort of you to great clerk in love. Yet if ye desire to know farther, go and read ovid. And how, quoth M. Bernarde, shall I hope that his lessons are any thing worth in love, when he counseleth & saith that it is very good for a man in the company of his mistress To feign the drunkard? See what a goodly way it is to get good will withal. And he allegeth for a pretty device to make a woman understand that he is in love with her, being at a banckett, To deep his finger in wine and writ it upon the table. The L. julian said smiling: In those days it was no fault. And therefore, quoth M. Bernarde, seeing so sluttish a matter was not disallowed of men in those days, it is to be thought that they had not so cour●lye behaviours to serve women in love, as we have. But let us not omit our first purpose to teach to keep love secret. Then said the L. julian: In mine advise to keep love secret, the causes are to be shunned that utter it, which are many: To keep love secret. yet one principal, namely, To be over s●ciete and to put no person in trust. Because every lover coveteth to make his passions known to the beloved, & being alone, he is driven to make many more signs and more evident, then if he were aided by some loving and faithful friend. A friend. For the signs that the lover himself maketh, give a far greater susspition, than those that he maketh by them that go in message between. And forsomuch as men naturally are greedy to understand, assoon as a stranger beeginneth to suspect the matter, he so applieth it, that he cometh to the knowledge of the truth, & when he once knoweth it, he passeth not for disclosing it, yea sometime he hath a delight to do it. Which happeneth not of a friend, who beeside that he is a help to him with favour & counsel, doth many time's remedy that oversights committed by the blind lover, & always procureth secretness. & preveteth many matters which he himself can not foresee: beeside the great comfort that he feeleth, when he may utter his passions and greeffes, to a hearty friend, & the partening of them likewise increaseth his contentations. Then said the L Gaspar: there is an other cause that discovereth loves much more than this. What is that, answered the L. julian. The L. Gaspar said: Vain greediness joined with the fondness and cruelty of women, What discloseth love. which (as you yourself have said) procure as much as they can to get them a great numbered of lovers, and (if it were possible) they would have them all to burn and make ashes, & after death to return to lief, to die again. And though they love withal, yet rejoice they at the torment of lovers, because they suppose that grief, afflictions and the calling every hour for death, is a true witness that they are beloved, and that with their beauty they can make men miserable & happy, and give them life and death, as pleaseth them. Wherefore they feed upon this only food, and are so greedy over it; that for wanting it they never thoroughly contet lovers, nor yet put them out of hope, but to keep them still in afflictions and in desire, they use a certain lofty sourness of threatenings mingled with hope, and would have them to esteem a word, a countenance or a beck of theirs for a chief bliss. And to make men count them chaste and honest aswell others as their lovers, they find means that these sharp & discourtious manners of theirs may be in open sight, for every man to think that they will much worse handle the unworthy, sins they handle them so, that deserve to be beloved. And under this beleaf thinking themselves with this craft safe from slander▪ often times they lie nightly with most vile men & whom they scase know. So that to rejoice at the calamity and continual complaints of some worthy gentleman, and beloved of them, they bar themselves from those pleasures, which perhaps with some excuse they might come buy, and are the cause that the poor lover by very debating of the matter is driven to use ways, by the which the thing cometh to light, that with all diligence should have line kept most secret. Certain other there are, which if with deceit they can bring many in beeleaf that they are beloved of them, nourish among them ieolosies with cherishing and making of the one in the others presence. And when they see that he also whom they love best is now assured and out of doubt that he is beloved through the signs and tokens that be made him, many times with doubtful words and feigned disdeignes they put him in an uncertainty and nip him at the very heart, making wise not to pass for him and to give themselves full and wholly to the other. Whereupon arise malice, enmities, and infinite occasions of strife and utter confusion. For needs must a man show in that case the extreme passion which he fealeth, although it redound to the blame and slander of the woman. Other, not satisfied with this only torment of ieolosye, after the lover hath declared all his tokens of love & faithful service, and they received the same with some sign to be answerable in good will, without purpose & when it is lest looked for, they beegine to beethinke themselves, and make wise to believe that he is slacked, and feininge new suspicions that they are not beloved, they make a countenance that they will in any wise put him out of their favour. Wherefore through these inconveniences the poor soul is constrained of very force to beegine a fresh, and to make her signs, as though he beegane his service but then, and all the day long pass by and down through the street, and when the woman goeth forth of her doors to accompany her to Church & to every place where she goith, and never to turn his eyes to other place. And here he returneth to weeping, to sighs, to heavy countenance, and when he can talk with her, to swearing, to blaspheming, to desperation, & to all rages which unhappy lovers are lead to by these wield beasts, that have greater thirst of blood than the very Tigers. Such sorrowful tokens as these be are to often seen and known, and many times more of others then of the causer of them, & thus are they in few days so published, that a step can not be made, nor the least sign that is, but it is noted with a thousand eyes. It happeneth then, that long before there be any pleasures of love beetwext them, they are guessed and judged of all the world. For when they see yet their lover now nigh deaths door, clean vanquished with the cruelty and torments they put him to, determineth advisedly and in good earnest to draw back, then beegine they to make sign that they love him heartily, and do him all pleasures and give themselves to him, least if that fervent desire should faint in him, the fruit of love should withal be the less acceptable to him, & he ken them the less thank for doing all things contrarily. And in case this love be already known abroad, at this same time are all the effects known in like manner abroad, that come of it, and so loose they their reputation, & the lover findeth that he hath lost time and labour and shortened his life in afflictions without any fruit or pleasure, because he came by his desires, not when they should have been so acceptable to him that they would have made him a most happy creature, but when he set little or nothing by them. For his heart was now so mortified with those bitter passions, that he had no more sense to taste the delight or contentation offered him. Then said the L. Octtavian smiling: you held your peace a while and refrained from speaking ill of women, but now ye have so well hit them home, that it appeared ye waited a time to pluck up your strength, like them that retire backward to give a greater push at the encounter. And to say the truth, it is ill done of you, for now me think ye may have done and be pacified. The L. Emilia laughed, and turning her to the Duchess she said: See Madam, ●ure enemies begin to break and to square one with an other. Give me not this name answered the L. Octavian, for I am not your adversary, but this contention hath displeased me, not because I am sorry to see the victory upon women's side, but because it hath lead the L. Gaspar to revile them more than he aught, and the L. julian. & the L. Cesar to praise them perhaps somewhat more than due: beeside that through the length of the talk we have lost the understanding of many other pretty matters that are yet behind to be said of the Courtier. See, ꝙ the L. Emilia, whether you be not our adversary, for the talk that is passed grieveth you, and you would not that this so excellent a gentlewoman of the Palace had been fashioned: not for that you have any more to say of the Courtier (for these lords have spoken already what they know and I believe neither you, ne any man else can add aught thereto) but for the malice you bear to the honour of women. It is out of doubt, answered the L. Octavian, beeside that is already spoken, of the Courtier, I could wish much more in him. But sins every man is pleased that he shall be as he is, I am well pleased to, and would not have him altered in any point, saving in making him somewhat more frindlye to women, than the L. Gaspar is, yet not perhaps, so much as some of these other Lords are. Then spoke the Duchess: In any case we must see whether your wit be such that it can give the Courtier a greater perfection, than these Lords have already done: therefore dispose yourself to utter that you have in your mind, else will we think that you also can not add unto him more than hath already been said, but that you minded to diminish the praises and worthiness of the gentlewoman of the Palace, seeing ye judge she is equal with the Courtier, whom by this mean you would have believed might be much more perfect, than these Lords have fashioned him. The L. Octavian laughed and said: The praises and dispraises given women more than due, have so filled the ears and mind of the hearers, that they have left no void room for any thing else to stand in: beeside that (in mine opinion) it is very late. Then said the Duchess: if we tarry till to morrow, we shall have the more time, and the praises and dispraises, which (you say) are given women on both sides passing measure, in the mean season will be clean out of these lords minds, and so shall they be apt to conceive the truth that you will tell us. When the Duchess had thus spoken, she arrose upon her feet, and courteisly dismissing them all, withdrew her to her bedchamber, and every man got him to his rest. The fourth book ¶ THE FOURTH BOOK OF the Courtier of Count Baldessar Castilio unto. M. Alphonsus Ariosto. thinking TO WRITE OUTE the communication that was had the fourth night after the other mentioned in the former books, I feel among sundry discourses a bitter thought that gripeth me in my mind, and maketh me to call to remembrance worldly miseries and our deceitful hopes, and how fortune many times in the very mids of our race, otherwhile nigh the end disappointeth our frail & vain purposes, sometime drowneth them before they can once come to have a sight of the haven a far of. It causeth me therefore to remember that not long after these reasonings were had, cruel death bereaved our house of three most rare gentlemen, when in their prosperous age and forwardness of honour they most flourished, L. Gaspar Pall●uicin. and of them the first was the Lord Gaspar Pallavicin, who assaulted with a sharp disease, and more than once brought to the last cast, although his mind was of such courage that for a time in spite of death he kept the soul and body together, yet did he end his natural course long before he came to his ripe age. A very great loss not in our house only and to his friends and kinsfolk, but to his Country and to all lombardy. Not long after died the L. Cesar Gonzaga, L. Cesar Gonzaga. which to all that were acquainted with him left a bitter and sorrowful remembrance of his death. For sins nature so seldom times bringeth forth such kind of men, as she doth, meet it seemed that she should not so soon have bereaved us of him. For undoubtedly a man may say that the L. Cesar was taken from us even at the very time when he beegane to show more than a hope of himself, and to be esteemed as his excellent qualities deserved. For with many virtuous acts he already gave a good testimony of his worthiness, and beeside his nobleness of birth, he excelled also in the ornament of letters, of martial prowess, and of every worthy quality. So that for his goodness, wit, nature, and knowledge, there was nothing so high, that might not have been hoped for at his hands. Within a short while after, M. Robert of Bari. the death of M. Robert of Bari was also a great heaviness to the whole house: for reason seemed to persuade every man to take hevily the death of a young man of good behaviour, pleasant and most rare in the beauty of fisnamye and in the making of his person, with as lucky and lively towardness, as a man could have wished. These men therefore, had they lived, I believe would have come to that pass, that unto whoso had known them, they would have showed a manifest proof, how much the Court of Urbin was worthy to be commended, and how fournished it was with noble knights, the which (in a manner) all the rest have done that were brought up in it. For truly there never issued out of the ho●se of Troy so many great men and captains, The promoting of certain mentioned in the booken. as there have come men out of this house for virtue very singular & in great estimation with all men. For as you know Sir Fridericke Fregoso was made archbishop of Salerno, Count Lewis, Bishop of Baious. The L. Octavian Fregoso, Duke of Genua, M. Bernarde Bibiena, Cardinal of Santa Maria in Portico, M. Peter Bembo, Secretarye to Pope Leo. The L. julian was exalted to the Dukedom of Nemours & to the great estate he is presently in. The Lord Francescomaria della Rovere General of Room, he was also made Duke of Urbin: although a much more praise may be given to the house where he was brought up, that in it he hath proved so rare and excellent a Lord in all virtuous qualities (as a man may beehoulde) then that he attained unto the Dukedom of Urbin: and no small cause thereof (I think) was the noble company wherein daily conversation he always heard and saw commendable nurture. Therefore (me think) whether it be by hap, or through the favour of the stars, the same cause that so long a time hath granted unto Urbin very good governors, doth still continued & bringeth forth the like effects. And therefore it is to be hoped the prosperous fortune will still increase these so virtuous doings, that the happiness of the house and of the State shall not only not diminish, but rather daily increase: And thereof we see already many evident tokens, among which (I r●cken) the cheeffest to be, that the heaven hath granted such a Lady as is the Lady Eleonor Gonzaga the new Duchess. For if ever there were coupled in one body alone, L. Eleono Gonzaga Dut. of Urbin. knowleage, wit, grace, beauty, sober conversation, gentleness and every other honest quality, in her they are so linked together, that there is made thereof a chain, which frameth & setteth forth every gesture of herres with all these conditions together. Let us therefore proceed in our reasonings upon the Courtier, with hope that after us there shall not want such as shall take notable and worthy examples of virtue at the present Court of Urbin, as we now do at the former. It was thought therefore (as the L, Gaspar Pallavicin was wont to rehearse) that the next day after the reasonings contained in the last book, the L. Octavian was not much seen: for many deemed that he had gotten himself out of comapnye to think well upon that he had to say without trouble. Therefore when the company was assembled at the accustomed hour where the Duchess was, they made the L, Octavian to be diligently sought for, which in a good while appeared not, so that many of the Gentlemen and Damsels of the Court fell to dancing and to mind other pastimes, supposing for that night they should have no more talk of the Courtier. And now were they all settled about one thing or an other, when the L. Octavian came in (almost) no more looked for: and beehouldinge the L. Cesar Gonzaga and the L. Gaspar dancing, after he had made his reverence to the Duchess, he said smiling: I had well hoped we should have heard the L. Gaspar speak some ill of women this night to, but sins I see him dance with one, I imagine he is agreed with all. And I am glad that the controversy, or (to term it better) the reasoning of the Courtier is thus ended. Not ended, I warrant you, answered the Duchess, for I am not such an enemy to men, as you be to women, and therefore I will not have the Courtier bereaved from his due honour and the fournimentes which you yourself promised him yester night. And when she had thus spoken, she commanded them all after that dance was ended to place themselves after the wont manner, the which was done. And as they stood all with heedful expectation, the L. Octavian said: Madam, sins for that I wished many other good qualities in the Courtier, it followeth by promise that I must entreat upon them, I am well willing to utter my mind: not with opinion that I can speak all that may be said in the matter, but only so much as shall suffice to root that out of your mind, which yester night was objected to me: namely, that I spoke it more to withdraw the praises from the gentlewoman of the Palace, in doing you falsely to believe that other excellent qualities might be added to the Courtier, and with that policy prefer him before her, then for that it is so in deed. Therefore to frame myself also to the hour, which is later than it was wont to be when we beegane our reasonings at other times, I will be brief. Thus continuing in the talk that these Lords have ministered, which I full and wholly allow and confirm, I say, that of things which we call good, Things good. some there be that simply and of themselves are always good, as temperance, valiant courage, health, & all virtues that bring quietness to men's minds. Other be good for diverse respects & for the end they be applied unto, as the laws, liberality, riches & other like. I think therefore that the Courtier (if he be of the perfection the Count Lewis & Sir Friderick have described him) may in deed be a good thing & worthy praise, but for all that not simply, nor of himself, but for respect of the end whereto he may be applied. For doubtless if the Courtier with his nobleness of birth, comely behaviour, pleasantness and practice in so many exercises, should bring forth no other fruit, but to be such a one for himself, I would not think to come by this perfect trade of Courtiership, that a man should of reason beestowe so much study and pains about it, as who so will compass it must do. But I would say rather that many of the qualities appointed him, as dancing, singing and sporting, were lightness and vanity, and in a a man of estimation rather to be dispraised then commended: because those precise fashions, the setting forth ones self, meerie talk and such other matters belonging to entertainment of women and love (although perhaps many other be of a contrary opinion) do many times nothing else but womanish the minds, corrupt youth, and bring them to a most wanton trade of living: dastardliness. whereupon afterward ensue these effects, that the name of Italy is brought into slander, and few there be that have the courage, I will not say to jeopard their lief, but to entre once into a danger. And without peradventure there be infinite other things, that if a man beestow his labour and study about them, would bring forth much more profit both in peace and war, than this trade of Courtiershipp of itself alone. But in case the Courtiers doings be directed to the good end they aught to be and which I mean: me think than they should not only not be hurtful or vain, The end of a Courtier. but most profitable & deserve infinite praise. The end therefore of a perfect Courtier (whereof hitherto nothing hath been spoken) I believe is to purchase him, by the mean of the qualities which these Lords have given him, in such wise the good will and favour of the Prince he is in service withal, that he may break his mind to him, and always inform him frankly of the truth of every matter meet for him to understand, without fear or peril to displease him. And when ●e knoweth his mind is bend to commit any thing unseemly for him, to be bold to stand with him in it, and to take courage after an honest sort at the favour which he hath gotten him through his good qualities, to dissuade him from every ill purpose, and to set him in the way of virtue. And so shall the Courtier, if he have the goodness in him that these Lords have given him accompanied with readiness of wit, pleasantness, wisdom, knowleage in letters and so many other things, understand how to behave himself readily in all occurrentes to drive into his Princis head what honour and profit shall ensue to him and to his by justice, liberality, valiantness of courage, meekness and by the other virtues that belong to a good Prince, and contrariwise what slander and damage cometh of the vices contrary to them. And therefore in mine opinion, as music, sports, pastimes, and other pleasant fashions, The flower of courtlines are (as a man would say) the flower of Courtlines, even so is the training and the helping forward of the Prince to goodness and the fearing him from evil, the fruit of it. The fruit of it. And because the praise of weldoinge consisteth cheeflye in two points, whereof the one is, Well doing. in chousinge out an end that our purpose is directed unto, that is good in deed: the other, the knowledge to found out apt and meet means to bring it to the appointed good end: sure it is that the mind of him which thinketh to work so, that his Prince shall not be deceived, nor lead with flatterers, railers and liars, but shall know both the good and the bad & bear love to the one & hatred to the other, is directed to a very good end. Me think again, that the qualities which these Lords have given the Courtier, may be a good means to compass it: and that, because among many vices that we see now a days in many of our Princis, the greatest are ignorance and self leekinge: and the ●oote of these two mischiefs is nothing else but lying, Lies engender ignorance and self leaking. which vice is worthily abhorred of God and man, and more hurtful to Princis than any other, because they have more scarcity then of any thing else, of that which they need to hau● more plenty of, then of any other thing: namely, of such as should tell them the truth and put them in mind of goodness: Enemies. for enemies be not driven of love to do these offices, but they delight rather to have them live wickedly and never to amend: on the other ●ide, they dare not rebuke them openly for fear they be punished. As for friends few of them have free passage to them, Friends and those few have a respect to reprehend their vices so freely as they do private men's: And many times to coorie favour and to purchase good will, Flattery. they give themselves to nothing else but to feed them with matters that may delight, and content their mind, though they be foul and dishonest. So that of friends they become flatterers, & to make a hand by that streict familiarity, they speak and work always to please, and for the most part open the way with lies, which in the Princis mind engender ignorance, not of outward matters on●●e, but also of his own self. And this may be said to be the greatest & foulest lie of all other, because the ignorant mind deceiveth himself and inwardly maketh lies of himself. Of this it cometh, Great men. that great men, beeside that they never understand the truth of any thing, drunken with the licentious liberty that rule bringeth with it & with abundance of delicacies drowned in pleasures, a● so far out of the way & their mind is so corrupted in seeing themselves always obeyed and (as it were) worshipped with so much reverence, & praise, without not only any reproof at all, but also gainsaying, that through this ignorance they wade to an extreme self leekinge, so that afterward they admit no counsel nor advise of others. And because they believe that the understanding how to rule is a most easy matter, and to compass it there needeth neither art nor learning, but only stoutness, they bend their mind and all their thoughts to the maintenance of that port they keep, thinking it the true happiness to do what a man lusteth. Therefore do some abhor reason and justice, because they ween it a bridle and a certain mean to bring them in bondage and to minish in them the contentation and hearts ease that they have to bear rule, if they should observe it: and their rule were not perfect nor whole if they should be compelled to obey unto duty and honesty, because they have an opinion that Whoso obeyeth, is no right Lord in deed. Therefore taking these principles for a precedent and suffering themselves to be lead with self leekinge, they w●xe lofty, and with a statlye countenance, with sharp and cruel conditions, with pompous garments, gold & jewels, and with coming (in a maver) never abroad to be seen, they think to get estimation & authority among men, and to be counted (almost) Goddess: But they are (in my judgement) like the Colossuses that were made in Room the last year upon the feast day of the place of Ago, Images of horrible greatness. which outwardly declared a likeness of great men & horses of triumph, and inwardly were full of tow and rags. But the Princis of this sort are so much worse, as the Colossuses by their own weighty peses stand upright of themselves, and they because they be yol counterpesed and without line or level placed upon unequal ground, through their own weightiness overthrow them selves, and from one error renn into infinite. Because their ignorance being annexed with this false opinion that That they can not ere, & that the port they keep cometh of their knowledge, leadeth of them every way by right or by wrong to lay hand upon possessions boldly, so they may come buy them. But in case they would take advisement to know and to work that that they aught, they would aswell strive not to reign as they do to reign, because they should perceive what a naughty and dangerous matter it were for Subjects that aught to be governed, to be wiser than the Princis that should govern. You may see that ignorance in music, in dancing, in riding hurteth no man, yet he that is no musitien is ashamed and afeard to sing in the presence of others, or to dance, he that can not, or he that sitteth not well a horse, Ignorance of rules. to ride: but of the unskilfulness to govern people arise so many evils, deaths, destructions, mischeeffes and confusions, that it may be called the deadliest plagu upon the earth. And yet some princes most ignorant in government, are not bashful nor ashamed to take upon them to govern I will not say in the presence of four or half a dozen persons, but in the face of the world: for their degree is set so on fit, that all eyes beehould them, & therefore not their great vices only, but their lest faults of all are continually noted. As it is written that Cimon was ill spoken of because he loved wine, Scipio, sleep, Lucullus, bancketinges. But would God, the Princis of these our times would couple their vices with so many virtues as did they of old time: which if they were out of the way in any point, yet refused they not the exhortations and lessons of such as they deemed meet to correct those faults: Yea they sought with great instance to frame their lief by the rule of notable personages: As Epaminondas by Lisias of Pythagoras sect: Agesilaus by Xenophon: Scipio by Panaetius, and infinite others. But in case a grave Philosopher should come before any of our Princes, Princis of old time were refourmable. or who ever beeside, that would show them plainly & without any circomstance the horrible face of true virtue and teach them good manners and what the lief of a good Prince aught to be, I am assured they would abhor him at the first sight, as a most venomous serpent, or else they would make him a laughing stock, as a most vile matter. I say therefore that sins nowadays Princis are so corrupt through ill usages, ignorance & false self leekinge, and that it is so hard a matter to give them the knowel●age of the truth and to bend them to virtue, and men with lies and flattery and such naughty means seek to coorie favour with them, the Courtier by the mean of those honest qualities that Count Lewis and Sir Friderick have given him, may soon, and aught to go about so to purchase him the good will and allure unto him the mind of his Prince, that he may make him a free and safe passage to common with him in every matter with out troubling him. And if he be such a one as is said, he shall compass it with small pain, and so may he always open unto him the truth of every matter at ease. Beside this by little and little distill into his mind goodness, and teach him continency, stoutness of courage, justice, temperance, making him to taste what sweetness is ●id under that little bitterness, which at the first sight appeareth unto him that withstandeth vices: which are always hurtful, displeasant and accompanied with ill report and shame, even as virtues are profitable, pleasant and praisable, and inflame him to them with the examples of many famous Capitanes, Images in the honour of men. and of other notable personages, unto whom they of old time used to make images of metal and marble, and sometime of gold; and to set them up in common haunted places, aswell for the honour of them, as for an encouraging of others, that with an honest envy they might also endeavour them selves to reach unto that glory. In this wise may he lead him through the rough way of virtue (as it were) decking it about with boowes to shadow it and strawinge it over with sightly flowers, to ease the grief of the painful journey in him that is but of a weak force. And sometime with music, sometime with arms, and horses, sometime with rhymes and meeter, otherwhile with communication of love, and with all those ways that these Lords have spoken of, continually keep that mind of his occupied in honest pleasure: imprinting notwithstanding therein always beesyde (as I have said) in company with these flickeringe provocations some virtuous condition, and beeguilinge him with a wholesome craft, as the wary physicians do, who many times when they minister to young and tender children in their sickness, a medicine of a bitter taste, anoint the cup about the brim with some sweet liquor. The Courtier therefore applying to such a purpose this veil of pleasure, in every time, in every place, and in every exercise he shall attain to his end, and deserve much more praise and recompense, then for any other good work that he can do in the world because there is no treasure that doth so universally profit, as doth a good Prince, nor any mischief so universally hurt, as an ill Prince. Therefore is there also in pain so bitter and cruel that were a sufficient punishment for those naughty and wicked Courtiers, that make their honest and pleasant manners & their good qualities a cloak for an ill end, and by mean of them seek to come in favour with their Princis for to corrupt them and to stray them from the way of virtue and to lead them to vice. For a man may say, that such as these be, do infect with deadly poison, not one vessel whereof one man alone drinketh, but the common fountain that all the people resorteth to. The L. Octavian held his peace as t●ou●h he would have sai● no ●ore, but the L Gaspar, I can not see, my L. Octavian (said he) that this goodness of mind and continincie, and the other virtues which you will have the Courtier to show his Lord, may be learned: but I suppose that they are given the men that have them, by nature and of God. And that it is so, you may see that there is no man so wicked and o● so ill conditions in the world, nor so untemperate & unjust, which if he be asked the question, will confess himself such a one. But every man be he never so wicked, is glad to be counted just, continent & good▪ which should not be so, in case these virtues might be learned, because it is no shame not to know the thing that a man hath not studied, but a rebuke, it is not to have that which we aught to be endowed withal of nature. Therefore doth each man seek to cover the defaults of nature, aswell in the mind, as also in the body: the which is to be se●ne in the blind, lame, crooked and other mained and deformed creatures. For although these imperfections may be laid to nature, yet doth it grieve each man to have them in himself: because it seemeth by the testimony of the self same nature that a man hath that default or blemish (as it were) for a patent and token of his ill inclination. The fable that is reported of Epimetheus doth also confirm mine opinion, Fable of Epimetheus. which was so unskilful in dividing the gifts of nature unto men, that he left them much more needy of every thing, than all other living creatures. Whereupon Prometheus stole the politic wisdom from Minerva and Vulcan that men have to get their living withal. Yet had they not for all that, civil wisdom to gather themselves together into Cities, & the knowledge to live with civility, because it was kept in the Castle of jupiter by most circumspect overseears, which put Prometheus in such fear, that he durst not approach nigh them. Whereupon jupiter taking pity upon the misery of men, that could not fellowship together for lack of civil virtue, but were torn in pieces by wield beasts, he sent Mercury to the earth to carry justice and shame, that these two things might furnish Cities and gather Citizens together: and willed that they should be given them, not as other arts were, wherein one counning man sufficeth for many ignorant, as physic, but that they should be imprinted in every man. And ordained a law, that all such as were without justice and shame, should be banished and put to death, as contagious to the City. Beehoulde then (my L. Octavian) God hath granted these virtues to men, & are not to be learned, but be natural. Then y● L. Octavian some what smiling, will you then, my L. Gaspar (ꝙ he) have men to be so unfortunate & of so peevish a judgement, that with policy they have found out an art to tame the natures of wield beasts, as bears, wolves, Lions, & may with the same teach a pretty bird to i'll as a man lust, & return back from the wood and from his natural liberty of his own accord to snares and bondage, and with the same policy can not, or will not find out arts whereby they may profit themselves, and with study & diligence make their mind more perfect? This (in mine opinion) were like as if Phisitiens should study with all diligence to have the art only to heal felonies in fingers and the read gum in young children, and lay aside the cure of fevers, pleurisy & other sore diseases, the which how out of reason it were every man may consider. I believe therefore that the moral virtues are not in us all together by nature, because nothing can at any time be accustomed unto it, that is naturally his contrary: as it is seen in a stone, the which though it be cast upward ten thousand times, yet will he never accustom to go up of himself· virtues may be learned. Therefore in case virtues were as natural to us, as heaviness to the stone, we should never accustom ourselves to vice. Nor yet are vices natural in this sort, for than should we never be virtuous: and a great wickedness and folly it were, to punish men for the faults that came of nature without our offence: and this error should the laws commit, which appoint not punishment to the offenders for the trespass that is past, because it can not be brought to pass that the thing that is done, may not be done, but they have a respect to the time to come, that who so hath offended may offend no more, or else with ill precedent give not a cause for others to offend. And thus yet they are in opinion that virtues may be learned, which is most true, because we are borne apt to receive them, and in like manner vices: and therefore there groweth a custom in us of both the one and the other through long use, so that first we practise virtue or vice, A difference beetwene that a man hath by nature and by custom. after that, we are virtuous or vicious. The contrary is known in the things that be given us of nature, for first we have the pour to practise them, after that, we do practise: as it is in the senses, for first we can see, here, feel, after that, we do see, here and feel: although notwithstanding many of these doings be also set out more sightly with teaching. Whereupon good Schoolmaist●rs do not only instruct their children in letters, but also in good nurture in eating, drinking, talking, and going with certain gestures meet for the purpose. Therefore even as in the other arts, so also in the virtues it is behouffull to have a teacher, that with lessons and good exhortations may stir up & quicken in us those moral virtues, whereof we have the seed enclosed and buried in the soul, & like the good husband man, till them and open the way for them, weeding from about them the briars and darnel of appetites, which many times so shadow and choke our minds, that they suffer them not to bud nor to bring forth the happy fruits, which alone aught to be wished to grow in the hearts of men. In this sort than is naturally in every one of us justice and shame, which (you say) jupiter sent to the earth for all men. But even as a body without eyes, how sturdy ever he be, if he remove to any certain place, often times faileth: so the root of these virtues that be potentiallie engendered in our minds, if it be not aided with teaching, doth often come to naught. Because if it should be brought into doing and to his perfect custom, it is not satisfied (as is said) with nature alone: but hath need of a politic usage & of reason, which may cleanse and scour that soul, taking away the dymm veil of ignorance, whereof arise (in a manner) all the errors in men. For in case good & ill were well known and perceived, every man would always choose the good and shonn the ill. Therefore may virtue be said to be (as it were) a wisdom & an understanding to choose the good: Virtue. and vice, a lack of foresight & an ignorance that leadeth to judge falsely. Vice. Because men never choose the il with opinion that it is ill, but they are deceived through a certain likeness of good. Then answered the L. Gaspar: yet are there many that know plainly they do ill, & do it notwithstanding, and that because they more esteem the present pleasure which they feel, True pleasure. True sorrow. then the punishment that they doubt shall fall upon them, as thieves, murderers and such other. The L. Octavian said: true pleasure is always good, and true sorrow, evil: therefore these be deceived in taking false pleasure for true, and true sorrow for false: whereupon many times through false pleasures, they reun into true displeasures. The art therefore that teacheth to discern this truth from falsehood, may in like case be learned: and the virtue by the which we choose this good in deed, True knowledge. and not that which falsely appeareth to be, may be called true knowledge, and more available for man's lief, than any other, because it expelleth ignorance, of the which (as I have said) springe all evelles. Then M. Peter Bembo, I wots not, my L. Octavian (quoth he) how the L. Gaspar should grant you, that of ignorance should springe all evelles, and that there be not many which in offending know for certainty that they do offend, neither are they any deal deceived in the true pleasure nor yet in the true sorrow: because it is sure that such as be incontinent judge with reason & uprightly, and know it, where unto they are provoked by lust contrary to due, to be ill, & therefore they make resistance and set reason to match greedy desire, whereupon arriseth the battle of pleasure and sorrow against judgement. Reason, Finally reason overcome by greedy desire far the mightier, is clean without succour, like a ship, that for a time defendeth herself from the tempestuous Seastormes, at the end beaten with the to raging violence of winds, her gables and tacklinges broken, yieldeth up to be driven at the will of fortune, without occupying helm or any manner help of Pilot for her safeguard. Forthwith therefore commit they the offences with a certain doubtful remorse of conscience & (in a manner) whether they will or not, the which they would not do, unless they knew the thing that they do to be ill, but without striving of reason would ren wholly headlong after greedy desire, & then should they not be incontinent, but untemperate, which is much worse. Therefore is incontinency said to be a diminished vice, Incontinency. because it hath in it a part of reason, Continency. & likewise continency an unperfect virtue, because it hath in it part of affection: therefore (me think) that it can not be said that the offences of the incontinent come of ignorance, or that they be deceived and offend not, when they know for a truth that they do offend. The L. Octavian answered: certess (M. Peter) your argument is good, yet (in my mind) it is more apparent than true. For although the incontinent offend with that doubtfulness, & reason in their mind striveth against greedy desire, & that that is ill, seemeth unto them to be ill in deed, yet have they no perfect knowledge of it, nor understand it so thoroughly as need requireth. Therefore of this, it is rather a feeble opinion in them, then certain knowledge, whereby they agreed to have reason overcome by affection: but if they had in them true knowledge, there is no doubt, but they would not offend: because evermore the thing whereby greedy desire overcometh reason, is ignorance neither can true knowledge be ever overcome by affection, Ignorance. that proceedeth from the body & not from the mind, & in case it be well ruled & governed by reason it becometh a virtue: if not it becometh a vice. Reason. But such force reason hath, that she maketh the sense always to obey and by wondrous means & ways pierceth lest ignorance should possess that, which she aught to have: so that although the spirits and the sinews, and the bones have no reason in them, yet when there springeth in us the motion of mind, that the imagination (as it were) pricketh forward and shaketh the bridle to the spirits, all the members are in a readiness, the feet to renn, the hands to take or to d●e that which the mind▪ thinketh upon, and this is also manifestly known in many, which unwittingly otherwhile eat some loathsome and abhorring meat, but so well dressed that to their taste it appeareth most delicate: afterward understanding what manner thing it was, it doth not only grieve them & loath them in their mind, but the body also agreeth with the judgement of the mind, that of force they cast that meat up again. The L. Octavian followed on still in his talk, but the L. julian interrupting him. My L. Octavian (ꝙ he (if I have well understood, you have said that continency is an unperfect virtue, because it hath in it part of affection: and me seemeth that the virtue (where there is in our mind a variance between reason and greedy desire) which fighteth and giveth the victory to reason, aught to be reckoned more perfect, then that which overcometh having neither greedy desire nor any affection to withstand it: because (it seemeth) that that mind abstaineth not from ill for virtues sake, but refrayenth the doing it, because he hath no will to it. Then the L. Octavian, which (ꝙ he) would you esteem the valianter Captain, either he that hasardeth himself in open ●ight, and notwithstanding vanquisheth his enemies, or he that by his virtue and knowledge weakeneth them in bringing them in case not able to fight, and so without battle or any jeopardy discomfetethe them? He, quoth the L. julian, that overcometh with most surety, is out of doubt most to be praised, so that this assured victory of his proceed not through the slackness of the enemies The L. Octavian answered: you have judged aright. And therefore I say unto you, that continencio may be compared to a Captain that fighteth manly, and though his enemies be strong and well appointed, yet giveth he them the overthrow, Temperance but for all that not without much a do & danger But temperance free from all disquietinge, is like the Captain that without resistance overcometh and reigneth. And having in the mind where she is, not only affuaged, but clean quenched the fire of greedy desire, even as a good Prince in civil war dispatcheth the seditious inward enemies, and giveth the sceptre and whole rule to reason, so in like case this virtue not enforcing the mind, but powringe thereinto through most quiet ways a vehement persuasion that may incline him to honesty, maketh him quiet and full of rest, in every part equal and of good proportion: and on every side framed of a certain agreement with himself, that filleth him with such a clear caulmenesse, that he is never out of patience: and becometh full and wholly most obedient to reason, and ready to turn unto her all his motions, and follow her where she ●ust to lead him, without any resistance, like a tender lamb that runneth, standeth and goeth always by the ewes side, and moveth only as he seethe her do. This virtue therefore is most perfect, and is chiefly requisite in Princis, because of it arise many other. Then the L. Cesar Gonzaga, I wot not (quoth he) what virtues requisite for Princis may arise of this temperance, if it be ●he that riddeth the mind of affections (as you say) which perhaps were meet for some Monk or Eremite: but I can not see how it should be requisite for a Prince that is courageous, fre●harted and of prowess in martial feats, for whatsoever is done to him, never to have anger, hatred, good will, disdain, lust, nor any affection in him: nor how without this he can get him authority among the people and soldiers The L. Octavian answered: I have not said that temperance should throughly rid and root out of men's minds, affections: neither should it be well so to do, because there be yet in affections some parts good: but that which in affections is corrupt and striving against honesty, she bringeth to obey unto reason. Therefore it is not meet, to rid the troublesome disquietness of the mind, to root up affections clean, for this were as if to a void drunkenness, there should be an act established, that no man should drink wine: or because otherwhile in running a man taketh a fall, every man should be forbed renning. Mark them that break horses, they break them not from their renninge and coming on fit, but they will have them to do it at the time and obedience of the rider. The affections therefore that be cleansed and tried by temperance are assistant to virtue, as anger, that helpeth manliness: hatred against the wicked, helpeth justice, and likewise the other virtues are aided by affections, which in case they were clean taken away, they would leave reason very feeble and faint, so that it should little prevail, like a ship master that is without wind in a great calm. Marvel ye not then (my L. Cesar) if I have said, that of temperance arise many other virtues: for when a mind is in tune with this harmony, by the mean of reason he easily receiveth afterward true manliness, which maketh him bold and safe from all danger, True manliness. and (in a manner) above worldly passions. Likewise justice an undefiled virgin, friend to sobermode and goodness, justice. queen of all other virtues, because she teacheth to do that, which a man aught to do, and to shone that a man aught to shonn, and therefore is she most perfect, because through her the works of the other virtues are brought to pass, and she is a help to him that hath her both for himself and for others: without the which (as it is commanlye said) jupiter himself could not well govern his kingdom. Stoutness of courage. Stoutness of courage doth also follow after these, and maketh them all the greater, but she can not stand alone, because whoso hath not other virtues can not be of a stout courage. Of these than wisdom is guide, which consisteth in a certain judgement to choose well. Wisdom. And in this happy chain are also linked liberality, sumptuousness, the desire to save a man's estimation, meekness, pleasantness, courtesy in talk, and many other which is now no time to speak of. But in case our Courtier will do as we have said, he shall find them all in his Princis mind: and daily he shall see springe such beautiful flowers and fruits, as all the delicious gardens in the world have not the like: And he shall feel very great contentation within him ●elf, when he remembreth that he hath given him, The way to govern well. not the things which foolish persons give, which is, gold, or silver, plate, garments, and such matters, whereof he that giveth them hath himself very great scarcity, and he that receiveth them exceeding great store: but that virtue, which perhaps among all the matters that belong unto man, is the cheeffest and rarest, that is to say, the manner and way to rule and to reign in the right kind. Which alone were sufficient to make men happy, and to bring once again into the world the golden age, which is written to have been when Saturnus reigned in the old time. The reign of a good Prince. Here when the L. Octavian had paused a little as though he would have taken respite, the L. Gaspar said: Which reckon you (my L. Octavian) the happiest government and that were most to purpose to bring into the world again that golden age which you have made mention of, either the reign of so good a Prince, or the governance of a good Commune weal? The L. Octavian answered: I would always prefarr the reign of a good Prince, because it is a government more agreeable to nature, and (if it be lawful to compare small matters with infinite) more like unto Gods, which one, and alone governeth the universal. But leaving this, ye see that in whatsoever is brought to pass with the policy of man, as armies, great sailing vessels, buildings and other like matters, the whole is committed to one alone, to dispose thereof at his william. Likewise in our body all the members travail and are occupied as the heart thinketh good. Beeside this it seemeth meet that people should aswell be governed by one Prince, as many other living creatures be, whom nature teacheth this obedience, as a most sovereign matter. Mark ye whether dear, crane's & many other fowls, when they take their ●light do not always set a Prince before, whom they follow and obey. And bees (as it were) with discourse of reason and with such reverence honour their king, as the most obedientest people in the world can do. And therefore all this is a very great argument that the so●eraigntie of a Prince is more according to nature, than a Commune weals. Then M. Peter Bembo, and me think (quoth he) that sins God hath given us liberty for a sovereign gift, Liberty. it is not reason that it should be taken from us: nor that one man should be partner of it more than an other, which happeneth under the rule of princes, who for the most part keep their people in most streict bondage. But in Common weals well in order this liberty is well kept. Beeside that, both in judgements and in advisements it happeneth oftener that the opinion of one alone is false, than the opinion of many, because troublous affection either through anger, or through spite, or through lust, sooner entereth into the mind of one alone then into the multitudes, which (in a manner) like a great quantity of water, is less subject to corruption, than a small deal. I say again that the example of the beasts and fowls doth not make to purpose, for both Dear and Cranes and the rest do not always set one and the self foremost for them to follow and obey, but they still change and vary, giving this preferment sometime to one, otherwhile to an other, and in this manner it becometh rather the form of a Commune weal, then of a kingdom, and this may be called a true and equal liberty, when they that sometime command, obey again an other while. The example likewise of the bees (me think) is not alike, because that king of theirs is not of their own kind: And therefore he that will give unto men a worthy head in deed, must be feign to find him of an other kind, and of a more noble nature than man's, if men (of reason) should obey him, as flocks and herds of cattle that obey, not a beast their like, but a sheppharde and a hardman, which is a man and of a more worthy kind, then theirs. For these respects, I think (my L. Octavian) the government of a Commune weal is more to be coveted, then of a king. Then the L. Octavian, against your opinion, M. Peter (quoth he) I will allege but one reason: which is, that of ways to rule people well, there be only three kinds. The one a kingdom: The other, Three kinds of ways to rule. the rule of good men, which they of old time called Optimates, The third, the governance of the people. And the transgressing (to term it so) and contrary vice that every one of these is changed into being appaired and corrupted, is when the kingdom becometh a Tyranny: and when the governance of good men is changed into the hands of a few great men and not good: and when the rule of the people is at the disposition of the commonalty, which making a medley of the orders, suffereth the governance of the whole at the will of the multitude. Of these three ill governments (it is sure) the Tyranny is the worst of all, as it may be proved by many reasons. It followeth then, that of the three good, the kingdom is the best, because it is contrary to the worst, for (as you know) the effects of contrary causes, they be also contrary among themselves. Now as touching it, that you have spoken of liberty, I answer, that true liberty aught not to be said to live as a man will, but to live according to good laws. And to obey, is no less natural, profitable and necessary, then to command. And some things are borne and so appointed and ordained by nature to command, as some other to obeisance. Truth it is, that there be two kinds of bearing rule, the one lordly and forsyble, Two kinds of ways to bear swinge. as masters over slaves, and in this doth the soul command the body. The other more mild and tractable, as good Princis by way of the laws over their Subjects, and in this reason commandeth greedy desire. And each of these two ways is proifitable: because the body is created of nature apt to obey the soul, and so is desire, reason. There be also many men whose doings be applied only about the use of the body: and such as these be are so far wide from the virtuous, as the soul from the body, and yet because they be reasonable creatures, they be so much partners of reason, as they do no more but know it, for they possess it not, ne yet have they the use of it. These therefore be naturally bondmen, and better it is for them and more profitable to obey, then to bear sway. Then said the L. Gaspar: In what manner wise be they then to be commanded that be discreet and virtuous and not by nature bond? How good men be to be ruled. The L. Octavian answered: With that tractable commandment kingly and civil. And to such it is well done otherwhile to commit the bearing of such offices as be meet for them, that they may likewise bear sway and rule over others of less wit than they be, yet so that the principal government may full and wholly depend upon the chief Prince. And because you have said, that it is an easier matter to corrupt the mind of one, then of a great sort, I say, that it is also an easier matter to find one good and wise, A king. than a great sort. Both good and wise aught a man to suppose a king may be, of a noble progeny, inclined to virtue of his own natural motion, and through the famous memory of his ancestors, and brought up in good conditions. And though he be not of an other kind than man, as you have said is among the bees, yet if he be helped forward with the instructions, bringing up, and art of the Courtier, whom these Lords have fashioned so wise and good, he shall be most wise, most continent, most temperate, most manly, and most just, full of liberality, majesty, holiness, and mercy: finally he shall be most glorious and most deerlye beloved both to God and man: through whose grace he shall attain unto that heroical and noble virtue, that shall make him pass the bounds of the nature of man, and shall rather be called a Demy God, God the defender of good Princis. than a man mortal. For God delighteth in and is the defender not of those Princis that will follow and counterfeit him in showing great power, and make themselves to be worshipped of men, but of such as beeside pour, whereby they are mighty, endeavour themselves to resemble him also in goodness and wisdom, whereby they may have a will and a knowledge to do well and to be his ministers, distributing for the beehouf of man the benefits and gifts that they receive of him. Therefore even as in the firmament the son and the moon and the other stars show to the world (as it were) in a glass a certain likeness of God: A good Prince an Image of God. So upon the earth a much more liker image of God are those good Princis that love and worship him, and show unto the people the clear light of his justice, accompanied with a shadow of the heavenly reason and understanding: And such as these be doth God make partners of his true dealing, righteousness, justice and goodness, and of those other happy benefits which I can not name, that disclose unto the world a much more evident proof of the Godhead, then doth the light of the son, or the continual turning of the firmament with the sundry course of the stars. It is God therefore that hath appointed the people under the custody of Princis, which aught to have a diligent care over them, that they may make him account of it, as good stewards do their Lord, and love them and think their own, all the profit & loss that happeneth to them, & principally above all thing provide for their good estate & welfare. Therefore aught the prince not only to be good, but also to make others good, like the Carpenters square, that is not only strait & just itself, but also maketh strait & just whatsoever it is occupied about. And the greatest proof that the Prince is good, The li●● of the king a● law to the ●●●ple. is when the people are good: because the lief of the Prince is a law and ringleader of the Citizens, and upon the conditions of him must needs all others depend: neither is it meet for one that is ignorant, to teach: nor for him that is out of order, to give order: nor for him that falleth, to help up an other. Therefore if the Prince will execute these offices aright, it is requisite that he apply all his study and diligence to get knowledge, afterward to fashion within himself and observe unchangeablye in every thing the law of reason, not written in papers, or in me●tall, but graven in his own mind, that it may be to him always not only familiar, but inward, and live with him, as a parcel of him: to the intent it may night and day, in every time and place admonish him & speak to him within his heart, ridding him of those troublous effections that untemperate minds feel, which because on the one side they be (as it were) cast into a most deep sleep of ignorance, on the other overwhelmed with the unquitnesse which they feel through their weyward and blind desires, they are stirred with an unquiet rage, as he that sleepeth otherwise with strange and horrible visions: heaping then a greater power upon their noughty desire, there is heaped also a greater trouble withal. And when the Prince can do what he will, then is it great jeopardy lest he will the thing that he aught not. Therefore said Bias well, that promotions declare what men be: for even as vessels while they are empty, Bias saying. though they have some think in them, it can ill be perceived, but if they be filled with l●cour, they show by and by on what side the fault is, so corrupt and il disposed minds seldom discover their vices, Authorities disclose vices. but when they be filled with authority. For than they are not able to carry the heavy burdien of pour, but forsake themselves and scatter on every side greedy desire, pride, wrath, solemness & such tyrannical fetions as they have within them. Whereupon without regard they persecute the good & wise, & promote the wicked. Tiramnes. And they can not abide to have friendships, assemblies & conferences among Citizens in Cities. But maintain spies, promoters, murderers and cutthroats to put men in fear and to make them become feintharted. And they sow debate and strife to keep them in division and weak. And of these manners ensue infinite damages and the utter undoing of the poor people, and often times cruel slaughter or at the lest continual fear to the tyrants themselves. For good Princis fear not for them selves but for their sakes whom they rule over: and tyrants fear very them whom they rule over. Therefore the more numbered of people they rule over and the mightier they are, the more is their fear & the more enemies they have. How fearful (think you) and of what an unquiet mind was Clearus Tiramn of Pontus every time he went into the market place, or into the theatre, or to any banquet, Clea●●●▪ or other haunted place? For (as it is written) he slept shut into a chest. Or Aristodemus of Argos? which of his bed had made to himself a prison (or little better) for in his palace he had a little room hanging in the aer, and so high that he should climb to it with a ladder, and there slept he with a woman of his, whose mother overnight took away the ladder, & in the morning set it to again. Clean contrary to this therefore aught the lief of a good Prince to be, free and safe & as dear to his subjects as their own: & so framed, that he may have a part of both the doing and beeholdinge lief, asmuch as shall be beehouffull for the benefit of his people. Then the L Gaspar, And which of the two lives, my L. Octavian (quoth he) do you think most meet for a Prince? The L. Octavian answered smiling: ye think perhaps that I stand in mine own conceit to be the excellent Courtier that aught to know so many matters, and to apply them to the good end I have spoken of. But remember yourself, that these Lords have fashioned him with many qualities that be not in me: therefore let us first do our best to find him out, for I remit me to him both in this and in all other things that belong to a good Prince. Then the L. Gaspar, I think (ꝙ he) that if any of the qualities given the Courtier want in you, it is rather music and dancing and the rest of small account, than such as beelong to the instructing of a Prince and to this end of Courtlines. The L. Octavian answered: They are not of small account all of them that help to purchase a man the favour of a Prince, which is necessary (as we have said) before the Courtier adventure to teach him virtue, the which (I trow) I have showed you may be learned, and profiteth as much as ignorance hurteth, whereof springe all vices, and specially that false leekinge a man hath of himself. Therefore (in mine opinion) I have sufficiently said, and perhaps more than my promise was. Then the duchess, we shall be so much the more bound (quoth she) to your gentleness, as ye shall satisfy us more than promise. Therefore stick not to speak your fancy concerning the L. Gaspar's request. And of good fellowship show us beside whatsoever you would teach your Prince, if he had need of instructions: and set the case that you have throughly gotten his favour, so as it may be lawful for you to tell him frankly what ever cometh in your mind The L. Octavian laughed and said: If I had the favour of some Prince that I know, and should tell him frankly mine opinion (I doubt me) I should soon loose it: Beeside that, to teach him, I should need first to learn● myself. Notwithstanding sins it is your pleasure that I shall answer the L Gaspar in this point also, I say, that (in my mind) Princis aught to give themselves both to the one and the other of the two lives, but yet somewhat more to the beehouldinge: Vita con●emplati●●. Because this in them is divided into two parts, whereof the one consisteth in knowing well and iudgeinge: the other in commanding aright, and in such wise as it should be done, and reasonable matters and such as they have authority in, commanding them to him, that of reason aught to obey, and in time and place accordingly. And of this spoke Duke Friderick, when he said, He that can command, is always obeyed. And to command is evermore the principal office of Princis, which notwithstanding aught many times also to see with their eyes and to be present at the deed doing, and according to the time and the busenesse otherwhile also be doing themselves, and yet hath all this a part with action or practice. Vita ●●●iua. But the end of the active or doing lief aught to be the beehouldinge, as of war, peace, and of pains, rest. How to trade people. Therefore is it also the office of a good Prince so to trade his people and with such laws and statutes, that they may live in rest and in peace, without danger and with increase of wealth, and enjoy praisablye this end of their practices and actions, which aught to be quietness. Because there have been often times many Commune weals and Princis, that in war were always most flourishing and mighty, and immediately after they have had peace, fell in decay and lost their puissance and brightness, like iron unoccupied. And this came of nothing else, but because they had no good trade of living in peace, nor the knowledge to enjoy the benefit of ease. And it is not a matter lawful to be always in war without seeking at the end t● come to a peace: Although some Princis suppose that their drift aught principally to be, to bring in subjection their borderers, and therefore train up their people in a warlike wildness of spoil, and murder, and such matters: they wage them to exercise it, and call it virtue. Whereupon in the old time it was an usage among the Scyth●s, A custom among the Scythes. that whoso had not slain some enemy of his, could not drink in solemn banquets of the goblet that was carried about to his companions. Great high square stones smaller and smaller unto the top. In other places the manner was to rear about ones sepulture so many Obelisks, as he that lay there buried had slain o● his enemies. And all these things and many more, were invented to make men warlike, only to bring others in subjection, which was a matter (almost) unpossible, because it is an infinite p●ece of work, until all the world be brought under obeisance: and not very reasonable, according to the law of nature Which will not ●aue, that in others the thing should please us, which in ourselves is a grief to us, Why Princis should make their people warlike. Therefore aught Princis to make their people warlike, not for a greedy desire to rule, but to defend themselves the better and their own people, from whoso would attempt to bring them in bondage, or to do them wrong in any point. Or else to drive out Tirans, and to govern the people well, that were ill handled. Or ●lles to bring into bondage them, that of nature were such, that they deserved to be made bondmen, with intent to govern them well, and to give them case, rest and peace. The end of the laws. And to this end also aught to be applied the laws, and all statutes of justice, in punishing the ill, not for malice, but because there should be no ill, and lest they should be a hindrance to the quiet living of the good: Because in very deed it is an uncomely matter & worthy blame, that in war (which of itself is naught) men should show themselves stout and wi●e, and in peace & rest (which is good) ignoruant, and so blockish that they wist not how to enjoy a benefit. Even as therefore in war th●y aught to bend their people to the profitabl● and necessary virtues to come by the end (which is, peace) so in peace, to come by the end thereof also (which is, quietness) they aught to bend them to honest virtues, which be the end of the profitable. And in this wise shall the subjects be good, and the Prince shall have many more to commend and to reward, then to chastise. And the rule both for the subjects and for the Prince shall be most happy, not Lordly, as the master over his bondman, but soft● and meek, as a good father over his good child. Then the L. Gaspar, gladly (quoth he) would I understand what manner virtues these are, that be profitable and necessary in war, and what honest in peace. The L. Octavian answered: All be good and help the turn, because th●y tend to a good end. Yet cheeflye in war is much set by that true manliness, Manliness. which maketh the mind void from all passions, so that he not only feareth not perils, but passeth not upon them. Likewise steadfastn●sse, and patience, steadfastness. abiding with a quiet and untroubled mind all the strokes of fortune. It is beehouffull likewise in war & at all other times to have all the virtues that beelonge to honesty, as justice, staidness, sobermoode: but much more in peace and rest, because often times men in prosspiritie and rest, when favourable fortune fa●neth upon them, were unrighteous, untemperate, and suffer themselves to be corrupted with pleasures. Therefore such as be in this state have very great need of these virtues, because rest bringeth ill conditions to soon into men's minds: Whereupon arrose a Proverb in old time, Rest. that Rest is not to be given to bondmen. And it is thought that the Pyramids of aegipt were made to keep the people occupied, because Unto every man, Hugions ●reat ●ones steeple wise. use to abide pains is most profitable. There be more over many other virtues, all helpful, but it sufficeth for this time to have spoken this much: for if I could teach my Prince and train him in this manner and so virtuous a bringing up (as we have set forth) in doing it without any more (I would believe) that I had sufficiently well compassed the end of a good Courtier. Then the L Gaspar, My L. Octavian (quoth he) because you have much praised good bringing up, and seemed (in a manner) to believe that it is the chief cause to make a man virtuous & good, I would know, whether the Courtiers instructing of his Prince, aught to beegine first of use and (as it were) daily fashions, that unawares to him may make him to accustom himself to weldoinge: or else wh●th●r he aught to beegine it himself in opening unto him with reason the property of good and ill, and in making him to perceive, before he take the matter in hand, which is the good way and to be followed, & which the ill, and to be shunned: finally● whether into that mind of his, the virtues aught to be driven & grounded with reason and understanding first, or with custom. The L. Octavian said: you bring me into overlong a discourse. Yet because you shall not think that I will slack for that I am not willing to make answer to your requests, I say, that like as the soul and the body in us are two things, so is the soul divided into two parts: whereof the one hath in it reason, and the other appetite. Reason. Even as therefore in generation the body goeth before the soul, Appetite. so doth the unreanable part of the soul go before the reasonable: the which is plainly to be discerned in young babes, who (in a manner) immediately after their birth utter anger and fervent appetite, but afterward in process of time reason appeareth. Therefore first must the body be cherished before the soul: after that, the appetite before reason: but the cherishing of the body for a respect to the soul, and of the appetite for a respect to reason. For as the virtue of the mind is made perfect with learning, so is the civil with custom. Therefore aught there to be a ground made first with custom, which may govern the appetites not yet apt to conceive reason: and with that good use lead them to goodness: afterward settle them with understanding, the which although she be last to show her light, yet doth she the more perfectly make the virtues to be enjoyed of whoso hath his mind well instructed with manners, wherein (in mine opinion) consisteth the whole. The L. Gaspar said: Before ye proceed any farther, I would know how the body should be cherished: Cherishing of the bo●ye. because you have said that we must cherish it before the soul. The L. Octavian answered smiling: know of these men that make much of it and are fair and round, as for mine (as you see) it is not half well cherished. Yet may there also be much said in this beehalf: As, the time meet for marriage, that children be neither to nigh nor to far of from the father's age: Exercises, and bringing up soon after there birth, and in the rest of their lief to make them handsome, towardly, and lively. The L. Gaspar answered: The thing that would best please women to make their children handsome and well-favoured (in my mind) were the fellowship that Plato will have of them in his Commune weal, and in that wise. Then the Lady Emilia smiling, It is not in the covenant (ꝙ she) that ye should a fresh fall to speak ill of women. I suppose, answered the L. Gaspar, that I give them a great praise, in saying that they should desire to have a custom brought up, which is allowed of so worthy a man. The L. Cesar Gonzaga said laughing: Let us see whether among the L. Octavians lessons (yet I wot not whether he have spoken all or not) this may take place: and whether it were well done the Prince should establish it for a law or no The few that I have spoken, answered the L. Octavian, may perhaps be enough to make a good Prince, as Princes go nowadays. Although if a man would go more narrowly to work in the matter, there were much more for him yet to say. Then said the Duchess: Sins it costeth us nothing but words, show us of good fellowship that, that would come in your mind to teach your Prince. The L. Octavian answered: Many other matters I would teach him (madam) if I knew them myself: and among the rest, that he should pike out a certain numbered of Gentlemen among his subjects, of the noblest and wisest, A counsel o● noble men. with whom he should debate all matters, and give them authority and free leave to utter their mind frankly unto him with out respect: and take such order with them that they may well perceive, that in every thing he would know the truth and abhors lying. And beesid● this Counsel of the nobility, A counsel of the commons I would persuade him to choose out others among the people of a base degree, of whom he should make an honest substantial Counsel, that should debate with the Counsel of the nobility the affairs of the City beelonginge to the common and private astate· And in this wise should be made, of the Prince, as of the head, of the nobility and communes, as of the members, one body alone knit together, the governance whereof should chiefly depend upon the Prince yet should the rest bear a stroke also in it: and so should this state have the form & manner of the three good governments, which is, a kingdom, men of the best sort, and the people. Afterward I would show him, that of cares beelonging to a Prince, the cheeffest is of justice: for maintenance whereof wise and well tried men should be chosen out for officers, Cares in a Prince. whose wisdom were very wisdom in deed, accompanied with goodness, for e●les is it no wisdom, but craft. And where there is a want of this goodness, always the art and subtle practice of lawyers is nothing else, but the utter decay and destruction of the laws and judgements: and the fault of every offence of theirs is to be laid in him that put them in office. Godly affectio●s. I would tell him how that of justice also dependeth the zeal toward God, which belongeth unto all men and especially to Princis, who aught to love him above all things, and to direct all their doings unto him, as unto the true end: And (as Xenophon saith) to honour and love him always, but much more in prosspiritie, because they may afterward lefullye with a more confidence call to him for assistance when they be in any adversity: for it is not possible to govern either himself or others well, without the help of God, who unto the good sendeth otherwhile good fortune for his minister, to help them out of great dangers, sometime adversity least they should slumber so much in prospirity that they might happen to forget him, or the wisdom of man, which many times redresseth ill fortune as a good player, the ill chances of the dice, with counninge play at tables. I would not forget als● to put the Prince in mind to be devout indeed, not superstitious, nor given to the vanity of necromancy & prophecies: for in case he have accompanied with the wisdom of man, a godly zeal and true religion, he shall also have good luck, and God his defender, who will always increase his prospiritie both in peace and war. Beeside, To love his Country and people. I would declare unto him how he should love his Country and his people, keeping them not in tomuch bondage, for being hated of them whereof arise seditions, conspiracies, and a thousand mischiefs beeside: nor yet in to much liberty, jest he be set at naught, whereof proceedeth the licentious and riotus living of the people, theft, robbery and murder without any fear of laws, often times the decay & utter destruction of cities and kingdoms. Moreover how he should love them that be nighest to him from one degree to an other, observing among them all in certain matters a like equality, Equality. as in justice & liberty, Partiality and in some matters a reasonable partiality as in being liberal, in recompensing, in bestowing promotions and honours according to the unequalness of deserts, which aught not always to exceed, but to be exceeded with recompenses. And that in thus doing he should not only be beloved, but (in a manner) worshipped of his subjects, neither should he need to commit the gaurde of h●s person to strangers for his own (for the better safeguard & profit of themselves) would guard him with their own person: and each man would willingly obey the laws, when they should see him to obey them himself, and be (as it were) an uncorrupted keaper and minister of them: and so shall he make all men to conceive such an assured confidence of him, that if he should happen otherwhile to go biyonde them in any point, every one would know it were done for a good ●ntent: the self same respect & reverence they would have to his will, as they have to the laws. And thus should the Citizens minds be tempered in such sort, that the good would not seek for more than is requisite, and the bad should not perish: To much wealth. because many time's abundance of wealth is cause of great destruction, as in poor Italy, which hath been and still is, a prey and booty in the teeth of strange nations, as well for the ill government, as for the abundance of riches that is in it. Therefore the best way were, ●ow to order his citizens. to have the greater part of the Citizens, neither very wealthy, nor very poor: because the overwealthy many times w●●e stiff necked and reckless, the poor, desperate and pikinge. But the mean sort lie not in wa●te for others, and live with a quiet mind that none lie in wait for them. And where this mean sort are the greater number, they are withal the mightier. And therefore neither the poor nor rich can work any conspiracy against the Prince, or against others, nor move sedition. Wherefore to avoid this evil, the most surest way is universally to maintain a mean. I would counsel him therefore to use these and many other remedies for the purpose, Alteration of ●●ate. that in the mind of the subjects there springe not a longing after new matters & alteration of state, which most communly they do, either for gain, or else for promotion that they hope upon, or for loss, or else for some ●oile that they be a feared of. Extortion of the higher pours. And these stirs in their minds be engendered some ●ime of hatred & despite that maketh them desperate for the wrongs & unshameful dealing that they receive through the covetisenesse, pride, & cruelty, or unleeful lust of the higher powers: Otherwhile of a contempt & little regard that ariseth in them through the negligence & ill handling and lack of foresight in Princis. Lack of wisdom in princes. And these two faults must be prevented with purchasing him the love of the people, and authority, which is done in rewarding and promoting the good and in finding wisely a remedy, That the evil were not great. and sometime with rigour, that the evil and seditious were not great: the which thing is easier to be stopped before they come to it, then to pluck them down again after they are once on fit. And I would say, to restrain the people from renning into those inconveniences, there is no better way, Il customs then to keep them from ill custommes, and specially such as be put in use and creep in unawares by little and little, because they be secret infections that corrupt Cities before a man can not only remedy them, but spy them out. With such means I would counsel the Prince to do his best to preserve his subjects in quiet estate, and to give them the goods of the mind, Goods of the mind, of the body and of fortune. and of the body and of fortune: but them of the body and of fortune, that they may exercise them of the mind, which the greater and plentier they be, so much the more profitable be they: that happeneth not in them of the body, nor of fortune: In case therefore the subjects be good and of worthiness and well bend to the end of happiness, that Prince shall be a very great Lord: for that is a true and a great government, under the which the subjects be good, well ruled and well commanded. Then the L. Gaspar, I suppose (quoth he) that he should be but a small Lord, under whom the subjects were all good. For in every place there be few good. The L Octavian answered: In case some certain Circe should journey into wild beasts all the French Kings subjects, Not the multitude, but the worthy. would not you think him a small Lord for all he reigned over so many thousand beasts? And contrariwise if only the cattle that scattre abroad feeding about our Mountaignes here, might become wise men, and valiant Gentlemen, would not you think that heardmennes that should govern them and have them obedient to them, of herdmen were become great Lords? you may see then, that not the multitude of Subjects, but the worthiness of them maketh Princis great. The Duchess, the L. Emilia, and all the rest gave very diligent ear to the L. Octavians talk for a good while together, but after h● had here ma●e a little s●op, as though he h●d made an end of his talk, the L. Cesar Gonzaga said: certess (my L. Octavian) it can not be said, but your lessons be good and profitable: yet should I believe that if ye instructed your prince with them, ye deserved rather the name of a good Schoolmaster then of a good Courtier: and he of a good governor rather than of a good prince. Yet my meaning is not, but that the care of princes should be to have their people well ruled with justice and good usages, notwithstanding it may he sufficient for them (in my mind) to ●house out good ministers to execute these kind of matters, but the very office of them is far higher. Therefore if I thought myself to be the excellent Courtier that these Lords have fashioned, and in my princes favour, without peraventure I would never incline him to any vicious matter: but to attain unto the good end (you speak of, and the which I confirm aught to be the f●ute of the Courtier's travails and doings) I would endeavour to put into his head a certain greatness, with that pri●elye sumptuousness, and readiness of courage, and unconquered prowess in arms, that should make him beloved and reverenced of all men, in such wise, that for this in especial he should be famous and notable to the world. I would show him also, that he aught to accompany with his greatness a familiar gentle behaviour, with a soft and ●ouelye kindness, and good cast to make much of his subjects and strangers discreatlye more and less according to their deserts, observing always notwithstanding the majesty meet for his degree, that should not in any point suffer him to diminish his authority through overmuch abaysinge, nor yet purchase him hatred through over sour rigorousness: that he aught to be full of liberality and sumptuous, and give unto every man without stint, for God (as they say) is the treasurer of freharted princes: make gorgeous banquets, feasts, games, people pleasing shows, keep a great number of fair horses for profit in war, & for pleasure in peace, Hawks, Hounds, and all other matters that belong to the contentation of great Princis and the people. Markq. of mantua. As in our days we have seen the L. F●ancis Gonzaga marquis of Mantua do, which in these things seemeth rather king of all Italy, than Lord over one City. I would assay also to bring him to make great buildings, both for his honour in lief, and to give a memory of him to his posterity, S. Peter's church. as did Duke Friderick in this noble Palace, & now doth Pope july in the Temple of Saint Peter, and the way that goeth from the Palace to his house of pleasure Beluedere, and many other buildings, Beluedere. as also the old ancient Romans did, whereof so many remnants are to be seen about Room, Naples, Pozzolo, bay, Civita Vecchia, Porto, and also out of Italy, and so many other places, which be a great witness of the prows of those divine courages. So did Alexander the great in like manner, The great Alexande● which not satisfied with the fame that he got him worthily for subduing the world with martial prowess, built Alexandria in aegipt, Bucephalia in India, and other Cities in other Countries: and intended to bring the mountain Athos into the shape of a man, Plutar. Athos a hill in thracia of a wonderful height. and in the left hand of him to build a very large City, and in the right a great bowl, into the which should gather all the rivers that ran from it, and thence should fall down toward the Sea, a purpose in very deed princely and meet for the great Alexander. These things (think I) my L. Octavian, become a noble and a right Prince, and shall make him both in peace and war most triumphant and not put him in the head of such particular and small matters, and have a respect to take weapon in hand only to conquerr and vanquish such as deserve to be conquered, or to profit his subjects withal, or to dispossess them that govern not as they aught. For in case the Romans, Alexander, Hannibal, and the rest had had these respects they should never have reached to the top of the glory they did. The L. Octavian answered then smiliinge: Such as had not these recpectes should have done the better in case they had had them: although if ye consider well, ye shall find that many had them, and especially those auntientest of old time, as Theseus, and Hercules. And think not that Procustes, Scyron, Caccus, Diomedes, Antheus and Geryon were any other then cruel and wicked Tirannes' against whom these noble couraged Demigoddes kept continual & mortal war, and therefore, for ridding the world of such intolerable monsters (for tyrants aught not to be called by other name) unto Hercules were made Temples, Tiramnes monsters. and sacrifices, and godly honours given him, because the benefit to root up Tirannes' is so profitable to the world, that who so doth it, deserveth a far greater reward, than whatso ever is meet for a mortal man. And of them you have named, Do you not think that Alexander did profit with his victories the vanquished? sins he so traded those barbarous nations which he overcame, with such good manners, that of wild beasts he made them men? Alexander profited the vanquished. He built many beautiful Cities in Countries ill inhabited, planting therein civil kind of living, and (as it were) coopled Asia and Europe together with the bond of amity & holy laws, so that the vanquished by him were more happy than the rest, because among some he brought in matrimony: among other, husbandry: among other, religion: among other, not to slay, but to make much of their parents in their old age: among other, the refraining from bedding with their mothers, and a thousand other matters, that might be said for a witness of the profit which his victories brought to the world. But leaving aside them of old time, what enterprise were more noble, more glorious, & more profitable than if Christians would bend their force to conquerr the infidels. Would you not think that this war, prosperously achieved, & being the cause of so many a thousand to be brought from the false sec● of mohammed to the light of the Christian truth, it should be a profit aswell to the vanquished, as to the subduers? And undoubtedly, as Themistocles in times past, being banished out of his Country, Xer●e●. and embraced of the king of Persia, & much made of, and honoured with infinite & most rich gifts, said unto his train: O sirs we had been undone, had we not been undone, even so might then the Turks and the Moors speak the very same with good cause, for that in their loss should consist their welfare. This happiness therefore (I hope) we shall come to the sight of, King Francis the first. if god grant so long lief to Monseigneur d' Angoulesme that he may come to the Crown of France, who showeth such a hope of himself, as four nights ago the L. julian spoke of. And to the Crown of England that L· Henry Prince of Wales, who presently groweth under his most noble father, King Henry the VIII. in all kind of virtue, like a tender imp under the shadow of an excellent tree & laden with fruit, to renew him much more beautiful & plenteous when time shall come, for as our Castilio writeth from thence, & promiseth at his return to tell us more at the full, a man can judge no less, but that nature was willing in this Prince to show her counning, planting in one body alone so many excellent virtues, as were sufficient to deck out infinite. Then said M. Bernard Bibiena: a very great hope of himself promiseth also the L. Cha●les Prince of Spain, The Emperor Charles the v. who not yet fully ten years of age, declareth now such a wit, & so certain tokens of goodness, wisdom, mod●sly, noble courage and of every virtue, that if the Empire of Christendom (as it is thought) come to his hands, it is to be reckoned upon, that he will darken the name of many Emperors of old time, & in renown be compared to the most famous that ever were in the world. The L. Octavian proceeded. I believe therefore that God hath sent such and so heavenly Princis upon the earth, & made them one like an other in youth, in mightiness of arms, in s●ate, in handsomeness and disposition of person, 〈◊〉 ●m●ng Kings. that they may also be minded alike in this good purpose: and in case any manner envy or strife of matching others arise at any time among them, it shall be, who shall be the first, and most inclined and most courageous in so glorious an enterprise. But let us leave this kind of talk, and return unto our own. Unto you therefore (my L. Cesar) I say, that such things as you would have the Prince to do, be very great and worthy much praise. But you must understand that if he be not skilful in that I have said he aught to have a knowledge in, and have not framed his mind in that wise, and bent it to the way of virtue, it shall be hard for him to have the knowledge to be noble couraged, liberal, just, quicke-spirited, wise, or to have any other of those qualities that belong unto him: neither would I have him to be such a one for any other thing, but to have the understanding to put in ure these conditions (for as they that build, be not all good workmen, Libera●itye. so they that give, be not all liberal) for virtue never hurteth any man: and many there be, that lay hand on other men's goods to give, and so are lavish of an other men's substance. Some give to them they aught not, and leave in wretchedness and misery such as they be bound to. Other give with a certain ill will and (as it were) with a despite, so that it is known they do it, because they can do none other. Other do not only not keep it secret, but they call witness of it, and (in a manner) 'cause their liberalities to be cried. Other foolishly at a sudden empty the fountain of liberality, knowledge. so that afterward they can use it no more. Therefore in this point (as in all other matters) he must have a knowledge, and govern himself with the wisdom that is a companion unto all the other virtues which for that they are in the mild, Virtue in the middle. be nigh unto the two extremities, that be vices. Wherefore he that hath not knoweleage runneth soon into them. For as it is a hard matter in a circle to found out the prick in the centre, which is the middle, so is it hard to found out the prick of virtue placed in the middle beetwene two extreme vices, the one for the overmuch, and the other for the overlitle, & unto these we are inclined sometime to the one, sometime to the other, and this is known by the pleasure and grief that is felt within us, for through the one we do the thing that we aught not, and through the other we leave undone that, which we aught to do: although pleasure be much more dangerous, because our judgement is soon lead by it to be corrupted. But because the perseverance how far a man is wide from the centre of virtue, is a hard matter, we aught by little and little to draw● back of ourselves to the contrary part of this extremytye, which we know we be inclined unto, as they do, that make strait crooked staves, for by that mean we shall draw nigh unto virtue, which is placed (as I have said) in that prick of the mean: whereby it cometh that by many ways we be wide, and by one alone we do our office and duty: like as Archers by one way alone hit the mark, and by many miss the prick. Therefore oftentimes a Prince to be gentle and lowly, Extremities, vices doth many things contrary to comeliness, and so humbleth himself that he is naught set by. Some other to show a grave majesty with authority according, becometh cruel and untolerable. Some one, to be counted eloquent, entereth into a thousand strange matters and long processes with curious words giving ear to himself, so that other men can not for loathsomeness hear him. Therefore (my L Cesar) do you not call a small matter any thing that may better a Prince how small so ever it be. Nor think that I judge it to be in the reproof of my lessons where you say, A good Prince a good governor. that a good Governor were there instructed therewithal, than a good Prince: for perhaps there can not be a greater praise nor more comely for a Prince, then to call him a good Governor. Therefore if it should fall to my lot to instruct him, he should have a care not only to govern the matters already spoken of, but also far lesser, and understand in piecemeal whatsoever belongeth to his people, as much as were possible: and never credit nor trust any officer so much, as to give him the bridle wholly into his hands, and the disposing of the whole government. For no man is most apt to all things. mistrusting. And much more hurt cometh of the light beeleaf of Princis, then of mistrusting, which otherwhile doth not only not hurt, but oftentimes p●ofiteth exceadingly. Yet in this point a good judgement is very necessary in a Prince to discern who deserveth to be put in trust, and who not. I would he should have a care to understand the doings and to be an overseear of his officers and ministers. The Prince toward his subjects. To break & to end controversies among his subjects. To take up matters between them and to knit them together in alliance by marriage. To provide so, that the City may be all joined together and agreeing in amity, City. like a private house, well peopled, not poor, quiet, and full of good artificers. To show favour to merchant men and to help them also with stokkes. Merchant men Houskeepinge. Superfluous things. To be liberal & honourable in houskeepinge toward strangers and religious persons. To temper all superfluous matters, because through the offences committed in these things, albeit they appear but small, cities many times fall in decay: therefore it is reason that the Prince set a stint to the oversumptuous buildings of private men, bancque●tinges, unmeasurable doweries of women, their riotous excess, their pomp in jewels and apparel, Excess of women. which is nothing else but a token of their folly: for (beeside that through ambition and malice that one of them beareth an other, they many times lavish out there livelihood and husbands substance, otherwhile for some pretty is well or other matter of fancy) sometime they cell their honesty to him that will buy it. Then said M. Bernarde Bibiena smiling: You beegine (my L. Octavian) to take my L. Gaspar's and Phrisios' part. Then the L. Octavian answered in like manner smiling: The controversy is ended, and I intend not now to renew it. Therefore will I speak no more of women, but return to my prince: Phrisio answered: you may now leave him hardly, and be contented to have him such a one as you have instructed him. Good Princes very scant. For doubtless it were an easier matter to found out a woman of the qualities the L. julian hath spoken of, than a prince of the qualities that you would have in him. Therefore (I fear me) he is like the Common weal of Plato, and we shall never see such a one, unless it be perhaps in heaven. The L. Octavian answered: things possible, though they be hard, yet is it to be hoped that they may be: therefore may we yet perhaps see him upon the earth in our time. For although the heavens be so scant in bringing forth excellent Princis, that in so many hundredth years we do scantly see one, yet may this good luck happen to us. Then said Count Lewes: I have a good hope of it. For beeside the three great ones that we have named, of whom may be hoped it, that belongeth to the high degree of a perfect Prince, there be also nowadays in Italy certain Prince's children, which although they be not like to have such power, may hap will supply it with virtue: and he that emenge them all declareth a more towardness and promiseth of himself a greater hope than any of the rest (me think) is the L. Friderick Gonzaga, L. Friderick Gonzaga Duke of Mantua. son and heir to the marquis of Mantua, and nephew to our Duchess here. For beeside the honest inclination to good nurture and the discretion that he declareth in these tender years, they that have the bringing up of him, report such wondrous things as touching his being witty, desirous of glory, stouthearted, courteious, free-hearted, frindlye to justice, so that of so good a beeg●nning, there can not be looked for but a very good end. Then Phrisio, well, no more of this (ꝙ he) we will pray unto God that we may see this your hope fulfilled. Here the L. Octavian turning him toward the duchess, after a sort as though he had ended as much as he had to say, You have now heard, madam (quoth he) what I am able to say of the end of the Courtier, wherein though I have not satisfied in all points, it shall suffice me yet, that I have showed, that some other perfection may be given him beside the matters which these Lords have spoken of, who (I believe) have left out both this and what so ever I am able to say, not because they knew it not better than I, but because they were loath to take the pains: therefore will I give them leave to go forward, if they have any thing else left behind to be said. Then said the Duchess: Beeside that it is late (for within a while it will be time for us to make an end for this night) me think, we aught not to mingle any other talk with this, wherein you have gathered together such sundry and goodly matters, that concerning the end of courtliness, it may be said, that you are not only the perfect Courtier whom we seek for, and able to instruct your Prince well, but also (if fortune be so favourable on your side) ye may be the good Prince yourself, which should not be without great profit to your Country. Then laughed the L. Octavian and said: Perhaps (madam) were I in that estate, it would be with me as it is with many others that can better say well, then do well. Here after a little debating of the matter to an● fro among the company, with certain contentions tending to the commendation of that that had ●i●e spoken, and agreeing on all hands not yet to be b●d time, the L. julian said smiling: Madam, I am so very an enemy to craft and guile, that needs must I speak against the L. Octavian: who for that he is (as I much doubt him) a secret conspirator with the L. Gaspar against women, hath overshott himself in committing of two errors (in mine opinion) very great: whereof the one is, that meaning to prefer this Courtier before the gentlewoman of the Palace, & to make him to pass those bounds that she is not able to reach to, he hath also preferred him before the Prince, which is most unseemlye. The other, that he hath given him such an end, that it is evermore hard and otherwhile unpossible for him to comebye it: and yet when he doth come by it, he aught not to have the name of a Courtier. I can not see: quoth the L. Emilia, how it is hard or unpossible for the Courtier to come buy this his end, nor yet how the L. Octavian hath preferred him before the Prince. Grant it him not, answered the L, Octavian▪ for I have not preferred the Courtier before the Prince. And as touching the end of courtliness. I dare undertake that I am not overseen in any point. Then answered the L. julian: You can not say (my L. Octavian) that always the cause, by the which the effect is such as it is, is no more such as the effect is. Therefore needs must the Courtier, by whose instruction the prince must be of such an excellency, be more excellent than the prince: and in this wise shall he be also of a more worthiness than the prince himself, which is most unfitting. Then concerning the end o● C●urtlinesse, that which you have spoken may follow when there is little beetwene the age of the prince and the Courtiers: yet very hardly, for where there is small difference of age, it is likely there is also small difference of knowledge. But in case the prince be old and the Courtier young: it is meet that the old prince know more than the young Courtier, and where this followeth not always, it followeth sometime, and then is the end which you have appointed to the Courtier unpossible. In case again the prince be young and the Courtier aged, much a do shall the Courtier have to win him the good will of the prince with those qualities that you have given him. For (to say the truth) feats of ar●es and the other exercises beelonge unto young men and be not comely in age: and music, dancing, feastings, sportings, and love, be matters to be laughed at in old men, and (me think) to an instructor of the lief and manners of a prince, who aught to be a g●aue person & of authority, ripe in years and experience and (if it were p●ssible, a good Philosopher, a good Captain and to have the knowledge almost of every thing, they are most unseemly. Wherefore he that instructeth a Prince (I believe) aught not to be called a Courtier, but deserveth a far greater and a more honourable name. Therefore (my L. Octavian) pardon me in case I have opened this your crafty conue●ance, which I think myself bound to do for the honour of my woman, whom you would have to be of less worthiness than this Courtier of yours, & I will none of that. The L. Octavian laughed and said: A more praise it were for the gentlewoman of the Palace (my L. julian) to exalt her so much that she may be equal with the Courtier, than so much to debase the Courtier that he should be equal with the gentlewoman of the Palace: for it were not unfit for the woman also to instruct her lady, This end of the Courtier serveth also for a Gentil woman with her Lady. and with her to draw to the same end of courtliness, which I have said is meet for the Courtier with his prince. But you seek more to dispraise the Courtier, then to praise the gentlewoman of the Palace, therefore shall it become me also to take part with the Courtier. Now to make you answer to your objections, you shall understand that I have not said, that the instruction of the Courtier aught to be the only cause why the Prince should be such a one, for in case he be not inclined of nature and apt to be such a one, all diligence and exhortation of the Courtier were in vain. As in like manner every good husband man should labour in vain, that would take in hand to till and sow with good grain the barren sand of the Sea, because this barrenness in that place is natural. But when to the good seed in a fruitful s●●le with the temperateness of aer and rain meet for the season of the year, there is also applied the diligence of man's husbanding the ground, always great abundance of corn is seen to springe plenteously: yet for all this, is it not to be said, that the husband man alon● is the ●a●●e of it, although without him all the other things do little or nothing help the purpose. There be therefore many Princis, that would be good, in case their minds were well tilled, and of them speak I, not of such as be like the ●arraine Country, and of nature so far wide from good conditions that no teaching were able to frame their mind to a right trade. And forsomuch as (as we have already said) such custommes and properties be engendered in us, as our doings are, Virtue in antione. and virtue consisteth in doing & practice, it is not unpossible nor any marvel, that the Courtier should train his Prince in many virtues, as justice, liberality, noble courage, the practicing whereof he, through his greatness, may lightly put in ure and make it custom, which the Courtier can not do, because he hath no means to practise them, and thus the Prince inclined to virtue by the Courtier, may become more virtuous than the Courtier: beesyde that, you must conceive that the whettstone which cutteth not a whit, doth yet make a tool sharp: therefore although the Courtier instructeth his Prince yet (me think) it is not to be said that he is of a more worthiness than his Prince. That the en●e of this Courtier is hard and sometime unpossible, and that when the Courtier doth come buy it, he aught not to be named a Courtier, but deserveth a greater name, I tell you plainly, The end of the Courtier▪ hard. that I deny not this hardness, because it is no less hard to ●ind out so excellent a Courtier, then to come by such an end. Yet by reason (me think) the unpossiblenes of the matter lieth not in the point that you have alleged. For in case the Courtier be so young that he hath not understanding in the thing, which he aught to have a knowledge in, it is not to the purpose to speak of him, because he is not the Courtier that we entreat upon, neither is it possible for him that must have a sight in so many things to be very young. And if it happen moreover the Prince to be so wise and good of himself, that he needeth no exhortations or counsel Aristotel, beeside the directing him to that glorious end▪ that was to make the world only a general country, & all men, as one people, that should live in amity and agreement together, under one government & one law, that (like the son) should generally give light to all, he instructed him in the natural sciences and in the virtues of the mind full and wholly, that he made him most wise, most manly, most continent, and a true moral Philosopher, not in words only, but in deeds. For there can not be imagined a more noble Philosophy, then to bring to a civil trade of living such wild people as were the inhabitants of Bactria and Gaucasus, India and Scythia, and to teach them matrimony, husbandry, to honour their fathers, to abstain from robbing and killing and from other naughty conditions, & to build so many most noble Cities in strange Countries, so that infinite through those laws were brought from a wild lief to live like men. He rebuked Alexander for being worshipped as a god, and therefore died upon the rack. ●. Curt. lib. 8. And of these things in Alexander the Author was Aristotel in practicing the ways of a good Courtier. The which Calisthenes could not do, for all Aristotel showed him the way of it, who because he was a right philosopher and so sharp a minister of the bore truth without mynglinge it with courtliness, he lost his lief and profited not, but rather gave a slander to Alexander. With the very same way of courtliness Plato framed Dion the Syracusan. But when he met afterward with Dionysius the Tyrann, like a book all full of faults and errors, and rather needful to be clean blotted out, then altered or corrected, because it was not possible to scrape out of him that blot of tyranny wherewithal he was stained so long together, The Courtier ought not to ●●rue the wicked he would not practise therein the ways of Courtie●ship, for he thought they should be all in vain: The which our Courtier aught to do also, if his chance be to serve a Prince of so ill a nature, that by long custom is grown in use with vices, as they that have the consumption of the lungs with their disease. For in this case he aught to forsake his service, lest he bear the blame of his Lords ill practices, or feel the hartgreefe that all goo● men have which serve the wicked. Here when the L. Octavian had made a stays, the L. Gaspar said: I had not thought our Courtier had ben● so worthy a parsonage. But sins Aristotel and Plato be his mates, I judge no man aught to disdain this name any more. Yet wet I not whether I may believe that Aristotel and Plato ever danced or were musitiens in all their lief time, or practised other feats of chivalry. The L. Octavian answered: Almost it is not lawful to think that these two divine wits were not skilful in every thing, and therefore it is to be presupposed that they practised what ever belongeth to Courtlynesse. For where it cometh to purpose they so pen the matter, that the very crafts masters themselves know by their writings that they understood the whole even to the pith and innermost roots. Wherefore to a Courtier or instructor of a Prince (how ever ye lust to term him) that tendeth to the good end, which we have spoken of, it is not to be said but that all the good qualities which these Lords have given him do beelonge, though he were never so grave a Philosopher or holy in his manners: because they strive not against goodness, discretion, knoweleage and will, in all age, and in all time and place. Then the L. Gaspar, The Courtier a lover. I remember (quoth he) that these Lords yesternight reasoning of the Courtier's qualities, did allow him to be a lover, and in making rehearsal of asmuch as hitherto hath been spoken, a man may pike out a conclusion, That the Courtier (which with his worthiness and credit must incline his Prince to virtue) must in manner of necessity be aged, for knowledge cometh very seldom times before years, and specially in matters that be learned with experience: I can not see, when he is well drawn in years, how it will stand well with him to be a lover, considering (as it hath been said the other night) Love framet h not with old men, and the tricks that in young men be galauntnesse, courtesy and preciseness so acceptable to women, in them are mere follies and fondness to be laughed at, and purchase him that useth them hatred of women and mocks of others. Therefore in case this your Aristotel an old Courtier were a lover, and practised the feats that young lovers do (as some that we have seen in our days) I fear me, he would forget to teach his Prince: and peraventure boys would mock him behind his back, and women would have none other delight in him but to make him a jesting stock. Then said the L. Octavian: Sins all the other qualities appointed to the Courtier are meet for him, although he be old, me think we should not then bar him from this happiness to love. Nay rather, quoth the L. Gaspar, to take this love from him, is a perfection over and above, and a making him to live happily out of misery and wretchedness. M. Peter Bembo said: Remember you not (my L Gaspar) that the L. Octavian declared the other night in his device of pastimes, although he be not skilful in love, to know yet that there be some lovers, which reckon the disdeignes, the angres, the debates and torments which they receive of their Ladies, sweet? Whereupon he required to be taught the cause of this sweetness. Therefore in case our Courtier (though he be old) were kindled with those loves that be sweet without any bitter smack, he should feel no misery nor wretchedness at all. And being wise, as we set case he is, he should not be deceived in thinking to be meet for him what so ever were meet for young men, but in loving should perhaps love after a sort, that might not only not bring him in slander but to much praise and great happiness, without any loathsomeness at all, the which very seldom or (in manner) never happeneth to young men: & so should he neither lay aside the teaching of his Prince, nor yet commit any thing that should deserve the mocking of boys. Then spoke the Duchess: I am glad (M. Peter) that you have not been much troubled, in our reasonings this night, for now we may be the boulder to give you in charge to speak, and to teach the Courtier this so happy a love, which bringeth with it neither slander, nor any inconvenience: for perhaps it shall be one of the necessariest and profitablest qualities that hitherto hath been given him, therefore speak of good fellowship as much as you know therein. M. Peter laughed and said: I would be loath (Madam) where I say that it is leeful for old men to love, it should be an occasion for these Ladies to think me old: therefore hardly give ye this enterprise to an other. The Duchess answered: You aught not to refuse to be counted old in knowledge, though ye be young in years. Therefore say on, and excuse yourself no more. M. Peter said: Surely (madam) if I must entreat upon this matter, I must first go ask counsel of my Eremite Lavinello. The L. Emilia said then half in anger: There is never a one in all the company so disobedient as you be (M. Peter) therefore should the Duchess do well to chastise you somewhat for it. M. Peter said smilinge: for love of God (madam) be not angry with me, for I will say what ever you will have me. God to, say on then, answered the L. Emilia. Then M. Peter after a whiles silence, somewhat settling himself as though he should entreat upon a weighty matter, Old men may love without slander. said thus: My Lords, to show that old men may love not only without slander, but otherwhile more happily then young men, I must be enforced to make a little discourse to declare what love is, and wherein consisteth the happiness that lovers may have. Therefore I beseech ye give the hearing with heedfulness, for I hope to make you understand, that it were not unfitting for any man here to be a lover, in case he were xv. or xx. years elder than M. Morello. And here after they had laughed ● while, M. Peter proceeded. I say therefore that according as it is defined of the wise men of old time) Love is nothing else but a certain coveting to enjoy beauty: What love is. and forsomuch as coveting longeth for nothing, knowledge. but for things known, it is requisite that knowleage go evermore before coveting, Coveting which of his own nature willeth the good, but of himself is blind, & knoweth it not. Therefore hath nature so ordained, that to every virtue of knowleag there is annexed a virtue of longing. And because in our soul there be three manner ways to know, namely, by sense, reason, and understanding: of sense, there arriseth appetite or longing, Sense. which is common to us with brute beasts: Reason. of reason arriseth election or choice, which is proper to man: of understanding, by the which man may be partner with Angels, Understanding. arriseth william. Even as therefore the sense knoweth not but sensible matters and that which may be felt, so the appetite or coveting only desireth the same: and even as the understanding is bend but to beehoulde things that may be understood, so is that will only feed with spiritual goods. Man of nature endowed with reason, placed (as it were) in the middle beetwene these two extremities, may through his choice inclining to sense, or reaching to understanding, come nigh to the coveting sometime of the one sometime of the other part. Beauty. In these sorts therefore may beauty be coveted, the general name whereof may be applied to all things, either natural or artificial, that are framed in good proportion, and due temper, as their nature beareth. But speaking of the beauty that we mean, which is only it, that appeareth in bodies, and especially in the face of man, and moveth this fervent coveting which we call Love, we will term it an influence of the heavenly bountifulness, the which for all it stretcheth over all things that be created (like the light of the son) yet when it findeth out a face well proportioned, The face. and framed with a certain lively agreement of several colours, and setfurthwith lights and shadows, and with an orderly distance and limits of lines, thereinto it distilleth itself and appeareth most well-favoured, and decketh out and lighteneth the subject where it shineth with a marvelous grace and glistering (like the Son beams that strike against beautiful plate of fine gold wrought and set with precious jewels) so that it draweth unto it men's eyes with pleasure, and piercing through them imprinteth himself in the soul, and with an unwonted sweetness all to stirreth her and delighteth, and setting her on fire maketh her to covet him. When the soul than is taken with: coveting to enjoy this beauty as a good thing, in case she suffer herself to be guided with the judgement of sense, she falleth into most deep errors, and judgeth the body in which beauty is discerned, to be the principal cause thereof: whereupon to enjoy it, she reckoneth it necessary to ●oigne as inwardly as she can with that body, which is false: In possessing the body beauty is not enjoyed and therefore who so thinketh in possessing the body to enjoy beauty, he is far deceived, and is moved to it, not with true knowledge by the choice of reason, but with false opinion by the longing of sense. Whereupon the pleasure that followeth it, is also false and of necessity full of errors. They that love sensually. And therefore into one of the two vices renn all those lovers that satisfy their unhonest lusts with the women whom they love: For either assoon as they be come to the coveted end, they not only feels a fullness and loathsomeness, but also conceive a hatred against the wight beloved, as though longing repent him of his offence and acknowleaged the deceit wrought him by the false judgement of sense, that made him believe the ill to be good: or else they continue in the very same coveting and greediness, as thought they were not in deed come to the end, which they sought for. And albeit through the blind opinion that hath made them drunken (to their seeming) in that instant they feel a contentation, as the diseased otherwhile, that dream they drink of some clear spring, yet be they not satisfied, nor leave of so. And because of possessing coveted goodness there arriseth always quietness and satisfaction in the possessors mind, in case this were the true and right end of there coveting, when they possess it they would be at quietness and throughly satisfied, which they be not: but rather deceived through that likeness, they forthwith return again to unbridled coveting, and with the very same trouble which they felt at the first, they fall again into the raging and most burning thirst of the thing, that they hope in vain to possess perfectly. These kind of lovers therefore love most unluckily, for either they never comebye their covetinges, which is a great unluckiness: or else if they do comebye them, they find they comebye their hurt, and end their miseries with other greater miseries, for both in the beginning and middle of this love, there is never other thing felt, but afflictions, torments, greeffes, Properties of lovers. pining, travail, so that to be wann, vexed with continual tears, and sighs, to live with a discontented mind, to be always dumb, or to lament, to covet death, in conclusion to be most unlucky are the properties which (they say) beelonge to lovers. The cause therefore of this wretchedness in men's minds, is principally sense, which in youthful age beareth most sway, because the lustiness of the flesh and of the blood, in that season addeth unto him even so much force, as it withdraweth from reason: therefore doth it easily train the soul to follow appetite or longing, for when she seethe herself drowned in the earthly prison, because she is set in the office to govern the body, she can not of herself understand plainly at the first the truth of spiritual behouldinge. Wherefore to compass the understanding of things, she must go beg the beginning at the senses, & therefore she believeth them, & giveth ear to them, and is contented to be lead by them, especially when they have so much courage, that (in a ma●er) they enforce her & because they be deceitful they fill her with errors and false opinions. Whereupon most communlye it happeneth, that young men be wrapped in this sensual love, which is a very rebel against reason, & therefore they make themselves unworthy to enjoy the favours and benefits, which love bestoweth upon his true subjects, neither in love feel they any other pleasures, than what beasts without reason do, but much more grievous afflictions. Setting case therefore this to be so, which is most true, I say, that the contrary chanceth to them of a more ripe age. For in case they, when the soul is not now so much weighed down with the bodily burden, & when the natural burning assuageth & draweth to a warmeth, if they be inflamed with beauty, & to it bend their coveting guided by reasonable choice, they be not deceived, and possess beawtye perfectly, and therefore through the possessing of it, always goodness ensueth to them: Beauty because beauty is good & consequently the true love of it is most good & holy, and evermore bringeth forth good fruits in the souls of them, that with the bridle of reason restrain the ill disposition of sense, the which old men can much sooner do then young. It is not therefore out of reason to say, that old men may also love without slander and more happily, then young men: taking notwithstanding this name Old, not for the age at the pits brink, nor when the canelles of the body be so feeble, that the soul can not through them work her feats, but when knowledge in us is in his right strength. And I will not also hide this from you: namely, that I suppose, where sensual love in every age is nought, yet in young men it deserveth excuse, & perhaps in some case leeful: for although it putteth them in afflictions, daungeres, travails, & the unfortunatenes that is said, yet are there many that to win them the good will of their Ladies practise virtuous things, which for all they be not bend to a good end, yet are they good of them selves, and so of that much bitterness they pike out a little sweetness, and through the adversities which they sustain, in the end they acknowledge their error. As I judge therefore those young men that bridle their appetites, and love with reason, to be godly: so do I hold excused such as yield to sensual love, whereunto they be so inclined through the weakness and frailty of man: so they show therein meekness, courtesy: and prowess, and the other worthy conditions that these Lords have spoken of, and when those youthful years be gone and passed, leave it of clean, keeping alouf from this sensual coveting as from the lowermost step of the stairs, by the which a man may ascend to true love. But in case after they draw in years once they reserve still in their cold heart the fire of appetites, and bring stout reason in subjection to feeble sense, it can not be said how much they are to be blamed: for like men without sense they deserve with an everlasting shame to be put in the numbered of unreasonable living creatures, because the thoughts and ways of sensual love be far unfitting for ripe age. Here Bembo paused a while as though he would breath him, and when all things were whist M. Morello of Ortona said: And in case there were some old man more fresh and lusty and of a better complexion than many young men, why would you not have it leeful for him to love with the love that young men love? The Duchess laughed and said: if the love of young men be so unlucky, why would you (M. Morello) that old men should also love with this unluckiness? But in case you were old (as these men say you be) you would not thus procure the hurt of old men. M. Morello answered: The hurt of old men (me seemeeh (M. Peter Bembo procureth, who will have them to love after a sort, that I for my part understand not: and (me think) the possessing of this beauty, which he praiseth so much, without the body, is a dream. Do you believe M. Morello, ꝙ then Count Lewis, that beauty is always so good a thing as M. Peter Bembo speaketh of? Not I in good sooth, answered M. Morello: But I remember rather that I have seen many beautiful women of a most ill inclination, cruel, and spiteful, and it seemeth that (in a manner (it happeneth always so, for beauty maketh them proud: and pride, cruel. Count Lewis said smiling: To you perhaps they seem cruel, because they content you not with it, that you would have. But cause M. Peter Bembo to teach you in what sort old men aught to covet beawtye and what to seek at their Lady's hands, and what to content themselves withal: and in not passing out of these bounds, ye shall see that they shall be neither proud nor cruel: and will satisfy you with what you shall require M. Morello seemed then some what out of patience, and said: I will not know the thing that toucheth me not. But cause you to be taught how the young men aught to covet this beauty, that are not so fresh and lu●●y as old men be. Here Sir Fridericke to pacify M. Morello and to break their talk, would not suffer Count Lewis to make answer, but interterrupting him said· Perhaps M, Morello is not altogether out of the way in saying that beauty is not always good, for the beauty of women is many times cause of infinite evils in the world, hatred, war, mortality, & destruction, whereof the rasinge of Troy can be a good witness: And beautiful women for the most part be either proud and cruel (as is said) or unchaste, but M. Morello would find no fault with that. Ther● be also many wicked men that have the comeliness of a beautiful countenance, & it seemeth that nature hath so shaped them, because they may be the readier to deceive, and that this amiable look were like a bait that covereth the hook. Then M. Peter Bembo, believe not (ꝙ he) but beauty is always good. Here Count Lewis b●●●use he would return again to his former purpose interrupted him & said: Sins M. Morello passeth not to understand that, which is so necessary for him, teach it me, and show me how old men may come buy this happiness of love, for I will not care to be counted old, so it may profit me. M· Peter Bembo laughed and said: first will I take the error out of these gentilmens' mind: and afterward will I satisfy you also. So beeginning a fresh, my Lords (quoth he) I would not that with spea: king ill of beauty, which is a holy thing, any of us as profane and wicked should purchase him the wrath of God. A notable Poet which lost his sight for writing against Helena and recanting, had his sight restored him again. Therefore to give M. Morello and Sir Fridericke warning, that they loose not their sight, as Stesichorus did, a pain most meet for who so dispraiseth beauty, I say, that beauty cometh of God, and is like a circle, the goodness whereof is the Centre. And therefore, as there can be no circle without a centre, no more can beauty be without goodness. Whereupon doth very seldom an ill soul devil in a beautiful body. And therefore is the outward beauty a true sign of the inward goodness, and in bodies this comeliness is imprinted more and less (as it were) for a mark of the soul, whereby she is outwardly known: as in trees, in which the beauty of the buds giveth a testimony of the goodness of the fruit. And the very same happeneth in bodies, as it is seen, that Palmastrers by the visage know many times the conditions, and otherwhile the thoughts of men. judgement by the face. And which is more, in beasts also a man may discern by the face the quality of the courage, which in the body declareth itself as much as it can. judge you how plainly in the face of a Lion, a horse and an Eagle, a man shall discern anger, fierceness and stoutness, in Lambs and Doves simpleness and very innocency●: the crafty subtlety in Foxes and Wolves, and the like (in a manner) in all other living creatures. The soul therefore for the most part be also evil & the beautiful, good. Therefore it may be said that Beauty is a face pleasant, Beauty. meerie, comely, and to be desired for goodness and Foulness a face dark, Foulness. uglesome, unpleasant and to be shunned for ill. And in case you will consider all things, ye shall find, that what so ever is good and profitable hath also evermore the comeliness of Beauty. De Orat. lib. 3 Behold the state of this great Inginn of the world, which god created for the health and preservation of every thing that was made. The world. The heaven. The heaven round beset with so many heavenly lights: And in the middle, the Earth environed with the Elements, The earth. and upheld with the ver●e weight of itself: The son, The son. that compassing about giveth light to the whole, and in winter season draweth to the lowermost sign, afterward by little and little climbeth again to the other part: The Moon, that of him taketh her light, according as she draweth nigh, The moon. or goith farther from him: And the other five st●rres, The planets. that diversly keep the very same course. These things among themselves have such force by the knitting together of an order so necessarily framed, that with altering them any one ●o●t, they should be all l●wsed, and the world would decay. They have also such beauty and comeliness, that all the wits men have, can not imagine a more beautiful matter. Think now of the shape of man, which may be called a little world: in whom every parcel of his body is seen to be necessarily framed by art and not by hap, Man. and then the form all together most beautiful, Aristo● so that it were a hard matter to judge, whether the members, S. Ph●si●▪ as the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the ears, the arms, the breast and in like manner the other parts: give ●yther more profit to the countenance and the rest of the body, or comeliness. The like may be said of all other living creatures. Beehoulde the feathers of fowls, the leaves and bows of trees, which be given them of nature to keep them in their being, Foules. and yet have ●hey withal a very great sightliness. Leave nature, and come to art. Trees. What thing is so necessary in sailing vessels, as the forepart, the sides, the maine●ardes, the mast, the sails, Ships. the stern, owers, anchors, and tacklinges? all these things notwithstanding are so well-favoured in the eye, that unto who so beehouldeth them they seem to have been found out aswell for pleasure, Buildings. as for profit. Pillars and great beams uphoulde high buildings and palaces, and yet are they no less pleasurfull unto the eyes of the beehoulders, then profitable to the buildings. When men beegane first to build, in the middle of Temples and houses they reared the ridge of the roof, The roof of houses. not to make the works to have a better show, but because the water might the more commodiously avoid on both sides: yet unto profit there was forthwith adjoined a fair sightliness, so that if under the sky where there falleth neither hail nor rain a man should build a temple, without a reared ridge, it is to be thought, that it could have neither a sightly show nor any beauty. Beeside other things therefore, it giveth a great praise to the world, in saying that it is beautiful. It is praised, in saying, the beautiful heaven, beautiful earth, beautiful sea, beautiful rivers, beautiful woods, trees, gardens, beautiful Cities, beautiful Churches, houses, armies. In conclusion this comely and holy beauty is a wondrous setting out of every thing. And it may be said that Good and beautiful be after a sort one self thing, especially in the bodies of men: of the beauty whereof the nighest cause (I suppose) is the beauty of the soul: the which as a partner of the right and heavenly beauty, maketh sightly and beautiful what ever she toucheth, and most of all, if the body, where she dwelleth, be not of so vile a matter, that she can not imprint in it her property. Therefore Beauty▪ is the true monument & spoil of the victory of the soul, when she with heavenly influence beareth rule over material and gross nature, and with her light overcometh the darkeness of the body. It is not then to be spoken that Beauty maketh women proud or cruel, although it seem so to M. Morello. Neither yet aught beautiful women to bear the blame of that hatred, mortality, and destruction, which the unbridled appetites of men are the cause of. I will not now deny, but it is possible also to find in the world beautiful women unchaste, yet not because beauty inclineth them to unchaste living, for it rather plucketh them from it, and leadeth them into the way of virtuous conditions, through the affinity that beauty hath with goodness: But otherwhile ill bringing up, the continual provocations of lovers, tokens, poverty, hope, deceits, fear, and a thousand other matters overcome the steadfastness, yea of beautiful and good women: and for these and like causes may also beautiful men become wicked. Then said the L. Cesar: In case the L Gaspar● saying be true of yesternight, there is no doubt but the fair women be more chaste than the foul. And what was my saying, quoth the L. Gaspar? The L. Cesar answered: If I do well bear in mind, your saying was, that The women that are suide to, always refuse to satisfy him that suiths to them, but those that are not suide to, sue to others. There is no doubt but the beautiful women have always more suyters, and be more instantly laid at in love, than the foul. Therefore the beautiful always deny, and consequently be more chaste, than the foul, which not being suied to, sue unto others. M. Peter Bembo laughed and said: This argument can not be answered to. afterward he proceeded. It chanceth also oftentimes, that as the other senses, so the sight is deceived, and judgeth a face beautiful, which in deed is not beautiful. And because in the eyes and in the whole countenance of some women, a man beholdeth otherwhile a certain lavish wantonness peincted with dishonest flickeringes, many, whom that manner delighteth because it promiseth them an easiness to come by the thing, that they covet, call it beauty: but in deed it is a cloaked unshamefastness, unworthy of so honourable and holy a name, M. Peter Bembo held his peace, and those lords 〈◊〉 were ●arnest upon him to speak somewhat more of this love and of the way to enjoy beauty aright, and at the last, Me think (quoth he) I have showed plainly enough, that Old men may love more happily then young, which was my drift, therefore it belongeth not me to entre any farther. Count Lewes answered: You have better declared the unluckiness of young men, than the happiness of old men, whom you have not as yet taught, what way they must follow in this love of theirs: only you have said, that they must suffer themselves to be guided by reason, and the opinion of many is, that it is unpossible for love to stand with reason. Bembo notwithstanding sought to make an end of reasoning, but the Duchess desired him to say on, and he beegane thus afresh: Too unlucky were the nature of man, if our soul (in the which this so fervent coveting may lightly arise) should be driven to nourish it with that only, Sense. which is common to her with beasts, and could not turn it to the other noble part, Reason. which is proper to her. Therefore sins it is so your pleasure: I will not refuse to reason upon this noble matter. And because I know myself unworthy to talk of the most holy mysteries of love, I beseech him to lead my thought and my tongue so, that I may show this excellent Courtier how to love contrary to the wont manner of the common ignorant sort. And even as from my childhood I have dedicated all my whole lief unto him, so also now that my words may be answerable to the same intent, and to the praise of him: I say therefore, that sins the nature of man in youthful age is so much inclined to sense, it may be granted the Courtier, while he is young, to love sensually. But in case afterward also in his riper years, he chaunse to be set on fire with this coveting of love, he aught to be good & circumspect, & heedful that he beeguyle not himself, to be lead willfullye into the wretchedness, that in young men deserveth more to be pitied then blamed: and contrariwise in old men, more to be blamed then pitied. Therefore when an amiable countenance of a beautiful woman cometh in his sight, that is accompanied with noble conditions and honest behaviours, so that as one practised in love, he wotteth well that his hew hath an agreement with herres, assoon as he is a ware that his eyes snatch that image and carry it to the heart, and that the soul beeginneth to beehoulde it with pleasure, and feeleth within herself the influence that stirreth her and by little and little setteth her in heat, and that those lively spirits, that twinkle out through the eyes, put continually fresh nourishment to the fire: he aught in this beginning to seek a speedy remedy and to raise up reason, and with her, to fence the fortress of his heart, and to shut in such wise the passages against sense and appetites, that they may entre neither with force nor subtle practice. T●us if the flame be quenched, the jeopardy is also quenched. But in case it continued or increase, then must the Courtier determine (when he perceiveth he is taken) to shonn throughly all filthiness of common love, and so enter into the holy way of love with the guide of reason, and first consider that the body, where that beauty shineth, is not the fountain from whence beauty springeth, but rather because beauty is bodiless and (as we have said) an heavenly shining beam, she loseth much of her honour when she is coupled with that vile subject and full of corruption, Beawtye severed fro● the body is most perfect. because the less she is partner thereof, the more perfect she is, and clean sundered from it, is most perfect. And as a man heareth not with his mouth, nor smelleth with his ears: no more can he also in any manner wise enjoy beawtye, nor satisfy the desire that she stirrith up in our minds, with feeling, but with the sense, unto whom beauty is the very butt to level at: namely, the virtue of seeing. Let him say aside therefore the blind judgement of the sense, and enjoy with his eyes the brightness, the comeliness, the loving sparkles, laughters, gestures and all the other pleasant fournitours of beauty: especially with hearing the sweetness of her voice, the tunablenesse of her words, the melody of her singing and playing on instruments (in case the woman beloved be a musitien) and so shall he with most d●intie food feed the soul through the means of these two senses, which have little bodily substance in them, and be the ministers of reason, without entering farther toward the body with coveting unto any longing otherwise then honest. Afterward let him obey, please, and honour with all reverence his woman, and reckon her more dear to him then his own lief, and prefarr all her commodities and pleasures before his own, and love no less in her the beauty of the mind, then of the body: Therefore let him have a care not to suffer her to renn into any error, but with lessons and good exhortations seek always to frame her to modesty, to temperance, to true honesty, and so to work that there may never take place in her other then pure thoughts and far wide from all filthiness of vices. And thus in sowing of virtue in the garden of that mind, he shall also gather the fruits of most beautiful conditions, and savour them with a marvelous good relise. And this shall be the right engendringe and imprinting of beauty in beauty, the which some hold opinion to be the end of love. In this manner shall our Courtier be most acceptable to his Lady, and she will always show herself toward him tractable, lowly and sweet in language, and as willing to please him, as to be beloved of him: and the wills of them both shall be most honest and agreeable, and they consequently shall be most happy. Here M. Morello, The engendringe (quoth he) of beawtye in beauty aright, were the engendringe of a b●awtyfull child in a beautiful woman, and I would think it a more manifest token a great deal that she loved her lover, if she pleased him with this, then with the sweetness of language that you speak of. M. Peter Bembo laughed and said: You must not (M. Morello) pass your bounds. I may tell you, it is not a small token that a woman loveth, when she giveth unto her lover her beauty, which is so precious a matter: and by the ways that be a passage to the soul (that is to say, the sight and the hearing) sendeth the looks of her eyes, the image of her countenance, and the voice of her words, that pierce into the lovers heart, and give a witness of her love. M. Morello said: Looks and words may be, and oftentimes are, false witnesses. Therefore whoso hath not a better pledge of love (in my judgement) he is in an ill assurance. And surely I looked still that you would have made this woman of yours somewhat more courteyous and free toward the Courtier, than my L. julian hath made his: but (me seemeth) ye be both of the property of those judges, that (to appear wise) give sentence against their own. Bembo said: I am well pleased to have this woman much more courteyous toward my Courtier not young, than the L. julians is to the young: and that with good reason, because mine coveteth but honest matters, and therefore may the woman grant him them all without blame. But my L, julians woman that is not so assured of the modesty of the young man, aught to grant him the honest matters only, and deny him the dishonest. Therefore more happy is mine, that hath granted him whatsoever he requireth, than the other, that hath part granted and part denied. And because you may moreover the better understand, that reasonable love is more happy than sensual, I say unto you, that self same things in sensual aught to be denied otherwhile, and in reasonable, granted: because in the one, they be honest, and in the other dishonest. Therefore the woman to please her good lover, beside the granting him merry countenances, familiar & secret talk, jesting, dallying, hand in hand, may also lawfully and without blame come to kissing: which in sensual love, according to the L. julians rules, is not leeful. For sins a kiss is a knitting together both of body and soul, ● kiss. it is to be feared, lest the sensual lover will be more inclined to the part of the body, then of the soul: but the reasonable lover woteth well, that although the mouth be a parcel of the body, yet is it an issue for the words, that be the enterpreters of the soul, and for the inward breath, which is also called the soul: and therefore hath a delight to ●o●gne his mouth with the woman's beloved with a kiss: not to stir him to any unhonest desire, but because he feeleth that, that bond is the opening of an entry to the souls, which drawn with a cou●ting the one of the other, power themselves by turn, the one into the others body, and be so mingled together, that each of them hath two souls, and one alone so framed of them both ruleth (in a manner) two bodies. Whereupon a kiss may be said to be rather a cooplinge together of the soul, then of the body, because it hath such force in her, that it draweth her unto it, and (as it were) separateth her from the body. For this do all chaste lovers covet a kiss, as a cooplinge of souls together. And therefore Plato the divine lover saith, that in kissing, his soul came as far as his lips to departed out of the body. And because the separating of the soul from the matters of the sense and the through coupling her with matters of understanding may be beetokened by a kiss, Solomon saith in his heavenly book of Balattes, O that he would kiss me with a kiss of his mouth, to express the desire he had, that his soul might be ravished through heavenly love to the behouldinge of heavenly beauty in such manner, that coupling herself inwardly with it, she might forsake the body. They stood all ●erkeninge he●dfullie to Bem●os reasonings, and after he had s●aide a while and saw that none spoke, ●e said: Sins you have made me to beegine to show our not young Courtier this happy love, I will lead him yet somewhat farther forwards, because to ston●e ●●yll at this stay were somewhat perilous for him, considering (as we have often times said the soul is most inclined to the senses, and for all reason with discourse chouseth well, and knoweth that beauty not to spring of the body, and therefore setteth a bridle to the unhonest desires, yet to beehould it always in that body, doth oftentimes corrupt the right judgement. And where no other inconvenience ensueth upon it, ones absence from the wight beloved carrieth a great passion with it: because the influence of that beauty when it is present, giveth a wondrous delight to the lover, and setting his heart on fire, quickeneth and melteth certain virtues in a trance and congealed in the soul, the which nourished with the heat of love, floow about and go bubbling nigh the heart, and thrust out through the eyes those spirits, which be most fine vapours made of the purest and clearest part of the blood, which receive the image of beauty, and deck it with a thousand sundry fournitures. Whereupon the soul taketh a delight, and with a certain wonder is aghast, and yet enjoyeth she it, and (as it were) astonished together with the pleasure, feeleth the fear and reverence that men accustomably have toward holy matters, and thinketh herself to be in paradise. The lover therefore that considereth only the beauty in the body, loseth this treasure and happiness, assoon as the woman beloved with her departure leaveth the eyes without their brightness, and consequently the soul, as a widow without her joy. For sins beauty is far of, that influence of love setteth not the heart on fire, as it did in presence. Whereupon the pores be dried up and withered, and yet doth the remembrance of beauty somewhat stir those virtues of the soul in such wise, that they seek to scattre abroad the spirits, and they finding the ways closed up, have no issue, and still they seek to get out, and so with those shootinges enclosed prick the soul, and torment her bitterlye, as young chilldrens, when in their tender gums they beegin to breed teeth. And hens come the tears, sighs, vexations and torments of lovers: Because the soul is always in affliction and travail and (in a manner) waxeth wood, until the beloved beauty cometh before her once again, and then is she immediately pacified and taketh breath, and throughly bend to it, is nourished with most dainty food, and by her will, would never departed from so sweet a sight. To avoid therefore the torment of this absence, and to enjoy beauty without passion, the Courtier by the help of reason must full and wholly call back again the coveting of the body to beauty alone▪ and (in what he can) beehoulde it in itself simple and pure, and frame it within in his imagination sundered from all matter, and so make it frindlye and loving to his soul, and there enjoy it, and have it with him day and night, in every time and place, without mistrust ever to loose it: keeping always fast in mind, that the body is a most diverse thing from beauty, and not only not increaseth, but diminisheth th● perfection of it. In this wise shall our not young Courtier be out of all bitterness and wretchedness that young men feel (in a manner) continually, as jealousies, suspicions, disdeignes, angres, desperations and certain rages full of madness, whereby many times they be lead into so great error, that some do not only beat the women whom they love: but rid themselves out of their lief. He shall do no wrong to the husband, father, brethren or kinsfolk of the woman beloved. He shall not bring her in slander. He shall not be in case with much a do otherwhile to refrains his eyes and tongue from discovering his desires to others. He shall not take thought at departure or in absence, because he shall ever more carry his precious treasure about with him shut fast within his heart. And beeside, through the virtue of imagination he shall fashion within himself that beauty m●che more fair, than it is in deed. But among these commodities the lover shall find an other yet far greater, in case he will take this love for a stayer (as it were) to climb up to an other far higher than it· The which he shall bring to pass, if he will go and consider with himself, what a stre●●t bond it is to be always in the trouble to beehoulde the beauty of one body alone. And therefore to come out of this so narrow a room, he shall gather in his thought by little and little so many ornaments, that meddling all beauties together, he shall make an universal concept, and bring the multitude of them to the unity of one alone, that is generally spread over all the nature of man. And thus shall he beehoulde no more the particular beauty of one woman, but an universal, that decketh out all bodies. Whereupon being made dymm with this greater light, he shall not pass upon the lesser, and burning in a more excellent flame, he shall little esteem it, that he set gr●at store by at the first. This stayer of love, though it be very noble and such, as few arrive at it, yet is it not in this sort to be called perfect, forsomuch as where the imagination is of force to make conveyance and hath no knowledge, but through those beeginninges that the senses help her withal, she is not clean po●rged from gross darkness: and therefore though she do consider that universal beauty in sunder and in itself alone, yet doth she not well and cleerlye discern it, nor without some doubtfulness, by reason of the agreement that the fancies have with the body. Wherefore such as come to this love, are like young Birds almost flush, which for all they flytter a little their tender wings, yet dare they not stray far from the nest, nor commit themselves to the wind and open weather. When our Courtier therefore shall be come to this point, although he may be called a good and happy lover, in respect of them that be drowned in the misery of sensual love, yet will I not have him to set his heart at rest, but boldly pr●ceade farther, following the high way after his guide, that leadeth him to the point of true happiness. And thus in stead of going out of his wit with thought, as he must do that will consider the bodily beauty, he may come into his wit, to behold the beauty that is seen with the eyes of the mind, which then beegin to be sharp and through seeing, when the eyes of the body loose the flower of their sightlynesse. Therefore the soul rid of vices, purged with the studies of true Philosophy, occupied in spiritual, and exercised in matters of understanding, turning her to the beehoulding of her own substance, as it were raised out of a most deep sleep, openeth the eyes that all men have, and few occupy, and seethe in herself a shining beam of that light, which is the true image of the aungelike beauty partened with her, whereof she also partneth with the body a feeble shadow: Therefore were blind about earthly matters, is made most quick of sight about heavenly. And otherwhile when the stirring virtues of the body are withdrawn alone through earnest behouldinge, either fast bound through sleep, when she is not hindered by them, she feeleth a certain privy smell of the right aungelike beauty, and ravished with the shining of that light, beeginneth to be inflamed, and so greedily followeth after, that (in a manner) she weareth drunken and beeside herself, for coveting to couple herself with it, having found (to her weening) the footsteps of God, in the beehouldinge of whom (as in her happy end) she seeketh to settle herself. And therefore burning in this most happy flame, she arryseth to the noblest part of her (which is the understanding) ● there no more shadowed with the dark night of earthly matters, seethe the heavenly beauty: but yet doth she not for all that enjoy it altogether perfectly, because she beehouldeth it only in her particular understanding, which can not conceive the passing great universal beauty: whereupon not throughly satisfied with this benefit, love giveth unto the soul a greater happiness. For like as through the particular beauty of one body he guideth her to the universal beauty of all bodies: Euenso in the last degree of perfection through particular understanding he guideth her to the universal understanding. Thus the soul kindled in the most holy fire of true heavenly love, fleeth to couple herself with the nature of Angels, and not only clean forsaketh sense, but hath no more need of the discourse of reason, for being changed into an Angel, she understandeth all things that may be understood: and without any veil or cloud, she seethe the mien sea of the pure heavenly beauty and receiveth it into her, and enjoyeth that sovereign happiness, that can not be comprehended of the senses. Sins therefore the beauties, which we daily see with these our dim eyes in bodies subject to corruption, that nevertheless be nothing else but dreams and most thin shadows of beauty, seem unto us so well favoured and comely, that oftentimes they kindle in us a most burning fire, and with such delight, that we reckon no happiness may be compared to it, that we feel otherwhile through the only look which the beloved countenance of a woman casteth at us: what happy wonders what blessed abashment may we reckon that to be, that taketh the souls, which come to have a sight of the heavenly beauty? what sweet flame? What soot incense may a man believe that to be, which arriseth of the fountain of the sovereign and right beauty? Which is the origion of all other beauty, which never increaseth▪ nor diminishet●, always beautiful, and of itself, aswell on the one part as on the other, most simple, only like itself, and partner of none other, but in such wise beautiful, that all other beautiful things, be beautiful, because they be partners of the beauty of it. Heavenly beauty. This is the beawtye unseparable from the high bounty, which with her voice calleth and draweth to her all things: and not only to the endowed with understanding giveth understanding, to the reasonable reason, to the sensual sense and appetite to live, but also partaketh with plants and stones (as a print of herself) stirring, and the natural provocation of their properties. So much therefore is this love greater and happier than others, as the cause that stirreth it, is more excellent. And therefore, as common fire trieth gold and maketh it fine, so this most holy fire in souls destroyeth and consumeth what so ever there is mortal in them, and relieveth and maketh beautiful the heavenly part, which at the first by reason of the sense was dead and buried in them. This is the great fire in the which (the poets write) that Hercule● was burned on the top of the monntaigne Oeta: A mounteign between Thessalia and Macedonia where is the sepulchre of Hercules. and through that consuming with fire, after his death was holy and immortal. This is the fiery buthe of Moses: The divided tongues of fire: The inflamed Chariot of Helias: which doobleth grace and happiness in their souls that be worthy to see it, when they forsake this earthly baseness and flee up unto heaven. Let us therefore bend all our force and thoughts of soul to this most holy light, that showeth us the way which leadeth to heaven: and after it, putting of the affections we were clad withal at our commnige down, let us climb up the stairs, which at the lowermost step have the shadow of sensual beauty, to the high mansion place where the heavenly, amiable and right beauty dwelleth, which lieth hid in the innermost secrets of God, least unhallowed eyes should come to the sight of it: and there shall we find a most happy end for our desires, true rest for our travails, certain remedy for miseries, a most healthful medycin for sickness, a most sure haven in the troublesome storms of the tempestuous sea of this life. What tongue mortal is there then (O most holy love) that can sufficiently praise thy worthiness? Thou most beautiful, most good, most wise, art derived of the unity of heavenly beauty, goodness and wisdom, and therein dost thou abide, and unto it through it (as in a circle) turnest about. Thou the most swee●e bond of the world, a mean beetwext heavenly and earthly things, with a bountiful temper bendest the high virtues to the government of the lower, and turning back the minds of mortal men to their beeginning, cooplest them with it. Thou with agreement bringest the Elements in one, stirrest nature to bring forth, and that, which arriseth and is borne for the succession of the lief. Thou bringest severed matters into one, to the unperfect givest perfection, to the unlike likeness, to enimitye amity, to the Earth fruits, to the Sea calmness, to the heaven lively light. Thou art the father of true pleasures, of grace, peace, lowliness and good will, enemy to rude wildness and sluggishness, to be short, the beginning and end of all goodness. And forsomuch as thou delightest to devil in the flower of beautiful bodies and beautiful souls, I suppose that thy abiding place is now here among us, and from above otherwhile showest thyself a little to the eyes and minds of them that be worthy to see thee. Therefore vouchsafe (Lord) to hearken to our prayers, power thyself into our hearts, and with the brightness of thy most holy fire lighten our darkness, and like a trusty guide in this blind maze, show us the right way: reform the falsehood of the senses, and after long wandering in vanity give us the right and sound joy. Make us to smell those spiritual savours that relieve the virtues of the understanding, & to hear the heavenly harmony so tunable, that no discord of passion take place any more in v●. Make us drunken with the bottomless fountain of contentation that always doth delight, and never giveth fill, and that giveth a smack of the right bliss unto who so drinketh of the renni●● and clear water thereof. purge with the shining beams of thy light our eyes from misty ignorance, that they may no more set by mortal beauty, & well perceive that the things which at the first they thought themselves to see, be not in deed, and those that they saw not, to be in effect. Accept our souls, that be offered unto thee for a sacrifice. Burn them in the lively flame that wasteth all gross filthiness, that after they be clean sundered from the body, they may be coupled with an everlasting & most sweet bond to the heavenly beauty. And we severed from ourselves, may be changed like right lovers into the beloved, The poets feign to be the meat and drink of the Goddiss. and after we be drawn from the earth, admitted to the feast of the angels, where fed with immortal ambrosia and nectar, in the end we may die a most happy and lively death, as in times past died the fathers of old time, whose souls with most fervent zeal of beehouldinge thou didst hale from the body and coopleddest them with God. When Bembo had hitherto spoken with such vehemency, that a man would have thought him (as it were) ravished and beeside himself, he stood● still without once moving, holding his eyes toward heaven as astonished, when the Lady Emilia, which together with the rest gave most diligent ear to this talk, took him by the plaite of his garment and plucking him a little, said: Take heed (M. Peter) that these thoughts make not your soul also to forsake the body. Madam, answered M. Peter, it should not be the first miracle that love hath wrought in me. Then the Duchess and all the rest began a fresh to be instant upon M. Bembo that he would procc●de once more in his talk, and every one thought he felt in his mind (as it were) a certain sparkle of that godly love that pricked him, and they all coveted to hear farther: but M. Bembo, My Lords (quoth he) I have spoken what the holy fury of love hath (unsought for) indicted to me: now that (it seemeth) he inspireth me no more, I wots not what to say. And I think verily that love will not have his secrets discovered any farther, nor that the Courtier should pass the degree that his pleasure is I should show him, and therefore it is not perhaps leeful to speak any more in this matter. Surely, quoth the Duchess, if the not young Courtier be such a one that he can follow this way which you have showed him, of right he aught to be satisfied with so great a happiness, and not to envy the younger. Then the L. Cesar Gonzaga, the way (ꝙ he) that leadeth to this happiness is so steep (in my mind) that (I believe) it will be much a do to get to it. The L. Gaspar said: I believe it be hard to get up for men, but unpossible for women. The L. Emilia laughed and said: If ye fall so often to offend us, I promise' you, ye shall be no more forgiven. The L. Gaspar answered: It is no offence to you, in saying, that women's souls be not so purged from passions as men's be, nor accustomed in behouldinge, as M. Peter hath said, is necessary for them to be, that will taste of the heavenly love. Therefore it is not read that ever woman hath had this grace: but many men have had it, as Plato, Socrates, Plotinus, and many other: and a numbered of our holy fathers, as Saint Francis, in whom a fervent spirit of love imprinted the most holy seal of the five wounds. And nothing but the virtue of love could hale up Saint Paul the Apostle to the sight of those secrets, which is not lawful for man to speak of: nor show Saint Stephan the heavens open. Here answered the L. julian: In this point men shall nothing pass women, for Socrates himself doth confess that all the mysteries of love which he knew, were oped unto him by a woman, which was Diotima. Diotima. And the Angel that with the fire of love imprinted the five wounds in Saint Francis, hath also made some women worthy of the same print in our age. You must remember moreover that S. Mari Magdalen had many faults forgiven her, because she loved much: and perhaps with no less grace than Saint Paul, was she many times through Aungelyke love haled up to the third heaven. And many other (as I showed you yesterday more at large) that for love of the name of Chryst● have not passed upon lief, nor feared torments, nor any other kind of death how terrible and cruel ever it were. And they were not (as M. Peter will have his Courtier to be) aged, but soft and tender maidens, and in the age, when he saith that sensual love aught to be borne withal in men. The L. Gaspar began to prepare himself to speak, but the Duchess, Of this (quoth she) let M. Peter be judge, and the matter shall stand to his verdict, whether women be not as meet for heavenly love▪ as men. But because the plead between you may happen be to long, it shall not be amiss to defer it until to morrow. Nay, to night, quoth the L. Cesar Gonzaga. And how can it be to night, quoth the Duchess? The L. Cesar answered: Because it is day already, and showed her the light that beegane to enter in at the cliffs of the windows, Then every man arrose upon his feet with much wonder, because they had not thought that the reasonings had lasted l●nger than the accustomed wont, saving only that they were beegon much later, and with their pleasantness had deceived so the lords minds, that they witted not of the going away of the hours. And not one of them felt any heaviness of sleep in his eyes, the which often happeneth when a man is up after his accustomed hour to go to bed. When the windows than were opened on the side of the Palace that hath his prospect toward the high to● of Mount Catri, they saw already risen in the East a fair morning like unto the colour of roses, and all stars voided, saving only the sweet Governess of the heaven▪ Venus, which keepeth the bounds of the night and the day, from which appeared to blow a sweet blast, that filling the aer with a biting cold, began to quicken the tunable notes of the pretty birds, among the hushing woods of the hills at hand. Whereupon they all, taking their leave with reverence of the Duchess, departed toward their lodgings without torch, the light of the day sufficing. And as they were now passing out at the great chamber door, the L. General turned him to the Duchess, and said: Madam, to take up the variance between the L. Gaspar and the L. julian, we will assemble this night with the judge sooner than we did yesterday. The Lady Emilia answered, upon condition, that in case my L. Gaspar will accuse women, and give them (as his wont is) some false report, he will also put us in surety to stand to trial, for I reckon him a wavering starter. The end of Castilios books of the Courtier. A letter that the Author writ to the Lady Victoria Columna Marquis of Pescara, whom he mentioneth in the Epistle before his book. MOST HONOURABLE AND MY VERY good Lady. I am much behouldinge to M. Thomas Tuke, because he was the occasion that your Ladishipp hath vouchsafed to writ unto me: which is most acceptable to me, and not without cause, considering I have written so many letters and could never receive any answer from you again, albeit they contained sundry matters. Truth it is indeed, that unmeet it were your L. should writ unto me, unless therewithal you used my service and commanded me in what I am able to do for you. As touching M, Tuke, I will do as much for him, as shall lie in me to do, both for your L. sake that may command me, and for the brotherly love that I bear him. Where M. Gutteriz hath written unto you that I complained of you, I wonder nothing at it, for (to say the troth) I uttered my grief a good while sins in a letter that I wrote unto you yourself, as I passed the mountains of France to come into Spain. And he that told me the matter that caused it, was my L. marquess of Vasto, who showed me a letter of yours, in the which you yourself confessed the stealth of the Courtier. The which thing I as then took in great good part, doubting nothing ●ut that it should remain in your hands, and be well kept until I myself should come to demand it of you. At the last I was informed by a Gentleman Neapolitan, who continueth still here in Spain, that there were certain fragments of the poor Courtier in Naples, and he saw them in the hands of sundry men, and he that scattered it thus abroad reported that he had it of you. It was some grief to me, as a father that seethe his child so ill handled: yet afterward yielding to reason, I knew he deserved not to have any more store made of him, but (like an untimely birth) to be left in the high way for the benefit of nature. And so undoubtedly was I determined to do, considering if there were any thing in the Book not ill, men would have the worse opinion of it, when they should see it so out of order. And no diligence should prevail any more to poolish it and to set it forth, sins it had lost the thing, which perhaps at the first was only it, that made it esteemed: that is to weet, the novelty of the matter. And knowing your saying to be true, that the cause of my complaint was very trifling, I resolved with myself, to leave at the lest my complaining, though I could not my sorrowing. And that which I broke with M. Gutteriz (in case it be well weighed) was no complaint. In conclusion others, more bend of a zeal than I was, have enforced me to writ him over again, as the shortness of time hath served me, and to send him to Venice to be put in print, and so have I done. But if your L. should suspect that the good will which I bear you were any deal feinted for this, your judgement should deceive you, which (I believe) it did never in all your lief before: but rather I reckon myself more bound to you, because the necessity that drove me to make hast so speedily to imprint it, hath saved me a great piece of labour, where I was once minded to have added many other matters, which could be but of small moment as the rest are. And thus shall the reader have the less labour and the Author less blame. Therefore it is now past time either for you or me to repent or correct. And thus I take my leave of you. In Burgos the XXI. ● of Septembre. 1527. A brief rehearsal of the chief conditions and qualities in a Courtier. TO be well borne and of a goo● stock. To be of a mean stature, rather with the lest then ●o high, and well made to his proportion. To be portly and amiable in countenance unto whoso beehouldeth him. Not to be womanish in his sayings or doings. Not to praise himself unshamefully and out of reason. Not to crack and boast of his acts and good qualities. To shone Affectation or curiosity above all thing in all things. To do his feats with a slight, as though they were rather naturally in him, then learned with study: and use a Reckelesness to cover art, without minding greatly what he hath in hand, to a man's seeming. Not to carry about tales and trifling newis. Not to ●e overseen in speaking words otherwhile that may offend where he meant it not. Not to be stubborn, wilful nor full of contention: nor to contrary and overtwhart men after a spiteful sort. Not to be a babbler, brawler or chatter, nor lavish of his tongue. Not to be given to vanity and lightness, nor to have a fantastical head. No liar. Not fond flatterer. To be well spoken and fair languaged. To be wise and well seen in discourses upon states. To have a judgement to frame himself to the manners of the Country where ever he cometh. To be able to allege good, and probable reasons upon every matter. To be seen in tongues, & specially in Italian French & Spanish To direct all things to a good end. To procure where ever he goeth the men may first conceive good opinion of him before he cometh there. To fellowship himself for the most part with men of the best sort and of most estimation, & with his equalies, so he be also beloved of his inferiors. To play for his pastime at Dice and Cards, not wholly for meneis sake, nor fume and chafe in his loss. To be meanly seen in the play at Chests, and not over-counninge. To be pleasantly disposed in common matters and in good company. To speak and writ the language that is most in ure among the common people, without inventing new words, ink-horn terms or strange phrases, and such as be grown out of use by long time. To be handsome and cleanly in his apparel. To make his garments after the fashion of the most, and those to be black, or of some darkish and sad colour, not garish. To get him an especial and hearty friend to company withal. Not to be ill tunged, especially against his betters. Not to use any fond sauciness or presumption. To be no envious or malicious person·s To be an honest, a fair conditioned man, & of an upright conscience. To have the virtues of the mind, as justice, manliness, wisdom, temperance, staidenesse, noble courage, sobermoode etc. To be more then indifferently well seen in learning, in the Latin and greek tongues. Not to be rash, nor persuade himself to know the thing that he knoweth not. To confess his ignorance, when he seethe time and place thereto, in such qualities as he knoweth himself to have no manner skill in. To be brought to show his feats and qualities at the desire and request of others, and not rashly press to it of himself. To speak always of matters likely, lest he be counted a liar in reporting of wonders & strange miracles. To have the feat of drawing and peincting. To dance well without over nimble footinges or to busy tricks. To sing well upon the book. To play upon the Lute, and sing to it with the ditty. To play upon the Uyole, and all other instruments with freates. To delight and refresh the hearer's minds in being pleasant, feat conceited, and a meerie talker, applied to time and place. Not to use sluttish and Ruffianlike pranks with any man. Not to become a jester or scoffer to put any man out of countenance. To consider whom he doth taunt and where: for he aught not to mock poor seely souls, nor men of authority, nor common ribalds and persons given to mischief, which deserve punishment. To be skilful in all kind of martial feats both on horseback and a foot, and well practised in them: which is his chief profession, though his understanding be the less in all other things. To play well at fence upon all kind of weapons. To be nimble and quick at the play at tennis. To hunt and hawk. To ride and manage well his horse. To be a good horseman for every saddle. Seldom in open sight of the people but priu●●ye with himself alone, or among his friends and familiars. To swim well. To leap well. To renn well. To vault well. To wrestle well. To cast the stone well. To cast the bar well. These things in open sight to delight the common people withal. To renn well at tilt, and at ring. To tourney. To fight at Barriers. To keep a passage or streict. To play at jogo di Can. To renn at Bull. To fling a Spear or Dart. Not to renn, wrestle, leap, nor cast the stone or bar with men of the Country, except he be sure to get the victory. To set out himself in feats of chivalry in open shows well provided of horse and harness, well trapped, and armed, so that he may show himself nymeble on horseback. Never to be of the last that appear in the lists at jousts, or in any open shows. To have in triumphs comely armour, bases, scarves, trappings, liveries, and such other things of sightlie and meerie colours, and rich to beehoulde, with witty poesies and pleasant devices, to allure unto him chefflie the eyes of the people. To disguise himself in maskerie either on horseback or a foot, and to take the shape upon him that shall be contrary to the feat that he mindeth to work. To undertake his bold feats and courageous enterprises in war, out of company and in the sight of the most noble personages in the camp, and (if it be possible) before his Princis eyes. Not to hazard himself in forraginge and spoiling or in enterprises of great danger and small estimation, though he be sure to gain by it. Not to wait upon or serve a wicked and naughty person. Not to seek to come up by any naughty or subtle practice. Not to commit any mischievous or wicked fact at the will and commandment of his Lord or Prince. Not to follow his own fancy, or altar the express words in any point of his commission from his Prince or Lord, unless he be assured that the profit will be more, in case it have good success, than the damage, if it succeade ill. To use evermore toward his Prince or L. the respect that becometh the servant toward his master. To endeavour himself to love, please and obey his Prince in honesty. Not to covet to press into the Chambre or other secret part where his Prince is withdrawn at any time. Never to be sad, melanchonie or sole●n before his Prince. Seldom or never to sue to his Lord for any thing for himself. His suit to be honest and reasonable when he sueth for others. To reason of pleasant and meerie matters when he is withdrawn with him into private & secret places always doing him to understand the truth without dissimulation or flattery. Not to love promotions so, that a man should think he could not live without them, nor unshamefastlye to beg any office. To refuse them after such a comely sort, that the Prince offering him them, may have a cause to offer them with a more instance. Not to press to his Prince where ever he be, to hold him with a vain tale, that others should think him in favour with him. To consider well what it is that he doth or speaketh, where, in presence of whom, what time, why, his age, his profession, the end, and the means. THE FINAL END OF A COURTIER, WHERETO ALL HIS good conditions and honest qualities tend, is to become An Instructor and Teacher of his Prince or Lord, inclining him to virtuous practices: And to be frank and free with him, after he is once in favour in matters touching his honour and estimation, always putting him in mind to follow virtue and to flee vice, opening unto him the commoditiess of the one and inconveniences of the other: And to shut his ears against flatterers, which are the first begining of self leekinge and all ignorance. His conversation with women to be always gentle, sober, meek, lowly, modest, serviceable, comely, merry, not biting or slandering with jests, nips, frumps, or railings, the honesty of any. His love toward women, not to be sensual or fleshly, but honest and godly, and more ruled with reason, than appetite: and to love better the beauty of the mind, then of the body. Not to withdraw his mistress good will from his felowlover with reviling or railing at him, but with virtuous deeds, and honest conditions, and with deserving more than he, at her hands for honest affections sake. Of the chief conditions and qualities in a waiting gentylwoman. TO be well born and of a good house. To flee affectation or curiosity. To have a good grace in all her doings. To be of good conditions & well brought up. To be witty and foreseeing, not heady and of a renning wit. Not to be haughty, envious, yltunged, light, contentious nor untowardlye. To win and keep her in her Lady's favour & all others. To do the exercises meet for women, comely and with a good grace. To take heed that she give none occasion to be ill reported of. To commit no vice, nor yet to be had in suspicion of any vice. To have the virtues of the mind, as wisdom, justice, nobleness of courage, temperance, strength of the mind, continency, sobermoode. etc. To be good and discreet. To have the understanding being married, how fordre her husbands substance, her house and children, and to play the good huswyef. To have a sweetness in language and a good utterance to entertain all kind of men with communication worth the hearing, honest, applied to time and place and to the degree and disposition of the person which is her principal profession. To accompany sober and quiet manners and honesty with a lively quickness of wit. To be esteemed no less chaste, wise and courteious, then pleasant, feat conceited and sober. Not to make wise to abhor company and talk, though somewhat of the wantonest, to arise and forsake them for it. To give the hearing of such kind of talk with blushing and bashfulness. Not to speak words of dishonesty and bawdry to show herself pleasant, free and a good fellow. Not to use over much familiarity without measure and bridle. Not willingly to give ●are to such as report ill of other women. To be heedful in her talk that she offend not where she meant it not. To beware of praising herself undiscreatlye, and of being to tedious and noisome in her talk. Not to mingle with grave and sad matters, meerie jests and laughing matters: nor with mirth, matters of gravity To be circumspect that she offend no man in her jesting and taunting, to appear thereby of a ready wit. Not to make wise to know the thing that she knoweth not, but with soberness get her estimation with that she knoweth. Not to come on fit nor use to swift measures in her dancing. Not to use in singing or playing upon instruments to much division & busy points, that declare more cunning than sweetness. To come to dance, or to show her music with suffering herself to be first prayed somewhat and drawn to it. To apparel herself so, that she seem not fond and fantastical. To set out her beauty and disposition of person with meet garments that shall best become her, but as feininglye as she can, making semblant to bestow no labour about it, nor yet to mind it. To have an understanding in all things belonging to the Courtier, that she may give her judgement to commend and to make of gentlemen according to their worthiness and deserts. To be learned. To be seen in the most necessary languages. To draw and peinct. To dance. To devise sports and pastimes. Not to be light of credit that she is beloved, though a man common familierlye with her of love. To shape him that is oversaucie with her, or that hath small respect in his talk, such an answer, that he may well understand she is offended with him. To take the loving communication of a sober gentleman in an other signifycatyon, seeking to stray from that purpose. To acknoweleage the praises which he giveth her at the Gentylmans' courtesy, in case she can not dissemble the understanding of them: debasing her own deserts. To be heedful and remember that men may with less jeopardy show to be in love, than women. To give her lover nothing but her mind, when either the hatred of her husband, or the love that he beareth to others inclineth her to love. To love one that she may mary with all, being a maiden and minding to love. To show such a one all signs and tokens of love, saving such as may put him in any dishonest hope. To use a somewhat more familiar conversation with men well grown in years, then with young men. To make herself beloved for her deserts, amiableness, and good grace, not with any uncomely or dishonest behaviour, or flickeringe enticement with wanton looks, but with virtue and honest conditions. The final end whereto the Courtier applieth all his good conditions, properties, feats and qualities, serveth also for a waiting gentlewoman to grow in favour with her Lady, and by that means so to instruct her and train her to virtue, that she may both refrain from vice and from committing any dishonest matter, and also abhor flatterers, and give herself to understand the full troth in every thing, without entering into self leeking and ignorance, either of other outward things, or yet of her own self. A Letter of sir I. Cheeks. ¶ To his loving friend Master Thoma● Hoby. FOr your opinion of my good will unto you as you wrait, you can not be deceived: for submitting you● doings to my judgement▪ I thank you: for taking this pain of your translation, you worthily deser● great thanks of all sorts. I have taken sum pain ●● your request cheflie in your preface, not in the reading of it for that was pleasant unto me boath for the roundness of your sayings and welspeakinges of the saam, but in changing certain words which might very well be let aloan, but that I am very curious in my friends matters, not to determi●n, but to debaat what is best. Whearin, I seek not the bestnes haply by truth, but by mijn own fancy, and show of goodness. I am of this opinion that our own tongue should be written clean and pure, unmixed and unmangeled with borrowing of other tongues▪ wherein if we take not heed by tijm, ever borrowing and never paying, she shall be feign to keep her house as bankrupt. For than doth our tongue naturally and praisablie utter her meaning, when she bouroweth no conterfeitness of other tongues to attire herself withal, but useth plainly her own, with such shift, as nature, craft, experiens and following of other excellent doth lead her unto, and if she want at an● tijm ●as being unperfight she must) yet let her borrow with such bashfulness, that it may appear, that if e●t●er t●e ●o●ld of our own tongue could serve us to faltion a word of our own, or if the old denisoned words could content and ease this need, we would not boldly venture of unknown words This I say not for reproof of you, who have scarcely and necessarily used where occasion serveth a strange word so, as it seemeth to grow out of the matter and not to be sought for: but for mijn own defence, who might be counted overstraight a deemer of things, if I gave not this accomp●●o you, mi friend and wijs, of mi marring this your handiwork. But I am called away, I pray you pardon mi shortness, the rest of mi sayings should be but p●●ise and exhortation in this your doings, which at 〈…〉 I should do better. From my house in Woodstreet the 16▪ of july, 1557. Yours assured joan Cheek. ¶ Imprinted at London, by William Seres, dwelling at the west end of Paul's, at the Sign of the hedgehog.