Digitizers note: This English translation of The Book of the Courtier is that of Sir Thomas Hoby (1561) as edited by Walter Raleigh for David Nutt, Publisher, London, 1900, and partakes of the virtues and faults, as may be, of that edition. It was transcribed by R.S. Bear at the University of Oregon during the summer of 1997. This edition is provided to the public for nonprofit purposes only; the design is copyright © 1997 The University of Oregon. Corrections and comments to the Publisher, rbear[at]uoregon.edu. This online text is dedicated to my parents, Thomas E. Smith and Martha M. L. Smith, who sought to instill in me the virtues taught herein. R. Bear, June, 1997.
Imprinted at London by wyllyam Seres
at the signe of the Hedg-
hogge, 1561.
The first booke, entreateth of the perfect qualities of a Courtier.
The second, of the use of them, and of merie Jestes and Pranckes.
The thirde, of the condicions and qualities of a waytinge Gentillwoman.
The fourth, of the end of a Courtier, and of honest love.
greetyng.
NOWE at the length (gentle reader) through the diligence of Maister Hoby in penninge, and mine in printing, thou hast here set forth unto thee, the booke of the Courtier: which for thy benefite had bene done longe since, but that there were certain places in it whiche of late yeares beeing misliked of some, that had the perusing of it (with what reason judge thou) the Authour thought it much better to keepe it in darknes a while, then to put it in light unperfect and in peecemeale to serve the time. Use it therfore, and so peruse it, that for thy profite, first he, and then I, maye thinke our travayle herein wel imployed.Fare well.
These royall kinges, that reare up to the skye
Their Palaice tops, and decke them all with gold:
With rare and curious woorkes they feed the eye:
And showe what riches here great Princes hold.
A rarer work and richer far in worth,
Castilios hand presenteth here to the,
No proud ne golden Court doth he set furth
But what in Court a Courtier ought to be.
The Prince he raiseth houge and mightie walles,
Castilio frames a wight of noble fame:
The kinge with gorgeous Tyssue claddes his halles,
The Count with golden vertue deckes the same,
Whos passing skill lo Hobbies pen displaise
To Brittain folk, a work of worthy praise.
THEMISTOCLES the noble Athenien in his banishement
entertayned moste honourablie with the king of Persia, willed upon a time
to tell his cause by a spokesman, compared it to a piece of tapistrie, that
beyng spred abrode, discloseth the beautie of the wookemanship, but foulded
together, hideth it, and therefore demaunded respite to learne the Persian
tunge to tell his owne cause: Right so (honorable Lorde) this Courtier hath
long straid about this realme, and the fruite of him either little, or
unperfectly received to the commune benefite: for either men skilful in his
tunge have delited in him for their owne private commoditie, or elles he
hath eftsones spoken in peecemeale by an interpreter to suche as desired to
knowe his mynde, and to practise his principles: the which how unperfect a
thing it is, Themystocles and experience teache. But nowe, though late in
deede, yet for al that at length, beside his three principal languages, in
the which he hath a long tyme haunted all the Courtes of Christendome, hee
is become an Englishman (whiche many a longe tyme have wyshed, but fewe
attempted and none atchieved) and wel-wiling to dwell in the Court of
Englande, and in plight to tel his own cause. In whose commendation I shall
not neede to use any long processe of woordes, for he can so well speak for
himself, and answere to the opinion men have a long time conceived of him,
that whatsoever I shoulde write therein, were but labour in waste, and
rather a diminishing, then a setting foorth of his woorthinesse, and a
great deale better it were to passe it over with silence, then to use
briefenesse. Onely for the litle acquaintaunce I have with him, and for the
general profit is in him, my desier is he shold nowe at his firste
arrivall, a newe man in this kinde of trade, be well entertained and muche
honoured. And forsomuche as none, but a noble yonge Gentleman, and trayned
up all his life time in Court, and of worthie qualities, is meete to
receive and entertaine so worthy a Courtier, that like maye felowship and
gete estimation with his like, I do dedicate him unto your good lordeship,
that through your meanes, and under your patronage he maye be commune to a
greate meany. And this do I not, for that I suppose you stande in neede of
any of his instructions, but partly because you may see him confirme with
reason the Courtly facions, comely exercises, and noble vertues, that
unawares have from time to time crept in to you, and already with practise
and learning taken custome in you: and partly to get him the more
aucthoritie and credite throughe so honorable a Patrone. For no doubt, if
you beseene willingly to embrace him, other yonge and Courtly Gentlemen
will not shonn hys company: and so both he shall gete him the reputation
now here in Englande which he hath a good while since beyond the sea, in
Italy, Spaine and Fraunce, and I shal thinke my smal travayle wel imployed
and sufficiently recompensed. The honour and entertainmnet that your noble
Auncestours shewed Castilio the maker, whan he was in this realme to be
installed knight of the Order for the Duke his Maister, was not so muche as
presently both he, and this his handywoorke shall receive of you. Generally
ought this to be in estimation with all degrees of men: for to Princes and
Greate men, it is a rule to rule themselves that rule others, and one of
the bookes that a noble Philosopher exhorted a certaine kyng to provide
him, and diligently to searche, for in them he shoulde finde written suche
matters, that friendes durst not utter unto kinges: To men growen in yeres,
a pathway to the behoulding and musing of the minde, and to whatsoever
elles is meete for that age: To yonge Gentlemen, an encouraging to garnishe
their minde with morall vertues, and their bodye with comely exercises, and
both the one and the other with honest qualities to attaine unto their
noble ende: To Ladyes and Gentlewomen, a mirrour to decke and trimme
themselves with vertuous condicions, comely behaviours and honest
enterteinment toward al men: And to them all in general, a storehouse of
most necessary implements for the conversacion, use, and training up of
mans life with Courtly demeaners. Were it not that the auncientnesse of
tyme, the degree of a Consul, and the eloquence of Latin stile in these our
daies beare a greate stroke, I knowe not whether in the invention and
disposition of the matter, as Castilio hath folowed Cicero, and applyed to
his purpose sundrye examples and pithie sentences out of him, so hee maye
in feate conveyaunce and lyke trade of writing, be compared to him: but
well I wotte for renowme among the Italians, he is not inferiour to him.
Cicero an excellent Oratour, in three bookes of an Oratour unto his
brother, facioneth such a one as never was, nor yet is like to be: Castilio
an excellent Courtier, in thre bookes of a Courtyer unto his deere friende,
facioneth such a one as is harde to finde and perhappes unpossible. Cicero
bringeth in to dispute of an Oratour, Crassus, Scevola, Antonius, Cotta,
Sultitius, Catulus, and Cesar his brother, the noblest and chiefest
Oratours in those dayes: Castilio to reason of a Courtier, the Lorde
Octavian Fregoso, Syr Fridericke his brother, the Lorde Julian de Medicis,
the L. Cesar Gonzaga, the L. Francescomaria Della Roveré, Count
Lewis of Canossa, the L. Gaspar Pallavicin, Bembo, Bibiena, and other most
excellent Courtiers, and of the noblest families in these dayes in Italy,
whiche all afterwarde became Princes, Cardinalles, Bishoppes and greate
Lordes, and some yet in lyfe. Both Cicero and Castilio professe, they
folowe not any certayne appointed order of preceptes or rules, as is used
in the instruction of youth, but call to rehearsall, matters debated in
their times too and fro in the disputacion of most eloquent men and
excellent wittes in every woorthy qualitie, the one company in the olde
tyme assembled in Tusculane, and the other of late yeeres in the newe
Palaice of Urbin. Where many most excellent wittes in this realme have made
no lesse of this boke, then the Great Alexander did of Homer, I cannot
sifficiently wonder that they have not all this while from tyme to tyme
done a commune benefite to profite others as well as themselves. In this
pointe (I knowe not by what destinye) Englishmen are muche inferiour to
well most all other Nations: for where they set their delite and bend
themselves with an honest strife of matching others, to tourne into their
mother tunge, not onely the wittie writinges of other languages, but also
of all the Philosophers, and all Sciences both Greeke and Latin, our men
weene it sufficient to have a perfecte knowledge, to no other ende, but to
profite themselves, and (as it were) after muche paynes in breaking up a
gap, bestow no lesse to close it up againe, that others maye with like
travaile folowe after. And where our learned menne for the moste part holde
opinion, to have the sciences in the mother tunge, hurteth memorie and
hindreth lerning, in my opinion, they do full yll consider from whence the
Grecians first, and afterwarde the Latins fet their knowledge. And without
wading to any farther reasons that might be alleaged, yf they will marke
well the trueth, they shall see at this daye, where the Sciences are most
tourned into the vulgar tunge, there are best learned men, and comparing it
wyth the contrarie, they shall also finde the effectes contrarie. In Italye
(where the most translation of authors is) not onely for Philosophy,
Logike, Humanitie and all liberall Sciences bothe in Greeke and Latine
(leaving a parte Barbarus, Naugerius, Sannazarus, Bembus, Lazarus and the
rest that of very late dayes floryshed) Genua, Tomitanus, Robertellus,
Manutius, Piccolhomineus, are presently very singular, and renowmed
throughout all Christendome: but also for the same in the vulgar tunge with
litle or no sight at al in the Latin, Aretino, Gelli (a tayler in Florence)
the L. Victoria Columna, the L. Dionora Sanseverina, the L. Beatrice
Loffreda, Veronica Gambera, Virginea Salvi and infinite other men and women
are moste famous thoroughout Italy, whose divine woorkes and excellent
stile bothe in rime and prose geve a sufficient testimonye, not onely of
their profounde knowledge and noble wit, but also that knowledge may be
obtained in studying onely a mannes owne native tunge. So that to be
skilfull and exercised in authours translated, is no lesse to be called
learning, then in the very same in the Latin or Greeke tunge. Therefore the
translation of Latin or Greeke authours, doeth not onely not hinder
learning, but it furthereth it, yea it is learning it self, and a great
staye to youth, and the noble ende to the whiche they oughte to applie
their wittes, that with diligence and studye have attained a perfect
understanding, to open a gap for others to folow their steppes, and a
vertuous exercise fo the unlatined to come by learning, and to fill their
minde with the morall vertues, and their body with civyll condicions, that
they maye bothe talke freely in all company, live uprightly though there
were no lawes, and be in a readinesse against all kinde of worldlye
chaunces that happen, whiche is the profite that commeth of Philosophy. And
he said wel that was asked the question, How much the learned differed from
the unlearned. 'So much' (quoth he) 'as the wel broken and ready horses,
from the unbroken.' wherfore I wote not how our learned men in this case
can avoide the saying of Isocrates, to one that amonge soundrye learned
discourses at Table spake never a woorde: 'Yf thou bee unlearned, thou
dooest wiselye: but yf thou bee learned, unwyselye,' as who should saye,
learnyng is yll bestowed where others bee not profited by it. As I
therefore have to my smal skil bestowed some labour about this piece of
woorke, even so coulde I wishe with al my hart, profounde learned men in
the Greeke and Latin shoulde make the lyke proofe, and everye manne store
the tunge accordinge to hys knowledge and delite above other men, in some
piece of learnynge, that we alone of the worlde maye not bee styll counted
barbarous in our tunge, as in time out of minde we have bene in our maners.
And so shall we perchaunce in time become as famous in Englande, as the
learned men of other nations have ben and presently are. And though the
hardnesse of this present matter be suche, and myne unskylfulnesse to
undertake this enterprise so greate, that I myghte with good cause have
despaired to bringe to an ende it, that manye excellente wittes have
attempted, yet coulde I not chouse but yelde to the continual requestes and
often perswasions of many yong gentlemen, which have may chaunce an opinion
that to be in me, that is not in deed, and unto whom in any reasonable
matter I were skilfull in, neyther I coulde nor ought of duetie to wante in
fulfillyng their desire. Notwithsatnding a great while I forbare and
lingered the time to see if anye of a more perfect understanding in the
tunge, and better practised in the matter of the booke (of whom we want not
a number in this realm) woulde take the matter in hande, to do his countrey
so great a benefite: and this imagination prevailed in me a long space
after my duetie done in translating the thirde booke (that entreteth of a
Gentlewoman of the Courte) perswaded therto, in that I was enfourmed, it
was as then in some forwardness by an other, whise wit and stile was
greatly to be allowed, but sins prevented by death he could not finish it.
But of late beeyng instantly craved upon a fresh, I whetted my stile and
settled my self to take in hand the other three bookes (that entreat of the
perfection of a Gentilman of the Court) to fulfill their peticion in what I
am able, having time and leyser therto, the which I have done, though not
in effect, yet in apparance and that in a great deale shorter time, then
the hardnesse of the matter required. And where it shall not perhappes
throughly please by reason my smalle understandyng in the tung, and less
practise in the matters herin conteined, is not of force to give it the
brightness and full perfection in this our tung that it hath in the
Italian, it shal suffice yet that I have showed my self obedient in the
respect a manne ought to have toward his betters[. A]nd no more can they
avoid the blame to charge me withall, then I to undertake it. Besides that,
I have declared my good will and well meaning no less then if my counning
were greater, and could extend much farther. But paraventure the rudeness
of this shall be an enouragyng of some other to give the onsett upon other
matters with a better ripeness of style and much more aptness, and so shall
this yet somewhat profite both wayes. But the estimation it must gete by
your Honour, is the principall cause that setteth it out, and maketh it
worne with the handes of heedfull readers: for in case you cheerfullye
receive it, men will recken it good: yf you alow it, worthy to be
practised: yf you commend it, woorthie to pass from hand to hand. Therfore
emong the other good opinions men generally houlde of you, let it not be
the least, that they may houlde also no less of this that you alowe and
commende. And so shall you show undeserved kindness, I bounden dutie, and
all others good will to imbrace and to welcome it out of Italy into
Englande. And thus shall Castilio be esteamed such a one as he is in deede,
and wexe familiar with all men, that of late was knowen of verie fewe, and
so mangled wyth varietye of judgementes, that he was (in a maner) maymed,
and lost a good peece of his estimation. But in case judgementes now feint,
or mine interpretation seeme not pithie but rude, not proper, but colde,
there is no more imperfection in this Courtier, then in Cirus
himself in the translation of Xenophon into the Italian or anie other tung,
the one as necessarie and proper for a Gentilman of the Court, as the other
for a king. And I shall desire my labour may be so taken well in worth, as
I have endeavoured my self to folow the very meaning and woordes of the
Author, without being mislead by fansie, or leaving out any percell one or
other, wherof I knowe not how some interpreters of this booke into other
languages can excuse themselves, and the more they be conferred, the more
it will perchaunce appeere. Wherfore receive you this, as a token of my
good will, and so receive it, that the frute, what ever it be, maye be
acknowledged at your handes: and you, pass the expectation of men in this,
as in all other thinges, which, no doubt, is very great of you: and I, to
acknowleage this benifit, where my habilitie stretcheth to nothyng elles,
shall at the least evermore wishe unto your Lordshipp longe lief, that you
may go forwarde, as you do, in these beginninges, whiche promise a luckie
ende, to the honour of your self, comefort of your friendes, and
forwardness of the commune weale of your countrey. 1556. Your L. most
bounden,
THOMAS HOBY.
FOR your opinion of my gud will unto you as you wriit, you can not be deceived: for submitting your doinges to mi judgement, I thanke you: for taking this pain of your translation, you worthilie deserv great thankes of all sortes. I have taken sum pain at your request cheflie in your preface, not in the reading of it for that was pleasaunt unto me boath for the roundnes of your saienges and welspeakinges of the saam, but in changing certein wordes which might verie well be let aloan, but that I am verie curious in mi freendes matters, not to determijn, but to debaat what is best. Whearin, I seek not the besines haplie bi truth, but bi mijn own phansie, and shew of goodnes.
I am of this opinion that our own tung should be written cleane and pure, unmixt and unmangeled with borowing of other tunges, wherin if we take not heed by tijm, ever borowing and never payeng, she shall be fain to keep her house as bankrupt. For then doth our tung naturallie and praisablie utter her meaning, when she bouroweth no counterfeitness of other tunges to attire her self withall, but useth plainlie her own, with such shift, as nature, craft, experiens and folowing of other excellent doth lead her unto, and if she want at ani tijm (as being unperfight she must) yet let her borow with suche bashfulnes, that it mai appeer, that if either the mould of our own tung could serve us to fascion a woord of our own, or if the old denisoned wordes could content and ease this need, we wolde not boldly venture of unknowen wordes. This I say not for reproof of you, who have scarslie and necessarily used whear 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 defens, who might be counted overstraight a deemer of thinges, if I gave not thys accompt to you, mi freend and wijs, of mi marring this your handiwork. But I am called awai, I prai you pardon mi shortnes, the rest of mi sainges should be but praise and exhortacion in this your doinges, which at moar leisor I shold do better. From my house in Woodstreete the 16 of July, 1557.
Yours assured
JOAN CHEEK.
AFTER the Lorde Guidubaldo of Montefeltro Duke of Urbin was departed out of this life, certein other Gentilmen and I that had bine servauntes to him, continued in servyce wyth Duke Francescomaria Della Roveré hys heire and successor in the state: and whyle the savour of the vertues of Duke Guidubaldo was fresh in my mynde, and the great delite I took in those yeeres in the loving companie of so excellent Personages as then were in the Court of Urbin: I was provoked by the memorie therof to write these bookes of the Courtier. The which I accomplished in a fewe dayes, myndinge in time to amende those faultes that spronge of the desire that I had speedilie to paye this debt. But fortune now manie yeeres hath alwayes kept me under in suche continuall travayles, that I coulde never gete leyser to bringe it to the passe that my feeble judgement might be throughlie satisfied withall. At such time therfore as I was in Spayne, being advertised out of Italy how the Lady Vittoria Colonna Marquesse of Pescara, unto whom in foretime I had graunted a Copie of this booke, contrarie to her promise, had made a great part of it to be copied out: it greeved me somwhat whether I would or no, standinge in doubt of the sundrie inconveniences that in the like cases may happen. Yet had I a hope that the witt and wisdome of that Lady (whose troth I have alwaies had in reverence, as a matter from above) was sufficient to provide, not to be harmfull unto me my beeinge obedient to her commaundement. At last I hard an ynklinge that part of the booke was rief in Naples in many mens handes: and as men are alwayes desirous of noveltie, it was thought that they attempted to imprint it. Wherfore I, amased at this mischaunce, determined wyth my self to overlooke by and by that litle in the booke that time served me therto, with entent to set it abrode, thinking it lesse hurtful to have it somwhat corrected with mine owne hande, then much mangled with an other mannes.
Therfore to have this my pourpose take effect, I tooke in hande to reade it over afresh, and sodeinlie at the first blush by reason of the title, I tooke no litle grief, which in proceadinge forward encreased much more, remembringe 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 booke, M. Alphonsus Ariosto him self is dead, unto whom the booke was dedicated, a noble yonge Gentilman, discreete, full of good condicions, and apt unto every thing meete for one livinge in court. Like wise Duke Julian de Medicis, whose goodnesse and noble Courtesy deserved to have bene a longer time enjoyed of the the world. Also M. Bernard, Cardinall of S. Maria in Portico, who for his livelie and pleasant promptness of witt, was most acceptable unto as manie as knew him, and dead he is.
The Lord Octavian Fregoso is also dead, a man in oure tymes verie rare, of a most noble courage, of a pure lief, full of goodnesse, witt, wisdome and Courtesie, and a verie frende unto honour and vertue, and so worthy prayse, that his verie ennemies could say none other of hym, then what sounded to his renoume: and the mishappes he hath borne out with great steadinesse, were sufficient inoughe to geve evidence, that fortune, as she hath alwayes bene, so is she in these dayes also an enemie to vertue.
There are dead in like maner manie other that are named in this boke, unto whom a man wold have thought that nature had promised a verie longe lief. But the thinge that should not be rehersed wythout teares is, that the Dutchesse she is also dead. And if my minde be troubled with the losse of so manye frindes and good Lordes of myne, that have left me in this lief, as it were in a wildernes full of sorow, reason would it should with much more grief beare the heavinesse of the Dutchesse death, then of al the rest, bicause she was more woorth then all the rest, and I was much more bounde unto her then unto all the rest. Therfore for leesinge time to bestowe that of dutye I ought upon the memorye of so excellent a Ladye, and of the rest that are no more in lief, provoked also by the jeopardye of the booke, I have made him to be imprinted, and set forth in such sort, as the shortnes of time hath served me. And bicause you had no acqeintance, neither with the Dutches, 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, therfore to the entent, in what I can do, you may have acqueintance with them after their death, I send unto you this booke, as a purtraict in peinctinge of the Court of Urbin: not of the handiwoorke of Raphael, or Michael Angelo, but of an unknowen peincter, and that can do no more but draw the principall lines, without settingfurth the truth with bewtifull colours, or makinge it appeere by the art of Prospective that it is not. And wher I have enforced my self to setfurth together with the communication the propreties and condicions of such as are named in it, I confess I have not only not fully expressed, but not somuch as touched the vertues of the Dutchesse. Bicause not onelye my stile is unsufficient to express them, but also mine understanding to conceive them. And if in this behalf, or in anie other matter woorthy reprehention (as I know well there want not manie in the booke) fault be found in me, I will not speake against the truth. But bicause men sometime take such delite in finding fault, that they find fault also in that deserveth not reproof, unto some that blame me bicause I have not folowed Boccaccio, nor bound my self to the maner of the Tuscane speach used nowadayes, I will not let to say, for all Boccaccio was of a fine witt, according to those times, and in some part writt with great advisement and diligence: yet did he write much better whan he lett him self be guided with witt and his owne naturall inclination, without anie other maner studie or regarde to polish his writinges, then whan with al travaile and bent studye he enforced him self to be most fine and eloquent. For his verie favourers affirme that in his own matters he was far deceived in judgement, little regarding such thinges as have gotten him a name, and greatlye esteaminge that is nothing woorth. Had I then folowed that trade of writing which is blamed in him by such as praise him in the rest, I could not have eschewed the verye same reprooffes that are laied to Boccaccio himself as touching this. And I had deserved somuch the more, for that his errour was then, in beleavyng he did well, and mine should be nowe, in knowinge I do amisse. Again if I had folowed that trade which is reckened of many to be good, and was litle regarded of him, I should appeere in folowing it to disagree from the judgement of him whom I folowed: the which thing (in mine opinion) were an inconvenience. And beeside yf this respect had not moved me, I could not folowe him in the matter, forsomuch as he never wrott any thing in treatise like unto these bookes of the Courtier: and in the tunge, I ought not in mine advise, bicause the force or rule of speach doeth consist more in use, then in anye thing els: and it is alwayes a vice to use woordes that are not in commune speach. Therfore it was not meete I should have used many that are in Boccaccio, which in his time were used, and now are out of use emonge the Tuscanes them selves. Neyther would I binde my self to the maner of the Tuscane tunge in use now a dayes, bicause the practising emonge sundrye Nations, hath alwayes bene of force to transport from one to an other (in a maner) as merchaundise, so also new woordes, which afterward remaine or decaye, according as they are admitted by custome or refused. And this beside the record of auntient writers, is to be evidently seene in Boccaccio, in whom there are so manie woordes French, Spanish, and provincial, and some perhappes not well understood of the Tuscanes in these dayes, that whoso woulde pick them out, should make the booke much the lesser. And bicause (in mine opinion) the kinde of speach of the other noble Cities of Italy, where there resorte men of wisdome, understandinge and eloquence, which practise great matters of government of states, of letters, armes, and diverse affayres, ought not altogether to be neglected for the woordes whiche in these places are used in commune speach: I suppose that they maye be used welinough, writing such as have a grace and comlynesse in the pronuntiation, and communly counted good and of propre signification, though they be not Tuscane, and have also their origion out of Italy. Beeside this in Tuscane they use many woordes cleane corrupte from the Latin, the which in Lumbardye and in the other partes of Italy remaine wholl and without any chaunge at al, and they are so universallye used of everye man, that of the best sorte they are allowed for good, and of the commune people understood with out difficulty. Therfore I thinke I have committed no errour at all, yf in writing I have used any of these, and rather taken the wholl and pure woord of mine owne Countrey, then the corrupt and mangled of an other. Neyther doeth that rule seeme good unto me, where many say the vulgar tung, the lesse it is like unto the Latin, the more beawtifull it is: and I can not perceive why more authoritie should consist in one custome of speach, then in an other. For if Tuscane be sufficient to authorise corrupt and mangled Latin woordes, and to geve them so greate a grace, that mangled in such sort everye man may use them for good (the which no man denieth) should not Lumbardy or any other countrey have the authoritye to allow the very Latin woordes that be pure, sounde, propre 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 wordes, or to set up the olde in spite of custome: so it is no lesse, to take in hande against the force of the same custome to bring to naught, and (as it were) to burye alive such as have lasted nowe many yeeres, and have ben defended from the malice of the time with the shield of use, and have preserved their estimation and dignitye, whan in the warres and turmoiles of Italy, alterations were brought up both of the tunge, buildings, garmentes, and maners. And beeside the hardnesse of the matter, it seemeth to be (as it were) a certein wickednesse. Therefore where I have not thought good in my writing to use the wordes of Boccaccio which are used no more in Tuscane, nor to binde my self to their law that think it not lawful to use them that the Tuscanes use not nowadayes, me thynke I ought to be held excused. But I suppose both in the matter of the booke and in the tunge, forsomuch as one tung may help an other, I have folowed Authores asmuch woorthie praise, as Boccaccio. And I beleave it ought not to be imputed unto me for an errour, that I have chosen to make my self rather knowen for a Lumbard, in speaking of Lumbard, then for no Tuscan, in speaking of tomuch Tuscan. Bicause I wil not do as Theophrastus did, which for speaking tomuch the meere Athenian tunge, was of a simple olde woman knowen not to be of Athens. But bycause in thys point there is sufficyent talke in the first booke, I will make no more a do. And to avoid al contention I confesse to my faultfinders, that I have no knowleage in this their Tuscan tunge so hard and secrete: and I say that I have written it in mine owne, and as I speak, and unto such as speake as I speake: and so I trust I have offended no man. For I beleave it is forbed no man that is, to wryte and speake in his owne tunge, neyther is anye man bound to reade or heare that contentheth hym not. Therfore if they will not reade my Courtier, they shall offende me nothing at all. Other say, bicause it is so hard a matter and (in a maner) unpossible to finde out a man of such perfection, as I would have the Courtier to be, it is but superfluous to write it: for it is a vaine thing to teach that can not be learned. To these men I answere, I am content, to err with Plato, Xenophon, and M. Tullius, leaving apart the disputing of the intelligible world and of the Ideas or imagined formes: in which number, as (according to that opinion) the Idea or figure conceyved in imagination of a perfect commune weale, and of a perfect king, and of a perfect Oratour are conteined: so is it also of a perfect Courtier. To the image whereof if my power could not draw nigh in stile, so much the lesse peynes shall Courtiers have to drawe nigh in effect to the ende and marke that I in writing have set beefore them. And if with all this they can not compasse that perfection, such as it is, which I have endevoured to expresse, he that cummeth nighest shall be the most perfect: as emong many Archers that shute at one marke, where none of them hitteth the pinn, he that is nighest is out of doubt better then the rest. Some again say that my meaning was to facion my self, perswading my self that all suche qualities as I appoint to the Courtier are in me. Unto these men I will not cleane deny that I have attempted all that my minde is the Courtier shoulde have knowleage in. And I thinke who so hath not the knowleage of the thinges intreated upon in this booke, how learned so ever he be, he can full il write them. But I am not of so sclender a judgment in knowing my self, that I wil take upon me to know what soever I can wish. The defence therfore of these accusations and peradventure of many mo, I leave for this once, to the judgement of the commune opinion: bicause for the most part the multytude, though they have no perfect knowleage, yet do they feele by the instinct of nature a certein savour of good and ill, and can geve none other reason for it: one tasteth and taketh delite, an other refuseth and is against his stomake.
Therefore if the booke shall generally please, I wil count him good, and think that he ought to live: but if he shall displease, I will count him naught, and beleave that the memorye of him shall soone perish. And if for all this mine accusers will not be satisfied with this commune judgemente, let them content them selves with the judgement of time, which at length discovereth the privie faultes of every thing: and bicause it is father to truth and a judge without passion, it accustometh evermore to pronounce true sentence of the life or death of writynges.
I HAVE a longe time doubted with my self (most loving M. Alphonsus) which of the two were harder for me, either to denye you the thinge that you have with suche instance manye tymes required of me, or to take it in hande: bicause on the one side me thoughte it a verye harde matter to denye anye thynge, especially the request beinge honest, to the personne whom I love deerlye, and of whom I perceyve my selfe deerlye beloved. Againe on the other syde, to undertake an enterpryse whiche I do not knowe my selfe able to brynge to an end, I judged it uncomely for him that wayeth due reproofes so much as they oughte to be wayed. At length after muche debatynge, I have determined to prove in this behalfe what ayde that affection and great desyre to please, can bring unto my dilygence, whyche in other thynges is wont to encreace the laboure of menne. You then require me to wryte, what is (to my thynkynge) the trade and maner of Courtyers, whyche is most fyttynge for a Gentilman that lyveth in the Court of Princes, by the whiche he maye have the knoweleage howe to serve them perfectlye in everye reasonable matter, and obtaine thereby favour of them and prayse of other men. Fynallye, of what sort he ought to be that deserveth to be called so perfect a Courtyer, that there be no wante in him: wherefore I, considering this kinde of request, say, that in case it should not appeare to my selfe a greater blame to have you esteame me to be of smal frendeshippe, then all other men of litle wysdome, I woulde have ryd my handes of this laboure, for feare leaste I shoulde bee counted rashe of all such as knowe, what a harde matter it is, emonge suche diversitye of maners, that are used in the Courtes of Christendome, to picke out the perfectest trade and way, and (as it were) the floure of this Courtiership. Because use maketh us manye times to delite in, and to set litle by the self same thinges: wherby somtime it proceadeth that maners, garmentes, customes, and facions whiche at sometyme have beene in price, becumme not regarded, and contrarywyse the not regarded, becumme of price. Therfore it is manifestlye to be descerned, that use hath greater force then reason, to brynge up newe inventions emonge us, and to abolishe the olde, of the whiche who so goeth about to judge the perfection, is often tymes deceyved. For which consideration, perceyvinge this and manye other lettes in the matter propunded for me to write upon, I am constreyned to make a peece of an excuse, and to open playnelye that this errour (yf it may be termed an errour) is commune to us both, that if anye blame happen to me about it, it may be also partned with you. For it ought to be reckned a no lesse offence in you to laye uppon me a burden that passeth my strengthe, then in me to take it upon me. Let us therfore at length settle oure selves to begin that is oure purpose and drifte, and (if it be possible) let us facion suche a Courtier, as the Prince that shalbe worthy to have him in his servyce, although hys state be but small, maye notwythstandynge be called a myghtye Lorde. We will not in these bookes folow any certaine order or rule of appointed preceptes, the whiche for the moste part is wont to be observed in the teaching of any thinge whatsoever it be: but after the maner of men of olde time, renuinge a gratefull memorye, we will repeat certaine reasoninges that were debated in times past betwene men verye excellent for that purpose. And althoughe I was not there present, but at the time when they were debated, it was my chaunce to be in Englande, yet soone after my retourne, I hearde them of a person that faithfullye reported them unto me. And I will endevoure my selfe, for so muche as my memorye wyll serve me, to call them perticularly to remembraunce, that you maye see what, men worthy greate commendacion, and unto whose judgement a man maye in everye poynt geve an undoubted credyt, have judged and beleved in this matter. Neyther shall we swarve from the pourpose to arryve in good order at the ende unto the whiche all oure communication is directed, yf wee disclose the cause of the reasoninges that hereafter folowe.
As everye man knoweth the lytle Citye of Urbin is sytuated upon the side of the Appenine (in a maner) in the middes of Italy towardes the Golf of Venice. The which for all it is placed emonge hylles, and those not so pleasaunt as perhappes some other that we behoulde in many places, yet in this point the element hathe been favourable unto it, that all aboute, the countrye is very plentyfull and full of fruites: so that beside the holsomenesse of aer, it is very aboundant and stored wyth all thinges necessarye for the lief of man. But amonge the greatest felycityes that men can recken it to have, I counte thys the chief, that now a longe tyme it hath alwayes bene governed with very good Princes, although in the commune calamyties of the warres of Italy it remayned also a season with out anye at all. But without searching further of this we maye make a good proofe wyth the famous memorye of Duke Fridericke, who in his dayes was the light of Italy. Neyther do we want true and very large testimonies yet remayninge of his wisdome, courtesye, justice, liberalitye, of his invincible courage and pollycy of warr. And of this do his so many vyctoryes make proofe, chyeflye his conquerynge of places impregnable, his sodyne redynesse in settynge forwarde to geve battaile, his putting to flyght sundrye tymes wyth a small numbre, verie greate and puissaunte armyes, and never suteined losse in any conflict: so that we may, not without cause, compare hym to manye famous men of olde time. This man emong his other deedes praiseworthy, in the hard and sharpe situation of Urbin buylt a Palaice, to the opinion of many men, the fayrest that was to be founde in all Italy, and so fornished it with everye necessary implement belonging therto, that it appeared not a palaice, but a Citye in fourme of a palaice, and that not onelye with ordinarie matters, as Silver plate, hanginges for chambers of verye riche cloth of golde, of silke and other like, but also for sightlynesse: and to decke it out withall, placed there a wonderous number of auncyent ymages of marble and mettall, verye excellente peinctinges and instrumentes of musycke of all sortes, and nothinge would he have there but what was moste rare and excellent. To this with verye great charges he gathered together a great number of most excellent and rare bookes, in Greke, Latin and Hebrue, the which he garnished wyth golde and sylver, esteaming this to be the chiefest ornament of his great palaice. This duke then folowing the course of nature when he was lxv. yeares of age, as he had lived, so did he end his lief with glorye. And left Duke after him a childe of x. yeares, havynge no more male, and wythout mother, who hight Guidubaldo. Thys chylde as of the state, so did it appeare also that he was heyre of all his fathers vertues: and sodenly wyth a marveylous towardnes beeganne to promise so much of himselfe, as a manne woulde not have thought possyble to be hoped of a man mortall. So that the opinyon of men was, that of all duke Friderickes notable dedes there was none greater then that he begat suche a son. But fortune envyinge this so great vertue, wythall her myght gainstoode this so gloryous a beginnynge, in suche wyse that before duke Guidubaldo was xx. yeares of age, he fell sicke of the gout, the which encreasinge uppon him wyth most bitter paynes, in a short tyme so nummed hym of all hys members, that he coulde neyther stande on foote nor move hymselfe. And in this maner was one of the best favoured and towardlyest personages in the world deformed and marred in his greene age. And beside, not satisfyed with thys, fortune was so contrarye to him in all his pourposes, that verye sildome he brought to passe any thynge to hys minde. And for all he had in him moste wise counsayle, and an invincible courage, yet it seemed that whatsoever he tooke in hande bothe in feates of armes and in everye other thinge small or greate, it came alwayes to yll successe.
And of thys make proofe his manye and dyvers calamityes, which he alwayes bore out with suche stoutnesse of courage, that vertue never yelded to fortune. But wyth a boulde stomake despising her stormes, lyved wyth great dignytie and estimation emonge all men: in sickenesse, as one that was sounde, and in adversitye, as one that was most fortunate. So that for all he was thus diseased in his bodye, he seved in time of warre wyth moste honourable enterteinmente under the most famous kinges of Naples, Alphonsus and Ferdinande the yonger.
Afterward with Pope Alexander the vi. with the lordes of Venice and Florence. And when Julius the ii. was created Pope, he was then made generall Captayne of the Churche: at whych tyme proceadynge in hys accustomed usage, he sett hys delyte above all thynges to have hys house furnished with most noble and valyaunte Gentylmen, wyth whom he lyved very famylyarly, enjoying theyr conversation, wherein the pleasure whyche he gave unto other menne was no lesse, then that he receyved of other, because he was verye wel seene in both tunges, and together wyth a lovynge behavyour and pleasauntnesse he had also accompanied the knowleage of infinite thinges. And beside this, the greatnesse of his courage so quickened hym, that where he was not in case with hys personne to practise the feates of Chivalrye, as he had done longe before, yet dyd he take verye great delyte to behoulde them in other men, and with his wordes sometyme correctinge, and otherwhyle praysing everye man accordynge to hys desertes, he declared evydentlye howe greate a judgment he hadde in those matters. And upon this at Tylt, at Tourneye, in rydynge, in playinge at all sorts of weapon, also in inventing devyces, in pastymes, in musicke, fynallye in all exercise s meete for noble Gentilmen, everye manne stryved to showe hymselfe suche a one, as myght deserve to bee judged woorthye of so noble an assemblye. Therefore were all the houres of the daye devyded into honourable and pleasaunt exercyses, aswell of the bodye as of the mynde. But because the Duke used continuallye, by reason of his infirmytye, soone after supper to go to his rest, everye man ordinarelye, at that houre drewe where the Dutchesse was, the Lady Elizabeth Gonzaga. Where also continuallye was the Lady Emilia Pia, who for that she was endowed with so lively a wytt and judgement as you knowe, seemed the maistresse and ringe leader of all the companye, and that everye manne at her receyved understandinge and courage. There was then to be hearde pleasaunte communication and merye conceytes, and in every mannes countenaunce a manne myght perceyve peyncted a lovynge jucoundenesse. So that thys house truelye myght well be called the verye mansion place of Myrth and Joye. And I beleave it was never so tasted in other place, what maner a thynge the sweete conversation is that is occasioned of an amyable and lovynge companye, as it was once there. For leavynge aparte what honoure it was to all us to serve such a Lorde, as he whom I declared unto you right nowe, everye man conceyved in his minde an high contentacyon everye tyme we came into the dutchesse sight. And it appeared that this was a chaine that kept all lincked together in love, in suche wise that there was never agrement of wyll or hearty love greater betweene brethren, then was there beetweene us all. The lyke was beetweene the women, with whom we hadde such free and honest conversation, that every manne myght commune, syt, daly, and laugh with whom he had lusted. But such was the respect which we bore to the Dutchesse wyll, that the selfe same libertye was a very great bridle. Neither was there anye that thought it not the greatest pleasure he coulde have in the worlde, to please her, and the greatest griefe to offende her. For this respecte were there most honest condicions coupled with wonderous greate libertye, and devises of pastimes and laughinge matters tempred in her sight, besyde most wyttye jestes, with so comelye and grave a majesty, that the verye sober moode and greatnesse that dyd knyt together all the actes, woordes and gestures of the Dutchesse in jesting and laughynge, made them also that had never seene her in their lief before, to count her a verye greate Ladye.
And all that came in her presence havyng this respect fyxed in their breast, it seemed she had made them to her becke: so that every man enforced himself to folowe this trade, takynge (as it were) a rule and ensample of faire condicions at the presence of so greate and so vertuous a Lady. Whose most excellent qualities I entend not nowe to expresse, for it is neyther my pourpose, and againe they are well inoughe knowen to the worlde, and muche better then I am able either with tunge or with pen to endite. And such as would perhaps have lien hid a space, fortune, as she that wondreth at so rare vertues, hath thought good with many adversities and temptatyons of miseries to disclose them, to make trial therby that in the tender breast of a woman, in companye wyth synguler beawtie, there can dwell wysdome, and stoutenes of courage, and all other vertues that in grave men them selves are most seldome. But leavynge this apart, I say that the maner of all the Gentilmen in the house was immedyatelye after supper to assemble together where the dutchesse was. Where emonge other recreations, musicke and dauncynge, whiche they used contynuallye, sometyme they propounded feate questions, otherwhyle they invented certayne wytty sportes and pastimes, at the devyse some tyme of one sometyme of an other, in the whych under sundrye covertes, often tymes the standers bye opened subtylly theyr imaginations unto whom they thought beste. At other tymes there arrose other disputations of divers matters, or els jestinges with prompt inventions. Manye tymes they fell into pourposes, as we nowe a dayes terme them, where in thys kynde of talke and debating of matters, there was wonderous great pleasure on all sydes: because (as I have sayde) the house was replenyshed wyth most noble wyttes. Emonge whych (as you knowe) were moste 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 infynyte other most woorthye knyghtes and Gentlymen. Beesyde these there were manye that for all ordinarilye they dwelled not there, yet spent they most of their tyme there, as M. Bernard Bibiena, Unico Aretino, Johnchristopher Romano, Peter Mount, Therpander, M. Nicholas Phrisio, so that thither ran continually poetes, musitiens, and al kinde of men of skyll, and the excellentest in every faculty that were in al Italy. After pope Julius the ii. had with his owne presence by the ayde of the Frenchmen brought Bolonia to the obedyence of the Apostolyke Sea again, in the yeare mdvi. in hys retourn toward Roome he tooke Urbin in his way, where he was receaved as honorably as was possible, and with as sumptuous and costlye preparation, as coulde have bine in any other Citie of Italy whatsoever it be. So that beeside the Pope, all the Cardinalles and other Courtyers thought themselves throughly satisfied. And some there were that provoked wyth the sweetnesse of this companye, after the Pope and the Court was departed, contynued manye dayes together in Urbin. At which time they did not onely proceade in their accustomed trade of disportinge and ordinary recreations, but also every man sett to his helpinge hande to augment them somewhat, and especially in pastymes, which they had up almost everye nyght. And the order therof was such, that assoone as they were assembled where the Dutches was, every man satt him down at his will, or as it fell to his lot, in a circle together, and in sittinge were devyded a man and a woman, as longe as there were women, for alwayes (lightlye) the number of men was farr the greater. Then were they governed as the Dutchesse thought best, whiche manye times gave this charge unto the L. Emilia.
So the daye after the Pope was departed, the companye beeinge gathered to the accustomed place, after much pleasaunt talke, the Dutchesse pleasure was that the L. Emilia should beginne these pastimes: and she after a litle refusing of that charge, sayd in this maner: Syth it is your pleasure (Madam) I shall be she that must give the onsett in oure pastimes this night, bicause I ought not of reason disobey you, I thinke meete to propounde a pastyme, wherof I suppose shall ensue little blame, and lesse travayle. And that shall be to have every man, as nigh as he can, propounde a devyse not yet hearde of, then shall we chuse out such a one as shall be thought meete to be taken in hande in this companye.
And after she had thus spoken, she tourned her unto the L. Gaspar Pallavicin, willynge him to propounde his: who immediatelye made answere: But first (madam) you must beeginne to propounde yours.
Then saide the L. Emilia: I have alreadye done. But your grace must commaunde hym (Madam) to be obedient.
Then the Dutchesse laughynge: To thintent (quoth she) every man shal obey you, I make you my deputy, and give unto you all mine aucthority.
It is surely a great matter, aunswered the L. Gaspar, that it is alwaies lawfull for women to have this privilege, to be exempt and free from paines takyng, and truely reason woulde we should in any wise knowe why. But bicause I will not be he that shall geve example to disobey, I shal leave thys untill an other time, and will speake of that I am nowe charged withall, and thus I beginne. Mine oppinion is, that oure mindes, as in other thinges, so also in lovynge are diverse in judgemente, and therefore it chaunceth often tymes, that the thynge whyche is most acceptable unto one, is most abhorred of an other. Yet for all that they alwayes agree in that everye man counteth most deere the wight beloved. So that many times the overmuch affection in lovers doth so deceive their judgemente, that they weene the person whom they love, to be so garnished wyth all excellent vertues and wythout faulte, that he hath no peere in the worlde. But bycause the nature of man doth not admytte suche full perfectyons, and there is no mann that hath not some defaulte or want in hym, it can not be sayde that suche as these be are not deceyved, and that the lover doeth not become blynde as touchynge the beloved. I would therefore oure pastyme should be thys nyghte to have everye manne open what vertues he would principally the person he loveth should be indowed with all. And seeyng it is so necessarilye that we all have some spotte, what vyce he woulde also have in hym: to se who can fynde out most prayse woorthye and manlye vertues, and most tollerable vyces, that shoulde be least hurtfull bothe to hym that loveth, and to the wyghte beloved.
After the L. Gaspar hadde thus spoken, the L. Emilia made a signe unto the Lady Constaunce Fregosa, bicause she was next in order to folow: who was about to speake, whan the Dutchesse sodeinlye said: Seinge the L. Emilia will not take the paine to fynde out some pastime, reason willeth that the other Ladyes should be partakers of the same privilege, and be also fre from this burden for this night: especially seing there are so many men in place, for assure your self we shall want no pastimes.
So shall we do, aunswered the L. Emilia, and puttinge the L. Consataunce to silence tourned her to the L. Cesar Gonzaga, that sat next her, commaunding him to speak, and thus he began: Whoso wyll diligentlye consider all our doynges, he shall fynde alwayes in them sundrye imperfections. And that happeneth, bicause nature doth varye, as well in this, as in all other thinges. Unto one she hath geven the lyght of reason in one thyng, and unto an other, in an other thyng. Therefore it commeth to passe, where one man knoweth that another knoweth not, and is ignoraunte in the thyng that the other hath understandynge in, eche man doth easilye perceyve the errour of hys felow, and not hys owne, and we all think oure selves to be verye wyse and peradventure in that poynt most, wherein we are most foolysh. So that we have seene by experience in this house manye men whyche at the beegynnynge were counted most wise, in processe of tyme were knowen to be most foolysh. Whiche hath proceaded of no other thyng but of oure owne dilygence, lyke, as it is sayde to be in Pulia of them that are bitten with a Tarrantula, about whom men occupye manye instrumentes of musicke, and wyth sundrye sounes goe searchynge out, untyll the humor that maketh this dysease by a certayn concordance it hath wyth some of those sounes, feling it, doth sodeinly move, and so stirreth the pacient, that by that styrrynge he recovereth hys health agayne. In lyke maner we, whan we have felt some privie operacion of folye we provoke it so subtillye, and with suche sundrye perswasions, and so divers wayes that at length we understand whether it tended. Afterward the humour knowen, we so stir it that alwayes it is brought to the perfection of open foly. And some is wexed foolish in verses, some in musicke, some in love, some in daunsinge, some in makynge antiques, some in rydinge, some in playnge at fence, everye man accordinge to the moine of his mettall, wherby hath ensued (as you know) marveylous great pastime. I houlde therfore for certeine, that in everye one of us there is some seede of folye, the which beyng stirred may multiplye (in a maner) infinite. Therfore I would this night our pastime were to dispute upon this matter: and that everye man myght say his mynde, seeynge I must be openly foolysh, in what sort of foly I am foolysh, and over what matter, judginge it the issue for the sparkles of folye that are daylye sene to proceade from me. And let the lyke be sayd of all the rest, kepinge the order of our devises, and let everye man do his best to grounde his opinion upon some sure signe and argument, and so by this our pastime shall everye one of us get profite, in that we shal know our defaultes, and then shall we the better take heede. And in case the veyne of folye whiche we shall discover, be so ranke that it shall appeare to us past remedy, we will set therto oure helpynge hande, and according to the doctrine of Frier Marian, wee shal gaigne a soule whiche shalbe no small gaigne. At this devise there was much laughing, and none coulde refraine from speakinge. One sayde, I shoulde be founde foolysh in imagining. An other, in viewinge. An other sayde, he was alreadye become foolysh for love: and suc[h] lyke matters.
Then frier Seraphin after his maner, laughing: This (quoth he) should be to tedious a matter. But if you wyll have a pretye pastime, let everyman tel his opinion, how it cummeth that (in a maner) all women abhorre rattes, and love serpentes, and you shall see that none will hit upon it, but I, that knowe this misterye by a straunge means.
And now began he to enter into his triflyng tales, but the L. Emilia commaunded him to silence, and overscipping the Lady that satt there, made a signe to Unico Aretino that was next in order, and he without looking for anye more biddyng, I (quoth he) would gladlye be a judge of aucthoritye that I might with all kinde of tourment bolte out the truth of offenders: and that, to discover the deceytes of an ungrate woman, who with the eies of an angel, and hearte of a Serpent, never agreeth her tunge with her mynde, and with a feygned deceyvable compassion, purposeth nothyng els but to make Anatomie of hartes. Neither is there in all the sandie countrey of Libia to be found so venemous a serpent that is so deirous of mans bloud, as is this false creature. Which not onely for the sweetenesse of voice and pleasant soune of woordes, but also for her eyes, for her laughing, for her countenaunce, and for all her gestures is a most perfect meremayden. Therfore seying it is not lawful for me, as I would, to use chaines, ropes, or fier, to understand a matter of trouth, my desire is to compasse the knowledge of it with a mirye pastyme, whiche is this: That every man should expresse his fansye what the S dothe signify that the dutchess carieth in her foreheade. For although this be also an artificial covert, the better to beguile, perhappes there may be an interpretacion whiche she never thought upon. And who knoweth whether fortune, with pity behoulding the tormentes of men, hath stirrid her with this small token to discover against her wyll the inwarde desire she hathe to slea and bury alyve in calamitie hym that honoureth and serveth her. The duchesse laughed: and Unico, perceiving she would have excused her self of thys interpretacion, No (quoth he) speake you not (madam) for it is not your turne to speake nowe.
The L. Emilia then tourned her and sayd: M. Unico, there is none of us all here that geveth not place to you in everye thyng, and especiallye in knowynge the disposicion of the Dutchesse. And as you by your dyvyne wit knowe her better then all the rest, so do you love her better then all the rest, whych lyke byrdes of a feble sight, that cannot looke stedfastlye into the circle of the Sunne, cannot so well perceyve the perfection of it. Therfore all laboure were in vaine in cleeryng of thys doubt, savyng your judgement alone. Thys interprise then is reserved onely to you, as unto him that alone can brynge it to an ende, and none other.
Unico, after he had pawsed a while being stil called upon to say his fansy, at length rehersed a rime upon the aforesaide matter, expoundynge what signified the letter S, the which many judged to be made at the first sight. But bicause it was more witty a nd better knitt then a man would have beleved the shortnes of time required, it was thought he had prepared it before.
So after mens favourable voyce geven in the praise of this rime, and after sufficient talke, the L. Octavian Fregoso whose tourne was then next, began in this sorte smilyng: My lordes, if I should say unto you that I never felt passion of love in my daies, I am sure the Dutchesse and the L. Emilia, althoughe they beleved it not in deede, yet would they make semblant to beleve it, and would saye that it proceded bicause I mistrusted I should never frame any woman to love me. The which trulye I have not hytherto proved with such instance, that of reason I should dispare to obtain it once. Neither have I forborne the doynge of it, bicause I set so much by my self and so litle by women, that I thinke none worthye to bestowe my love and service upon. But rather amased at the continual bewailings of some lovers, that with their palenes, sorow, and silence, it appeareth they have evermore their owne discomfort painted in their eyes. And if they speake, accompanyinge everye woorde with certeyne treblefolde syghes, they reason of nothing elles, but of teares, of tourmentes, of desperacions, and of longyng for death. So that whansoever any sparckle of love hath beegonne to kyndle in my breast, I have by and by enforced my self wyth all dyligence to quenche it, not for anye hatred that I have conceyved agaynst women (as these Ladyes suppose) but for myne owne health. On the other side, I have knowen some other cleane contrarye to these sorowfull, whiche do not onelye avaunce and content theymselves with the cheerfull lookes, lovinge woordes, and sweete countenances of their ladies, but also sauce their sorowes with sweetnesse, so that they count the debates, the angers and the disdeignes of them, most sweete. Therefore these men seme unto me to be much more then happy, for whereas they fynde so muche sweetenesse in the amorous disdeignes, whiche some men recken much more bytter then death, I beleve in lovyng gestures they should feele that wonderfull blisse, whyche we seeke for in vayne in thys worlde. Therefore would I oure pastyme were this nyght to have everye manne shew, where there muste be a dysdeygne againste him in the person beloved, what the cause should be that should make the person conceive thys disdeygne. For if there be anye here that have proved those sweete disdeignes, I am sure they wil desire for courtesy one of these causes that make them so sweet. And perhappes I shall with a better will proceade somewhat farther in love, in hope that I shall also fynde thys sweetenesse, where as some finde bitternesse, and so shall not these Ladies geve me anye more this slaunderous reporte, that I am not in love.
This pastime was muche praysed, and therefore dyd everye man setle himselfe to reason uppon this matter.
But the Lady Emilia holdying her peace, M. Peter Bembo, that satt next in order, spake in this maner: My Lordes, this pastime that the L. Octavian hath propounded hath raysed no smal doubt in my mind, where he hath resoned of the disdiegnes of love, the whiche though they be sondry, yet unto me have they alwaies bin most bitter. Neither do I beleve that I can learne any sauce that shalbe sufficient to sweten them. But peradventure they are the more and the lesse bitter according to the cause wherof they arrise. For I have in my daies (I remember) seene the woman whom I served, stirred against me, eyther upon a vaine suspicyon that she conceyved her self of my trustinesse, or elles upon some other false opinyon that that had bine put into her head by some mennes report to my hindraunce, so I beleaved no grief might be compared to myne. And me thought that the greatest sorowe I felt was to suffer wythout deservyng, and to sustayne 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 proceaded of myne offence, and at that instante I judged the former vexation to be verye lyght in comparison to that whych I felt then. And me thought to be in displeasure and that for myne owne trespas, wyth the persone to whom onelye I coveted and with suche diligence sought to please, was the greatest torment of all other. Therefore woulde I oure pastyme were to have every man declare his opinion, where there must be a disdeigne agaynst hym in the person beloved, of whom he woulde the cause of this disdeigne shoulde have his beeginning, whether of her or of him selfe: to know which is the greater grief, eyther to dysplease the wight beloved, or to receyve dyspleasure of the wyght beloved.
Every man looked what the L. Emilia woulde make aunswere to this, but without anye woord speakyng to Bembo, she tourned her and made a signe to Sir Friderick Fregoso to shew his devyse. And he incontinentlye beegan thus: Madam, I woulde it were lawfull for me, as the maner is manye tymes to remytte me to the judgement of an other, for I for my part woulde wyth all my heart allowe some of the pastymes that have bine already propounded by these Lordes, bicause in deede me thinke they would be worth the hearing. Yet least I shoulde breake the order, thys I saye: who so woulde take in hande to praise oure Court, leaving a part the desertes of the dutchesse, which ghostly spirite, with her influence, is sufficient to drawe from the earth up into heaven the simplest wittes in the world, he might wel do it without suspicion of flattery. For peradventure in all Italy a man shall have muche a do to fynde out so many gentlemen and noble personages that are so worthy, and besyde the principall profession of Chivalrye so excellent in sundry thinges, as are presently here. Therfore if in any place men may be founde that deserve the name of good Courtyers, and can judge what belongeth to the perfeccion of Courtyership, by reason a man may beleve them to be here. To disgrace therefore many untowardly asseheades, that through malepertnes thinke to purchase them the name of a good Courtyer, I would have suche a pastime for this night, that one of the company myght bee picked out who should take in hand to shape in woordes a good Courtyer, specifying all suche condicions and particuler qualities, as of necessitie must be in hym that deserveth this name. And in suche thinges as shall not appere necessarie, as of necessitie must be in hym that deserveth against them, as the maner of Philosophers schooles is against him that kepeth disputacions.
Syr Friderick proceaded styll forwarde in his talke, whan the L. Emilia interruptyng hym, sayde: If it bee my L. the dutchesse pleaser, this shall be our pastime for this once.
The Dutchesse aunswered: I am wel pleased. Then (in maner) all the company began to say both to the dutchesse, and among themselves that this was the trimmest pastyme they could have, and without looking for answere the one of the other thei craved the Lady Emilia to appoint who should first beginne. Who tournynge her towarde the dutchesse, sayde: Commaunde you (madam) whom shall please you to take this enterprise in hand, for I wyll not by chousing, more one then an other, declare my selfe to judge in this behalf, whom I thinke to be better skilled then the rest, and so do wrong to some.
The Dutchesse aunswered: Make you this choise your selfe, and take hede that in disobeying you bee not a president to the rest to be disobedient.
Then the Lady Emilia saide laughyng unto Lewis count of Canossa: Therefore for leesyng any more tyme, you (Count) shall be he that shall take this enterprise uppon hym in fourme and maner as Syr Friderick hath declared. Not for that we knowe ye are so good a Courtyer that you have at your fingers endes that belongeth thereto: but because in repeatinge everye arsiversy, as we hope ye wyll, we shall have somuch the more pastyme, and everye one shall be able to answere you, where if an other more skilfull then you should take it in hande, there should bee nothing sayde againste hym for tellyng the trueth, and so shoulde we have but a colde pastime.
The Count aunswered by and by: We neede not feare (madam) that we shall wante contrarying in wordes againste hym that telleth the truth, as longe as you be here. And after they had laughed a whyle at this answer, he proceded on: But truely I would with al l my hearte bee ridde of this burthen, for it is to hard for me. And I know that to be most true in me which you have spoken in jest: namelye, that I have no understandynge in that belongeth to a good Courtyer. And this dooe I not seeke to prove with anye other tryall, for seeyng I dooe not the deedes, a manne may judge I understande it not, and I beleve I am the lesse to bee blamed. For oute of doubte it is a woorse matter not to dooe well, then not to understande howe to dooe it. Yet seynge youre pleaser is, that I shall take the charge uppon me, I can not, nor wyll refuse it, for withstandyng youre order and judgement, the which I knowe is much better then myne.
Then the L. Cesar Gonzaga: Because it is nowe (quoth he well forwarde in nyghte, and have here redy for us other sortes of pastimes, peradvendture it shoulde not bee amysse to deferre this resonynge untyll to morowe, and the Counte shall have leysure to thynke better uppon that he hathe to saye: for in verye deede to entreate uppon suche a matter at the fyrste syghte, it is a harde thynge.
Then aunswered the Count: I wyll not dooe as he dyd, that strypped himself into his dublette, and leaped lesse grounde then he didde before in his Coate. And me thynke my lucke is good that it is late, because the shortenesse of tyme shall make me use few e woordes, and the sodeinnesse of the matter shall so excuse me, that it shall be lawfull for me to speak without blame whatsoever commeth firste to mynde. Because I wyll not therefore carye this burthen of duetye anye longer uppon my shoulders, this I saye: in everye thynge it is so harde a matter to knowe the true perfeccion, that it is almoste unpossible, and that by reason of the varietie of judgementes. Therefore manye there are, that delite in a manne of muche talke, and hym they call a pleasaunt felowe. Some wyll delite more in modestie, some other wyll fansye a manne that is actyve and alwayes doynge: other, one that sheweth a quietnes and a respecte in everye thynge. And thus dooeth everye man prayse or dysprayse accordynge to hys fansye, alwayes coverynge a vyce with the name of the next vertue to it, and a vertue with the name of the nexte vice: as in calling him that is sawcye, bolde: hym that is sober, drie: hym that is seelye, good: hym that is unhappye, wittie: and lykewyse in the reste.
Yet doe I thinke that eche thing hath his perfeccion, althoughe it be hid, and with reasonable dyscourses myght be judged of hym that hath knowledge in the matter. And for as much as the trueth (as I have sayd) is oftentymes hid, and I take not upon me to have this knowledge, I cannot praise but that kind of Courtyers which I set most by, and allow that whiche semeth unto me most nigh the trueth, in my smal judgement. The which you shal folowe if ye thinke it good, or els sticke to youre owne, yf it shal vary from mine. Neither will I (for all that) stand stiffe that mine is better then yours, for not onelye one thynge maie seme unto you, and an other to me, but also unto my self it may appere sometime one thing, sometime another.
I wyll have this our Courtyer therfore to be a Gentleman borne and of a good house. For it is a great deale lesse dyspraise for him that is not born a gentleman to faile in the actes of vertue then for a gentleman. If he swarve from the steppes of his auncestours, he stayneth the name of his familie, and doeth not onely not get, but loseth that is already gotten. For noblenesse of birth is (as it were) a clere lampe that sheweth forth and bringeth into light, workes bothe good and badde, and enflameth and provoketh unto vertue, as wel with the feare of slaunder, as also with the hope of praise. And wheras this brightnesse of nobleness dothe not discover the workes of the unnoble, they have a wante of provocation and of feare of slaunder, and they recken not themselves bounde to wade anye further then their auncestours did before theym, whereas the noble of birth counte it a shame not to arrive at the leaste at the boundes of their predecessors set foorth unto them. Therefore it chaunceth alwaies (in a maner) bothe in armes and in all other vertuous actes, that the moste famous menne are gentlemen. Because nature in every thing hath depely sowed that privie sede, which geveth a certain force and propertie of her beginning, unto whatsoever springeth of it, and maketh it lyke unto her selfe. As we see by exaumple not onely in the race of horses and other beastes, but also in trees, whose slippes and graftes alwayes for the moste parte are lyke unto the stocke of the tree they came from: and yf at any time they growe out of kind, the fault is in the husbandman. And the lyke is in men, yf they be trayned up in good nourtour, moste commonlye they resemble them from whom thei come and often times passe them, but yf they have not one that can well trayn them up, thei growe (as it were) wylde, and never come to their ripenesse. Truth it is, whether it be through the favour of the starres or of nature, some there are borne endowed wyth suche graces, that they seeme not to have bene borne, but rather facioned with the verye hand of some God, and abounde in all goodnesse bothe of bodye and mynde. As againe we see some so unapte and dull, that a man wyl not beleve, but nature hath brought them into the worlde for a spite and mockerie. And lyke as these with continual diligence and good bringyng up for the most parte can bring small fruite: even so the other with litle attendance clime to the full perfeccion of all excellency. Marke me the Lorde Hyppolitus da Este Cardinall of Ferrara, he hath hade so happye a birthe, that his person, his woordes, and all his gestures are so facioned and compact with this grace, that among the moste aunciente prelates (for all he is but yonge) he dothe represente so grave an aucthoritie, that a man woulde weene he were more meete to teache, then nedefull to learne. Likewise in company with menne and women of all degrees, in sportynge, in laughynge, and in jestynge he hath in hym a certayne sweetenesse, and so comely demeanours, that whoso speaketh with hym or yet beholdeth hym, muste nedes beare him an affeccion for ever. But returnyng to our purpose I saye, that betwene thys excellent grace, and that fond foolyshnesse there is yet a meane, and they that are not by nature so perfectly furnished, with studye and diligence maye polishe and correct a great part of the defaultes of nature. The Courtyer therfore, besyde noblenesse of birthe, I wyll have hym to be fortunate in this behalfe, and by nature to have not only a wytte, and a comely shape of persone and countenance, but also a certain grace, and (as they saie) a hewe, that shall make him at the first sight acceptable and lovyng unto who so beholdeth him. And let this be an ornament to frame and accompanye all his actes, and to assure men in his looke, such a one to bee woorthy the companye and favour of every great man.
Here without any longer tariyng the L. Gaspar Pallavicin saide: That our pastime may have the fourme and maner agreed upon, and least it shoulde appeare that we litle esteme the aucthoritie geven us to contrary you, I say (in mine advise) that this noblenesse of birth is not so necessarie for the Courtyer. And if I wiste that anye of you thought it straunge or a newe matter, I woulde alledge unto you sondrye, who for all they were borne of moste noble bloude, yet have they bene heaped full of vyces: and contrarywise, many unnoble that have made famous their posteritie. And yf it be true that you sayde before, that the privie force of the firste seede is in everye thynge, we shoulde al bee in one maner condicion, for that we had all one selfe begynnynge, and one shoulde not bee more noble then an other. But besyde the diversityes and degrees in us of highe and lowe, I beleve there bee manye other matters, wherein I judge fortune to be the chief, because we see her beare a stroke in al worldlye thinges, and (as it were) take a pastime to exalt many time whom pleaseth her without any desert at all, and burie in the bottomles depth the most worthy to be exalted. I confirme your saying as touching the happines of them that are borne abounding in all goodnes both of minde and bodie: but this is seen aswel in the unnoble, as in the noble of birthe, for nature hath not these so subtile distinctions: yea (as I have sayde) we se many times in persons of most base degree, most high giftes of nature. Therefore seing this noblenes is gotten neither with force, nor art, but is rather a praise of oure ancestours then our own, me think it a strange opinion that the parentes of our Courtyer being unnoble, his good qualities should be defaced, and these oure good condicions whiche you have named should not be sufficient to bring him to the top of al perfeccion: that is to say, wit, beauty of fisnamy, dispsicion of person, and that grace which at the first sight shal make him moste acceptable unto all men.
Then aunswered Count Lewis: I denie not, but in men of base degree may reigne the very same vertues that are in gentlemen. But to avoyd rehersal of that we have already said, with many other reasons that might be alleged in commendacion of noblenesse, the which is evermore honored of al men because it standeth with reason that good should spring of good, forsomuch as our entent is to facion a Courtyer without ani maner default or lack in hym, and heaped with all praise, me thinke it a necessarye matter to make him a gentleman, as well for many other respects, as also for the common opinion, which by and by doeth leane to noblenesse. For where there are two in a noble mans house which at the first have geven no proofe of themselves with woorkes good or bad, assoone as it is knowen that the one is a gentleman borne, and the other not, the unnoble shall be muche lesse estemed with everye manne, then the gentleman, and he muste with much travaile and long time imprint in mennes heades a good opinion of himselfe, whiche the other shal geat in a moment, and onely for that he is a gentleman: and howe waighty these imprintinges are every man may easily judge. For, to speake of our selves: we have seen menne come to thys house, whiche for all they were fooles and dulwitted, yet had they a report through all Italye of great Courtyers, and though at length they were discovered and knowen, yet manye daies did thei beguyle us, and mainteyned in our mindes that oppinion of themselves, whiche at the fyrste they found there imprinted, although they wrought accordyng to their small skil.
We have seen other at the fyrste in very smal estimacion, and afterwarde in the ende have acquited themselves marveilous well. And of these errors there are divers causes and among other the obstinatenes of princes, whiche to prove mastries oftentimes bend themselves to favor him, that to their seeming, deserveth no favour at all, and manye tymes in deede they are deceyved. But because thei have alwaies many that counterfait them, a very great report dependeth upon their favor, the which moste commonly judgements folow. And if thei find any thing that semeth contrary to the common opinion, thei are in doubt for deceiving themselves, and alwaies loke for some matter secretly because it semeth, that these general opinions ought to be founded upon a trothe, and arise of reasonable causes.
And forsomuch as our mindes are very apte to love and to hate: as in the sightes of combates and games and in all other kinde of contencion one with an other, it is seene that the lookers on many times beare affeccion without any manifest cause why, unto one of the two parties, with a gredy desire to have him get the victorie, and the other to have the overthrow. Also as touching the opinion of mens qualities, the good or yll reporte at the first brunt moveth oure mynde to one of these two passions: therefore it commeth to passe, that for the moste part we judge with love or els with hatred. You see then of what importance this first imprinting is, and howe he ought to endeavoure himself to get it good in princes, if he entende to be set by, and to purchase him the name of a good Coutyer. But to come to some particularitie, I judge the principall and true profession of a Courtyer ought to be in feates of armes, the which above all I will have hym to practise lively, and to bee knowen among other for his hardinesse, for his acheving of enterprises, and for his fidelitie toward him whom he serveth. And he shall purchase himselfe a name with these good condicions, in doing the dedes in everie time and place: for it is not for him to feint at any time in this behalfe without a wonderous reproche. And even as in women honestye once stained dothe never retourne againe to the former astate: so the fame of a gentleman that carieth weapon, yf it once take a foile in any litle point through dastardlines or any other reproche, doeth evermore continue shameful in the worlde and full of ignoraunce. Therefore the more excellent our Courtyer shalbe in this arte, the more shall he bee worthy praise: albeit I judge not necessarye in hym so perfect a knowledge of thynges and other qualities that is requisite in a capitaine. But because this is overlarge a scope of matters, wee wyll holde oure selves contented (as we have sayde) with the uprightnesse of a well meaning minde, and with an invincible courage, and that he alwaies shew himself such a one: for many times men of courage are sooner knowen in small matters then in greate. Often times in daugers that stande them upon, and where many eyes be, ye shall see some that for all their hearte is dead in their bodie, yet pricked with shame or with the company, go forwarde (as it were) blindfield and do their dutie. And God knoweth bothe in matt ers that little touche them, and also where they suppose that without missynge they may convey themselves from daunger, how they are willing ynough to slepe in a whole skinne. But such as think themselves neither marked, seen, nor knowen, and yet declare a stout courage, and suffer not the leaste thyng in the worlde to passe that maie burthen them, they have the courage of spirite whiche we seke to have in our Coutyer. Yet will we not have him for al that so lustie to make braverie in woordes, and to bragge that he hath wedded his harneys for his wife, and to threaten with suche grim lookes, as we have seene Berto do oftentimes. For unto suche maie well be saide that a worthie Gentlewoman in a noble assembly spake pleasauntly unto one, that shall be namelesse for this tyme, whome she to shewe hym a good countenance, desired to daunce with her, and he refusing both that, and to heare musick and many other entertainmentes offred him, alwaies affirming suche trifles not to be his profession, at last the Gentlewoman demaunding him, What is then your profession? He aunswered with a frowning looke: To fight.
Then saide the Gentlewoman: Seing you are not nowe at the warre nor in place to fight, I woulde thinke it best for you to bee well besmered and set up in an armorie with other implementes of warre till time wer that you should be occupied, least you waxe more rustier then you are.
Thus with much laughinge of the standers by she left him with a mocke in his foolish presumpcion.
He therefore that we seeke for, where the enemies are, shall shewe himselfe moste fierce, bitter, and evermore with the firste. In everie place beside, lowly, sober, and circumspecte, fleeing above all thinge bragginge and unshamefull praising himself, for therewith a man alwaies purchaseth himself the hatred and yll will of the hearers.
And I, aunswered the L. Gaspar, have knowen few men excellent in any thing whatsoever it bee, but they praise them selves. An me thinke it may wel be borne in them: for he that is of skill, whan he seeth that he is not knowen for his woorkes of the ignoraunte, hath a disdeigne that his connynge should lye buried, and needes must he open it one waie, least he should bee defrauded of the estimation that belongeth to it, whiche is the true rewarde of vertuous travailes. Therefore among the auncient writers he that muche excelleth doeth sildome forbeare praisyng hymself. They in deede are not to be borne withall that havyng no skill in theym, wyll prayse themselves: but we wyll not take our Courtyer to be suche a one.
Then the Count: Yf you have well understoode (quoth he) I blamed the praysinge of a mans selfe impudently and withoute respecte. And surelye (as you saye) a man ought not to conceyve an yll oppinion of a skifull man that praiseth hymselfe dyscretely, but rather take it for a more certaine witnes, then yf it came out of an other mans mouth. I agree well that he, whiche in praising himselfe falleth not into errour, nor purchaseth himself lothsomenes or hatred of the hearers, is moste discrete: and beside the praises whiche he giveth himselfe, deserveth the same of other men also, because it is a very hard matter.
Then the L. Gaspar: This (quoth he) muste you teache us.
The Count aunswered: Emong the auntient writers there hathe not also wanted that hathe taught it. But in mine opinion, all doth consist in speaking such thynges after a sort, that it maye appeare that they are not rehearsed to that ende: but that they come so to purpose, that he can not refrayne tellyng them, and alwaies seemynge to flee his owne prayse tell the trueth. But not as those lustie laddes dooe, that open their mouthe and thruste oute woordes at aventure they care not how. As within these few dayes one of oure company being pusshed throughe the thygh with a pyke at Pysa, thought that it was the bytynge of a flie. And an other sayde that he occupied no lookynge glasse in his chamber, because in hys rage he was so terrible to beholde, that in lookynge upon his owne count enaunce he shoulde put himself into much feare.
At this every one laughed. But the L. Cesa Gonzaga saide unto them: At what laugh you Knowe ye not that the great Alexander, hearing a certaine Philosophers oppinion to be that there were infinite worldes, fell in weping: and when he was asked the question why he wept, he aunswered: Because I have not yet one in hande, as thoughe hys mynde was to have them all. Dooe you not thynke that this was a greater braverie, then to speak of the fly biting.
So was Alexander a greater person then he that so sayde, aunswered the Count. But excellent men in very deede are to be held excused, whan they take muche upon them: because he that undertaketh great enterprises muste have a boldnesse to dooe it, and a confidence of hym selfe, and not of a bashfull or cowardly mynde, but yet sober in woores: shewing as though he tooke lesse upon hym then he dothe in deede, so that his taking upon him do not extend unto rashnesse.
Here the Count respetyng a while, M. Bernard Bibiena saide merelye: I remember you saide before, that this oure Courtyer oughte of nature to have a faire comelynesse of fisnamye and person, with the grace that oughte to make hym so amyable. As for the grace and beautie of fisnamie, I thynke not the contrary but they are in me, and therefore doe so many women burne for the love of me, as you knowe. But for the comelinesse of persone, I stande somewhat in doubte, and especiallye by reason of my legges here, for me thinke in deede thei are not so wel made as I could wishe thei were: the body and the rest is meetely wel. Therefore declare som what more particularly this comelines of person, what it should be, that I may be out of this doubt and set my heart at reste.
Whan thei had a while laughed at this, the Count sayde: Certes, the grace of the fisnamy, may wel be said to be in you without any lye. And no other exaumple. doe I alledge but this, to declare what maner thing it should bee: for undoubtedly we see your countenaunce is most acceptable and pleasant to beholde unto every man, although the proporcion and draughtes of it be not very delicate, but it is manly and hath a good grace withall. And this qualitie have many and sundrye shapes of visages. And suche a countenaunce as this is, will I have our Courtyer to have, and not so softe and womanishe as many procure to have, that do not onely courle the hear, and picke the browes, but also paumpre themselves in every point like the most wanton and dishonest women in the worlde: and a man would thinke them in goyng, in standing, and in all their gestures so tender and feint, that their members were ready to flee one from an other, and their woordes they pronounce so drawningly, that a man would weene they were at that instant yelding up the ghost: and the higher in degree the men are they talke withall, the more they use such facyons. These men, seing nature (as they seeme to have a desire to appeare and to bee) hath not made them women, ought not to be esteamed in place of good women, but like common Harlottes to be banished, not onely out of prynces courtes, but also oute of the companye of Gentlemen. To come therefore to the qualitie of the person, I say he is well, if he bee neither of the least, nor of the greatest sise. For bothe the one and the other hath with it a certayne spytefull wonder, and suche men are marveyled at, almoste, as muche as men marveile to behoulde monstrous thynges. Yet if there must needes be a defaulte in one of the two extremities, it shall be lesse hurtfull to bee somewhat of the least, then to excede the common stature in height. For men so shut up of bodie, beside that manye tymes they are of a dull wit, they are also unapte for all exercyses of nimblenesse, whiche I much desire to have in the Courtyer. And therefore will I have him to bee of a good shape, and well proporcioned in his lymmes, and to shewe strength, lightnes, and quicknesse, and to have understandyng in all exercises of the bodie, that belonge to a man of warre. And herein I thinke the chief point is to handle well all kynde of weapon both for the footeman and horseman, and to know the vauntages in it. And especially to be skilfull on those weapons that are used ordinarily emong gentlemen, for beside the use that he shall have of them in warre, where peradventure nedeth no great connyng, there happen often times variaunces betwene one gentleman and an other, whereupon ensueth a combat. And manye tymes it shall stande him in stede to use the weapon whiche he hath at that instant by his side, therefore it is a very sure thing to be skilfull. And I am none of them whiche saye, that he forgetteth his conning whan he commeth to the poynte: for to abide by, whoso loseth his conning at that time, sheweth that he hath firste loste his hearte and his spirites for feare. I think also it will serve his turne greatly, to know the feate of wrastling, because it goeth much together with all weapon on foote. Againe it is behouffull bothe for him selfe and for his frendes, that he have a foresight in the quarrelles and controversies that may happen, and let him beware of the vauntages, declarynge alwaies in everye pointe bothe courage and wisedome. Neither let him runne rashely to these combattes, but whan he muste needes to save his estimation withall: for beside the greate daunger that is in the doubtfull lotte, hee that goeth headlonge to these thynges and without urgent cause, deserveth verye great blame, although his chaunce bee good. But whan a man perceiveth that he is entred so farre that hee can not drawe backe withoute burdeyn, hee muste, bothe in suche thinges he hath to doe before the combat and also in the combat be utterly resolved with hymselfe, and alwayes shewe a readinesse and a stomake. And not as some dooe, passe the matter in arguing and pointes, and having the choise of weapon, take such as have neyther poynte nor edge. And arme themselves as thoughe they shoulde goe against the shotte of a Cannon. And weening it sufficyent not to be vanquished, stande alwaies at their defence and geve ground, in so muche that they declare an extreme faint hert, and are a mocking stocke to the verye chyldren. As those two of Ancona: that a while a goe fought a combat beside Perugia, and made them to laughe that looked on.
And what were they? quoth the L. Gaspar Pallavicin.
The L. Cesar aunswered: Cousins Germains of two sisters.
Then said the Count: At the combat a man would have thought them naturall brethren, then he went forwarde. Also men occupie their weapon oftentimes in tyme of peace aboute sondrie exercises, and gentlemen are seen in open showes in the presence of people, women and Princes. Therefore will I have our Courtyer a perfecte horseman for everye saddle. And beside the skyll in horses and in whatsoever belongeth to a horseman, let him set all his delite and dylygence to wade in everye thyng a litle farther then other menne, so that he maye be knowen among al menne for one that is excellente. As it is reade of Alcibiades, that he excelled all other nations wheresoever he came, and every manne in the thynge he hadde moste skyll in.
So shall this our Courtyer passe other menne, and every manne in his owne profession. And because it is the peculyer prayse of us Italians to ryde well, to manage wyth reason, especiallye roughe horses, to runne at the rynge and at tylte, he shall bee in this amonge the beste Italyans. At tourneymente, in kepyng a passage, in fightinge at barriers, he shall be good emonge the best Frenchemen. At Joco di canne, runninge at Bull, castinge of speares and dartes, he shall be amonge the Spaniardes excellent. But principallye lette hym accompanye all his mocion wyth a certayne good judgemente and grace, yf he wyll deserve that generall favour whiche is so muche set by. There bee also manye other exercises, the whiche thoughe they depende not throughlye upon armes, yet have they a greate agreemente with them, and have in them muche manlye activitie. And of them me thinke huntynge is one of the chiefest, for it hath a certaine lykenesse with warre, and truelye a pastyme for great men, and fitte for one lyvyng in courte. And it is founde that it hath also bene muche used amonge them of olde tyme. It is meete for hym also to have the arte of swimming, to leape, to runne, to cast the stone: for beside the profite that he maie recyve of thys in the warres, it happeneth to hym manye tymes to make proofe of himselfe in such thynges, whereby he getteth hym a reputacion, especiallye among the multitude, unto whom a man muste sometyme applye hymselfe. Also it is a noble exercyse and meete for one lyvyng in courte to play at tenyse, where the disposition of the bodye, the quickenesse and nimblenesse of everye member is much perceyved, and almoste whatsoever a manne can see in all other exercises. And I recken vautyng of no lesse prayse, which for all it is peynefull and harde, maketh a man more light and quicker then any of the rest: and beside the profite, yf that lightnesse be accompanyed with a good grace, it maketh (in my judgemente) a better showe then anye of the reste. If our Courtyer then be taught these exercises more then indifferently well, I beleve he may sette a syde tumblyng, clymynge upon a corde, and suche other matters that taste somewhat of jugglers crafte, and doe lytle beseeme a Gentleman. But because we can not alwayes endure emonge these so paynefull doynges, besyde that the contynuance goeth nyghe to geve a manne hys fyll, and taketh awaye the admyracion that menne have of thynges sildome seen, we muste contynuallye alter oure lyfe with practysynge sondrye matters.
Therefore wyll I have oure Courtyer to descende manye times to more easye and pleasaunt exercyses. And to avoyde envye and to keepe companye pleasauntlye with every man, let him do whatsoever other men do: so he decline not at any time from commendable dedes, but governeth himselfe with that good judgement that will not suffer him to enter into any folye: but let him laugh, dalie, jest, and daunce, yet in such wise that he maie alwayes declare himselfe to bee wittie and discrete, and everie thynge that he doeth or speaketh, let him doe it with a grace.
Truelye, saide then the L. Cesar Gonzaga, the course of this communicacion shoulde not be stopped: but if I shoulde houlde my peace, I should not satisfie the libertie whiche I have to speake, nor the desyre that I have to understand one thing. And let me be pardoned if where I ought to speake against, I demaund a question: because I suppose I maie lawfully do it after the example of M. Bernard, who for the to great desire he hadde to be counted a welfavoured man, hath offended agaynst the lawes of our pastime in demaunding without speakinge against.
Behoulde I beseeche ye, saide then the Dutchesse, howe one errour bringeth in a great sorte. Therfore who so offendeth and geveth yll example, as M. Bernard hathe done, deserveth to be punished not onely for his owne offence, but for other mens also.
Then auswered the L. Cesar: Therefore must I (madam) escape punishmente, for that M. Bernard ought to bee punished for his owne offence and mine bothe.
Nay (quoth the Dutchesse) you oughte to have bothe double punishmente. He for his offence, and for beynge an occasion for you to commit the lyke: and you for your offence and for taking hym for a president that dyd offende.
I have not hytherto offended, madam, answered the L. Cesar. Therefore because I wyll leave the whole punishmente for M. Bernard I wyll kepe silence.
And nowe he held his peace, whan the L. Emilia aunswered: Say what pleaseth you, for (by the dutchesse leave) I perdone thys faulte, and whosoever shall offende in so small a trespace.
Upon that the Dutchesse said: I am well pleased. But take ye heede that ye deceive not your selfe, thinking peradventure to be better reported of for mercy then for justice. For in perdoning the offendour to muche, ye do wrong to him that doeth not offende. Yet wyll not I have my rigour at this time in accusing your mercye to be the cause that we shall lose the hearing of this the L. Cesars demaund.
So he, after the dutches and the L. Emilia had made a signe to him, sayde by and by: if I do well beare in mind, me thynke (Count Lewis) you have this night oftentimes repeted, that the Courtier ought to accompany all his doinges, gestures, demeaners, finally al his mocions with a grace, and this, me think, ye put for a sauce to every thing, without the which all his other properties and good condicions were litle woorth. And I beleve verely that every man would soone be perswaded therin, for by the vertue of the worde a man may saye, that whoso hath grace is gracious. But bicause you have saide sundry times that it is the gift of nature and of the heavens, and againe where it is not so perfect, that it maye with studye and diligence be made muche more, that they be borne so happye and so welthye with such a tresure (as some that we se) me thynke therin they have litle nede of anye other teacher, because the bountifull favour of heaven doeth (as it were) in spite of them, guide them higher then they covet, and maketh them not onely acceptable, but marveylous unto all the world. Therfore I do not reason of this, because the obtainynge of it of our selves lyeth not in our powre: but such as by nature have onely so much, that they be apte to beecome gratious in bestowinge labour, exercise, and diligence, I would faine knowe what art, with that learning, and by what meane they shall compasse this grace, aswel in the exercises of the bodye (wherin ye thinke it so necessarie a matter) as in all other thynges that they dooe or speake. Therfore as you have in praysinge thys qualitye to us engendred (I beleve) in al a fervent thirst to come by it, by the charge ye received of the L. Emilia, so with teaching it us, ye are bound to quenche it.
Bound I am not (quoth the Count) to teache you to have a good grace, nor anye thing els, saving only to shew you what a perfect Courtyer ought to be. Neither will I take upon me to teach you this perfeccion, sins a while a goe, I said, that the Courtier ought to have the feate of wrastlyng and vawtinge, and such other thinges, the which howe I should be able to teache them not having learned them my selfe, I am sure ye knowe it all. It sufficeth that as a good souldyer cann speake his minde to an armourer of what facion, of what temper and goodnesse he will have his harneys, and for all that cannot teache him to make it, nor to hammer or temper it: so perhaps I am able to tel you what a perfect Courtyer ought to be, but not able to teach you how ye should doe to be one. Notwithstanding to fulfill your request in what I am able, althoughe it be (in maner) in a proverbe that Grace is not to be learned, I say unto you, whoso mindeth to be gracious or to have a good grace in the exercises of the body, (presupposing first that he be not of nature unapt) ought to begin betimes, and to learne his principles of cunning men. The which thing how neccessarie a matter Philip king of Macedonie thought it, a man may gather in that his wil was that Aristotel so famous a philosopher, and perhappes the greatest that ever hath bine in the world, should be the man that should instruct Alexander his sonne in the first principles of letters. And of men whom we know nowadayes, mark how wel and with what a good grace Sir Galiazzo Sanseverino M. of the horse to the French king, doth all exercises of the body: and that because, besyde the naturall disposition of person that is in him, he hath applyed all his study to learne of cunning men, and to have continually excellent men about hym, and of every one to chuse the best of that they have skill in. For as in wrastling, in vawting, and in learning to handle sundry kinde of weapons he hath taken for his guide oure M. Peter Mount, who (as you know) is the true and only maister of al artificial force and sleight: so in ridyng, in justyng, and in every other feate, he hath alwayes had before his eyes the most perfectest that hath ben knowen to be in those professions: he therfore that wil be a good scolar, beside the practysing of good thinges, must evermore set al his diligence to bee lyke his mayster, and (if it were possible) chaunge himself into him. And when he hath had some entrey, it profiteth hym much to behould sondrye men of that profession: and governing hymselfe with that good judgement that must alwayes be hys guyde, go about to pyke out, sometyme of one and sometyme of an other, sundry matters. And even as the bee in the greene medowes fleeth alwayes aboute the grasse chousynge out flowres: so shall our Courtyer steale thys grace from them that to hys seming have it, and from ech one that percell that shal be most worthy praise. And not do, as a frende of ours, whom you al know, that thought he resembled much kyng Ferdinande the yonger of Aragon, and regarded not to resemble hym in anye other poynt but in the often lyftyng up hys head, wrying therewythall a part of hys mouth, the whych custome the king had gotten by infymitye. And manye such there are that thynke they doe much, so they resemble a great man in somewhat, and take many tymes the thynge in hym that woorst becommeth hym. But I, imagynyng with my self oftentymes how this grace commeth, leaving a part such as have it from above, fynd one rule that is most general whych in thys part (me thynk) taketh place in all thynges belongyng to man in worde or deede above all other. And that is to eschew as much as a man may, and as a sharp and dangerous rock, Affectation or curiousity and (to speak a new word) to use in every thyng a certain Reckelessness, to cover art withall, and seeme whatsoever he doth and sayeth to do it wythout pain, and (as it were) not myndyng it. And of thys do I beleve grace is muche deryved, for in rare matters and wel brought to passe every man knoweth the hardnes of them, so that a redines therin maketh great wonder. And contrarywise to use force, and (as they say) to hale by the hear, geveth a great disgrace, and maketh every thing how great so ever it be, to be litle estemed. Therfore that may be said to be a very art that appeereth not to be art, neyther ought a man to put more dilgence in any thing then in covering it: for in case it be open, it loseth credit cleane, and maketh a man litle set by. And I remember that I have reade in my dayes, that there were some excellent Oratours, which among other their cares, enforced themselves to make every man beleve that they had no sight in letters, and dissembinge their conning, made semblant their orations to be made very simply, and rather as nature and trueth lead them, then study and arte, the whiche if it had bene openly knowen, would have putte a doubte in the peoples minde for feare least he beguiled them. You may see then how howe to shewe arte and suche bent study taketh away the grace of every thing. Which of you is it that laugheth not whan our M. Peterpaul daunseth after his owne facion with such fine skippes and on tipto without moving his head, as though he were all of wood, so heedfullie, that truely a man would weene he counted his paces? What eye is so blind that perceiveth not in this disgrace of curiosity, and in many men and women here present the grace of that not regarded agylitie and slighte conveyaunce (for in the mocions of the bodye manye so terme it) with a kinde of speaking or smiling, or gesture, betokening not to passe upon it, and to minde anye other thinge more then that, to make him beleve that loketh on that he can not do amisse?
Here M. Bernard Bibiena not forbearing any longer, sayde: You may se yet that our M. Robert hath found one to prasie his maner of daunsing, though the reste of you set litle by it. For if this excellency doeth consist in Recklesness, and in shewing not to passe upon and rather to minde anye other thing then that a man is in hande withall, M. Robert hath no peere in the worlde. For that men should wel perceive that he litle mindeth it, manye tymes his garmentes fall from hys backe, and his slippers from his feete, and daunseth on still without taking uppe againe anye of both.
Then aunswered the Count: Seyng you will nedes have me speake, I wyll saye somewhat also of oure vices. Do you not marke, this that you call in M. Robert Reckelesness, is a verie curiositie? for it is well knowen that he enforceth himself with al dilgence possible to make a show not to minde it, and that is to minde it to much. And bicause he passeth certain limites of a meane, that Reckelesness of his is curious, and not comly, and is a thing that commeth cleane contrarye to passe from the dryfte, (that is to wit) to cover arte. Therfore I judge it a no lesse vyce of curiositye to be in Reckelesness (which in it selfe is prayse worthye) in lettynge a mans clothes fal of his backe, then in Preciseness (whiche likewise of it self is praise worthy) to carie a mans head so like a malthorse for feare of ruffling his hear, or to keepe in the bottom of his cappe a looking glasse, and a comb in his sleeve, and to have alwayes at his heeles up and down the streetes a page with a spunge and a brushe: for this maner of Preciseness and Reckelesness are to much in the extremitie, which is alwaies a vice and contrarie to that pure and amiable simplicitie, which is so acceptable to mens mindes. Marke what an yll grace a man at armes hath, when he enforceth himselfe to goe so bolt upright setled 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 fote. How much more do we take pleaser in a gentilman that is a man at armes, and how much more worthy praise is he if he be modest, of few words, and no bragger, then an other that alwayes craketh of himself, and blaspheming with a bravery seemeth to threaten the worlde. And this is nothing els but a curiositie to seeme to be a roister. The lyke happeneth in all exercises, yea in everye thinge in the worlde that a man can doe or speak.
Then said the L. Julian: This in like maner is verified in musicke: where it is a verye greate vice to make two perfecte cordes, the one after the other, so that the verye sence of our hearing abhorreth it, and often times deliteth in a seconde or in a seven, which in it selfe is an unpleasaunt discord and not tollerable: and this proceadeth because the continuance in the perfit tunes engendreth urksomenesse and betokeneth a to curious harmonye the whyche in mynglyng therwythall the unperfect is avoyded wyth makynge (as it were) a comparason, whereby oure eares stande to listen and gredely attend and tast the perfecte, and are otherwhyle delyted wyth the disagement of the seconde or seven, as it were with a thing lytle regarded.
Behould ye then, answered the Count, that curiosnesse hurteth in thys as well as in other thynges. They say also that it hath bene a proverbe emonge some most excellent peincters of old time, that To muche diligence is hurtfull, and the Apelles found fault with Protogenes because he coulde not keepe his handes from the table.
Then sayd the L. Cesar: The very same fault (me think) is in our Frier Seraphin that he cannot kepe his handes from the table, especially as long as there is any meat styrryng.
The Count laughed and went forward: Apelles meaning was, that Protogenes knew not when it was well, whych was nothyng els but to reprehend hys curyousnesse in hys workes. Thys vertue therfore contrarye to curiosity whych we for thys tyme terme Reckelesness, besyde that it is the true fountain from the whych all grace spryngeth, it bryngeth wyth it also an other ornamente, whych accompanyinge anye deede that a man doeth, how lytle so ever it be, doeth not onely by and by open the knowledge of hym that doth it, but also many times maketh it to be estemed much more in effect then it is, because it imprinteth the myndes of the lookers on an opinyon, that whoso can so sleyghtly do well, hath a great deale more knowledge then indeede he hath: and if he wyll applye hys study and dilygence to that he doeth, he myght do it much better. And to repete even the verye same examples, marke a man that taketh weapon in hande: yf goyng about to cast a darte, or houldyng in hys hand a sworde or any other waster, he setleth hym self lightsomely (not thinking upon it) in a ready aptnesse wyth such activity, that a man would seeme hys bodye and all his members were naturally setled in that disposition and without any payne, though he doeth nothing els, yet doeth he declare hymself unto everye man to be most perfect in that exercise. Lykewyse in daunsinge, one measure, one mocion of a bodye that hath a good grace, not being forced, doeth by and by declare the knowledge of him that daunseth. A musitien, yf in singing he roule out but a playne note endinge in a dooble relise wyth a sweete tune, so easily that a man would judge he did it at aventure, in that point alone he doeth men to understand that his knowledge is far greater then it is indeede. Oftentymes also in peinctinge, one lyne not studyed upon, one draught with the pensel sleightly drawen, 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 wherof every man afterwarde contendeth accordyng to his judgement. The like happeneth also, in a maner, about every other thing. Therfore shall our Courtyer be esteemed excellent, and in everye thyng he shall have a good grace, and especially in speaking, if he avoide curiositye: into which errour many men runne, and some time more then other, certain of our Lumbardes, which after a yeeres travaile abrode, come home and begin by and by to speake the Romayne tunge, somtime the Spanish tunge, or the Frenche, and God wotteth howe. And all this proceadeth of an over great desier to show much knowledge: and in this wise a man applyeth hys studye and diligence to gett a most odyous vice. And truelye it were no small travayle for me, if I should use in this communycatyon of oures, those auncient Tuscane wordes, that are not in use among the Tuscanes nowe a dayes, and beesyde that, I beleeve every manne would laughe at me.
Then spake Syr Frederick: In deede reasoning together as wee nowe dooe, peradventure it were not well done to use those auntient Tuscane woordes: for (as you say) they would be a lothsomnesse both to the speaker and to the hearer, and of manye they should not be understoode without muche a doe. But he that shoulde write, I would thinke he committed an errour in not using them: bicause they gave a great grace and aucthoritye unto writinges, and of them is compact a tonge more grave and more full of majestie, then of the newe.
I knowe not, aunswered the Count, what grace and aucthority those wordes can geve unto writinges that ought to be eschewed, not only in the maner of speach that we now use (which you your self confesse) but also in any other maner that can be imagined.
For if anye man, of howe good a judgement so ever he were, had to make an oration of grave matters in the verye Counsell chamber of Florence which is the head of Tuscane: or els to common privately with a person of estimacion in that city about waightye affaires: or also with the familiarst frend he hath about pleasaunt matters: or with women or gentilmen about matters of love, either in jesting or daliyng, banketting, gaming, or where ever els: or in any time or place, or purpose, I am assured he would flee the using of those auntient Tuscane wordes. And in usyng them, beside that he should be a laughing stock, he should bringe no small lothesomenesse to hym that heard them. Therefore me thinke it a straunge matter to use those wordes for good in writing, that are to be eschewed for naughtie in everie maner of speache: and to have that whiche is never proper in speache, to be the proprest way a man can use in writing, forsomuch as (in mine opinion) wrytyng is nothinge elles, but a maner of speache, that remaineth stil after a man hath spoken, or (as it were) an Image, or rather the life of the woordes. And therfore in speache, whiche as soone as the soune is pronounced vanisheth a way, peradventure somthinges are more to be borne withall, then in writinge. Because writinge keepeth the woordes in store, and referreth them to the judgemente of the reader, and geveth tyme to examyne them depely. And therfore reason willeth that greater diligence should be had therein to make it more trimme and better corrected: yet not so, that the written wordes should be unlike the spoken, but in writing to chuse oute the fayrest and prorest of significacion that be used in speaking. And if that should be lawful in writing, which is not lawfull in speaking, there should arise an inconvenience of it (in my judgement) very great: namely, that a man myght use a greater libertie in the thinge, where he ought to use most diligence, and the labour he bestoweth in writing, in stede of furtherance should hinder him. Therfore it is certain, whatsoever is allowed in writing, is also allowed in speaking: and that speache is moste beautifull that is like unto beautifull writinges. And I judge it much more behoufful to be understoode in writing then in speaking, because they that write are not alwaies presente with them that rede, as they that speake with them that speake. Therfore would I commende him, that beside the eschewing of many auncient Tuskane woordes, would applye himself also to use bothe in writing and speakyng, suche as now a daies are in use in Tuscane and in other partes of Italy, and that have some grace in the pronunciation. And (in my minde) whoso foloweth any other trade is not assured not to runne into that curiositie so muche blamed, whiche we have spoken of before.
Then spake Sir Frederick: I cannot denye you, Count Lewis, that writinge is not a maner of speaking. But this I saie, if the wordes that are spoken have any darkenesse in them, that communicacion perceth not the minde of him that heareth: and passing with out being understoode, wexeth vaine and to no purpose: the whiche dothe not happen in writyng, for if the woordes that the writer useth bring with them a litle (I will not saie diffycultie) but covered subtilty, and not so open, as suche as be ordinarily spoken, they geve a certain greater aucthoritye to writing, and make the reader more hedefull to pause at it, and to ponder it better, and he taketh a delyte in the wittinesse and learning of him that writeth, and with a good judgement, after some paines takyng, he tasteth the pleaser that consisteth in harde thinges. And if the ygnoraunce of him that readeth bee suche, that he cannot compasse that difficultie, there is no blame in the writer, neither ought a man for all that to thinke that tunge not to bee faire. Therefore in writing, I houlde opinion it is necessarie for a man to use the Tuscane wordes, and only such as have bene used among the auncient Tuskans: for it is a great testimoniall and approved by tyme, that they bee good and of pithie signification in that thei be applyed to. And beside this they have that grace and majesty that antiquitie geveth not only to woordes, but unto buildinges, ymages, peinctinges, and to everye thyng that is of force to preserve it. And many times with this onely brightnes and dignitie they make the fourme of sentences very fair, and through the vertue and elegancie thereof, every matter howe base so ever it be, maie be so decked oute, that it maie deserve verye great commendacion. But this youre custome, that you make so muche a doe of, appeareth unto me very daungerous, and many times it maie be naught. And if anye vice of speache be taken up of many ignorant persones, me thinke for all that it oughte not to be receyved for a rule, nor folowed of other. Besides this, customs be manye and divers, and ye have not a notable Citye in Italy that hath not a divers maner of speache from all the rest. Therefore if ye take not the paines to declare is the best, a manne maye as well geve hym selfe to the Bergamask tunge, as to the Florentine, and to folowe youre advyse it were no erroure at all. Me semeth then who so wyll be out of doubte and well assured, it is requisite for him to determyne with hym selfe to folowe one, that by al mens accorde is judged good, and to take him for a guyde alwaies and for a shielde againste suche as wyll goe about to fynde faulte, and that I thinke oughte to bee none other, (I meane in the vulgar tunge) but Petrarca and Boccaccio: and who so swarveth from these two, goeth at all aventure, as he that walketh in the darke without lyght, and therefore many times strayeth from the right waye. But wee are so hardye nowadayes, that wee disdeigne to do as other good menne of auncient tyme have done: that is to saye, to take dylygente heede to folowinge, without the whiche I judge no man canne wryte well. And me thinke Virgill declarethe a greate triall of this, whoo for all that with his so devine a witte and judgemente he tooke all hope from his posteritye for anye to folowe him at anye tyme, yet would he folow Homer.
Then the L. Gasper Pallavicin: This disputacion (quoth he) of writinge in verye deede is woorthe the hearinge: yet were it more to oure purpose, if you woulde teache in what sorte the Courtier ought to speake, for me thinke he hath more neede of that, and he serveth his tourne oftner with speakyng then with wrytinge.
The L. Julian aunswered: There is no doubt, but so excellent and so perfect a Courtier hath nede to understand both the one and the other, and without these two qualyties paraventure all the rest should not be much woorthye prayse: therefore if the Count will fulfill hys charge, he shall teache the Courtier not onelye to speake but also to write well.
Then said the Count: I will not (my Lorde) undertake this enterprise, for it shoulde be a great folye for me to teache an other that I understand not my self. And thoughe I were skillful in it, yet can I not see howe I shoulde thinke to do the thing in so fewe woordes, which greate Clearkes have scase done wyth such great study and diligince, unto whose writings I would remit out Courtyer, if it were so that I wer bounde to teache him to write and to speake.
The L. Cesar then said: The L. Julian meaneth the speaking and writing of the vulgar tunge, and not Latin, therfore those writinges of great Clearkes are not for our purpose. But you muste shewe us in this behalfe as muche as you knowe, as for the reste, ye shalbe held excused.
I have already sayde, aunswered the Count. But in reasoning upon the Tuskane tunge, perhappes it were rather the L. Julians part, then any mans els to geve judgement in it.
The L. Julian saide: I cannot, nor of reason ought to speake against him that saith the Tuskane tunge is fairer then al the rest.
Trueth it is, there are many wordes in Petrarca and Boccaccio worne out of use now a daies: and suche would I never use neither in speakyng nor in writyng, and peradventure they themselves if thei were nowe alive would use them no more.
Then spake Sir Frederick: No doubt but they would use them still. And you Lordes of Tuscane ought to renue your tunge, and not to suffer it decaye, as you do, for a man may saie now, that there is lesse knowledge in Florence, then in manye other places of Italy.
Then aunswered M. Bernard: Those woordes that are no more in use in Florence, doe styl continue among the men of the countrey, and are refused of the gentlemen for woordes corrupt and decayed by antiquitie.
Then the Dutchesse: Let us not swarve (quoth she) from our firste purpose, but lette us make Count Lewis teache the Courtyer to speake and to write well, be it Tuscane or what ever els.
The Count aunswered: I have alreadye spoken (madam) what I knowe. And I suppose the verye same rules that teache the one, maye also serve to teache the other. But sins ye commaunde me: I will make aunswere unto Syr Frederick what commeth in my head, for I am of a contrary opinion to him. And paraventure I shal be drieven to answere somewhat more darkely then will be allowed, but it shall be as muche as I am