;'i
THE TUDOR
TRANSLATIONS
EDITED BY
W. E. HENLEY
XXIII
/.
' ^ (THE BOOK OF
THE COURTIER
FROM THE ITALIAN OF COUNT
BALDASSARE CASTIGLIONE :
DONE INTO ENGLISH BY
SIR THOMAS HOBY
ANNO 1561
With an Introduction by
WALTER RALEIGH
LONDON
Published by DAVID NUTT
IN THE STRAND
1900
\
I
>a»«-ia8J»w»o»j kT-
1604-
Edinburgh : T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty
TO
GEORGE WYNDHAM
SOLDIER, COURTIER, SCHOLAR
IN A YEAR OF HIGH EMOTION
AND THE ACCOMPLISHING OF
INIMAGINABI.E DESTINIES
THIS TREATISE OF AMENITY IN DEED
THIS OLD-FACED
YET EVER LUSTROUS MIRROR
OF THE
COMPLETE GENTLEMAN
INTRODUCTION
HE Renaissance is the name of a European The
movement so gradual, broad, manifold, Renaissance
and subtle, that any attempt to reduce
it to a single expression is predestined
to failure. No formula less vague and
magniloquent than Michelet's — 'the dis-
' covery by man of himself and of the
' world ** — can be stretched to cover the diverse aspects of that
great era of change. On all sides there was a loosening of
bonds, and a widening of horizons, ' deliverance to the cap-
tives, and recovering of sight to the blind.' The extension
of man's territorial domain, and of his imaginative pro-
spect, by the discovery of the New World, the shattering of
his most familiar conceptions by the brilliant conjectures
of Copernicus, are two signal achievements which may
perhaps be taken as emblematic of all the rest. By these
the medijEval scheme of the phygijgal universe, and with it
the mediaeval theory of divinity and politics, to which it
was so delicately and symmetrically fitted, were to be
finally overthrown. At the same time the rediscovery and
reconstruction of classical antiquity by the labours of
scholars gave to imagination a new focus, and to humanity
a new model. St. Augustine's dream of a City of God
waxed pale and faint, like a student's midnight taper, when
the sun rose on those other cities, wherein were harboured
vii
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- the beauty and the strength of ancient Greece and Rome.
DUCTION In the zest of the new interests and new possibilities that
were rising into view, the human kind shook off for a while
its old preoccupation with the idea of death, and, unde-
terred by plague and famine, took for motto_^J[t^s^^ood
for us to be here.'' The old civilTsafion was passing away,
and tojthe^ excited hopesj^f^^j^ounger^eneration all things
seemed possible. It was the heyday of the adventurer, the
speculator, the promulgator of new systems, the setter-up of
new models. The feudal order, with its elaborated rigid
tiers and hierarchies, culminating in Emperor and Pope,
was crumbling to destruction ; slowly and unperceived,
strong separate nations were being built up out of its ruins.
In the meantime there was room for a new conception of
More the State, such as was set forth by Sir Thomas More in his
Utopia ; for a new conception of the position of a Ruler,
Machiavel such as was set forth by Machiavel in his Prince ; for a new
conception of the duties and opportunities of the indivi-
dual in society, such as was set forth by Count Baldassare
Castiglione Castiglione in his Book of the Courtier.^
No single book can serve as a guide to the Renaissance, or
as an index to all that is embraced by ' the comprehensive
energy of that significant appellation.** But if one, rather
than another, is to be taken for an abstract or epitome of the
chief moral and social ideas of the age, that one must be The
; ' The Courtier, though not printed till 1528, was completed by the author,
j as shall be seen hereafter, in 15 16, the year of the publication of More's
Utopia and Ariosto's Orlando Furioso. The First Edition of The Prince did
not appear till 1532, after the death of Machiavel, but the book was written
in 1 513. To the same time belongs another work of first importance in the
history of scholarship and letters : the version of the Greek Testament by
Erasmus.
viii
THE COURTIER
CoujiTiER. It is far indeed from being the greatest book of its * INTRO-
time ; it is hardly among the greatest. But it is in many ways t)UCTION
the most representative. That dominant note^of the Renais- The Book
sance, the individualism which subordinated all institutions ^^*^^
to the free development of human faculty, finds full expres-
sion in The Courtyer — nowhere with a stronger, simpler, and
less conscious emphasis than in the high exordium : ' Let
' us therfore at length settle oure selves to begin that is oure
' purpose and drifte, and (if it be possible) let us facion such
' a Courtier, as the Prince that shalbe worthye to have him
' in his servyce, although hys state be but small, maye not-
' wythstandynge be called a mightye Lorde."" The almost
idolatrous reverence for classical precedent, for the deeds and Classical
words of the noble Grecians and Romans, which pervades Precedent
Renaissance literature, has left its mark on every page of The
Courtier, and has moreover, by a happy inspiration, tjeerr
allowed to determine the very form in which the book is cast.
Many of the matters discussed by the writers of his time
in separate treatises are dealt with by Castiglione in those
interwoven digressions which are permitted to break the
monotony of his continued theme. Thus, for instance, the
discourse on jests and jesting, introduced into the second
book, compares creditably enough with the FaceticB of
Poggio the Florentine, Secretary of the Apostolic See, Poggio
or with the Detti e Fatti, piacevoli e gravi, di diversi
Principi, Filosoji e Cort2gian% compiled and 'reduced to
morality ' by the sober Guicciardini, or with any other in Guicciardini
the estimable and prolific family of Renaissance jest-books.
The discussion in the first book on the true standards of
vernacular literature, the use of archaisms, and the relation
between writing and speech, is the author's contribution to
a question which had been broached by Dante in his treatise Dante
De Vidgari Floquentia, and which was hotly debated during
the sixteenth century, on the one side and the other, by
b ix
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- writers as considerable as Trissino, Machiavel, and Bembo.^
DUCTION By his own age and the next, Castiglione rather than Dante
was accepted as the most distinguished champion, against
the Tuscan purists, of a courtly speech common to all Italy .^
The passionate monologue, again, in praise of Platonic
love, which is assigned by the author to Bembo in the fourth
book of The Courtier, finds its precedent and parallel in
the works wherein Ficino and Pico treated the same subject
at large. And the lighter pieces of dialectic, the debates,
dramatically interrupted, on the comparative worthiness of
the sexes and of the fine arts, deal with topics which con-
stantly exercised the wit and the imagination of Renaissance
society and Renaissance literature. Take it for all in all,
the Book of the Courtier reflects as in a mirror the age
that gave it birth.
The Scholar- But rather than in these diversions and digressions
Gentleman Castiglione's title to memory is to be found in his treat-
ment of his main theme, his admirable presentment of an
ideal perhaps the most valuable and potent of those be-
queathed to us by the Renaissance. The idea of the
' scholar-gentleman ' is nowhere set forth with more likeli-
hood and consistency of detail, nowhere analysed with a
finer skill, than in The Courtier. The complete gentleman
of Castiglione's portraying differs from the pedantic scholars
of the monasteries in that he is to be skilled in the use of
; arms, a master of all athletic crafts, well versed in affairs, a
joyous companion withal, and able to hold his own in the
gallant society of a court. His principal profession is still
i chivalry. To see the world of men and action chiefly
( through the spectacles of books may be excusable in a
* See Trissino, // Castellano (1529) ; Machiavelli, Dialogo Sulla Lingua;
Bembo, Prose (1525).
- Claudio Tolomei in his dialogue, // Cesano (1554), introduces Castiglioue
as the acknowledged protagonist for the lingua cortigiana.
X
{
THE COURTIER
trencher-chaplain, or in an ascetic whose life is dedicated to IinTRO-
contemplation; in a gentleman it is ignoble. The sentiment AUCTION
of Castiglione's age upon this point is very well expressed
by his contemporary Guevara in one of his familiar letters : —
* When amongst Knights or Gentlemen talke is of armes, a
' Gentleman ought to have great shame to say, that he read
* it, but rather that he saw it. For it is very convenient
* for the Philosopher to recount what hee hath read, but
' the Knight or Gentleman it becommes to speake of things
' that hee hath done." ^ On the other hand, the gentleman of A New
the Renaissance differs from the medieval knight in that he <^'onceptiou
is to be not only a Avarrior and a councillor, but also a lover
and follower of learning and an adept in the fine arts.
' Besyde goodnesse,'' says our author, ' the true and princi-
' pall ornament of the mynde in everye manne (I beleave)
' are letters."* That the ideal was new is evidenced by the
sentence that follows : — ' The Frenchmen know onelye the
' noblenesse of armes, and passe for nothing beside : so that
' they do not onelye not sett by letters, but they rather
' abhorre them, and all learned men they count verie rascalles,
' and they thinke it a great vilany when any one of them is
' called a clarke.' ^ But the new conception gained the day,
and the figure of a gentleman, as moulded and furnished?
forth by Castiglione, speedily became a model for all Europe,
the North as well as the South. In this ' Mirror of Courtesy '
SitPhilip Sidney might have beheld his own likeness. The
same pattern was in Milton's mind when he defined the true
^ The Familiar Epistles of Sir Antony of Guevara, Bishop of Motidonedo,
Preacher and Chronicler to Charles the Fifth. Translated by Edward
Hellowes (1574), p. 69.
" In the lettered circles of Renaissance Italy, on the other hand, the
tendency was rather to depreciate the virtues fostered by feudalism. Petrarch
ridicules tourneys, and Sacchetti speaks of chivalrj' as fitted only for those
who are unable to follow the arts. But Castiglione, who had been a captain
of horse, holds for chivalry. He will not pluck off the spurs from a soldier.
xi
The Institu-
tion of a
Gentleman
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- ends of education. ' I call therefore a complete and generous
DUCTION ' education that which fits a man to perform justly, skilfully,
' and magnanimously all the offices, both private and public,
' of peace and war.' ^ It is a significant point that this defini-
tion occurs in a treatise on education. One of the chief
problems of the age was how to educate man for a society
where a career was open to the talents. Even Spenser''s
Faerie Queene deals with this problem ; and if any one
choose to call it a tractate on education, the author, at
least, would never have demurred. We value the Eliza-
bethans for their art ; they prided themselves on their
morality. The aim of his book, said Spenser, was the Insti-
tution of a Gentleman : — ' to fashion a gentleman or noble
person in vertuous and gentle discipline ' — mainly by incul-
cating on him the twelve private moral virtues of Aristotle,
as exemplified in the histories of twelve knights. Earlier
than Spenser, Sir Thomas Elyot, in The Boke named The
Governour (1531), and Roger Ascham in The Scholemaster
(1570), had dealt with the same question in a like temper.
But the most engaging and lively exposition of the new
ideal (for the Faerie Queene, when all is said, remains a
poem) is to be found in the Book of the Courtier. It is the
book of a lifetime ; amid all the press of affairs that engaged
The Author Castiglione in his many capacities there is none that did
of the Book j^q|. jjgjp ^Q qualify him for his task. The record of his life
has a double interest ; it shows how the book grew up and
shaped itself from the matter of his experience and reading,
and it also shows (a thing not uncommon in the history of
artists) how the creature of his imagining assumed control
of his ambitions and purposes in the practical conduct of
life. He was accused in his own time of identifying himself
with his model. ' Some again say that my meaning was to
' facion my self, perswading my self that all suche qualities as
^ Of Education. Milton's Prose Works, Bohn's edition, iii. p. 467.
xii
THE COURTIER
' I appoint to the Courtier are in me.' He does not altogether INTRO-
refuse the imputation. ' Unto these men I will not cleane DUCTION
' deny that I have attempted all that my mynde 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 Upon himself
' 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.' ^ His biography is a curious comment on the
opinions of those French critics- who have found in his
book only a manual of finikin etiquette. Where he failed,
his good faith and lofty standards were to blame ; in his
allegiance to the high canons of behaviour which he had
laid down for his Courtier, he^ omitted to take account of
human duplicity and human baseness. An honourable
politician cannot meet these with their own weapons, but
he should be acquainted with their existence; and to see
them, one must stoop. ■ —
Baldassare Castiglione^ was born on December the 6th,
^ The Epistle of the Author, p. 23.
2 Quinet, for instance, in his Revolittions d'ltalie. The view is expressed
in most extravagant fashion by M. Philarete Chasles in his article ' Du Romaui
dans I'Europe Moderne ' [Revue des Deux Mondes, Mai 1842): — ' II detruit les
' asperites, et les diversites, les nuances et les passions humaines ; il ne
' s'occupe qu'a raffiner la morale, qui s'evapore en politesse. ' It is impossible
to avoid the conclusion that M. Chasles was avenging the slight put upon
the culture of France by the remarks cited above, and allowing a sentiment
of nationahty to attempt the task of criticism.
^ Apart from the barren Elogia of Paolo Giovio and other monumental
stone-masons, no serious critical life of Castiglione was attempted until Ber-
nardino Marliani produced one (in 1584), which is prefixed to the Edition of
The Courtier published at Padua in 1733. There followed the Life written
by the Abate Serassi as preface to an Edition of Castiglione's poetical works
(Rome, 1760). The Lettere Familiarizxi^ Lettere di Negozii (2 vols., Padua,
1769-71, edited by Serassi) are a most valuable source of information.
Martinati (Notizie Storico-Biographiche intortio al Conte Baid. Castiglione,
Firenze, 1S90) is the best recent biographer ; I desire to record my obligation
xiii
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- 1478, at Casatico, in Mantuan territory. He came of a
DUCTION family that had already attained to consideration and
His Early honour in Church and State. His father, Cristoforo Casti-
^ ® glione, was a captain of armed troops in the service of the
Marquis of Mantua. His mother, Luigia, was of the house
of Gonzaga, and so related not only to the Marquis of
Mantua, but also to that Duchess of Urbino whose piety
and virtue are so eloquently recorded in the Book of the
Courtier. From this mother, who was the bosom friend of
Isabella d"'Este, and was often consulted by her in matters
of state, Castiglione received his earliest education at home.
Thence he was sent to Milan, where several of the Casti-
glioni, belonging to another branch of the family, held posts
of honour under Duke Ludovico Sforza. He attended the
best masters, among them Demetrius Chalchondylas and
Filippo Beroaldo. His studies were no doubt wide enough
in their range : besides Greek and Latin, he acquired at
least a dilettante knowledge in music, painting, and sculp-
ture, architecture and archaeology. But the business of his
life was to be war and diplomacy, and he can hardly have
reached a professional skill in all the arts that are claimed
for him.
With the triumpliant entry of Louis xii. into Milan in
October 1499, witnessed by Castiglione and described by
him in a letter to a friend, this period of his life comes
His Initiation to a close. Thenceforth he was to be tossed on that sea
into Busmess ^f troubled politics, of ever-shifting leagues and counter-
leagues between the Pope, the Emperor, the French King,
to him, but the interest of his work is almost exclusively political. Separate
studies on the man and the book have been published by Alfred Reumont (in
Vierteljahrsschrift fih- Kiiltur und Literal ur der Renaissance, Jahrgang I,
Heft 3), and by Prof. Ercole Bottari (in Annali della R. Sciiola Normale di
Pisa, libro iii.). The general histories of Tiraboschi, Ginguene, and Gaspary
all treat Castiglione with some detail.
xiv
THE COURTIER
Venice, Florence, and the smaller states of Italy, which INTRO-
neither rested nor permitted those to rest who navigated DUCT I ON
it for necessity or profit. He first entered the service of
Francesco Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua, Captain-General
of the French forces in Naples, and was in action at
Garigliano. On the return of the forces northward he ./
received permission to stay in Rome for a season, and it 1
was there that he first made acquaintance with Guidobaldo, |
Duke of Urbino. At this time both Pope Julius ii. and
Venice coveted the possession of Romagna, and the frontier
situation of Urbino made Guidobaldo a desirable ally for
either party. It has been suggested that Castiglione, in
transferring his service from the Marquis of Mantua to the I
Duke of Urbino, acted at the instigation of the Pope, and
was prepared to represent Papal interests at the Court of
his new master. Another less conjectural version has it
that he fell in liking with Guidobaldo at first sight, and
finding Cesare Gonzaga, his friend and cousin, in the retinue
of the Duke, volunteered to enter the same service, and
was accepted. Permission was sought from the Marquis,
who granted it in a letter brief, courteous, and, in regard
to Castiglione, studiously contemptuous.^ It was manv
a year before the truant was forgiven for his changed
allegiance.
^ In the meantime he purchased for himself the few golden His Stay at
^' years of his life. The Palace of Urbino, built in its ' hard ^^^ p^^^^ ^^
and sharp situation ' on the summit of a rock, became for
him, from the time that he entered it in September 1504 to
the death of Duke Guidobaldo in April 1508, a kind of
island of the blest, ' the verye mansion place of Myrth and
^ It is printed by Martinati, and runs thus : — ' 111™° Sig. Duca. Quando a
Baldassare de Castione piacera il venire a servire V. Sig. per la parte
nostra siamo molto contenti e se in altro la possemo compiacere siamo piii
che mai disposti. Gonzaga, 9 junis 1504. Francesco Gonzaga.'
XV
INTRO-
DUCTION
His Offices
and Trusts
His Poetry
The Life of
the Court
THE BOOK OF
Joye,' glorified to the end of his life in the light of imagina-
tion and memorv. Here he was graciously received by the
Duchess, whose idolater he forthwith became, and intro-
duced to those noble personages, knights and gentlemen,
poets, musicians, and ' all kind of men of skill," who haunted
or visited the Court. He was speedily advanced to offices
of high trust. We hear little of military service during
these years, much of missions to other Courts : to Ferrara,
where Duke Hercules entertained him hospitably, to Mantua,
where the Marquis, mindful of the past, attempted to seize
him, and whence, being forewarned, he beat a hasty retreat.
Twice he was intrusted with more important embassies : the
first, in the autumn of 1506, to the Court at London, where
he received from King Henry vii. for his master the Order
of the Garter, and for himself a chain or carcanet of price ;
and again, in the following year, to King Louis xii. at
Milan — which embassy brought the ruler of Urbino into
bad odour with Pope Julius. His leisure time he spent
at Urbino, wooing the Muse in collaboration with Cesare
Gonzaga, or devising entertainments for the Court. To
these years belong the most of his poetical effusions in
Latin and Italian. His eclogue, Tirsi, like Bibbiena"'s much
more noteworthy comedy, Calandria, was written for the
pastime of that festive and lettered society.
Any historical description of the Court of Urbino has
been rendered vain by Castiglione's enduring portrait of
it. No doubt but he heightened the reality : he was an
artist, not an annalist, and sought to embody the most
brilliant qualities of Renaissance Court life in one convinc-
ing model. But he was sincere in his opinion that the Court
of Urbino excelled all other Italian courts ; he was prob-
ably also right. The more famous assembly that was
brought together by Lorenzo the Magnificent included in
its number greater names : Pulci, Ficino, Pico, Poliziano.
xvi
THE COURTIER
The individual discourses of these men were probably INTRO-
more weighty than any pronounced at Urbino. But the DUCTION
atmosphere of social ease, the free wit, and ' sweet conver-
sation that is occasioned of an amiable and loving company'
miffht be better tasted at Urbino than in a society consist-
ino- mainly of savants. Many of the smaller Italian Courts
were given over to that ' lightness and vanity,' foppery and
dissipation, which is censured by Castiglione in his Fourth
Book, The later Court of Leo x. at Rome was no pattern
of a well-knit society. It was a shrewd remark of Dr.
Johnson's that manners are best learned at a small Court : —
' You are admitted with great facility to the prince's com-
' pany, and yet must treat him with much respect. , . . The
' best book that ever was written upon good breeding, //
' Co7-tegiano, by Castiglione, grew up at the little Court of ^
' Urbino, and you should read it.'^ In short, the a-ctnal ^ (^
Court of Urbino was singularly free from the pedantry y
of a literary society, and from the venality and intrigue [
of a market for talent. The credit for this is due in great
measure to Federigo, the first Duke, the true founder of Duke
the greatness of Urbino. He had reigned, as Count and ^ ^^^^^
Duke, for nearly forty years (1444-1482), had built the
palace, collected therein a priceless library, bestowed his
patronage freely on artists and men of letters, and spent
his considerable revenues largely on the furtherance of
scholarship and education. His early tutor, Vittorino da
Feltre, had trained him at Mantua under a system of
education well adapted to foster the harmony of faculties
^ Boswell, ed. Birkbeck Hill, v. 270. But Johnson does scant justice to
the book when he says that its object is ' to teach the minuter decencies and
' inferiour duties, to regulate the practice of daily conversation, to correct
' those depravities which are rather ridiculous than criminal, and remove
' those grievances which, if they produce no lasting calamities, impress
' hourly vexation.' {Works, vii. 42S.) This is true of Delia Casa's Galaieo,
but not of Castighone's Courtier.
c xvii
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- which Castiglione requires in his Courtier.^ Something
DUCTION also of the character of the Court was impressed upon it
by the gravity and authority of the Duchess, Elizabeth
Elizabeth Gonzaga, whose presence checked wrangling, tempered
Iroiizaga laughter, and set bounds to witty licence. If the conver-
sations recorded in Boccaccio, or Bandello (some of whose
novels were first told, he says, in just such another com-
pany), or in the Heptameron of Margaret of Navarre, be
compared to those of The Courtier, the seriousness and
moral bias of the Court of Urbino will be very easily felt.
Castiglione dwells repeatedly on the love and reverence
inspired in her lieges by the Duchess ; and when, in his
Prefatory Epistle, he records her death, it is with a sudden
movement of sorrow that almost breaks into a cry.
Nuvillaria When Guidobaldo died, and Francesco Maria della
Rovere, his nephew and adopted son, succeeded, Castiglione
continued in the service of the Duchy. That same year
the League of Cambray was formed against the power of
Venice, the new Duke was Captain-General of the Papal
army, and Castiglione, with his usual command of fifty
men, was soon busy in the assault and capture of border
^ See W. H. Woodward, Vittorino da Feltre and other humanist educators,
CaiTibridge, 1897. The history of Urbino is fully narrated by James
Dennistoun, in \i\% Memoirs of the Dukes of Urbino, 3 vols., London, 1851
— a useful, painstaking, diiifuse, old-gentlemanly work. His criticism of
Castiglione is worthless. He finds the Duchess and the Lady Emilia Pia
to be lacking in true delicacy, and describes the conversations at which they
assist as 'prurient twaddle.' Here is the book: let the discerning reader
judge. The influence of The Courtier he thinks was ' fraught with evil ' : —
' In the pages of that essay were first embodied precepts of tact, lessons of
' adulation, all repugnant to the stern manners and wholesome independence
* of antecedent generations.' This of a book which won praise for its moral
teaching from so grim a censor as Roger Ascham. It would be interesting
to learn where, in Renaissance Italy, the stern manners and wholesome
independence corruptible by The Courtier were to be found. But there
are no lengths to which the sleepy habit of irrelevant edification will not
carry its victims.
xviii
THE COURTIER
fortresses. The Venetians succeeded in holding Padua, and INTRO-
the Pope, changing his tactics, suddenly threw himself into DUCTION
opposition to the French, Castiglione was present at the
complete rout of the Papal troops when the French took
Bologna in 1511, Thereafter Francesco Maria was deprived
by the Pope, and accused of treason by the Cardinal
Alidosio, whom he straightway killed with his own hand,
Castiglione accompanied him on his penitential journey to
Rome to seek pardon from the Pope, The Duke was
re-established in his dukedom ; and Avhen in the following
year he had vindicated his good faith by some military
successes against the French in Romagna, he was presented
with the fief of Pesaro, Castiglione, in his turn, as reward
for his services, received from the Duke the fortress of
Nuvillaria, which he describes in an exultant letter to his
mother, written in the end 'of January 1513. ' May God
' of his grace,' he concludes, ' permit me to enjoy it with
' content,'
His enjoyment was to be brief. In February Julius ii. His Stay in
died, and Castiglione, in the suite of his master, was present ^on^e
in Rome at the election of Leo. x. The anxiety of Leo to
provide for the scions of the house of Medici was a source
of constant disquiet to other families ; as a measure of pre-
caution, Castiglione was left to represent the Duke at the
Papal Court. It was during this prolonged residence in
Rome that he formed or renewed friendships with Rafael, His Friend-
Michael Angelo, Bembo, Sadolcto, Giulio Romano, and ^"^i*^
others oi' the artists and meii of letters at the Court of Leo.
For a time he held the position successfully, and kept the
Papal greed at bay. He was even formally invested by
Leo as Count of Nuvillaria, in a document which declares
his vigils and toils to be deserving of a richer reward. But
in March 1516 Giuliano dei Medici (the ' Lord Julian ' of
The Courtyer, brother to the Pope, and a good friend to the
xix
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- house of Urbino) died, and Leo, free now from the last
DUCTION restraint, prepared to seize upon the Duchy for his nephew
Lorenzo. The neutrality of Franc^ois i. was ah-eady bespoken,
the old accusations of treason and murder were raked up
again, Francesco Maria was summoned to Rome, and when
he failed to appear, in spite of all the efforts of Castiglione
and the widowed Duchess, who attended to plead his cause,
he was excommunicated and deprived. The Papal troops
took possession of Urbino, the Duke fled to Mantua, and
the ambassador lost his estate of Nuvillaria with that ' fair
prospect over sea and land ' on which his eyes had seldom
rested.
His Marriage In the meantime he had married Ippolita, daughter of
Count Guido Torello di Montechiarugolo. Sundry earlier
schemes of marriage, proposed by himself or others, had
come to nothing. He had been suitor for a daughter of
Count Girardo Rangone ; but when her father hesitated, he
broke off" the negotiations with a highly characteristic burst
of pride : — ' The wife that I am to take, be she who she may,
' I desire that she should be given to me with as good a will
' as I take her withal, yea, if she were the daughter of a
* king.' We find him in Venice, with his wife and sisters,
in 1517, entertained and honoured by the Doge. Two
years later he entered the service of Federigo, son and suc-
cessor to his early master, the Marquis of Mantua, and
again returned to Rome in an ambassadorial capacity, to
solicit the Captain-Generalship of the Church for the Mar-
quis. The mission was no delight to him : it separated him
from his wife ; and when, on April 7, 1520, Raphael died,
Rome seemed no longer the same place.^ In August his
wife died, leaving him three children, and in December
Leo X. was taken off", as Castiglione alleges, by poison. He
^ Raphael painted at least two portraits of Castiglione ; one of them is in
the Louvre.
XX
THE COURTIER
continued to represent Mantua at the Courts of Adrian vi. INTRO-
and Clement vii. ; his good offices were freely lent to sjet DUCTION
Francesco Maria reinstated; but although this was achieved,
he did not regain his own Nuvillaria. When the op-
position between the Emperor and Francois i. grew to
overshadow the politics of Europe, he was intrusted
with his last and most difficult embassy by Clement vii.,
who begged him from the Marquis of Mantua, and sent
him as Apostolic Nuncio to the Court of Charles v. at
Madrid.
To serve one master loyally and to speak truth to him with- His Mission
out fear or favour had been Castiglione's practice through- *^ Spain
out his career.^ As like as not. Pope Clement had been
attracted to him by his frankness and honesty : two qualities
which exercise a singular fascination over men incapable of
either. But it is a desperate blunder for a double-dealer to
imagine that he can make an efficient tool of an honest man.
He cannot, for the simple and profoundly ironic reason that
he cannot bring himself to trust him. The difficulty of
Castiglione's mission may be judged from the fact that on
his way to Madrid he was commissioned to visit the camp
at Pavia with secret messages to the French Kino;. Arrived
in Spain in March 1525, he heard news of the victory which
made Charles master of Europe. He presented to the
Emperor the congratulations of Clement, and on behalf
of the Holy See urged him to undertake a war against
the infidel, an invitation to which Charles responded with
vague and pious sentiments.
From this time forth to the end of his life his position With Carlos
at the Court of Spain was doubly futile. The instructions Q""ito
^ 'We must praie unto God, answered Calmeta, to helpe us to good, for
' whan wee are once with them, wee muste take them with all theyr faultes,
' for infinite respectes constraine a gentleman after he is once entred into
' service with a Lorde, not to forsake him.' — The Courtyer, p. 129.
xxi
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- received from Rome were scanty. Believing in the good
DUCTION intentions of the Pope towards Charles, and of Charles
towards the Pope, he laboured, in perfect good faith, to
His Task deceive them both. His own hopes and efforts were sincerely
and ardently directed to the maintenance of European peace
and the good estate of the Catholic Church. When Clement
made open alliance with France and Venice, he poured out
the bitterness of his heart in a letter to the Archbishop of
Capua. There is nothing for it now, he says, but war,
which is 'the natural desire of the Most Christian King,
who seeks for himself glory, and for things past revenge.'
When the Pope upbraided Charles with troubling the peace
of the world by refusing to ally himself with the Holy See,
Charles replied by asking for a general Council, before which
he might lay his case. His chief desire, he said, was for
peace and reconciliation with Clement, 'and this,' writes
the unfortunate ambassador, ' he affirmed more emphatically
' than ever, and with an oath, so that I should be ashamed
' not to believe him.' Charles, he adds, has such candour
and benevolence, that God could never permit malice to be
veiled beneath so fair a cloak. S
The Sack of He continued in this simple belief up to the eve of the
Rome gg^g], Qf Rome. And when, in May lf)2Xa the Constable
Bourbon, who certainly knew the mind of the Emperor,
stormed the holy city, Castiglione was a discredited and
broken man. He had to defend himself from the reproaches
of his master, and reminded him in a piteous letter of his
unflagging devotion. ' Many may surpass me in wisdom
' and ability,' he pleads, ' but none in affection and good
' will, wherefore, since my fault is a fault of nature, which
' has made me what I am, I should the more easily be
' pardoned ; the rather that I acknowledge and confess my
' shortcomings.' The fact is that he was no match for the
accomplished dissimulation of the Emperor, who deluded
xxii
THE COURTIER
him with all the greater ease by expressing what was a INTRO-
genuine affection and regard for the nuncio himself. His DUCTION
few remaining years were embittered by a controversy with
Alfonso de Valdez, a light of the early Reformation, who
recognised the visible judgment of God in the disasters of
the other side.^ It seems highly unlikely that Paolo Giovio
and Guicciardini are right in asserting that Castiglione
accepted the bishopric of Avila from Charles, and was
installed. It may have been offered him, for it was vacant
during the last year of his life. He died, after a short His Death
illness, at Toledo, on February 7, 1529. The Emperor ^^^^ ^omb
ordered him a magnificent funeral in the church of Sant'
Elifonso, whence, a year and a half later, his bones were
removed to the chapel of the Madonna delle Grazie at
Mantua. They lie beneath a red marble monument of
Giulio Romano, whom Castiglione himself had introduced
to Mantua. The tomb bears an elaborate, frigid in-
scription by Bembo, as well as Castiglione's simple and
touching lines on his wife. There is no doubt that the
Emperor sincerely lamented the death of his friend
and dupe. ' I tell you," he is reported to have said,
' one of the finest gentlemen in the world is dead.'
('Yo vos digo que es muerto uno de los mejores cabal-
leros del mundo."") And tradition has it that his favour-
ite books, to the end of his life, were the Histories of
Polybius, the Prince of Machiavel, and The Courtier of
Castiglione.
It was in 1508, while the savour of the virtues of Duke The
Guidobaldo was fresh in his mind (to quote his own state- Courtier
ment), that Castiglione sketched, ' in a few days,' the first
^ A full account of this controversy is contained in the Life and Writings
of Juan de Valdes, by Benjamin B. Wiffen (Quaritch, 1865). The tract on
the sack of Rome, written by Juan, was attributed by Castiglione to Alfonso,
who did not disclaim it. Hence much confusion.
xxiii
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- rough draft of his masterpiece. Twenty years elapsed
DUCTION before it saw the light. The troubles and wars of the time
of Francesco Maria doubtless impeded the progress of the
work, and caused the author to lay it aside for a time. He
took it up again in earnest during his leisure at Rome.
The Fourth Book may be dated with some accuracy : in the
beginning the death of Cesare Gonzaga (who died in 1512)
is lamented, and the dignity conferred on Ottaviano Fregoso
(he was Doge of Genoa from 1513 to 1515) is also recorded.
Giuliano dei Medici, on the other hand, who died in 1516,
is numbered, in the same passage, among the living. The
Book as we have it was probably completed not later than
the spring of 1516, at Rome. It was yet far from the
press. Where so many of the living were introduced, and
made to speak their minds, the author was naturally anxious
to submit his work to the judgment of his friends. In 1518
he sent it to Bembo, Sadoleto, and Monsignore di Bajus,
inviting their criticisms. Their answers miscarried, or were
delayed, and Castiglione, who took pleasure in shaping and
reshaping the thing, was glad of an excuse for further
delay. But no precautions of his were sufficient to arrest a
growing private circulation by transcription. When he
Vittoria ^^^ ^^ Spain, he was vexed to hear that the Lady Vittoria
Colonna Colonna had been specially active in procuring copies to be
made and circulated in Naples. He wrote to her, reproach-
ing her in a fine strain of courteous irony with her violated
pledge of secrecy. ' I am the more deeply obliged to your
' Ladyship,' he says, ' because the necessity you have put me
' under of sending the book at once to the printer relieves
' me from the trouble of adding many things which I had
' already prepared in my mind, — things, I need hardly say,
' of little import, like the rest of the book ; so that your
' Ladyship has saved the reader from weariness, and the
' author from blame.' The Courtier was printed in folio
xxiv
THE COURTIER
at Venice in 1528,^ and at once began its rapid conquest of INTRO-
Italy and Europe. DUCTION
Everywhere it came as a herald of that potent Italian The
influence which was to transform the art and letters ofp^uRTiER
other countries. The credit of introducing Italian models
into Spain belongs to Juan Bosctin of Barcelona and to his
friend and fellow-poet Garcilaso de la Vega.^ Boscan, it is
said, met Andrea Navagiero, ambassador to Spain from
Venice, at Granada in 1526 ; and being by him persuaded
to attempt the Italian forms of versification, produced the
earliest Spanish experiments in the sonnet, the canzone,
terza rima, blank verse, and the octave stanza. None of
his adventures in this kind was published until 1543, when
his works were collected for the press by his widow. But his
translation of The Courtier was issued during his lifetime.
The book had been sent to him, soon after it appeared in
Italy, by Garcilaso, who, as a friend of Bembo and a fre-
quenter of the Spanish Court, must have known its author
intimately. Boscan's Spanish version appeared in 1540,
with prefatory epistles by the translator and Garcilaso.^
In France, as in Spain, The Courtier found a godfather In France
among the most brilliant of the men of the Renaissance.
1 // Cortegiano del Comte Baldesai- Castiglioiie. . . . In Venezia nelle
case di Aldo Romano di Andrea d'Asola suo niocero nelV anno MDXXVIII
del mese di Aprile. The subsequent Italian Editions are legion.
^ See James Fitzmaurice- Kelly, A History of Spajiish Literatttre (iSgS),
pp. 138-39 : who notes that Boscan's Coriesano, done from Garcilaso's gift to
him of the First Edition, is 'a triumph of rendering ' and 'an almost perfect
performance. '
•* Zid?-o Llamado el Cortesano : tradiizido nuevamente en nnestro vtilgar
Castellano por Boscan, mdxl. The prefatory epistles are addressed, ' A
la muy Magnifica Seiiora doiia Geronima Palova de Almogavar.' Both poets
were in high esteem in Elizabethan England. Abraham France in The
Arcadian Rhetorike (1588) takes most of his modern examples from 'Courtly
makers,'— Tasso, Du Bartas, Sir Philip Sidney, Boscan, and Garcilaso
furnishing the largest number of quotations.
d XXV
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- It was translated by Jacques Colin, secretary to King
DUCTION Fran9ois i., and revised by the ill-fated scholar Etienne
Dolet, who commends it to his friend Mellin de Saint-Gelais
in a prefatory epistle.^ When the diction of this version
became antiquated, Gabriel Chapuis, who succeeded Belle-
forest in his double quality of Historiographer-Royal and
jack-of-all-work, published another and much inferior trans-
lation at Lyons in 1580.- Last of all, but still in the van
In England of the Italian movement, The Courtier crossed the Channel
and became an Englishman. The translator was a pioneer
of Italian studies in England ; his book, reprinted again
and ao-ain, became one of the most influential books of
the ensuing age, — the age of Shakespeare and Spenser and
Sidney. Piety demands that what can be learned of his life
should be here recorded.
II
Thomas Hoby Thomas Hoby^ was born in 1530, the son of William
Hoby of Leominster, by his second wife Katherine Forden.
In 1545 he matriculated at Cambridge, entering St. John's
^ Le Courtisan de Messire Baltazar de Castillon. N^ouvellement reveit et
corrige. . . . Imprijiie de nouveau a Lyon par Francoys Juste deinourant
devant la grant parte nostre Dame de Consoii. Lan 1538. Dolet alludes
to an earlier Edition of this version ; and the printer in his dedication to
' Monseigneur Monsieur du Peirat, Lieutenant-General pour le Roy a Lyon,'
mentions a rival translation, newly published at Paris, 'in thick, heavy
' characters, such as have not been used this long time for printing good
' authors. ' A desire to please the King, who is so highly praised by Casti-
glione under his earlier title ' Monseigneur d'Angoulesme,' may explain this
tumbling of translators over one another's necks.
2 Le Parfait Courtisan dti Comte Baltasar Castillonois, £s deux laftgues,
respondanspar deux colomties. Tune hPautre. . . . De la traduction de Gabriel
Chapicys, Tourangeau. A Lyon, Pour Loys Cloqtiemin, 1580. The printer,
Thibauld Ancelin, dates his colophon 1579. There are several later Editions.
^ Short lives of Hoby are to be found in Cooper's Athenae and the
Dictionary of National Biography. Neither makes any use of the principal
authority, the bulky manuscript autograph diary in the British Museum,
xxvi
THE COURTIER
College, at that time the glory of the University, a chief INTRO-
stronghold of scholarship and Protestant theology: — 'Yea, DUCTION
' St. John's did then so flourish, as Trinity College, that
' princely house now, at the first erection was but colonia
' deducta out of St. John's.' ^ The College was ' an Uni-
' versitie within it selfe : shining so farre above all other Cambridge
' Houses, Halls and Hospitalls whatsoever, that no Colledge
' in the Towne was able to compare with the tythe of
' her Students.'^ While Hoby was in residence at St.
John's, Trinity was founded, and John Redman, a noted
Johnian scholar, was appointed the first Master. At the
same time Roger Ascham was made Public Orator. Per- Ascham
haps the young student, well recommended by all the
points of character and breeding which are required in
The Scholemaster, made his first acquaintance with Ascham
at this time. Perhaps he came under the notice of two
other members of the College, Thomas Lever, afterwards
Master of St. John's, and James Pilkington, afterwards
Bishop of Dui'ham ; doubtless he was awed by the fame
of ' the Exchequer of Eloquence, Sir John Cheke, a man Cheke
of men, supernaturally traded in all tongues.' These
are conjectures ; with the end of his college course his
diary and certainty begin. His time at Cambridge was ;
cut short in order that he might the sooner enter upon that i
course of travel and study in foreign countries which was '
entitled A Booke of the Travaile and lief of me Thomas Hoby, with diverse
ihitigs woorth the notinge. This diary covers the years of Hoby's life from
1547, when he first went abroad, to 1564, two years before his death. The
entries after 1555 are scanty, and chiefly personal. For its historical value,
if for nothing else, the Diary certainly deserves to be set in print. It is the
chief source of the ensuing life of Hoby. That insatiable academic patriot,
Anthony a Wood, claims Hoby for Oxford. But, in fact, Hoby is like
Proserpine :— ' His foot the Cumner cowslips never stirred.'
1 The Scholemaster, in Ascham's Works, ed. Giles (1865), iii. p. 235.
- Nashe, Epistle To the Gentlemen Students of both Universities prefixed
to Greene's Menaphon (1589).
xxvii
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- beginning to be held a necessary part of the education of a
DUCTION statesman. In conformity with the approved practice he
sought a Protestant centre before venturing himself among
the enticements of Circe. He arrived in Strasburg on the
16th of October 1547, and found quarters in the house of
Bucer Martin Bucer, ' a man of no less integrity and pureness of
lyving then of fame and learning.'' ' Him heard I,' he
writes, ' in the Schooles in Divinity, and sometime Peter
Martir, Sturmius in humanity, Paulus Fagius in Hebrew.'
Strasburg was on the highroad to the South, and from time
to time Hoby's curiosity and interest Avere awakened by the
reports of travellers from Italy. In January 1548 he
records that ' W'" Thomas came this waye owt of Italye
Wyatt ' towarde Englande. Also Sir Thomas Wyat arrived here
' to go towarde Italye." It is pleasant to connect his name,
even in this passing fashion, with the first English historian
of Italy,^ and with the son of the more famous importer
of the Sonnet. His own earliest literary work, undertaken
out of reverence to his host and teacher, was not sonneteer-
His Earliest ing : — ' When Bucer had finished the litle treatyse he made
Work « unto the Churche of Englande ... I translated it ymme-
' diatlie into Englishe, and sent it to my Brother, where
' it was put in print.' ^ The author meanwhile, having
stablished himself in learning and the Protestant faith by
his winter's residence at Strasburg, took his way into Italy,
proceeding at once to Venice, w^here the ambassador s house
was the resort of many English travellers.
^ The historic of Italie, a boke excedyttg profitable to be 7-edde : because it
entreaieth of the astate of matiy and divers common weales, how thei have ben,
and now be governed. 4to. 1549. Thomas also wrote an Italian grammar,
and a defence of King Henry viii. His treatise of the Vanity of this World,
and another of the Apparel of Women, are lost.
^ The gratiilation of M. Martin Bucer . . . unto the Churche of Englande
for the restitucion of Christes religion, and his Answere 7nade unto the two
raylinge epistles of Steven Bishoppe of Winchester concerning the unmaried
state of priestes and cloy sterars. 8vo. Lond. [1549].
xxviii
THE COURTIER
In Venice and Padua, with occasional expeditions to INTRO-
Mantua and Ferrara, he remained for a year. Like all DUCTION
the scholarly travellers of those times, not excepting the His Italian
facetious Cory at, he is much concerned with monuments, Journey
epitaphs, and traditions of classical heroes. He visits Livy's
tomb, and remarks that the epitaph of Antenor, the
legendary founder of Padua, ' doth not seem to be of anie Padua
probable authoritie on antiquitie." Of course he studied at
the University. ' I applied myself,"" he says, ' as well to
' obtain the Italiane tunge as to have a farther entrance
' in the Latin. The most famous in this towne"* [Padua]
' was Lazarus Bonamicus in humanitie, whose lectures I
' visited sumtimes.' More than two years later, passing
through Bassano, the birthplace of Bonamicus, he remembers
to pay tribute : — ' Here in our dayes was born the famous
' Clarke in letters of humanitie, Lazarus Bonamicus,
' stipended reader in the Schooles of Padoa of the Greeke
' and Latin tunge by the Siniory of Venice with a great
' stipend' — words which put it out of doubt that Bonamicus
was remarkable among men of his craft. But although he
plied his book diligently, Hoby had an eye for the manners
and life of the South. He saw Venice in her splendour, Venice
while she wasyet a great sovereign power, a city aglow with
colour, vibrating with the joy of life, tempestuous with
passion and with crime. He witnessed the annual espousals
celebrated between the city and the sea, whereunto there
came the Duke and Duchess of L^rbino,^ and were received
into the vessel of triumph called the Bucentoro. 1 1^ must
have been for Hoby, as for other English travellers, a
dazzling change to pass fromjthg sober community at Stras-
burg^ into the midst of this carnival of the senses and the
^ Guidobaldo ii. of the Delia Rovere family. He was newly married to
his second Duchess, Vittoria Farnese, sister to the Cardinal. Hoby's memory
of the scene prompted the marginal note on p. 165.
xxix
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- blood, Ascliam was in Italy nine days, ' and yet,' he says, ' I
DUCTION t sawln that little time, in one city, more liberty to sin, than
' ever I heard tell of in our noble city of London in nine
' year, I saw it was there as free to sin, not only without
' all punishment, but also without any man's marking, as it
' is free in the city of London, to chose without all blame,
' whether a man lust to wear shoe or pantocle.'' ^ His
words are vividly illustrated by Hoby's account, given in
statesmanlike fashion, without comment, of an incident that
An Incident befell during the Shrovetide festival in 1549 : — ' There came
in Venice c ^q Venice, to see the Citie, the Lustie yong duke of Ferran-
' dine well accompanied with noblemen and gentlemen; where
' he with his companions in Campo San Stefano shewed great
' sporte and meerye pastime to the Gentlemen and Gentle-
' women of Venice, both on horsbacke in running at the'ring
' with faire Turks and Cowrsars, being in a maskerie after
• the Turkishe maner, and on foote casting of eggs into
' the windowes among the Ladies, full of sweet waters and
' damask poulders. At night, after all this Triumphe, in a
' Bankett made purposelie at Mowrano, a litle owt of
' Venice, by the Siniorye to honor him withall, he was
' slaine by a varlett belonging to a gentleman of the Citie,
' The occasion was this : The Duke cumming in a brave
' maskerye with his companions went (as the maner is) to a
' gentlewoman whom he most fansied among all the rest
' (being assembled there together a 1. or Ix.). This gentle-
• woman was wyffe to one M. Michael Venier. There came
• in another companye of Gentlemen Venetiens in another
' maskerie : and one of them went in like maner to the same
• gentlewoman that the Duke was entreating to daunse with
• him, and somwhat shuldered the Duke, which was a great
' injurie. Upon that, the Duke thrust him from him. The
' gentleman owt with his Dagger and gave him a strooke
^ TAe Scholemastcr , in Ascham's Works, ed. Giles, iii. p. 163.
THE COURTIER
' above the short ribbes with the point, but it did him no INTRO-
' hurt, bicause he had on a jacke of maile. The Duke DUCTION
' ymmediatlie feelinge the point of his dagger, drue his
' rapire, whereupon the gentleman fledde into a chambere
' there at hand and shutt the dore to him. And as the
' Duke was shovinge to gete the dore open, a varlett of the
' gentlemannes came behinde him, and with a.pistolese'' [i.e. a
short broadsword] 'gave him his deathes wound and clove
' his heade in such sort as the one side honge over his
' shoulder by a litle skynne. He lyved abowt two dayes
' after this stroke. There was no justice had against this
' gentleman, but after he had a while absented himself from
' the Citie the matter was forgotten. The varlett fledd,
' and was no more heard of. This Gentleman was of the
' house of Giustiniani in Venice.
Towards the end of August 1549 Hoby went forward
into Tuscany. After staying at Florence a few days, to see
the principal buildings and to visit Valdarno, he reached
Siena, a place where ' the people are much geven to enter- Siena
' taine strangers gentlie,'' and where ' most of the women are
' well learned, and write excellentlie well both in prose and
' verse."* The city was less happy in its political conditions.
Owing to the internecine jealousies of the inhabitants, who
were divided into four distinct parties, the Emperor and the
French King were frequently solicited to intervene, and
usually accepted the invitation. Hoby arrived to find the
place in charge of a garrison of six hundred Spanish soldiers,
commanded by Don Diego Hurtado de Mendoza, Governor Hurtado de
of Siena, and Ambassador from the Emperor to the Pope. Mendoza
Under Spanish military rule, murder and privy feuds were
no longer permitted to run riot in the town ; no one, whether
native or stranger, was allowed to carry weapons ; so that the
garrison was soon cordially detested even by the party that
had brought it in. When Hoby's arrival was known, he
xxxi
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- was at once invited to dine at the Governor''s palace, and
DUCTION to bring with him any Englishmen who might chance to
be in the town. Some stern nonconformists among the
English refused to go, but Hoby and four others who
accepted the Governor's hospitality were ' grcatlie feasted,
and gentlie enterteyned.' So the young Englishman who
was to translate The Courtier talked and sat at meat with
this great and famous Spaniard. In Hurtado de Mendoza,
soldier and courtier and diplomatist, poet and historian,
Arabist and Hellenist, perhaps the author of Lazarillo de
Tormes, and so the ' only true begetter,' so far as modern
Europe is concerned, of the picaresque novel, the Spanish
Renaissance was incarnate.^ At this banquet Hoby made
acquaintance also with the Marquis ofjC'apistrano^ who later
showed him the greatest kindness and courtesy at Amalfi
and Naples. Throughout his travels he observed that
prudent counsel, quoted by Sir Henry Wotton for Milton's
guidance, which enjoins an open countenance and a guarded
speech.
Rome It were too long to tell in detail the history of his sub-
sequent travels. He hurried from Siena to Rome that he
might be present in the city during the election of a Pope.
1 See A History of Spanish Literature, by James Fitzmaurice-Kelly,
passim. Hoby may well have conversed with his host in English, for it is
now demonstrated that Hurtado de Mendoza, as was long suspected, knew
England well. He was sent over here as Special Envoy to arrange a
marriage between the Princess Mary Tudor and Dom Luiz de Portugal ; and,
later, he was here for fifteen months, from May 23, 1537, to September i,
1538, to conduct the negotiations for a marriage between Henry viii. and
Dorothea of Denmark, Duchess of Milan, niece to the Emperor. For this
information I am indebted to the kindness of Mr. Fitzmaurice-Kelly, who
refers me to the Calendar of State Papers, Henry VIII. , vol. xiii ; parts I
and 2, and to the Spanish State Papers (1537-38), edited by Pascual de
Gayangos, and remarks that, as Chapuys was the regular Imperial Ambas-
sador in London at that time, and Mendoza's embassy failed, historians have
passed over the affair in silence.
xxxii
THE COURTIER
Castiglione had left Rome a quarter of a century before INTRO-
Hoby set foot in it, yet there was still the veteran Michael DUCTION
Angelo, intrusted with the ordering of the Papal obsequies.
From Rome he sailed to Naples, and very narrowly escaped
being taken by Moorish or Turkish pirates. Here his
travelling companions, ' Mr. Barker, Mr. Parker, and Mr.
Whithorn,' with whom he had journeyed from Siena, took
ship for Sicily, while he held on by land through Calabria: —
' bothe to have a sight of the country, and also to absent
' myself for a while owt of Englishemennes companie for the
' tungs sake." Wherever he went he fell in with English The English
travellers or adventurers. It is instructive to read Hoby's ^'^^<^^<i
account, written some forty years before the Armada, of his
meeting with an English gunner, employed on board a
Neapolitan vessel, or with another, a certain Master Richard
Lucas, who was serving in a Maltese galley at Syracuse.
Hoby had intended to visit Malta, but Master Lucas dis-
suaded him, alleging, like a good English gunner, that
there was nothing worth seeing there except the knights,
of whom, he added, there was good store on board his
own galley.
In May 1550 Hoby was back in Rome again, to settle
himself to study. But his half-brother. Sir Philip Hoby,
who was twenty-five years older than Thomas, and would Augsburg
appear to have acted as his guardian, was ambassador to
the Emperor at Augsburg, and sent word for Thomas
to go thither with all convenient speed. The autumn was
spent in Augsburg ; here Hoby translated The Tragedie of The Tragedie
Free Will, which he afterwards dedicated to the Marquis '^f ^^^^ ^^^^
of Northampton. When Sir Richard Morison, taking
Ascham with him as his secretary, superseded Sir
Philip as ambassador, the two brothers returned to Eng-
land with a great train of men and horses ; and on
Christmas Day, 1550, Thomas Hoby was introduced to
e xxxiii
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- the Court of King Edward. He was twenty years of age,
DUCT ION and had been absent from England jlmostthreeljears
and aTialf.
JJurmg the rest of the reign of Edward vi. he was servant
to William, Marquis of Northampton, This service took
France him abroad again in the train of the Marquis, who was
one of the Lords High Commissioners for concluding a
marriage between Edward vi. and Elizabeth, the eldest
daughter of the French King. Among the gentlemen whom
Hoby names as accompanying the commission to Nantes
and Chateaubriand, were Mr. Nicholas Throgmorton, Mr.
Henry Sidney, and Sir Gilbert Dethick, Garter King at
Arms. William Thomas was secretary to the commission,
and Thomas Lever chaplain to the Marquis. There were
stately public ceremonies at Nantes ; at Chateaubriand the
pastimes were tennis, shooting, hunting of the boar, ' palla
malla,"' and wrestling matches between Bretons and Cor-
nishmen. Every night there was dancing in the great hall,
and sometimes music in the King''s privy chamber. On his
London return to England, Hoby found the Court almost deserted
by reason of the sweating sickness. Among the new-made
knights of the autumn were Sir Henry Sidney, Sir William
Cecil, and Sir John Cheke. After the execution of the
Duke of Somerset, Sir Philip Hoby was despatched to
Flanders on a state errand, and Thomas, who had been
troubled with a quartan ague, caught by assiduous attend-
ance at Hampton Court, remained at home. It is at
this time, in the spring of 1552, that we first hear of the
The Courtyer translation of The Courtier : — ' I returned again to London
' the xxvi. of April, after I had bene ridd of mine ague ;
' where I prepared myselfe to goo into Fraunce and there to
' applie my booke for a season. . . . After I had convayed
' my stuff to Paris and settled myself there, the first thing I
* did was to translate into Englishe the third booke of the
THE COURTIER
' Courtisan, which ray ladie marquess ^ had often willed me INTRO-
' to do and for lacke of time ever difFerred it. And from DUCTION
' thense I sent unto Sr. Henry Sidney the Epitome of the
' Italian tunge which I drue out there for him. This done,
' Mr. Henry Kingsmeale and I applied ourselves to the
' reading of the institutes of the civill lawe, being bothe
' lodged in a house together.' ^ After the winter spent in
this manner, Hoby joined his brother at Brussels, whither, Brussels
on July the 11th, there came the news of the death of
King Edward.
The accession of Mary was a heavy blow to Hoby and his Mary Tudor
immediate circle of friends. The Marquis of Northampton
was deprived and imprisoned. William Thomas was hanged
for his part in the affair of Lady Jane Grey. Most of
Hoby's distinguished acquaintance thought it best to go «
abroad for a tmie. Sir Philip himself took leave of absence,
for his health's sake, and the tw^ brothers started fo'- Italy, Italy
reaching Padua in August 1554. There they fell in with
other English exiles, and thenceforward they travelled and
spent their time in company with Sir Thomas Wroth, Sir
Anthony Cooke, and Sir John Cheke. Padua was much
frequented by the English, as the extant records of the
University show ; it is probably to this time that Wilson
alludes in his prefatory epistle to the Three Orations of
Demosthenes (1570), where he records his debt to Cheke: —
^ She was Elizabeth Brooke, daughter to George, fourth Lord Cobham, and
second wife to the Marquis.
^ It must not be inferred from Hoby's use of the word ' Courtisan ' that he
translated from the French. There is no evidence in his book of any use made
of Dolet's Edition. That translation has many omissions, where Hoby has
none. The places where the two translators deviate from the original do
not coincide ; and where the French and Italian idioms both admit of a close
rendering in good English, Hoby follows the Italian. See The Epistle of
the Translator (^. 1 1 ), where he complains of omissions by * some interpreters
of this booke into other languages.'
XXXV
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- ' Thinking of my being with him in Italie in that famous
DUCTION ' Universitie of Padua, I did cal to minde his care that he
' had over all the Englishe men there, to go to their bokes,
' and how gladly he did reade to me and others certaine
' Orations of Demosthenes in Greeke, the interpretation
' wherof I and they had then from his mouth. ... I thinke
' there was never olde Priest more perfite in his Porteise,
' nor supersticious Monke in our Ladies Psalter, as they call
' it, nor yet good Preacher in the Bible or testament, than
' this man was in Demosthenes.' Sir John was also pro-
foundly skilled, says Wilson, in the English tongue, so that
Hoby may have made use of his advice in the completion of
The Courtyer. For it was during this winter, in all likeli-
TheCourtyer hood, that the task was finished. 'The writing begun
compl|ted c |.}^g xviiith of November,' says the diarist, ' I ended the
' ixth of Februarie folowinge."
That this writing was the translation of the Book of the
Courtier seems hardly open to question. The translation
must have been finished early in Mary's reign. When the
printer, William Seres, addresses his greeting to the reader,
in the Edition of 1561, he remarks that the book would have
been set forth long 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.' This can mean only one thing. The
witty licence of many of Castiglione's anecdotes, wherein
dignitaries of the Roman Church are satirised, was not
displeasing to the Rome of Leo x. or Clement vii. ; but
after the formidable rise of Protestantism, the friends of the
old Church saw these things in a different and more serious
light. In Italy itself the book was mangled and expurgated.
The Edition of 1766 bv the Abate Pierantonio Serassi
xxxvi
THE COURTIER
furnishes perhaps the most lamentable example. The story INTRO-
of the ' religious person 'and the five nuns (narrated with DUCTION
unholy glee by Bayle) disappears. So does the witticism
(p. 172) concerning the appointed form of prayer to be used
for cardinals. ' Tua Roma/ in the leonine verses on p. 171 ,
becomes 'locus iste.' Don Giovanni di Cardona (p. 181)
becomes ' un certo Lepido,' who directs his scoff against the
wicked emperors of old time. Raphael's jest (p. 184) is
attributed to an anonymous artist of ancient Rome, and the
blushes of St. Peter and St. Paul are blushed by Romulus
and Remus ! Even the foolish countryman who compared
his venerable goat to St. Paul (p. 163) is made to seek a
more fitting comparison in the person of Socrates. Had
Hoby's book been printed in the reign of Mary, some sort
of expurgation would certainly have been necessary. It
is to his credit, whether his conscientious motives were
Protestant or literary, that he refused to mangle his trans-
lation in order to serve the time.
The brothers travelled back to England in the autumn
of 1555, passing through Frankfort, where they found a
community of exiled English Protestants with ' a churche
graunted them to preache in.' During the Marian persecu- Hoby at
tions they lived quietly on their estates at Evesham and
Bisham. To the latter place, at midsummer 1557, there
came as visitors Sir William and Lady Cecil, and Elizabeth
Cooke, daughter to Sir Anthony Cooke and sister to Lady
Cecil. When they left. Sir Philip went to Bath to take the
waters, while Thomas remained at Bisham to see the new
building there go forward. In the following spring Sir
Philip's life was despaired of; he went to London to make
his will, and there Thomas saw him for the last time. ' The
' xi of Maii,' he writes, ' I came to London, being sent for
' to set my hand to a recognisance, and retourned again
' the xiii, taking my way by Wimbleton, where I communed
xxxvii
Home
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- ' with Mrs. Elizabeth Cooke in the way of manage.' The
DUCTION death of Sir Philip, in May 1558, left Thomas, as perhaps
His Marriage he had foreseen, in possession of Bisham ; he was married
in June to Elizabeth Cooke, and they passed the summer
with the Cecils at Burghley.
His Wife and His wife must have more than a passing mention, for the
Daughters virtues and learning of Sir Anthony Cooke were eclipsed
by the virtues and learning of his five daughters, whom he
made skilful in the Greek and Latin. The eldest, Mildred,
married Sir William Cecil ; the second, Anne, married Sir
Nicholas Bacon, and so became the mother of Francis
Bacon ; the third, Elizabeth, became Lady Hoby ; the
fourth, Margaret, married Sir Ralph Rowlet ; the fifth,
Katharine, married Sir Ralph Killigrew. The weddings of
Elizabeth and Margaret were celebrated on the same day,
an event which drew from Dr. Walter Haddon one of his
too numerous essays in Latin verse.^ After the death of
Hoby, Lady Hoby married Lord John Russell : she lived to
write Latin epitaphs on both her husbands, and to be the
literary adviser and friend of Sir John Harington, who
made use of her intercession to avert the wrath that his
ingenious and ill-famed Metamorphosis of A j ax (1596) had
awakened in high places.
The remainder of Hoby's diary is concerned chiefly with
the children born to him," and the guests entertained
1 In Nuptias Rodolphi Rouleti et Tho>nae Hobaei, qzti duas D. Antonii
Coci Jilias duxere tixores eodetn die, in Thomas Hatcher's Edition (1567)
of Haddon's Orations, Epistles, and Poems, printed by William Seres.
Haddon's circle of friends and acquaintances coincided very closely with
Hoby's ; he has letters addressed to Sir John Cheke, Sir Thomas Smith, and
Sturmius (to whom he was introduced by Ascham) ; with obituary verses on
Cheke, Bucer, and the Countess of Northampton (who suggested to Hoby his
task) ; as well as poems to Thomas Norton, Thomas Wilson, and Ascham.
- Edward, in 1560; Elizabeth, in 1562; Katharine, in 1564. Both
daughters died in early childhood. His second son, Thomas Postumus, was
horn after Hoby's death in 1566.
xxxviii
THE COURTIER
at Bisham. One entry is of a wider significance. On INTRO-
November the 5th, 1560, he went to London for a stay of DUCTION
thirteen weeks, doubtless for the purpose of seeing his book
through the press. Its comparative freedom from misprints
makes it likely that he was a frequent visitor, during these
weeks, to ' the Signe of the Hedghogge ' at the west end of
St. Paul's Churchyard. There William Seres, who from his His Printer
choice of a sign is thought to have been an old servant of
the Sidney family,^ had carried on his labours for some ten
years. His output was chiefly Protestant theology, and his
most notable excursion into the realm of polite letters was
made when the Stationers'' Company, some time between
30th November 1560 and 8th March 1561, 'Recevyd of
' master Serys for his lycense for pryntinge of a boke Called
' Curtyssye'' the sum of twelve pence.
1 The Qourtyer of Count Baldessar Castilio appeared in
\ 1561 with a commendatory sonnet by Thomas Sackville,
*'and a letter of Sir John Cheke's, wherein the right principles Cheke on
of translation into English are authoritatively laid down. Translation
This letter was written in 1557, when The Epistle of' the/ _
Tj'ajislator was first submitted to Sir John. But the
opinions it expresses must have been well known to Hoby,
who probably solicited the letter and put it in the forefront
of his book as a confession of his literary faith. His own
Epistle is addressed to Lord Henry Hastings, another strong
Puritan, who came into his title of Earl of Huntingdon that
same year, and made himself conspicuous by his ' lavish
support of those hot - headed preachers.*' Hastings was
probably chosen to receive the dedication of the book
because his grandfather had been commissioned to meet
^ Ames, Typographical Antiquities, Ed. Herbert (17S5-90), pp. 686-705.
Seres also printed works by Sir John Cheke and Walter Haddon, and
obtained '' om Ascham some tedious, brief verses in commendation of Three
Tree ; Thomas Blondeville (1 561).
xxxix
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- and entertain Castiglione at the time of the embassy from
DUCTION Urbino.
The rest of the story of Hoby's life is told by the State
Papers. He was knighted at Greenwich in March 1566
(new style), and sent ambassador to France in succession to
Sir Thomas Smith. One of his first tasks was to deal with
the disputes that were incessantly arising between the fisher-
men of Rye and of Dieppe. After some delay at Calais, he
reached Paris, whence he regularly communicated to Cecil
Death his observations on current politics. He died on July the
13th, 1566. A statue was raised to his memory in the
church at Bisham, Dr. Haddon once more distilled from his
pen a learned melody,^ and the Queen herself wrote a letter
of condolence to Lady Hoby.^
Ill
The Revival The bare record of such facts concerning Hoby as are
of Learning recoverable is not altogether vain if it serve to give a
clearer idea of the circle in which he moved and the events
which touched him nearest. He was not an Elizabethan.
There is much to justify the popular usage which extends
the Elizabethan Age far into the Seventeenth Century and
numbers among its glories the names of some who out-
lived Cromwell. But the barrier that divides Spenser and
Sidney and Marlowe from the little group of scholars who
laboured for the Revival of Learning in England is less
easily passable. There are few writers of note whose active
life covers both ages. Thomas Sackville, who gave to the
^ In D. Thomam Hobaeznii Eqiiitem, Parisiis dum legatione fungeretur,
extinctum. It is twenty lines long, and concludes : —
' Et placidam mors est vitam tranquilla sequuta
Sic ego, sic vellem vivere sicque mori.'
Haddon died in 1572.
2 Ellis, Original Lettos, i. ii. p. 229.
xl
THE COURTIER
English drama her first tragedy, and to poetry the great INTRO-
Prologue to the Mirror for Magistrates^ lived on into the DUCTION
next century, an honoured counsellor. But his literary
work had all been achieved ' while dawn's left hand was in
the sky**; the blaze of the sun struck him silent. The
men who were Hoby's teachers and associates have little
in common with the swashbucklers and rufflers of the
later time. Elyot, Cheke, Smith, Ascham, Wilson, Udall, Tlie Triumph
Haddon, and the rest, were s^raye livers. Protestants and ° ^'"^"sh
scholar^ whose work it was to bring home to tTie~English
people the rejcovered treasures of classical wisdom. All of '
them were much concerned with the establishing of a soun.d,,^
system of education, which should instil the virtues of
industry, sobriety, and reverence in the youth. Some of
them, jealous for their country's good, were translators,
and patriotic champions, against a clamour of opposition,
for the right of the English speech to a place in the world
of letters. AVben Sir Thomas Elyot published his medical Elyot
observations in The Castell of Healthy he took occasion to
defend the use of the mother-tongue. ' If physicians,' he
says, ' be angry that I have written physicke in Englishe,
' let them remember that the Grekes wrate in Greke, the
' Romains in Latin, Avicenna and the other in Arabike,
' whiche were their own proper and maternall tongues.
' And if thei had been as muche attached with envie and
' covetise as some nowe seeme to be, they would have de-
' vised some particuler language with a strange cypher or
' forme of letters wherin they wold have written their
' scyence, whiche language or letters no manne should have
' knowen that had not professed and practised physicke," ^
The aim of these early foster-fathers of the Renaissance /
was not to delight but to divulge, to bring the material (
^ Quot -d from the Life of Elyot prefixed to The Goveruoicr, Ed. H. H. S.
Croft, 2 Tols., 1883, vol. i. p. cxiii.
THE BOOK OF
Thomas
Wilson
INTRO- advantages and moral profit of learning within reach of the
DUCTION humble people. AVhen Wilson translated Demosthenes into
English he chose the same line of defence, and developed
it in a prefatory epistle to Sir William Cecil. ' Some/
he remarks, ' are grieved with translated books. But all
' cannot weare V^elvet, or feede with the best, and there-
' fore such are contented for necessities sake to weare our
' Countrie cloth, and to take themselves to hard fare that
' can have no better.' The same reasons are pleaded by
him in the preface to his book upon Logic, where he
apologises to King Edward for expounding the arts in
English : — ' I do herein take upon me no more, but to be
' as a poore meane man, or a simple persone, whose charge
' were to bee a lodesman, to conveigh some noble Princes
' into a straunge lande, where she was never before, leavyng
' the enterteinyng, the enrichyng, and deckyng of her, to
' suche as were of substaunce and furniture accordyng.' ^
Lodesmen they were, and little suspected what fiery
material lay concealed in their innocent-looking craft, or
how astonishing the claims of that alien princess might
prove to be if once she made good her footing in the land.
It was not the Elizabethan Age that the men of that earlier
time expected or desired. And when the Elizabethan Age
arrived, the noonday forgot the dawn.
Their doctrine concerning the fit choice of diction is in
exact consonance with the aims they set before themselves.
Sir John Cheke, dictator to his age in matters of literary
criticism, lays down the law most absolutely in the letter to
Hoby : — ' I am of this opinion, that our own tung shold be
' written cleane and pure, unmixt and unmangeled wifh
' borowing of other tunges.' ^ Wilson is of the same mind.
Writing of Demosthenes, he savs : — ' I had rather follow '
The School
of Cheke
xlii
The Rule of Reason, by Thomas Wilson (1552)
See The Courfyer, p. 12.
THE COURTIER
' his veyne, the whych was to speake simply and plainly to the INTRO-
' common peoples understanding, than to overfouryshe wyth DUCTION
' superfluous speach, although I might therby be counted
* equall with the best that ever wrate Englysli."'^ To speak
to the common people's understanding was to eschew those
Latinisms which were already beginning to make their way
into the English vocabulary. All the men of the school
were fanatical upholders of the Saxon, followers of Latimer,
whom Wilson elsewhere calls ' the father of all preachers.''
The matter of their writings was for the most part homely
and simple : good pastors and masters as they were, they
cut their sheep-hooks and birch rods from English woods.
It is also to be remembered that most of these men were
habitual writers of Latin, and their natural tendency as
translators was to avoid the use of cognate words. The
same tendency, leading to the same excess, may be observed
in many modern translations of the classics. When the
later generation of playwrights and artists gave over the
attempt to write Latin, and employed it only as a well-
spring to fertilise native thought and to swell the native
vocabulary, the fortune of the English speech was made.
But in Sir John Cheke's day the highest virtue of style was
the use of plain English, and the avoidance of prevalent
affectations. On the one hand were the pedants and Cicer- The Latinists
onians, the inkhorn orators of a University. Wilson quotes
a begging letter which, as he alleges, he received from
an old schoolfellow, couched in these terms : — ' Pondering,
' expending, and revoluting with myself your ingent affa-
' bility and ingenious capacity for mundane affairs, I cannot
' but celebrate and extol your magnifical dexterity above
' all other. ... I doubt not but you will adjuvate such
' poor adnichilate orphans as whilom were condisciples with
^ The Three Orations of Demosthenes . . . by Thomas Wilson, Doctor of
Civil Lawes {HtviTy 'Dtnhz.m, 1570).
xliii
The
Chaucerians
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- 'you, and of antique familiarity in Lincolnshire.''^ Nor
DUCTION was the aflPectation out of date when Sidney wrote The
Lady of the May, ov when Shakespeare wrote Love''s Labours
Lost." On the other hand were the fine courtiers who would '
talk nothing but Chaucer,' larding their speech with archaic
words. The immense influence of Chaucer on the literature
of the Sixteenth Century is visible long before the date of
the Shepheardes Calender ; * but he was in bad odour with
the graver sort, and was befriended chiefly by the gallants
of the Court.
Between these rocks of danger, Cheke, and Hoby in his
wake, steered a middle course. They held to the Saxon,:
but disallowed such words and phrases as no longer lived
upon the lips of men. The result was a certain restraint
upon the development of English, a certain rudeness and
clumsiness in the expression of thoughts noble or subtle.
The miserable estate of English verse during the greater
^ The whole letter may be read in The Arte of Rhelorique,for the use of
all snche as are studious of Eloquence., sette forth in English, by Thomas
Wilson (R. Grafton, 1553).
- It is even better satirised by Rabelais, Fantagrucl, ii. 6. In England
(thanks partly to the efforts of Cheke and his school) it remained a rare
eccentricity.
"^ Arte of Rhetorique, fol. 86.
* There is evidence enough, to name no more, in Tottel's Songes and
Sonettes (1557). It is not merely that Chaucer's pre-eminence is recognised
(as where Surrey, elegising Wyatt, says that he ' reft Chaucer the glory of
his wit ') ; nor that a piece of Chaucer's (' Flee fro the press ') is included ; nor
that the characters in Chaucer (especially those in Troilus) are familiarly
mentioned (as where Wyatt, speaking of Pandarus, writes : —
' For he the fole of conscience was so nice
That he no gaine would have for all his payne ') ;
nor that some of the pieces (as, for instance, that beginning, ' Geve place you
Ladies and begon,' or that other, ' Full faire and white she is and White by
name ') sound reminiscent of Chaucer. Stronger and more intimate is the
evidence of diction : Surrey with his ' soote season ' and ' flyes smale,' Wyatt
with his ' do May some observance,' and the other courtiers with their
other echoes.
xliv
Saxou
doggerel
THE COURTIER
])art of the century was not a little due to the obstinate INTRO-
rustic conservatism which resolutely sought, in Cheke's too DUCTION
happy phrase, ' to ease its need with old-denizened words."
When Turbervile translated the Epistles of Ovid into
English verse, he observed the same canons of translation,
with the result that Paris is made to address Helen in this
fashion : —
' When thou thy daughter kist,
I would, the kiss to wiu,
Hermion's cheekes and cherrie lippes
Eftsoone to smack beginne.' *
The one-legged poulter s measure is not responsible for
all the horrors of this. Phaer and Twyne, Golding, Sir
Thomas North himself, commit the like atrocities. In
prose there was a far larger and nobler tradition, for
Wiclifs cadences survived, where the prosody of Chaucer
was lost ; but prose, too, in all but the ablest hands, suffered
the injury of shackles wilfully endued. And yet, seeing
that a good Latin word, refused admission, will knock at
the door again, but a Saxon word, once ousted, will hardly
be brought back, Cheke and his contemporaries, it is fair
to say, saved the English tongue from heavy losses.
The group of University wits who remade English poetr)^
also broke the fetters put upon English prose by Cheke ana
his school. The last word in the controversy is spoken by
George Pettie ; and although the Petite Pallace of Pettie George Pettie
his Pleasure is a museum of affectations, his arguments are
none the less convincing: — 'I mervaile how our English
' tongue hath crackt it credit, that it may not borrow of
' the Latine as wel as other tongues : and if it have broken
' it is but of late, for it is not unknowen to all men, how
' many wordes we have fetcht from thence within these few
^ The Heroycall Epistles of the learned Poet Publhis Ovidius Naso. In
English verse: set out and translated by Geo7-ge Turbervile, Gent. (1567).
xlv
THE BOOK OF
INTRO-
DUCTION
The Italian
Influence
' yeeres, which if they should be all counted ink-pot tearmes,
' I know not how we shall speake anie thing without blacking
' our mouthes with inke : for what word can be more plain
' than this word (plain), and yet what can come more neere
' to the Latine ? What more manifest than (manifest) ?
' and yet in a manner Latine : what more commune than
' (rare), or lesse rare than (commune), and yet both of them
' comming of the Latine ? But you will saie, long use hath
' made these wordes currant : and why may not use doe as
' much for these wordes which we shall now devise ? Why
' should we not doe as much for the posteritie as we have
' received of the antiquitie ? . . . But how hardlie soever
' you deale with youre tongue, how barbarous soever you
' count it, how little soever you esteeme it, I durst myselfe
' undertake (if I were furnished with learning otherwise) to
' write in it as copiouslie for varietie, as compendiously for
' brevitie, as choicely for words, as pithilie for sentences, as
' pleasantlie for figures, and everie waie as eloquentlie, as
' anie writer should do in anie vulgar tongue whatsoever.'^
I Beneath the question of diction there lay (as there always
lies) a profounder question — of thought and morals. The
Protestant revivers of learning did not contemplate any
further revolution in these. Virgil and Homer, Cicero and
Demosthenes, might be naturalised in England, and boys
whipped for not knowing what they meant, without the
faintest change in the intellectual and social habits of the
English people. The experience of subsequent generations
has shown how little the daily teaching of dead languages
by orthodox athletic grammarians to the youth of England
^ The Civile Conversation of M. Stephen Guazzo . . . translated by G.
Pettie out of French (1586). From The Preface to the Readers. Pettie is
here replying to Cheke's absurd contention (a metaphor run mad) that the
English tongue, ever borrowing and never paying, shall in the end ' be fain
to keep her house as bankrupt.'
xlvi
THE COURTIER
avails to arouse the imagination or to trouble the intellect INTRO-
with questionings, doubts, or comparisons. The founders DUCTION
of that system of education scarcely intended that it should.
The great pagan civilisations march their eternal round, like
weary ghosts, tlirough the schoolroom ; at the stroke of the
clock they vanish, and the activities of real life are resumed.
By the time that the child reaches manhood, he is so inured
to these habitual intruders that he regards them as harmless
and honourable appanages to an English homestead ; hardly
does the thought occur to him that these too, like other
restless spirits, have a message to deliver, and are burning to
speak. With the literature that he reads by choice, the
case is otherwise. The novels, French or Italian, that are
first read in early manhood stir the blood and quicken the
brain : they are modern, actual, alive, and have a potency
that makes the reading of them an experience rather than a
literary exercise. The youth, whose education was recently
completed, has at last read a book, and the first book that a
man reads is more than a book : it is an infection.
So it was in the Sixteenth Century. The first generation
of English scholars who made pilgrimage to Italy went
thither to seek help in the study of Greek and Latin. They '
obtained what they sought, and were glad to turn their
backs on their helper. But it was impossible that this in-
sensibility, or this stoical virtue, should continue when re-
sidence in Italy came to be regarded as essential to a good
education. Italy was not only the headquarters of the On Life
renewed study of the classics : in those vivacious city com-
munities material and intellectual civilisation had been so
perfected, that London in the comparison might Avell seem
a Gothic settlement, dark and barbarous. The wonder is
not that the Italian influence prevailed, but that it was held
in check so long. In all the minor arts of civilised life,
Italy had much to teach the northerner. When Coryat, in
xlvii
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- a well-known passage, records his first sight of forks, he adds :
DUCTION — < This form of feeding I understand is generally used in
Tom Coryat ' all places of Italy. . . . The reason of this their curiosity
' is because the Italian cannot by any means endure to have
' his dish touched with fingers, seeing all men's fingers are
' not alike clean."' And this was in 1608. Forty years
earlier, the simplicity of English housekeeping is well
illustrated by Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhursfs, letter of
explanation to the Lords of the Privy Council when he had
been ordered to entertain the Cardinal de Chatillon at
English Shene. The Queen''s officers came to make arrangements.
House- < Where they required plate of me,' says Sackville, ' I told
^ ° ' them, as troth is, I had no plate at all. Suche glasse
' vessell as I had I ofFred them, which they thought to base ;
' for naperie I cold not satisfie their turne, for they desired
' damaske worke for a long table, and I had none other but
' plain linn en for a square table. . . . One onlie tester and
' bedsted not occupied I had, and thos I delivered for the
' Cardinal him self, and when we cold not by any menes in so
' shorte a time procure another bedsted for the bushop, I
' assighned them the bedsted on which my wiefes waiting
' wemen did lie, and laid them on the ground. Mine own basen
' and ewer I lent to the Cardinall, and wanted me self. . . .
' When we saw that naperie and shetes could no where be
' had, I sent word thereof to the officers at the Courte, by
' which menes we received from my lord of Leceter 2 pair
' of fine shetes for the Cardinall, and from my lord
' Chamberlen, one pair of fine for the bushop.'^ Compare
Hoby's experience, eighteen years earlier, in Italy, when,
travelling as a private gentleman, he was entertained at
Salerno by the Marquis of Capistrano. ' Whithorn and I,'
^ Printed in the appendix to the Biographical Memoir of Lord Buckhurst,
prefixed to the edition of his Works edited by the Hon. and Rev. R. W.
Sackville West (1859).
xlviii
THE COURTIER
he says, 'were had into a chamber hanged with clothe of INTRO-
* gold and vellute, wherin were two beddes, thon of silver DUCTION
* worke, and the other of vellute, with pillowes, bolsters, and
* the shetes curiouslie wrought with needle worke.' ^ In
literature, again, while Caxton and his successors were print- On Letters
ing romances of chivalry, devotional manuals, and books of
practical farriery, from the presses of Italy there had issued
works that were to become classics in the new age. Besides
Boccaccio and the novelists, Ariosto, Machiavelli, Guicciardini
are authors modern to the finger-tips, sceptical, conscious,
artistic. Ariosto was first translated by Sir John Harington
irTTSOl ; the chief work of Machiavelli, Tlie Prince, had to
wait till 1640 for an English rendering ; Guicciardini was
translated by Fenton in 1579. Long before the earliest of
these, on the very threshold of the reign of Elizabeth, the
novelists found a translator in AVilliam Paynter, whose
Palace of Pleasure (1566) became the advanced standard of
the new Italian movement on English soil. Against this
book the men of the Revival, their eyes at last opened to
the nearness of the danger, directed their store of invective.
The hostility to the Italian influence arose from two separate Enemies to
causes, often combined, but nevertheless distinguishable, ^^^^^
Both motives inspired Ascham, the doughtiest warrior of the
old school. He feared for English morals, and he feared for
the solid scheme of classical education which he had done so
much to build up. The old-world type of English character,
* the fine old English gentleman ^ of the song, he would fain
have preserved, with a certain new tincture of sober classical
learning. That the young Elizabethan Courtier,
' With his new study stuffed full of pamphlets and plays/
should step into the inheritance was altogether intolerable
^ From ^ Bookeofthe Travaile and lief of me Thomas Hoby (n^s. Brit. Mus.),
sub anno 1550.
g xlix
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- to him.^ William Harrison, the author of the Description
DUCTION o/ England in Holinshed's Chronicles, is preoccupied chiefly
with the integrity of English morals, and directs his censure
against those young gallants who returned from Italy with
a veneer of courtly manners, their speech embroidered with
foreign oaths, and their moral standards sadly deteriorated.
The land of the new learning and the fine arts was also h
the land of the poison-bowl and the vendetta. Harrison
The laments the ' atheism, vicious conversation, and proud and
Italianate ambitious behaviour' that were brought back by those who
ng IS niau ^^^^^^ there to complete their education in its Universities
and Courts. One young gentleman of his acquaintance, after
a visit to the country of Machiavel and Caesar Borgia, held
discourse like this : — ' Faith and truth is to be kept where
' no loss or hindrance of a future purpose is sustained by
' holding of the same, and forgiveness only to be showed
' when full revenge is made.' ^ The worst of the evils feared
never came to pass : the feuds and crimes of that brilliant,
witty, and passionate people left their mark on our imagina-
tive literature rather than on our national customs. The
duel scene in Hamlet, the plots of the terrible tragedies of
Webster, where the northern imagination throws a cloud of
metaphysical gloom around the quick animal simplicity of
southern hate, the choice of the hired bravo for the central
figure of their plays by Tourneur, Middleton, and Webster,^
— these and^many other instances attest the influence of con-
temporary life in Italy on the literature of England, and
explain the nervous anticipations of the older generation.
^ See Ascham's lVo>-ks, Ed. Giles, vol. iii. pp. 147-167, at the close of
Book I. of The Scholeviaster. The whole passage is worn trite with quota-
tion.
2 See Descriptioulof Eiigland, chap.^i., in ' Camelot Classics ' Edition, with
Introductionby F. J. Furnivall.
^ Shakespeare never makes him more than an accessory figure, as in
Macbeth.
1
THE COURTIER
Others, again, in the name of the dignity of literature, INTRO-
protested against the influx of Italian novels. Thomas DUCTION
Drant, who, with Thomas Burke and Captain Boycott, has Thomas
his memory perpetuated among English verbs, poured forth ^
the indignation of his soul in the preface to his translation
of Horace.^ ' I feare me,' he says, ' a number do so thincke
' of this booke, as I was aunswered by a prynter not long
' agone. " Though,"' sayth he, " Sir, your boke be wyse
' " and ful of learnying, yet peradventure it wyl not be so
' " saileable '"' — signifying indeede that Aim flames, and gue
' gawes, be they never so sleight and slender, are soner rapte
' up thenne are those which be lettered and Clerkly mak-
' ings. And no doubt the cause that bookes of learnynge
' seme so hard is, because such and so greate a scull of
' amarouse Pamphlets have so preoccupyed the eyes and
' eares of men, that a multytude beleve ther is none other
' style or phrase ells worthe gramercy. No bookes so ryfe
' or so frindly red, as be these bookes,
Hie meret aera liber sociis, et trans mare currit,
Et longum nolo scriptori proroyat evum.'
The printer whose remark is quoted v/as doubtless Thomas
Marshe, Dranfs own printer, who produced also two edi-
tions of Paynter's book, and Fenton's Certaine Tragicall Paynter
Discourses (1567). That Paynter is pointed at becomes
apparent when Drant takes up his tale again to inveigh
against the story of Romeo and Juliet, which must have
enjoyed an extraordinary popularity, both in Paynter's
collection and in Arthur Brooke's earlier version of 1562 : —
' Whether they be good or no, easy they are sure, and that
' by thys Argument. For g^ood thyngs are hard, and evyl
' things are easye. But if the settyng out of the wanton
^ Horace, His Arte of Poetrie, pistles, and Satyrs Englished , . . by Tho.
Drant ( 1 567. ) To the Reader.
11
INTRO-
DUCTION
Romeo and
Juliet
Ascham on
The
Courtyer
THE BOOK OF
' tricks of a payre of lovers, (as for example let theym be
' cawled Sir Chaunticleare and Dame Partelote) to tell how
' their firste combination of love began, how their eyes
' floted, and howe they anchored, their beames mingled one
' with the others bewtye : then of their perplexed thowghts,
' their throwes, their fancies, their dryrye driftes, now in-
' terrupted, now unperfyted, their love dayes, their gaude
' dayes, their sugrcd words, their sugred joyes. Afterward
' how envyous fortune, through this chop, or that chaunce,
' turned their bliss to baile, severynge too such bewtyful
' faces and dewtyful harts. Last at partying to ad to an
' oration or twane interchangeably had betwixt the two
' wobegone persons, the one thicke powdered wyth manly
' passionat pangs, the other watered wyth wominishe teares :
' Then to shryne them up to god Cupid, and make Martirres
' of them both, and therewyth an ende of the matter. This
' and such lyke is easye to be understanded and easye to be
' indyted. ... I take them to be rype tounged tryfles,
' Venemouse Allectyves, and sweete vanityes.'
The Courtyer therefore holds a singular position in the
history of English letters. It is the literary first-fruits in
^England of the Italian Renaissance proper. Printed earlier
than any of the much decried collections of novels, it yet
was well received by the strictest censors. Ascham's praise
of it, if not quite consistent with his contempt for 'the
'merry books of Italy,' is highly discerning. 'To join
' learning with comely exercises,'' he says, ' Conte Baldesar
' Castiglione, in his book Cortegiane^ doth trimly teach ;
' which book advisedly read and diligently followed but one
' year at home in England, would do a young gentleman
' more good, I wiss, than three years' travel abroad spent in
' Italy. And I "marvel this book is no more read in the
' Court than it is, seeing it is so well translated into English
' by a wortiiy gentleman, Sir Thomas Hobby, who was many
lii
THE COURTIER
' ways well furnished with learning, and very expert in INTRO-
' knowledge of divers tongues." ^ Ascham forgot that Hoby DUCTION
himself had spent more than three years abroad in the
gaining of these divers tongues, and that in The Courtyer
there are to be found, besides moral teaching, not a few
tales of passion and of mirth, written in the very vein of the
novelists. What he remembered was that the translator
was a scholar of the old type, a gentleman of an approved
morality and a sober bearing. He was pleased too, no
doubt, with the serious and lofty temper of Castiglione's
book, and perhaps was willing to connive at the importation
of a little contraband along with so precious a cargo of
warrantable commodities. So it came about that the histor}f
of The Courtyer in England, and of its large influence dfi^
Elizabethan thought and literature, begins with Ascham"'$
praises.
IV
In the main, those praises are deserved. Hoby's trans-
lation, completed by the time he was twenty-four, is con-
scientious, intelligent, and able. He follows hard on the
track of his author, phrase by phrase, and word by word,
and it is to the credit of our older English speech that he
generally succeeds in finding some rough sort of vernacular
equivalent for the delicate turns of the courtly Italian. His
knowledge of the language, despite his long residence and
hard study, is far from perfect. To take some only of his
mistakes : where the Duchess is laughinglv named by M. Hoby's
Unico Aretino, verissima Sirena, Hoby translates it (p. 38) blunders
' a most perfect meremayden.' But this misses the point,
for Aretino goes on to suggest that the company should
amuse themselves by declaring in turn what is the meaning
of the letter S which the Duchess wore on her forehead.
^ The Scholemaster, Ed. Giles, vo]. iii. p. 141.
liii
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- Again, where a man on horseback is described, stirato sii la
DUCTION sella {come noi sogliam dire) alia Venitiana, Hoby translates
aud Perver- (p. 60), ' bolt upright setled in saddle (as we use to say
sions jjftei- the Venetian phrase)/ It is the Venetian manner, not
of speech, but of riding, that is described — a manner well
illustrated by the equestrian statue of Bartolomeo Colleoni.
A similar slip in the reading of punctuation gives a false
version on p. 90, where ' the unmanerly countrey-woman '
should be described not as rising out of her sleep, but as
ilefending herself from sleep.^ Alcana donna is not truly
rendered by ' a woman in the world ^ (p. 96), nor una donna
by 'a certein woman.' The Lord Cajsar is speaking of
female beauty in general, and Hoby's mistake spoils the
retort of Count Lewis, who slyly suggests the personal
application. Sometimes the meaning is wholly lost in the
rendering. ' Because therefore the minde of old age is
' without order subject to many pleasures, it can not taste
' them,' writes Hoby (p. 104), as if the pleasures of age were
lost in their own excess. The literal meaning is that the
mind of old age is a subject disproportioned, or ill adapted,
to many of the pleasures of life. Castiglione's Count Lewis,
again, does not commit himself to the highly questionable
statement that ' finenes hindreth not the easines of under-
standing' (p. 70). What he says is that ease is no enemy to;,
elegance — the very cardinal doctrine of the true courtly style 'ii
' Whoso hath grace, is gracious ' (p. 56) hardly expresses
the meaning of Chi ha gratia^ quello e grato, which would
be better rendered, ' Whoso hath grace, findeth grace.' ' It
' The Italian reads : — Con questo la inculta contadinella, die inanzi al
giorno a filare, e a tessere si leva, dal sonno si defende, e la sua fatica fa
piacevole. Compare the lines quoted by Johnson : —
' Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound :
All at her work the village maiden sings ;
Nor while she turns the giddy wheel around,
Revolves the sad vicissitude of things.'
liv
THE COURTIER
' is a woorse matter not to dooe well then not to under- INTRO-
*• stande howe to dooe it' (p. 43) fails to give the true sense DUCTION
— that to lack the will is worse than to lack the power.
' Desperate and pikinge "* (p. 324) is a wide aim at the
meaning of vili e fraudolenti. 'Palmastrers ' (p. 348) divine
by the hand, not by the visage; the Italian word is
Fisionomi. Cor'tiffiania, a word of cardinal importance in
the treatise, is rendered variously by ' Courtiers"' trade,""
' Courtiership," 'Courtlinesse,"'and (worst of all) by 'Courting/
' Solemnesse'' (p. 315) is not, and was not in Hoby"'s day, an
equivalent for insolentia. Last, and most unhappy, ' Stout-
nesse of courage' (p. 310), as a translation of magnanimita,
makes sad havoc of that whole Aristotelian arch of virtues
which has highmindedness, or magnanimity, for its key-
stone.
Most of the obscurities of the English arise, not from the
translator's misunderstanding of the Italian, but from his His Syntax
imperfect mastery of his own tongue. Sometimes his syntax
is merely slipshod, as, for instance, when he writes (p. 293) : —
' For sins nature so sildome times bringeth furth such kinde
' of men, as she doeth.' Here the Italian order, putting the
phrase ' so seldom times ' after ' men,"" makes all clear. A
little later (p. 295), the Lord Octavian is thought to have
' gotten himself out of companye to think well upon that he
' had to saye without trouble.' Here again the original
avoids all ambiguity by the fit placing of the words ' without
trouble.' Often the resolve of the translator to do his
business with Saxon words leads him into snares. One of
the great difficulties of native English syntax is the right
managing of prepositions and prepositional phrases. These
are so numerous in idiomatic, colloquial English that the
utmost caution is necessary to prevent ambiguity, for a pre-
position may govern the word that follows, or may be a
mere enclitic. Thus, when Hoby writes (p. 53): — 'For to
Iv
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- ' abide by, whoso loseth his conning at that time, sheweth
DUCTION 'that he hath firste loste his heart':— the translation of
Certamente is vigorous (' to abide by '), but the words are
ill placed. Many passages must be teased to yield their
meaning, as this, for instance, wherein it is argued that the
Courtier may dance in public, if only he be masked : — ' And
' though it were so that all menne knew him, it skilleth not,
' for there is no way to that, if a man will shewe himselfe
' in open sightes about such matters, whether it be in armes
' or out of armes.'' ' There is no way to that,'' for 7i07i e
miglior via di qriella, is idiomatic, but, standing where it does,
it is not clear. The use of these idioms sometimes has a
curious effect : — ' I beleave therefore that it is well done
to love and awaie with one more then another'' (p. 138).
This seeming allusion to an elopement puzzled Hoby's con-
temporaries ; it is altered to ' beare with ' by the printer
(and self-appointed editor) of the ] 588 edition.
Sometimes the sense is imperilled by a servile verbal
transcription of the original. Since Hoby made bold to
His translate pin die humani by ' more then manlye "* (p. 108), he
Literalism ^yas untrue to his own guiding principle when he wrote ' the
journey of Cirignola"' (p. 182) for la giornata della Ciri-
gnola ; it should have been ' day '' or ' battle.' He writes
' for once, he is neyther welfavoured ' (p. 282) where the
Italian reads gia non e hello, and habitually renders quasi
by ' in a maner.' ' For (in a maner) alwayes a manne by
' sundrye wayes may clime to the toppe of all perfection ' is
a clumsy expression of the idea that there are almost always
more ways than one whereby perfection may be reached.
The whole section on Jests and Jesting is confused by a
blind following of the Italian. Castiglione, who borrowed
his classification of jests from Cicero's De Oratore, darkens
the meaning of his original ; in Hoby's translation the
eclipse, though of short duration, becomes total. 'It pro-
Ivi
THE COURTIER
' voketh much laughter (which nevertheles is conteined INTRO-
.' under declaration) whan a man repeteth with a good grace DUCTION
' certein defaultes of other men.' What is the meaning
of the words between brackets ? They are an allusion to
the classification of jests previously given, and should run
somehow thus : — ' Which nevertheless is included under
the heading of narration."" ^
To break off a long tale — for it is difficult ' to repeat with
a ffood o-race the faults of other men,' when those men have
done well for their country, — Hoby's command of the His Homely
resources of the native element in our speech remains to ^^^'"^
be praised. The teaching of Sir John Cheke was not lost
on Tiim'.'^ He is blameless when he says 'open' rather than
' discover,"" ' underling *" for ' inferior,"" ' set by "" rather than
' esteem,'' and the like in a hundred cases. The vigour of his
diction is oft^ adjmirable ; indeed at times it is extravagant.
' Lothsomnesse "" (p. 166) is too strong a word for fastidio,
and the reader is forcibly reminded of the roaring of a
sucking dove when he finds the moi'morar soave of the Italian
rendered 'the sweete roaringe of a plentifull and livelye
springe ■" (p. 155). Yet tjie strong, homely savour of many
of Hoby's phrases, though it be not, in his own words, ' a
smack of the right bliss,' is a good thing in itself. Forget
the quiet of the Italian courtly speech, which touches lightly
and suavely on all things ugly or excessive, and there is
pleasure to be had from the blunt emphasis of our own un-
chastened tongue. The evil man and the foolish person
(there are many in the world, and the Italian speaks of them
^ For Cicero's classification, exactly followed by Castiglione, see De O^-atore,
\\. 54 : — ' Etenim cum duo genera sint facetiarum, alterum aequabiliter in
' omni sermone fusum, alterum peracutum et breve, ilia a veteribus superior
' cavillatio, haec altera dicacitas nominata est.' And again, ii. 59: 'Duo
' sunt enim genera facetiarum, quorum alterum re tractatur, alterum dicto. '
The classification, which attempts, in the opinion of some, to distinguish wit
from humour, can hardly afford to be robbed of meaning.
h Ivii
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- without heat) shall not escape the Englishman — they are
DUCTION dubbed 'the naughtypacke,' and 'the untowardly Asse-
heade.' The blind become 'blinde buzzards'; the ill parts
of youth are called its ' curst prankes ' ; decrepitude is ' age
on the pittes brink ' ; to keep out of danger s reach is ' to slepe
in a whole skinne ' ; to show grief is ' to fume and take on
so ■" ; to bear the head erect and stiff is to carry it ' so like
a malthorse '' ; a peasant is ' a lobbe of the Countrie ' ; to
have worse hap is ' to come into a greater pecke of troubles ' ;
to bear mocking without retort is ' to stand with a flea in
the eare ' ; troppo amo7'evoU is rendered ' too loving wormes ' ;
and al contrario spells ' arsiversy.'
The free flourishes and profuse decoration of the true
Elizabethans are scarcely to be found in the plain speech of
Hoby. Sometimes he doubles the Italian word, as when he
writes ' trade and manor,'' ' rule and ensample,' ' purpose and
drift,"* ' the aire or veyne of it,' ' wavering and unstedfast.'' ^
Here and there, yet very seldom, he allows himself a more
liberal expansion. Freddissimi, used metaphorically, he
1 This particular redundant habit of speech is best exemplified by Lord
Berners, whose preface to Froissart opens thus : — ' What condigne graces and
' thankes ought men to give to the writers of historyes ? who with their great
' labors, have done so moch profyte to the humayne life. They shew, open,
* manifest and declare to the reder, by example of olde antyquyte : what we
' shulde enquere, desyre, and folowe. And also, what we shulde eschewe,
' avoyde and utterlye flye. For whan we (beynge unexperte of chaunces)
' se, beholde, and rede the aunchent actes, gestes, and dedes. Howe, and
* with what labours, daungers and paryls they were gested and done. They
' ryght greatly admonest, ensygne, and teche us : howe we maye lede forthe
' our lyves. And farther, he that hath the perfyte knowledge of others joye,
* welthe, and hyghe prosperyte : hath thexperte doctryne of all parylles.'
The doublets in the Prayer Book are often said to be due to a desire for
clearness ; but that craving for symmetry which finds expression in all varieties
of antithesis and balance probably has more to say to them. Mr. Swinburne's
adjectives and substantives hunt in fierce couples through the rich jungle of
his prose. The taste for pairs, once acquired, like all tastes of the wealthy,
is hard to put ofl'.
Iviii
THE COURTIER
renders ' very colde and without any grace or countenance."' INTRO-
Women are not to be mocked at, says Castiglione, because, DUCTION
being unable to defend themselves, they must be reckoned
with the wretched. ' In this point,' says his translator,
' women are in the number of selie soules and persons in
' raiserye, and therefore deserve not to be nipped in it.""
These modest explanatory licences are but another form of
reduplication; there are to be found in Hoby's bookonly_
the_fir£t -timid beginnings of the later voluble manner. I
In two or three places the translator, by his choice
of words, betravs the bias of the serious school of thought His Pro-
to which he belonged. He translates noi'cUc by ' triflyng testant Bias
tales' (p. 37). He boggles at the word divino, or d'lvina-
mente, applied by the enthusiasm of Italian criticism to the
fairest works and deeds of man. The glorious wits of
ancient time, says Castiglione, of a truth were godlike in
every excellence : ' in very dede,' says Hoby, ' they were of
most perfection in every vertue' (p. 108). The divinity
that is in music, by a similar modification, becomes the
' excellency' (p. 119). To Virgil alone, by right perhaps of
long prescription, is the praise allowed of ' so devine a witte
and judgemente' (p. 66). But these scruples are not
proper to Hoby, for the mode of speech that he avoids is
altered or ponderously apologised for by the editor in more
than one of the Italian editions. And when censure has
said its last word, The Courtyer, as done into English by
Thomas Hoby, is still the book of a great age, — the age
that made Shakespeare possible. It is rich in fine passages,
and even its obscurest recesses are graced by broken and
reflected light, thrown back upon it from the torches of
those who passed this way and went onward, leading the
English speech to a splendid destiny.
Such as it was, it took its assured place among the books ^.^^^ ^^ rp^^
of that age, and ran through four Editions during the reign Courtier
lix
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- of Elizabeth. There are reissues dated 1577, 1588, and
DUCTION 1603.^ Ten years after the appearance of Hoby''s transla-
tion, one Bartholomew Gierke, a Fellow of King's College,
Cambridge, urged thereto by his friend and patron Lord
Buckhurst, completed a Latin version of the original : it
was printed by Henry Bynneniann in 1577,- with a dedi-
cation to the Queen and a commendatory epistle to the
reader by Edward Vere, Earl of Oxford. After the acces-
sion of James the popularity of the book declined. The
last of the great Courtiers was executed in 1618, and a new
world of parliament-men was growing up. There was a
revival of interest , early in the Eighteenth Century, when
two fresh translations appeared almost at the same time.
The better of these, by A. P. Castiglione, Gent., who pre-
fixed a botched-up life and added some of the author's
^ I find myself, with regret, unable to certify the existence of the Edition of
1565 mentioned by Cooper (Aihenae Cantab., i. 242) and the writer of the
article on Hoby in the Dictionary of National Biography. It would be of
peculiar interest as the last edition published in Hoby's lifetime. But there
is no trace of it in the Stationers' Register, nor in any of the authorities cited
by the two writers mentioned above. The later Editions are of no value for
the text. That of 1588 prints the Italian original and the French version
of Chapuis in parallel columns by the side of Hoby's English. The printer,
John Wolfe, or some one employed by him, has taken upon himself to amend
the English text. Thus, ' the L. Julian ' becomes ' the Ladie Julian,' — a
new character in the colloquy. The most picturesque pieces of Saxon are
removed. There are new misprints, as ' verie Pilgrimes' for ' wery
pilgromes' (p. 90). Wolfe's masterpiece of emendation is his reading of
the anecdote on p. 173. Hoby had boldly anglicised the Italian word for
' heretic,' and had written ' to nip him for a marrane.' Master Wolfe, proud
of his French, makes of this 'to nip him for a chesnut' !
"^ Balthasaris Castilionis Coviitis De Curiali Sive Anlico Lihri quatiior, ex
Italico Sermons in Latimim conversi. Bartholomaeo Gierke Anglo Canta-
brigiensi Interprete Novissime jEditi. Londini, apud Henricum Bynne-
man, Typographum. Anno Domini, IS77. The translator, dating from
Sackville's house, in 1571, speaks of the interruptions caused by his journey
with Sackville into France, and by his parliamentary duties. In the following
year he was appointed Dean of the Arches. A fuller account of him may be
found in Strvpe, Life of Parker, ii. 183-190.
Ix
THE COURTIER
poetical pieces, appeared in 1727, and reached a second edi- INTRO-
tion in 1737. It gives Italian and English throughout. DUCTION
The worse was a venture of CurlFs ; it appeared in 1729
with a dedication (dated 1723) by the translator, Robert
Samber, to John, Duke of Montagu. The scion of the
house of Castiglione does not mention Hoby ; Samber calls
him 'Sir Thomas Hobbes," and very sagely remarks, in a
preface which is one conglomerated mass of error : — ' It is
' certain that Sir Thomas did not understand his Authour,
* or at least his Language is such, that I do not understand
' him.' Castiglione's translation is dull and flat, Samber's is
dull and pert. In no respect does either threaten the pre-
rogative of Hoby, or impair his title to be esteemed the first
and last translator of the Book or the Courtier.
V
That the vogue of the book in England should have
coincided exactly with the Elizabethan Age is something
other than an accident. The literature of that age was a
literature of the Court, as surely as the literature of the age
of Anne was a literature of the Town. The way to political The Courtly
\influence, to social advancement, to power and consideration Cninsation
-and fame, lay through the Court, in England as in Italy.
Now that the Court has dwindled into a drawing-room, it is
perhaps not wholly easy to realise what once it meant to
the nation. It was the centre, not of government alone,
i but of the fine arts : the exemplar of culture and civilisation.
Few great Englishmen of the Nineteenth Century have been
intimately connected with the Court ; few indeed of the
great Elizabethans were not. The names of Charles Darwin,
Robert Browning, and Charles George Gordon on the one
hand, of Francis Bacon, Edmund Spenser, and Sir Philip
Sidney on the other, sufficiently point the contrast. Even
Shakespeare, the High Bailift^s son, was something of a
Ixi
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- Courtier; he paid the most magnificent of courtly tributes
DUCTION to Queen EHzabeth in certain lines: —
Shakespeare i ^^^^ ^^^ imperial votaress passed on
In maiden meditation, fancy free ' : —
and he (or his editors) inserted in the play of Macbeth
sundry passages which can only be called skilful pieces of
Hattery designed to gratify King James, In those flourish-
ing days of adventure, the successful adventurer found him-
self, sooner or later, brought into contact with the Court.
Drake Francis Drake, when he had sailed round the world, enter-
tained Queen Elizabeth on board his ship at Deptford ; and
Lithgow AVilliam Lithgow, the Scottish pedestrian, after escaping
with his life from the tortures of the Spanish Inquisition,
was carried on a feather-bed to Theobalds, that he might
narrate the wonders of his travels to King James. The
\ Courtier was the embodiment and type of the civilisation
of the Renaissance, as the Orator was the typical product
of the civilisation of ancient Rome. And the treatises of
Cicero and Quintilian, wherein is set forth the character of
the perfect orator, have their exact counterpart in the books
\ written by the Italians of the Sixteenth Century for the
instruction of the Perfect Courtier.^
^ The domination of the idea of the Court is attested also by those
numerous ballads, poems, and treatises, in the vein of Guevara's Monosprecio
de la Corte or Spenser's Mother Hubbard's Tale, which rail on Court life.
An eloquent translation of the former, entitled, A Dispraise of the life of a
Courtier, and a commendacion of the life of the labouryng ftian (R. Grafton,
1548), was made by Sir Francis Bryant and dedicated to Hoby's patron,
William, Marquis of Northampton. ' The court is a perpetuall dreame, a
' bottomlesse whorlepole, an inchaunted phantasy, and amase : when he is in,
' he cannot get out till he be morfounded. . . . God knowes (for example)
' how many gentle and good honest myndes labor in the villages, and how
' many foles and lubbers bragge it in palaices.' The railers were all courtiers,
just as most of those who inveigh against modern commercialism and in-
dustrialism are (in the scientific sense of the word) parasites of the industrial
and commercial community. The last word on the controversy Court versus
Country is said by Touchstone in As You Like It.
Ixii
THE COURTIER
The instruction given sometimes descended to the INTRO-
minutest details of dress and deportment. The chief rival DUCTION
to Castiglione's book, in its own century, was written by a
bishop, Giovanni della Casa, about 1550, under the title Delia Casa on
// Galateo. This book, much prized by the Italians for Etiquette
the grace and purity of its diction, speedily ran through
the principal European languages ; it was translated into
English by Robert Peterson, of Lincoln's Inn, and pub-
lished in 1576.^ It is the very Sancho Panza to Casti-
glione's Don Quixote. A few brief extracts may serve to
show the nature of the teaching imparted : — ' A man must
' leave to yawne muche ... as that it seemes to proceede
' of a certaine werynes, that shewes that he that yawneth
' could better like to be els where then there in that
' place : as wearied with the companie, their talke and their
' doings."*
'It is a rude fashion, (in my conceipte) that som men
* use, to lye lolling asleepe in that place where honest men
' be met together of purpose to talke. . . . Likewise doe
* they very yll, that now and then pull out a letter out
' of theyr pocket to reade it. . . . But they are much
* more to be blamed, that pull out theyr knyves or their
* scisers, and doe nothing els but pare their nayles."'
* There be other . . . never leave brauling with their
* servants, and rayling at them, and continually disturbe
^ Galateo of Mahter John Delia Casa, Archebishop of Beneventa. Or
rather, A treatise of the inaners and behaviours , it behoveth a man to use ayid
eschewe in his familiar conversation. . . . Lond. : Newbery, 1576. The
popularity of the Galateo continued, under constantly changing titles, long
after the vogue of The Cotirtyer had ceased. The Galateo Espagnol, or
The Spanish Gallant (1640), so called because Italian influence was on the
wane, is another version of the same book. So is The Refined Courtier
(1663), of which some account will be found in the Retrospective Review,
vol. xvi. p. 375, where the book is somewhat absurdly treated as if it were
an index to the slate of manners at the Court of Charles il. So late as 1774
there was published yet another paraphrase, by the Rev, Richard Graves.
Ixiii
THE BOOK OF
INTRO-
DUCTION
The Tempe
of The
Courtier
Honesty
' the company with their uiujuietnes : using such speeches:
• " Thou cauledst me well up this morning. Looke heere
' " how cleane thou hast made these pynsons. Thou beaste,
' " thou diddest waite well uppon me to Churche. It were
' " a good deede to breake thy head.'" These be unsemely
' and very fowle fashions, suche as every honest man will
' hate to death.''
There is nothing of all this in The Courtier, which
indeed is to the Galateo what a theory of jurisprudence is
to a record of the decisions of a police-court magistrate.
Castiglione deals less with accomplishments and decorum
than with the temper and character which beget decorum.
The attraction of the book for Hoby and the men of his
time undoubtedly centred in its singularly high and un-
compromising morality, its breadth of treatment and design.
The perfect self-dependence and implicit self-assertion of
the Courtier, although pagan in its essence, and modelled
on pagan examples, made a ready and powerful appeal to
Protestant thought. Here w^as a real bond of union
between the Italian humanists and the men of the Refor-
mation, A principle of self-assertion is inherent in
Protestantism, which, however it may exalt the higher
law, yet practically claims for the individual the right to
interpret that law. The self-assertion of the humanists
was open and unashamed : man was to train himself like a
I racehorse, to cultivate himself like a flower, that he might
I arrive, soul and body, to such perfection as mortality may
I covet. This perfection had nowhere been more systemati-
l cally described and defined than in the works of the ancient
\ philosophers; and it Js from Aristotle^'s Ethics that Casti-
\ glione borrows the framework of his ideal character.
The main outlines of that character are bold and free.
The Courtier, so far from being a time-server, is ' a fellow
of an incorrigible and losing honesty.'
Ixiv
He is not to
THE COURTIER
achieve his ends through byways: — 'To purchase favour INTRO-
* at great mens handes, there is no better waye then to DUCTION
' deserve it' (p. 127). When he finds that he has a rival in
love, ' bicause I woulde not lyke that oure Courtier shoulde
' at anye tyme use anye deceyte, I woulde have him to with-
' drawe the good will of his maistresse from his felowlover
* with none other arte, but with lovinge, with servingc,
'and with beeinge vertuous, of prowesse, discreet, sober'
(p. 281). On the question of flattery it is interesting to P'lattery
compare Castiglione with Machiavel. ' Of this kind of
' cattle,' says Machiavel, speaking of flatterers, ' all histories
' are full,' and he suggests to the prince how they may be
dealt with. It is one of the chief misfortunes of princes
that they seldom hear free speech. But to encourage all
inmates of the palace to speak their mind is impossible.
The prince therefore must select certain discreet men for
his counsellors, and so bear himself towards them that
every one of them shall find, the more freely he speaks, the
more kindly his advice is received. The first interest of the >
prince, according to Machiavel, is to hear the truth.^ The
chief end of the Courtier, according to Castiglione (p. 297),
is to tell it. He is to endeai' himself to his prince by his
gifts and graces only that he may gain this invaluable
liberty. And that his motives may be untainted by sus-
picion, he is never to ask anything for himself (p. 125).
The whole catalogue of the Aristotelian virtues is added
for a dower. The chief of these is Magnanimity: — ' But Magnanimity
' Magnanimity cannot stand alone, because no one can
' arrive to greatness of soul who hath not other virtues.' 2
Magnanimity is the soul of the Courtier, for it preserves
1 T/ie Prince, chap, xxiii. See also The Courtyer, p. 298.
^ Mistranslated by Hoby , p. 3 10. The passage is a simple transcription from
Aristotle's Ethics, iv. 7, on ij.eya\o\pvxia. Welldon's translation runs : — ' It
' seems then that high-mindednessisasit were the crown of the virtues, (k6(7/j.m
' Tts tQv aperibv), as it enhances them and cannot exist apart from them.'
i Ixv
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- him, in a world of minute observances, from laying stress on
DUCTION trifles, from losing sight of the end in a sedulous study of
the means. It is only by virtue of magnanimity that the
Courtier can attain to that negligence, or ' recklessness,' as
Hoby not very happily translates it, which is of the essence
of good manners. Castiglione's treatment of this grace of
sprczzatiira — the word has no exact English equivalent — is
his chief contribution to a philosophy of manners. His pro-
Good foundest truth is this same paradox. To do the right thing
jManuers j^ nothing, unless the doer seem to value it not at all.^ The
precise, the punctilious, those who bend their whole energies
to the study of manners, and expend therein ' an infinite
capacity for taking pains,"" may attain to correct behaviour ;
they are pedants, dancing-masters, esquire beadles in their
very success. There is a grace beyond the reach of art in
* that pure and amiable simplicity which is so agreeable to
* the minds of m^n."" The author indeed tries to save
earnest spirits from despair by advising them to dissimulate
their effort : — ' to seme not to mynde the thing a man doeth
excellently well.'' It is a spurious consolation, and he has
discounted its value beforehand by quoting the proverb : —
' Grace is not to be learned.' All teaching of the arts
seems to lead ultimately to the theological doctrine of
grace. ' Freedom under the law' is the beginning and end
of good manners, and the comparative stress that Castiglione
lays on freedom is the distinction of his work. In the half-
civilised societies of modern cities the two extremes may be
observed unreconciled, a world of meaningless timidities and
^ Lord Chesterfield gives advice to the same eflfect : — ' When you are once
* well dressed for the day, think no more of it afterwards ; and, without any
' stiffness for fear of discomposing that dress, let all your motions be as easy
' a-.d natural as if you had no clothes on at all' — (Dec. 30, 1748). And
.gain: — 'Were you to converse with a King, you ought to be as easy and
' unembarrassed as with your own valet-de-chambre ; but yet every look,
' word, and action should imply the utmost respect' — (June 13, 1751).
Ixvi
THE COURTIER
restraints on the one part, of noxious and sickening licence INTRO-
on the other. To mollify the savage is the business of DUCTION
education. But education cannot rescue a man from his
own small mind, nor crown him with the crown of the
virtues, Magnanimity.
All the elaborate discussion of virtues, graces, and policy, The Oration
all the admirable precepts of tact, and maxims of an °^ l^embo
enliglitened and unselfish worldly wisdom, draw to a point
on the fourth evening, when the company sets itself to
determine the chief end of a Courtier. The conversation is
carried on far into the night, and rises at its close to a
strain of lyrical rapture in the impassioned discourse of
Benibo concerning Love and Beauty. The transition to
this theme, which might seem to lie outside the scope
of the book, is managed with the perfection of dramatic
and literary skill. Some of the company feel a growing
impatience with the 'perfect monster whom the world
ne'er saw.' ' I feare me,' says one of them, speaking of
the Prince, whose virtues are to match the virtues of the
Courtier, ' I feare me he is like the Commune weale of
' Plato, and we shall never see suche a one, onlesse it be
' perhaps in heaven.' The objection, answered for the
nonce, rises again, and takes more specific shape. It had
been generally agreed that the Courtier should be a lover.
But when, in addition to all the arts and graces, the wisdom
of Aristotle and Plato (themselves perfect Courtiers) are
added unto him, the dilemma becomes apparent. The
experience and knowledge that are required can only come
with years, and the perfect Courtier must therefore of
necessity be old. But ' love frameth not with olde men,'
and to insist that he shall be a lover is to expose him. to the
contempt of women and the mocking of boys. It is here
that Bembo interposes the quiet remark that there is a love
without any mixture of bitterness or regret, seemly in men
Ixvii
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- of all ages. Pressed to enlarge his meaning, he breaks at
DUCTION last into the high mystical exposition of Platonic love
which closes the long debate with the solemn harmonies
of an unearthly music.
VI
The Religion The discourse of Bembo, by far the most notable part of
of the Castiglione's book, has to some readers and critics seemed
inapposite. It is really in perfect keeping, and even essen-
tial to the scheme. The question, ' What is the chief end
of a courtier.'''' had received but a lame answer. He is,
to influence his Piince, and consequently his Government,
for good ; but it is impossible not to feel that this is a
minor end, an accidental result, and that the Court exists for
him rather than he for the Court. ' Indeed,' observes the
German historian of the Renaissance, ' such a man would
' be out of place at any Court, because he himself possesses
' all the gifts and bearingj of an accomplished ruler, and
' because his calm supremacy in all things, both outward
' and inward, implies a perfectly independent nature." ^ He
is true to his Prince, but only because his mainspring of
action is that maxim of Polonius : —
' To thine own self be true.
And it must follow, as the night the day.
Thou canst not then be false to any man.'
The dangers of this ideal are easy to be seen, especially in
such an academic model of perfection as Castigiione had set
himself to frame. It is not good for a man to sit brooding
on his own character, or to play the fancier to his own
virtues. Nothing great was ever accomplished by one whose
ruling passion was self-improvement, who busied himself
chiefly about the cultivation of his own mind or the con-
^ Burckhardt, The Renaissance in Italy ^ trans. Middlemore(i892), p. 388.
Ixviii
THE COURTIER
dition of his own soul. The harassed, self-conscious, pre- INTRO-
occupied air of the apostle of culture compares ill with the DUCTION
forthright look of a sailor, whose mind is fixed on outward
things. It was perhaps a sense of this danger that led
Castiglione, as his book was approaching completion, to give
over the attempt to illuminate his model from the insid-e :
he sought a cause, an opportunity of whole-hearted devotion,
a religion, in which even the perfect Courtier might lose Love and
himself, and be abased. Where, in his own country and I^^^^^y
age, should he find this if not in the religion of Love and
Beauty ? And so, when the time seems come to knit up all
and make an end, we stumble suddenly on a greater matter
than all the rest — the Platonism of the Renaissance.
That Bembo should be chosen as high-priest of this Bembo
religion was natural enough. He was thirty-six years
old at the time of the colloquy in which he figures, and,
if history tell true, was deeply versed in the theorick and
practick parts of love. Only a few years earlier, in 1505,
he had produced his book of dialogues, on the miseries and
joys of lovers, entitled Gli Asolani, and had dedicated it to Gli Asolani
Lucretia Borgia. In this book, which probably furnished
Castiglione with the immediate suggestion for the close of
The Couktier, there are three principal speakers. The
first, Perottino, inveighs against Love in the finest veiji
of poetical declamation : — ' O bitter sweetness : O poisoned
' drug of healing for the insanity of lovers : O grievous joy,
' that entertainest thy possessors with no sweeter fruit
' than remorse : O beauty, that art no sooner seen, than,
' like a thin smoke, thou vadestawaj, leaving to the eyes
' that beheld thee nothing but their tears : O wings, that
' for all ye raise us on high, yet when your frail fabric
' is melted in the sun, ye bring us to suffer the naked
' fate of Icarus, falling headlong in the sea ! ' Tlie second,
Gismondo, praises Love as the giver of all good things
Ixix
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- to humanity. The third, Lavinello, distinguishes the several
DUCT ION tcinds of love, and repeats the discourse of an aged hermit
who initiated him in the mysteries of the true and eternal
Love,^ whereof all earthly love is but a weak reflection.
But although The Couktikr takes many hints from Bembo,-
the discourse attributed to him in Castio;lione''s book soars
a higher pitch and is more sustained than the oration of
Lavinello in his own. He had no cause to complain of the
part assigned to him, during his lifetime, by his friend.
But although his friendship with Bembo left its mark on
his work, Castiglione was under no exclusive obligation
The to Bembo for his knowledge of the Platonic philosophy,
Platomsts a^g j^ ^ya^g interpreted by the men of the Renaissance.
That philosophy had become a part of the common inherit-
ance ef knowledge ; from Florence the cult of Plato had
spread over all Italy. The Greek who gave to philosophy
the form and beauty of poetry, and to poetry the scope
and depth of philosophy, was in a fair way to be deified
by lovers of art and speculation. And of all Plato's
work the Dialogues concerning Love and Beauty were
strongest in their appeal to the mind of the Renaissance.
1 This is, of course, imitated from the Symposiuvi, where Socrates dis-
claims all knowledge of love save what Diotima has taught him. Ficino
•concludes the prefatory epistle to his treatise on the Symposium thus: —
•* May the Holy Spirit of Divine Love, which inspired Diotima, enlighten
' our minds and intlame our hearts in such wise, that we may love him in all
' his fair works ; and thereafter love his works in Him ; and with an infinite
' joy taste and see the infinity of His Beauty.'
^ The loftiest passage of Bembo's speech in The Courtier seems based on
a part of Perottino's oration : — ' Questi e quel Titio ; che pasce del suo fegato
* I'avoltoio ; anzi che il suo cuore a mille niorsi sempre riauova. Questi e
' quello Isione ; che nella ruota delle sue molte angoscie girando, hora ntlla
' cima, hora nel fondo portato, pure dal tormento non si scioglie giamai ' —
(Degli Asolani, ed. 1530). Here Castiglione takes up the tale, and echoes it,
as it were, in praise of the heavenly love : ' This is the great fire, in the which
* (the Poetes wryte) that Hercules was burned on the topp of the mountaigne
* Oeta,' etc. (see p. 361).
Lxx
THE COURTIER
The transcendentalism and mysticism of these dialogues, INTRO-
especially the Stjinposium and the Phaedrus, made it easy DUCTION
to Christianise them, so that Plato became a great Christian
philosopher, as Virgil long before had become a great
Christian poet. Something, indeed, more than a philo-
sopher, the founder of a religion and a hierarchy. A
ritual value was attached to the banquet where Socrates,
Alcibiades, Aristophanes, Agathon, and the rest had dis-
cussed the nature of love. During Plato's lifetime, accord-
ing to the chief of the Platonists, Marsilio Ficino, an
annual commemoration was held, and after his death it
was regularly observed by his pupils and followers until
the time of Porphyrins. Then it fell into disuse for
twelve hundred years, until at last it was reinstituted by
Lorenzo the Magnificent and Francesco Bandino. On the
7th of November (the day traditionally assigned as the
date of Plato's birth and death) a company of Platonic
enthusiasts met together at the Villa di Careggi, near
Florence, to discuss and expound the principles set forth
in the Symposiuvi. The system that was developed by
these Platonic enthusiasts is contained in Ficino's treatise Ficino
on Love,^ which is by way of being a report of the con-
versation at Lorenzo's villa. The same system is mapped
out with more ostentation of symmetry in the later com-
mentary of Pico della Mirandola upon a canzone of Pico
Girolamo Benivieni.- These two treatises furnish the best
^ Marsilio Ficino Sopra lo Amove over' Convito di Platone. Firenze, 1544.
The translation is by Ficino himself, from his Latin De Voluptaie, Venice,
1497.
- Conimento sopra una canzona de amove da Hieronimo Benivieni. Trans-
lated into English by Thomas Stanley under the title A Platonick Discourse
upon Love. Written in Italian by John Picus Mirandula, In Explication
of a Sonnet, by Hieronimo Benivieni. Printed in the year 1651. Other
works on the subject of Platonic Love are by Mario Equicola, Leone Ebreo,
and Francesco Cattani da Diaceto.
Ixxi
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- elucidation and illustration of the rhapsody attributed to
DUCTION Bembo in The Courtier.
The habit of enormous metaphysical disquisition upon
the figures and fancies of a poet was older than the new
Platonism Platonism. The brief poem of Guido Cavalcanti, the con-
and Poetry temporary and friend of Dante, beginning DoJina mi prega^
had already been buried under a pile of commentaries.
Poets had been taught to esteem themselves by the amount
of strained divinity that could be extracted from their love
songs. The beautiful figures and apologues of Plato lent
themselves very readily to a similar process, and the interest
of the works that emanated from the Platonic Academy
lies, not in their value as philosophy, but rather in their
large influence on the later poetry of Europe. The Pla-
tonism of the Renaissance came by the poets, and it went
by the poets. The whole of the love poetry of the Eliza-
bethan age in England is shot through and through with
fibres of mystical philosophy. It is impossible, for the most
part, to identify particular sources and origins. The history
of the clothes a man wears may be traced exactly : not so
the history of the air lie breathes. All we mav know is
Love that the treatment of love in, say, Shakespeare''s Sonnets, is
steeped in the tide of thp Italian influence. The poetical
imaginations of Plato, dessicated and pounded into dust
by the academicians, became a sovereign salve for English
poetry. The heavenly Love, raised far above the clouds by
the dialecticians, on an ascending structure of invisible plat-
forms, came down again, and once more walked the earth,
simple, sensuous, and passionate, but not unmindful of her
strange aerial adventures.^
' Let one example suffice — Shakespeare's fifty-third Sonnet: —
' What is your substance, whereof are you made,
That millions of strange shadows on you tend ?'
The language of this Sonnet could have been addressed by the Italian
Ixxii
THE COURTIER
It is Pico who gives the most comprehensive ordered INTRO-
account of the system which Bembo displayed to the Court DUCTION
of Urbino, All Love is a desire of Beauty. Celestial Love The System
is an Litellectual desire of Ideal Beauty. All Ideas have.'^^^^^^
their being in God, who impresses or carves them on the
Angelic Mind, which, at first a chaos, so takes form and
light, and turns in adoration to its Maker. This is the
beginning of Divine Love. From the Angelic Mind the
ideas descend into the Rational Soul, whereby is generated
Humane Love. And below this again is Sensual Love, an
appetite of union with the divine idea as it is impressed, by
a further descent, upon corporeal species. Sensual Love
mistakes the body for the source of that beauty which in
truth the body reflects but remotely and faintly. But as all
light comes from the sun, so all beauty is an emanation of
the Divine Bounty, and is wholly good : — 'Plotinus himself
' averres that there was never any beautiful Person wicked,
' that this Gracefulnesse in the Body is a certain signe of'
' Perfection in the Soul.'^ The assertion of Plotinus is
repeated by Bembo in The Courtier : — ' My Lordes (quoth
' he) I would not that with speakynge ill of beawtie, which
' is a holy thinge, any of us as prophane and wicked shoulde
' purchase him the wrath of God.^ The objections that Bembo
has to meet, Pico evades by a subtle distinction between two
kinds of corporeal beauty: the one consisting in the material
Platonists only to the Deity. But those who believe that Shakespeare so
addressed it have yet to read Shakespeare — from the beginning.
^ Quoted from Stanley's translation. Compare Mr. Birkbeck Hill's anec-
dote : — ' In my undergraduate days at Oxford, when not unfrequently I was
' in Rossetti's company, I one day heard him maintain that a beautiful young
' woman, who was on her trial on a charge of murdering her lover, ought
' not to be hanged, even if found guilty, as she was " such a stunner." When
* I ventured to assert that I would have her hanged, beautiful or ugly, there
' was a geneial outcry of the artistic set. One of them, now famous as a
' painter, cried out, " Oh, Hill, you would never hang a stunner ! " ' — Letters
of Dante Gabriel Rossetti to William Allingham, ed. by Birkbeck Hill. 1897.
^ Ixxiii
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- disposition of the parts, proportion, form, colour, and the
DUCTION like ; the other, called gracefulness, is the true life of beauty,
and alone kindles love.
Beauty, then, in all its manifestations is a certain act, or
ray, of the Divine Bounty, penetrating all things. From
this main conception Ficino draws many inferences, which
he builds into a complete system of love-casuistry. Some
of his arguments set a full chime of Elizabethan echoes
The Love- ringing in the memory. Here is one passage : — ' Of a truth
Philosophy t ^^^g lover desireth not this body nor that, but he desireth
' rather the brightness of the majesty of God, which,
f shining in this body or that, filleth his soul with
' wonder. Wherefore those who love know not what it is
' that they so desire and seek after, for they cannot know
' God. . . . And hence also it ariseth that all lovers are
' fearful and reverent in the sight of the person beloved ;
' and this befalleth even to strong and wise men in the
' presence of one beloved who is lesser than they. Verily,
' that is nothing human which so terrifieth and possesseth
' and breaketh them. For there is no human thing greater
' than the strength and wisdom that is in strong and wise
' men. But the brightness of the Godhead, which shineth
' in a beautiful body, compelleth these lovers to admire and
' fear and worship the said person like as it were a statue of
' God. For the same cause the lover despiseth riches and
* honour for the sake of the person beloved, rightly pre-
' ferring divine things before things human. Oftentimes,
' again, it falleth out that the lover desireth to be changed
' into his beloved ; and with reason, for he seeketh, by this
' means, of man to be made God. And who is he that
' would not wish to be God rather than man ? Moreover
' it is seen that those who are taken in the snare of love
' sometimes sigh and other times rejoice. They sigh because
* they are leaving themselves to perish, and they rejoice
Ixxiv
THE COURTIER
* because they are changed into a better. So also lovers INTRO-
' feel hot and cold by turns, after the manner of those who DUCTION
' have a tertian ague. They cannot but feel cold, for they
' have lost their proper warmth, and, again, they feel hot,
' being kindled by the supernal ray. From coldness pro-
' ceedeth timidity, and from heat boldness, wherefore lovers
' are sometimes timid, and other times bold. Men also of
' a slow and heavy wit are quick and discerning in love ;
' for what eye is there which cannot see by aid of the
' celestial light ? ' ^
; And here is the argument developed concerning love 'My true Love
feimple, and love interchangeable : — ' Verily, when I love ^^^^.^^^1 j
thee who lovest me, I find myself again in thy loving have his '
thought of me ; and myself, whom myself despised, I
regain in thy safe keeping. The same dost thou by me.
This also is wonderful to me, that after I have lost
myself, if by thee I regain myself, it is by thy means that
I possess myself; but if by thee I possess myself, I must
needs possess thee rather than myself, and hold thee dearer
than myself, and so am I closer to thee than to myself,
seeing that I cannot approach myself save through thee.
Herein the virtue of Cupid differeth from the strength of
Mars, inasmuch as mastery and love are of differing
natures. For he that wieldeth mastery holdeth power
over others by means of himself, but the lover by means
of others regaineth power over himself. And where two
love one another, each of them departeth from himself
to draw near unto the other, and dieth in himself to
revive in the other. In love interchangeable there is but
one death, and two resurrections ; for whosoever loveth,
dieth to himself once for all when he loseth hold of him-
self, and straightway is raised again in the beloved who
entertaineth him in his glowing thoughts ; and again he
^ Ficino, Sopra lo A more, Orazione ii. cap. 6.
Ixxv
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- ' is raised when he finally recogniseth himself in the
DUCTION ' beloved, and doubteth not but that he is loved. O
' twice happy death tliat art followed by two lives ! O
' marvellous contract whereby a man giveth himself in
' exchange for another, and gaineth another, and losetli
' not himself! O inestimable advantac^e when two be-
' come one in such wise that each of them, instead of
' one, becometh two, and he who had but one life,
' undergoing death, gaineth a twofold life, seeing that
' dying but once he is twice raised, so that without
' doubt he gaineth two lives for one, and for himself,
' two selves ! ' ^
These two extracts, which may be matched fifty times
over from the discourses of the Renaissance upon love, are
enough to show how difficult a task it is to trace the pas-
sage of ideas from book to book. And yet it is hardly
The Influence rash to attribute to the printed Book ok the Courtier a
?, ^^ direct and real influence on English letters. When divine
COURTIEU ...
Spenser platonising sings, the matter of his song, in all-
likelihood, is drawn from the oration of Bembo. His
Spenser Hymns, Of Heavenly Love and Of Heavenly Beautie, are,
in many of their stanzas, merely metrical versions of parts
of that oration.^ The assertion of Plotinus is once more
repeated : —
' The meanes, therefore, which unto us is lent
Him to behold, is on his workes to looke,
A^^iich he hath made in beauty excellent.
And in the same, as in a brasen booke,
To reade enregistred in every nooke
His goodnesse, which his beautie doth declare ;
For all thats good is beautifull and faire.'
^ Sopra lo Aviore, Orazione ii. cap. 8.
^ First pointed out by Mr. George Wyndham, in his edition of the Poems
of Shakespeare.
Ixxvi
THE COURTIER
And Bembo's rapturous invocation is echoed in the INTRO-
proem:- DUCTION
' Vouchsafe then, O thou most Almightie Spright I
From whom all guifts of wit and knowledge flow,
To shed into my breast some sparkling light
Of thine eteruall Truth, that I may show
Some litle beames to mortall eyes below
Of that immortall beautie, there with thee
Which in my weake distraughted mynd I see ;
That with the glorie of so goodly sight
The hearts of men, which fondly here admyre
Faire seeming shewes, and feed on vaine delight,
Transported with celestiall desyre
Of those faire formes, may lift themselves up hyer.
And learne to love, with zealous humble dewty,
Th' eternall fountains of that heavenly beauty.' ^
The Platonic doctrine of beauty is set forth yet again Shelley
in English poetry by Shelley, who imbibed it from its
source.^ Shelley is the true inheritor of Spenser, for the
Platonists of the Seventeenth Century, although they prac-
tised verse Spenserian in form, smothered all beauty, both
earthly and heavenly, under the weight of their metaphysical
lumber.
^ A maimed version of this stanza is inscribed around the interior of the
dome at BurUngton House : —
' The hearts of men that fondly here admire
Fair seeming shows may lift themselves up higher,
And learn to love with zealous humble duty,
Th' eternal fountain of that heavenly beauty.'
That the hearts of men could be raised by the ' fond ' admiration of ' fair
seeming' shows was not Spenser's idea. But perhaps the abbreviator
knew English, and meant what his words mean : that devotion to the source
of all true beauty is a better thing than the foolish admiration of what seems,
but is not, fair.
- See the Hymn to Intellectual Beauty.
Ixxvii
THE BOOK OF
INTRO-
DUCTION
Elizabethan
Allusions
Marston
Guilpin
Jonsou
VII
There is evidence enough, apart from these high matters,
of the vogue and repute of the Book of the Courtier in
England. Florio mentions ' Castilion's Courtier and Guazzo
his dialogues ' as the two books most commonly read by
those who desired to learn a little Italian.^ Marston, in his
Satires (1598), describes the character of the exactly cere-
monious courtier under the title of ' the absolute Castillo." ^
In his SMaletheia (1598), Guilpin uses the Christian name of
Castiglione in a like sense : —
' Come to the court, and Balthazer aflFords
Fountains of holy and rose-water words,' "
Ben Jonson, offering advice upon style, remarks that life
and quickness are added to writing by resort to pretty
sayings, similitudes, conceits, and the like, ' such as are in
The Courtier, and the second book of Cicero De Oratore.'' *
And before ever Jonson gave the advice, it had been freely
taken. The Courtier proved an excellent book to steal
from, and some of its stories reappear during the Eliza-
bethan age in several versions. Castiglione had borrowed
many of his jests from Cicero, and had adapted them, not
always happily, to the manners of his own age. Cicero's
story of Marcus Lepidus, lying stretched at ease on the
^ Florios Second Friites, 1591. Dedication to Nicholas Sanders.
^ Satire i. 11. 27-50. Ed. BuUen, vol. iii. p. 264.
* The Courtier is also quoted from, or mentioned in terms of familiarity
by, G. Fenton in his Monopkylo (1572), and by John Grange in his romance
of The Coldest Aphroditis (1577).
* Ti?nber, or Discoveries made tipott Men and Alatter {i6i\i). It is a curious
testimony to the oblivion fallen upon Castiglione's book that Professor Felix
Schelling, in his excellent annotated edition of the Discoveries (Boston,
U.S.A., 1892), explains the above allusion by reference to a trivial
Elizabethan pamphlet entitled The English Cuurtier and the Country
Gentleman^ etc.
Ixxviii
THE COURTIER
grass while his companions exercised themselves in martial INTRO-
feats, and sighing forth the aspiration, ' I wish that this DUCTION
were work ! "" is weakened in the adaptation (p. 188). But
the best stories told in The Courtier are not taken from
Cicero : some of them probably first reached England in
Hoby*'s translation. The story of the penurious farmer The Farmer
(p. 179) is told by Henry Peacham (in Truth of our ^^^^[^^^
Times Revealed, 1638), by John Taylor, the Water Poet
(in Part of this Summer^s Travels) ; it is alluded to by
Nashe, and by Hall (Satires, iv. 6), and is made use of by
Ben Jonson in Every Man out of his Humour, iii. ii. The
porter in Macbeth was thinking of the same story when he
said, ' Here"'s a farmer, that hanged himself on th' expecta-
tion of plenty : come in time." And yet it is not clear that
Shakespeare knew The Courtier. The advice of Polonius Shakespeare
to his son is in some points very close to the teaching of ^^ ^"^
Courtier
Castiglione, particularly in the matter of dress. Some of
Shakespeare's noblest praise of music sounds not unlike a
multiplied echo of Count Lewis's eulogy (pp. 89-91). On
the other side it may be remarked that, while The Courtier
is singularly rich in stories of Gothamites, simpletons,
ninnies, and noodles, Shakespeare's work shows no trace of
any of these stories. Sliakespeare loved a fool, and it may
be plausibly maintained that had he known the foolish
Abbot (p. 163) who recommended the digging of a pit for
the bestowal of superfluous rubbish, he would never have
been content to let him pass into the night unsung. Either
way the argument is frail : it may be that The Courtyer was '
a book too widely read to furnish comic surprises. But if
Shakespeare evade us, ' others abide our question.' Remini-
scences of The Courtier are to be found in more than one Tasso
of the Sixteenth Century masters. Where the Lord Octavian
describes how the Courtier is to win the mind of his Prince
by offering him honest pleasure, 'beeguilinge him with a
Ixxix
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- ' holsome craft, as the warie phisitiens do, who manye times
DUCTION ' whan they minister to yonge and tender children in ther
' sickenesse a medicin of a bitter taste, annoint the cupp
' about the brimm with some sweete licour' (p. 302), there
rises to the memory the apology of Tasso, and the lines
wherein he too pleads that the mixture of a lie doth ever
add pleasure : —
• For truth convey'd iu verse of gentle kind
To read perhaps will move the dullest hearts ;
So we^ if children young diseas'd we find,
Anoint with sweets the vessel's foremost parts.
To make them taste the potions sharp we give ;
They drink deceiv'd ; and so deceiv'd they live.' ^
Marlowe Where Count Lewis, again, argues for nobleness of birth
in the Courtier, not because high virtues may not consist
with low degree, but for the much better reason that pre-
judice plays a large part in all human affairs, and that
nobility of descent carries with it a favourable expectation,
he illustrates his meaning from the attitude of spectators at
a trial of skill : — ' 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
' scene that the lookers on many times beare affeccion with-
' out 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 ' (p. 48). It is impossible to
avoid the suspicion that Marlowe may have had this passage
lurkins: in his remembrance when he wrote those excellent
lines, honoured, as few lines of verse are honoured, by
Shakespeare's indubitable quotation of one of them : —
' It lies not in our ])ower to love or hate,
For will iu us is over-rul'd by fate.
1 Fairfax's Tasso, i. 3.
Ixxx
THE COURTIER
^Fhen two are stript, loug ere the course begin INTRO-
We wish that one should lose, the other win ; DUCTION
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold ingots, like in each respect :
The reason no man knows, let it suffice
Vyhat we behold is censur'd bj' our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight :
Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight ? ' ^
Last of all, the author of the Anatomy of Melancholy was Robert
well acquainted with Castillo's treatise, and found therein a ''"I'to"
large number of passages out of which he sucked melan-
choly, reducing them to his contemplative purpose.^
In one notable regard The Courtyer may well have served The Dialogue
as a model for the nascent Elizabethan drama. The^"'^
dramatic form of colloquy in which the book is cast was
the most popular of literary forms at the time of the
Renaissance. It was borrowed, of course, from the ancients,
from Plato, and Cicero, and Lucian. 'We will not in these
' bookes,' says the author, ' folow any certaine order or rule
' of appointed preceptes, the whiche for the moste part is
' wont to be observed in the teaching of anye thinge what-
' soever 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 ' (p. 28). To escape from
the appointed order, the categories, partitions, and theses
of scholasticism, into a freer air ; to redeem the truths of
morals and philosophy from their servitude to system, and
to set them in motion as they are seen in the live world,
soft and elastic, bandied hither and thither, the playthings
* Hero atid Leander, First Sestiad, 11. 167-176.
- It would make a good study of the temper of Burton, which is both his
genius and his style, to compare the borrowed passages as they stand in the
Anatomy with the same in their original context. The change of setting alters
them completely.
I Ixxxi
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- of circumstance and temperament, was in itself a kind of
DUCTION humanism, a reaching after the more perfect expressiveness
of the drama. The truth that by the lonely student,
trained in the methods of a school, had been fixed and
frozen, was once more liberated, dissolved in the humours
of life, made supple and mobile, to serve as a battle-gage
in the play of character and opinion. Philosophy herself
assumed a social habit, and ministered endless matter for
talk. The themes were diverse and many, at a time when
the whole solid-seeming fabric of ancient knowledge was
Dialogues reeling into vapour and changing form like a cloud. But
concerning wherever a real society of men and women is gathered
together, at ease with itself, and enjoying that liberty of
speech which is the reward of good breeding and lively
intelligence, one inexhaustible subject always tends to assert
its old predominance : before long the company is found
discussing the nature and surprising chances of love —
' pleasantly arguyng,' as one Elizabethan author phrases
it, ' of Veneriall disputations." And this, at least, is
a subject from which the eccentricities of individual
character and conduct will never be eliminated. So
that it is small matter for wonder if the beginnings of
true social comedy in modern literature be found in
these same colloquies. The Decameron, the Canterbury
Tales, the Heptameron, the conversations in the palace
at Urbino, not to mention a host of less famous ex-
amples, are all alike in this. In each of them the
framework, as it is called, is the most lifelike part of the
book, and has been strongest in its influence on later
writers. The stories of classical and mediaeval antiquity,
of Tancred and Gismunda, of Griselda, or of Camma and
Sinorix, when they are seen in their settings, are like
some beautifully wrought faded tapestry surrounded by a
bold bas-relief of figures in action, modelled from the life.
Ixxxii
THE COURTIER
The characters of Chaucer's Prologue take hold of the INTRO-
memory as the characters of his Tales do not. Boccaccio DUCTION
is praised by Bembo chiefly for the skill with which he The Drama
varies the links or proems of his hundred novels.^ And no Courtier
praise is too high for the gracious interludes of The Courtier,
the dramatic episodes that diversify the long abstract dis-
cussion, or the brief wit combats whereby the characters and
bias of the several speakers are given the semblance of
reality. These are transcripts from life; and, in point of
fact, Castiglione is allowing a literary convention of modesty
to vanquish truth when he pretends that he himself was not
present at those four evening colloquies in the palace. His
best skill is spent on the vivid setting of his dialogues.
Now it is the sudden arrival of the Lord General while
Cesare Gonzaga is expounding his views on the beauty of
women : — ' Then was there hard a great scraping of feet Dramatic
' in the floore with a cherme of loud speaking, and upon Episodes
' that every man tourninge him selfe about, saw at the
' Chambre doore appeare a light of torches, and by
' and by after entred in the L. Generall, who was then
' retourned from accompaninge the Pope a peece of the
' way.' Or it is the intrusion of dawn upon the long col-
loquy of the last night, and ' whan the windowes then were
' opened on the side of the Palaice that hath his prospect
' toward the high top of Mount Catri, they saw alredie
' risen in the East a faire morninge like unto the coulour
' of roses, and all sterres voided, savinge onelye the sweete
' Governesse of the heaven, Venus, whiche keapeth the
' boundes of the nyght and the day, from whiche appeered
^ ' Gran maestro fu a fuggirne la satieta il Boccaccio nelle sue Novella :
' il quale havendo a far loro cento proemi, in modo tutti gli vario ; che
' gratioso diletto danno a chi gliascolta : senza che in tanti fininienti e rientra-
' menti di ragionari tra dieci persone fatti schifare il fastidio non fu poco.'
Prose, ed. 1530, p. 88.
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- ' to blowe a sweete blast, that filling the aer with a bytinge
DUCTION i cold, begane to quicken the tunable notes of the prety
" birdes, emong the hushing woodes of the hilles at hande.
' Wherupon they all, takinge their leave with reverence of
' the Dutchesse, departed toward their lodginges without
' torche, the light of the day sufficing ' (p. 365).
Wit-Combats The civil retorts, delicate interruptions, and fencing-
matches of wit that are scattered throughout the book
liad an even higher value as models for English writing.
/ Where could English courtly comedy learn the trick of its
J trade better than from this gallant realism ? At the time
when Hoby's Courtycr was published, and during the ensuing
years, the favourite characters of our native Comic Muse
were Ralph Roister Doister, Diccon the Bedlam, Huff, RufF,
SnufF, and Grim the Collier of Croydon. The speeches that
she best loved were loud lies and vain boasts ; her chosen
actions were the frustrated clouting of old breeches, the
rank deceits of tricksters and parasites, the rough and
tumble of clown, fool, and vice in villainous disorder. Yet
this same English comic stage was soon to echo to the
wit of Beatrice and Benedick, of Rosalind and Orlando.
Influence on The best models of courtly dialogue available for Lyly
English and Shakespeare were to be sought in Italy : not in the
^^ Italian drama, which was given over to the classical tradi-
tion, but in just such natural sparkling conversations as
were recorded in the dialogue form of Italian prose. And
of these the best are to be tasted in The Courtier. It
matters little if tlie English courtly dramatists be found
to have taken none of their many jests from Castiglione;
without appropriating passages from his book they might
yet learn his dramatic verisimilitude, his grace and polish
of manner, to use it for their own ends. So that Casti-
glione, Bembo, Aretino, Guazzo, Pasquier, Speroni, and
many others of those who shaped the dialogue for argumen-
Ixxxiv
THE COURTIER
tative and dramatic purposes may fairly claim a place in INTRO-
the genealogy of English Comedy. DUCTION
VIII
To trace the later fortunes of the ideal of character set Courtesy
forth by Castigrlione and Hoby would be to write a social ^°*^^^ *^^ *^^
* o6V6nteentli
history of modern Europe.^ In England the division into Century
Cavalier and Puritan, cleaving all politics and religion, left
its mark also on manners. No single book was acceptable
to these two schools. In the Seventeenth Century the in-
heritance and influence of The Courtier were parcelled out
among rival teachers. The most popular book in Cavalier
circles was Henry Peacham''s Compleat Gentleman (1622)
which ran through many editions, and was held in high
esteem by the courtiers of the Restoration. Richard
Brathwaite in his English Gentleman (1630) and English
Gentlewoman (1631) presented the Puritans with the
draft of a character by no means destitute of polite
accomplishments yet grounded at all points on religious
precepts. The beginnings of later impoverishment and
confusion of thought are plainly to be seen in these two
books. Peacham makes it a great part of the duty of
a gentleman to be able to blazon his own coat-of-arms :
Brathwaite writes long pulpit homilies, proving from the
Bible that clothes are the mark of man''s corruption, that
there is no greatness which has not a near relation to good-
* A history of the literature of courtesy, from the Babees Book to those
columns in latter-day journals devoted to the instruction of anxious inquirers
who wish to conform and prosper, would make a good commentary on social
changes. I had designed something of the sort, but an Introduction is no
place for it. The only attempt, so far as I know, yet made in English is
a short treatise by Mr. W. M. Kossetti on Italian Courtesy- Books (Early
English Text Society, 1869).
Ixxxv
THE BOOK OF
INTRO- ness, and that the only armoury that can truly deblazon a
DUCTION gentleman is to be found in acts of charity and devotion.
The brief section on jests in the English Gentleman is
borrowed, without any sort of acknowledgment, from The
Courtier. The vogue of the book had passed away with
the passing of the society which gave birth to it.
Lord The steady decadence of the English Court, in power and
Chesterfield splendourj inevitably wrought a gradual emaciation in the
ideal of the Courtier. When Lord Chesterfield attempts to
make a perfect Courtier of his son, the changed conditions
are felt at every line. Compared to the Courts of Duke
Guidobaldo and Queen Elizabeth, where all manly virtues
and serious ambitions found a breathing-place, the Courts
of Louis XV. and of George ii. are paltry schools for scandal,
oppressive with the close odours of the back-stairs. The
Courtier, by an insensible diminution, has become 'the man
of fashion.' Where the men of the Renaissance held
that the perfect Courtier should be versed in all generous
" accomplishments, a warrior, a man of letters, a statesman,
and skilled in all arts and pastimes. Lord Chesterfield makes j
it the duty of the man of fashion to be unable to do most
things. ' Eat game,"* he says, ' but do not be your own
' butcher and kill it.' And again : — ' If you love music,
' hear it ; go to operas, concerts, and pay fiddlers to play
' to you ; but I insist upon your neither piping nor fiddling
' yourself.' Even scholarship is looked on with suspicion : —
' Buy good books, and read them : the best books are the
' commonest, and the last editions are always the best if the
' editors are not blockheads ' (a large proviso !)...' But
' take care not to understand editions and title-pages too
' well.' In brief, scholarship and the arts, the whole of
human knowledge and human skill, are to be made sub-
servient to the art of pleasing in an elegant and vacant
society.
Ixxxvi
THE COURTIER
And then, predicted by Chesterfield himself, came the INTRO-
French Revolution. The wild man of the woods stormed DUCTION
the high places of literature : the moral theorist, by a The Revolu-
process of destructive chemical analysis, demonstrated that tioJ^^ry Ideal
these once fair and flourishing notions of honour, gentility,
and decorum were nothing but smoke and ash ; while the
doomed Courtier, advancing one stage further in his de-
gradation, from a man of fashion became a heaii or dandy,
brave enough still in his pride, but detached altogether
from the age in which he figured as a protest and a relic.
And yet, even in the world of manners, the Revolutionary
ideal, as it is embodied, for instance, by one of its latest
exponents, Walt Whitman, in the tanned and blowzy son
of the soil, ' hankering, gross, mystical, nude,' never won
the day, nor put to sleep the memory of the older order.
In our own time, if the very existence of the Scholar-
Gentleman be threatened, it is not so much by revolutionary
morals as by the enormous growth of specialised know-
ledge, which divides human life into many departments,
organised under learned barbarism. But the many-sided
ideal has always been strong in England. Even in the The English
Eighteenth Century, Congreve surprised and disgusted Vol- Gentleman
taire by refusing the status of a professional author ; and
it is a criticism of modern France, passed upon English
painters, that they aspire to be grands seigneurs. There
was something profoundly sane, after all, in the ambitions
that built New Place and Abbotsford. At the close of a
revolutionary century, now that the fogs of a crude moral
theory are dissipating, and the dream of a mechanical
Utopia, a mere nightmare produced by a surfeit of science,
is passing away, it is time to remember our ancestry. Our
proudest title is not that we are the contemporaries of
Darwin, but that we are the descendants of Shakespeare ;
we too are men of the Renaissance, inheritors of that large
Ixxxvii
r
I
THE COURTIER
INTRO- and noble conception of humanity and art to which a
DUCTION monument is erected in this Book of the Courtier.
WALTER RALEIGH.
My best thanks, and the thanks of all lovers of English
letters, are due to the President and Fellows of Worcester
College, Oxford, who generously lent their copy of the 1561
edition of The Courtyer for the purposes of this reprint.
On my own behalf I wish to thank Miss G. F. Munell,
who prepared for me a list of the documents relating to
Hoby at the British Museum, and so lightened my task
during the short time that I was able to work there.
k
NOTE
This Edition of The Courtyer
is reprinted from the
Editio Princeps of
1561
THE COURTYER
OF
COUNT BALDESSAR CASTILIO
DIVIDED INTO FOURE BOOKES.
VERY NECESSARY AND PROFIT-
ABLE FOR YONGE GENTILMEN
AND GENTILWOMEN ABIDING
IN COURT, PALAICE, OR PLACE,
DONE INTO ENGLYSHE BY
THOMAS HOBY
1561
THE CONTENTES OF THE BOOKE
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 quahties
of a way tinge Gen till woman.
The fourth, of the end of a Courtier, and of
honest love.
THE PRINTER TO THE READER
greetyng.
OWE at the length {gentle reader)
through the diligence of Maister
Hohy 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 pei'using of it {with what reason judge
thou) theAuthour 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 profile, first he,
and then I, maye thinke our travayle
herein wel imployed.
Fare well.
THE COURTYER OF
THOMAS SACKEVYLLE
in commendation of the worke.
To the Reader.
These royall kinges, that reare up to the skye
Their Palaiee 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,
Castillo frames a wig^ht 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.
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
/^
TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE
The lord HENRY HASTINGES
Sonne and heire apparant to the noble
Erie of Huntyngton.
XV
HEMISTOCLES the noble Athenien m
his banishement entertayned moste hon-
ourablie with the king of Persia, willed
upon a time to tell his cause by a spokes-
man, compared it to a piece of tapistrie,
that beyng spred abrode, discloseth the
beautie of the woorkemanship, but foulded
together, hideth it, and therfore de-
maunded 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 time haunted all the Courtes of Christendome, hee is
beecome an Englishman (whiche many a longe tyme have
wyshed, but fewe attempted and none atchieved) and wel-
willing 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
5
>v\\
THE COURTYER OF
THE therein, were but labour in waste, and rather a diminishing,
EPISTLE then a setting foorth of his woorthinesse, and a great deale
OF THE better it were to passe it over with silence, then to use briefe-
TRANS- nesse. Onely for the litle acquaintaunce I have with him,
LATOR ^^^ ^°^ ^^^ general profit is in him, my desier is he should
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 enterteine 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 gete 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 had a good while
since beyonde the sea, in Italy, Spaine and Fraunce, and I
shal thinke my smal travayle wel imployed and sufficiently
recompensed. The honour and entertainment that your
noble Auncestours shewed Castillo 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 them-
selves 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 rainde, and to whatsoever elles is meete for
6
w
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
that age : To yonge Gentlemen, an encouraging to garnishe
their ininde 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 them-
selves 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 dales beare a greate stroke, I knowe not whether
in the invention and disposition of the matter, as Castillo
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 : Castillo 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, Sulpitius, Catulus, and
Cesar his brother, the noblest and chiefest Oratours in those
dayes : Castillo 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
Delia Rovere, 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 Castillo professe, they folowe not any certayne
appointed order of preceptes or rules, as is used in the in-
struction of youth, but call to rehearsall, matters debated in
uheir times too and fro in the disputacion of most eloquent
men and excellent wittes in everv woorthy qualitie, the one
company in the olde tyme assembled in Tusculane, and the
7
THE
EPISTLE
OF THE (>Oayv-*
TRANS- 4-
LATOR
THE COURT YER OF
THE
EPISTLE
OF THE
TRANS-
LATOR
-^
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 sufficiently 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) Englishemen are muche inferiour to well
most all other Nations : for where they set their delite and
bende 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 wliere
bur 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
I 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 Barbaras, Naugerius, Sannazarus, Bembus, Lazarus
and the rest that of very late dayes floryshed) Genua,
Tomitanus, Robertellus, Manutius, Piccolhomineus, are pre-
sently verye singular, and renowmed throughout all Christen-
dome : 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 Sanseve-
rina, 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
8
I
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
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 T-
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, tliat with
diligence "and studye have attained a perfect understand-
ing, to open a gap for others to folow their steppes, and
a vertuous exercise for the unlatined to come by learn-
ing, 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 un-
learned. '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, leamyng 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 I
Latin shoulde make the lyke proofe, and everye manne store
the tunge accordinge to hys knowledge and delite above I
other men, in some piece of learnynge, that we alone of the i
worlde maye not bee styll counted barbarous in oure tunge/
as in time out of minde we have bene in our maners. And
so shall we perchaunce in time become as famous in Eng-
lande, 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
B ' 9
THE
EPISTLE
OF THE
TRANS-
LATOR
A
1-4
k
THE COURTYER OF
THE
EPISTLE
OF THE
TRANS-
LATOR
\
despaired to briiige 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
I duetie to wante in fulfillyng their desire. Notwithstanding
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 trans-
lating the third e booke (that entreateth of a Gentlewoman
of the Courte) perswaded therto, in that I was enfourmed,
it was as then in some forwardness by an other, whose 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 appar-
ance and that in a great deale shorter time, then the hard-
ness of the jnatter required^^ And where it shall not
/^"efhappes throughly please by reason my smalle under-
/ standyng in the tung, and less practise in the matters herin
/ conteined, is not of force to give it the brightness and full
I perfection in this our tung that it hath in the Italian, it
I shal suffice yet that I have showed my self obedient in the
\ respect a manne ought to have toward his betters • and no
V more can they avoid the blame to charge me withall, then I
^•to undertake it.y Beside that, I have declared my good will
and well meaiimg no less then if my counning were greater,
and could extend much farther. But paraventure the rude-
ness of this shall be an encouragyng 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
10
1
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
your Honour, is the principall cause that setteth it out, and THE
maketh it worne with the handes of heedfull readers: for EPISTLE
in case you cheerfullye receive it, men will recken it good : qf THE
yf you alow it, worthy to be practised : yf you commend trans
it, woorthie to pass from hand to hand. Therfore emong . a tor
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
j udgementes, that he was (in a maner) maymed, and lost a
good peece of his estimation. T^iifln case^uHgementes nov^,
feint, or mine interpretation seeme not pithie but rude, not
proper, but colde, there is no more imperfection in this j
Courtier, then in Cirus himself in the translation of Xeno- / r
phon into the Italian or anie other tung, the one as neces-
sarie and proper for a Gentilman of the Court, as the other,
for a king. And I shall desire my labour may so be taken
well in worth, as I have endevoured my self to folow the
very meaning and. woordes" of fhe Author, without being
mislead l3yfansie, or leaving but any percell one or other, -L,/\y
whefoflflrnowe not how some interpreters of this booke into .'7"'\
other languages can excuse themselves, and the more they
be conferred, the more it will perchaunce appeere. Wher-
fore receive you this, as a token of my good will, and so
receive it, tl.at the frute, what ever it be, maye be acknow-
leaged 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.
11
THE COURTYER OF
A LETTER OF SYR J. CHEEKES
To his loving frind Mayster
Thomas Hoby
OR your opinion of my gud will unto you
as you wriit, you can not be deceived :
for submitting your doinges to mi judge-
ment, 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
certain wordes which might verie well be let aloan, but
that I am verie curious in mi freendes matters, not to de-
termijn, 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 shold be written
cleane and pure, unmixt and unmangeled with borowing of
other tunges, wherin if we take not heed by tijm, ever borow-
ing 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
12
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
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 neede, we wold 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 saienges should be but praise
and exhortacion in this your doinges, which at moar leisor
I shold do better. From my house in Woodstreete the
16of July, 1557.
Yours assured
JOAN CHEEK.
13
THE COUllTYER OF
Francesco-
maria della
Rovere.
UNTO THE REVEREND AND HONORABLE
LORDE MYCHAELL DE SYLVA
BISHOP OF VISEO
FTER 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 Francesco-
maria Delia Rovere 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
Courtie?\ 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
14
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
it to the passe that my feeble judgement might be
throughlie satisfied with all. At such time ther-
fore as I was in Spayne, being advertised out of
Italy how the Lady Vittoria Colonna ^larquesse
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 yncklinge
that part of the booke was rief in Naples in many
mens handes : and as men are ahvayes desirous of
noveltie, it was thought that they attempted to
imprint it. Wherfore I, amased at this mis-
chaunce, 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 procead-
inge forward encreased much more, remembringe
that the greater part of them that are brought in
15
THE
EPISTLE
OF THE
AUTHOR
L. Vittoria
Colouna
THE
EPISTLE
OF THE
AUTHOR
M. Alphousus
Ariosto.
Duke of
Nemours.
Cardinal of
S. Maria iu
Portico.
Duke of
Genua.
Dutchesse
of Urbin.
THE COURT YER OF
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 world. Also M. Bernard,
Cardinall of S. Maria in Portico, who for his livelie
and pleasant promptness of witt, was most accept-
able 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 enne-
mies could say none other of hym, then what
sounded to his renoume : and the mishappes he
hath borne out with great steadinesse, were suffi-
cient 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
16
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
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 acqueintance,
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 pur-
traict in peinctinge of the Court of Urbin : not of
the handiwoorke of Raphael, or INIichael Angelo,
but of an unknowen peincter, and that can do no
more but draw the principall lines, without setting-
furth the truth with beawtifuU coulours, or mak-
inge 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 onlye my stile is unsuf-
C 17
THE
EPISTLE
OF THE
AUTHOR
THE
EPISTLE
OF THE
AUTHOR
Boccaccio.
Tuscane
tung.
>J-Jj-t*vi?
THE COURTYER OF
ficient to express them, but also mine understand-
ing 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 somtime 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, litle 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
18
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
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 thinge 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 nowe 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 scene in Boccaccio, in whom there
are so manie woordes French, Spanish, and pro-
vincial, and some perhappes not well understood
of the Tuscanes in these dayes, that whoso woulde
pick them out, should make the booke much the
19
THE
EPISTLE
OF THE
AUTHOR
New
Woordes.
THE COURTYER OF
THE lesser. And bicause (in mine opinion) the kinde
EPISTLE of speach of the other noble Cities of Italy, where
OF THE ii^QYe resorte men of wisdome, understandinge and
'^ ^ ^ eloquence, which practise great matters of govern-
ment 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
Derived many woordes cleane corrupte from the Latin, the
the iTtin^"^ whicli in Lumbardye and in the other partes of
Italy remaine wholl and without any chaunge at
al, and they are so universally e 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 Co un trey, 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
beawtiful 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
20
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
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 is it 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, buildinges, gar-
mentes and maners. And beeside the hardnesse
of the matter, it seemeth to be (as it were) a
certein wickednesse. Therfore 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 ex-
cused. 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,
21
THE
EPISTLE
OF THE
AUTHOR
THE
EPISTLE
OF THE
AUTHOR
Cicero in
Bruto.
Courtier.
THE COURTYER OF
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 speak-
ing 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 fault-
finders, 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 contenteth hym not. Therfore
if they will not reade my Courtiei^ 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 con-
tent, to err with Plato, Xenophon, and M. Tullius,
leaving apart the disputing of the intelligible world
and of the Ideas or imagined fourmes : 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
22
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
perfect Oratour are conteined ; so is it also of
a perfect Courtier. To the image wherof 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 mynde 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 peraven-
ture 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
23
THE
EPISTLE
OF THE
AUTHOR
THE
EPISTLE
OF THE
AUTHOR
THE COURTYER
tasteth and taketh delite, an other refuseth and is
against his stomake.
Therfore 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 ac-
cusers will not be satisfied with this commune
judgemente, let them content them selves with
the judgement of time, which at length dis-
covereth the privie faultes of every thing; and
bicause it is father to truth and a judge with-
out passion, it accustometh evermore to
pronounce true sentence of the life
or death of writynges.
M
THE FIRST BOOKE
OF THE COURTYER OF COUNT
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
UNTO MAISTER
ALPHONSUS ARIOSTO
D 25
THE COURTYER
THE FIRST BOOKE
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, especiallye 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 debat-
ynge, I have determined to prove in this behalfe what ayde
that affection and great desyre to please, can brynge unto
my dilyge"ce, whyche in other thynges is wonte 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 knowe-
leage 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
27
THE FIRST BOOKE
request, say, that in case it shoulde 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 som-
time it proceadeth that maners, garmentes, customes, and
facions whiche at sometyme have beene in price, becumme not
regarded, and contrary wyse the not regarded, becumme of
price. Therfore it is manifestlye to be descerned, that use
hath greater force then reason, to brynge up newe inven-
tions 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 propounded 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 worthye 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
anye 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,
28
OF THE COURTYER
yet soone after ray retourne, I hearde them of a person that
faythfullye 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 Situation
sytuated upon the side of the Appennine (in a maner) in of Urbiu.
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 Mare
manye places, yet in this point the element hathe bene Adriaticum.
favourable unto it, that all aboute, the countrye is verye
plentyfull and full of fruites : so that beside the holsome-
nesse of aer, it is verye 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. Duke
Neyther do we want true and verye large testimonies yet Frydericke.
remayninge of his wisdome, courtesye, justice, liberalitye, of
his invincible courage and poUycy of warr. And of this do
his so many vyctoryes make proofe, chyeflye his conquerynge
of places impregnable, his sodeyne redynesse in settynge
forwarde to geve battaile, his putting to flyght sundrye
tymes wyth a small numbre, verie greate and puissaunte
armyes, and never susteined 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
praisworthv, in the hard and sharpe situation of Urbin buylt
29
THE FIRST BOOKE
The palaice
of Urbin.
Guidubaldo
duke of
Urbiu.
Troubled
with the
goute.
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 instru-
mentes 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 all he garnished wyth golde and
sylver, esteaming this to be the chiefFest ornament of his
great palaice. This duke then folowing the course of
nature when he was Ixv. 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 beste 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,
30
OF THE COURTYER
yet it seemed that whatsoever he tooke in hande bothe in
feates of armes and in everye other thynge small or greate,
it came alwayes to yll successe. And of thys make proofe His ill lucke.
his manye and dyvers calamityes, which he alwayes bore out
with suche stoutenesse of courage, that vertue never yelded
to fortune. But wyth a boulde stomake despising her
s^rnies^Tyved wyth great dignytye and estimation emonge
all men : in sickenesse, as one that was sound e, and in
adversitye, as one that was most fortunate. So that for all
he was thus diseased in his bodye, he served in time of
warre wyth moste honourable enterteinmente under the
most famous kinges of Naples, Alphonsus and Ferdinande Hys service
the yonger. Afterward with Pope Alexander the vi. with ^^itli princes
the lordes of Venice and Florence. And when Julius the ii. and commune
was created Pope, he was then made generall Captayne of
the Churche : at whych tyme proceadynge in hys accus-
tomed usage, he sett hys delyte above all thynges to have
hys house furnished with most noble and valyaunte Gentyl-
men, wyth whom he lyved very famylyarly, enjoying theyr
conversation, wherein the pleasure whyche he gave unto His propretics
other menne was no lesse, then that he recey ved of other, ^^^ qualityes.
because he was verye wel seene in both tunges, and together
wyth a lovynge behavyour and plesauntnesse 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
praysinge everye man accordynge to hys desertes, he
declared evydentlye howe greate a judgement he hadde in
those matters. And upon this at Tylt, at Tourneye, in
rydynge, in playinge at all sortes of weapon, also in invent-
ing devyces, in pastymes, in musicke, fynallye in all exer-
cises 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. Therfore were all the
houres of the daye devyded into honourable and pleasaunt
exercyses, aswell of the bodye as of the mynde. But
31
Elizabetli
Gonzaga
dutchesse
of Urbin.
L. Emilia
Pia.
The behav-
youre of the
Dutchesse.
THE FIRST BOOKE
because the Duke used continuallye, by reason of his infir-
mytye, 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
livelye 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 jocoundenesse.
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 suche 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 suche free and honest conversation, that everye
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 verye
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 scene her in their lief before, to count her a verye
OF THE COURTYER
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 ")
beawtye, there can dwell wysdome, and stoutenes of courage, ^ O
and all other vertues that in grave men them selves are \ A,
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,
which e they used contynuallye, sometyme they propounded
feate questions, otherwhyle they invented certayne wytty
sportes and pastimes, at the devyse sometyme of one some-
tyme of an other, in the whych under sundrye covertes,
often tymes the standers bye opened subtylly theyr imagina-
tions unto Avhom 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 Noble person-
Fregoso, Sir Friderick his brother, the L. Julian de Medicis, '^^^ ^^ t^i^
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 moste woorthye knyghtes and Gentyl-
men. Beesyde these there were manye that for all ordin-
E 33
THE FIRST BOOKE
arilye they dwelled not there, yet spent they most of
their tyme there, as, M. Bernard Bibiena, Unico Are-
tino, Johnehristopher Romano, Peter Mount, Therpan-
der, 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 lulius 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 sweetenesse of this companye, after the
Pope and the Court was departed, contynued manye dayes
together in Urbin. At which time they did not onely pro-
ceade 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 downe 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 Dutchessc
thought best, whiche manye times gave this charge unto
the L. Emilia.
So the daye after the Pope was departed, the com-
panye beeinge gathered to the accustomed place, after
rauche pleasaunt talke, the Dutchesse pleasure was that the
Divises of L. Emilia should beginne these pastimes : and she after a
pastimes. Jj^le 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,
whereof I suppose shall ensue little blame, and lesse travayle.
34
OF THE COURTYER
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
immcdiatlye made answere : But first (madam) you must
beeginne to propound 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 truelye
reason woulde we should in any wise knowe why. But
bicause I will not be he that shall geve example to dis-
obey, I shal leave thys until! 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, The L.
so also in lovynge are diverse in judgemente, and therefore Caspars
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 judge-
mente, 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 persone 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
35
THE FIRST BOOKE
The L.
Constance
Frearosa.
The L. Cesar
Gonzas^as
devise.
hym : to see who can fynde out most prayse woorthye and
manlye vertues, and most tollerable vyces, that shoulde be
least hurtefull 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 now 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 manye men in place,
for assure your self we shall want no pastimes.
So shall we do, aunswered the L. Ejiilia, and puttinge
the L. Constance 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 im-
perfections. 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 an other knoweth not,
and is ignoraunte in the thyng that the other hath under-
standynge 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 scene by experi-
ence 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
divers efFectes, it hath wyth some of those sounes, feling it, doth sodeinly
some after move, and so stirreth the pacient, that by that styrrynge
their biting j^g recovereth hys health agayne. In lyke maner we, whan
36
A kind of
spiders,
whiche beyng
dyvers of
nature cause
OF THE COURTYER
we have felt some privie operacion of folye we provoke it fal a singyng,
so subtillye, and with suche sundry perswasions, and so some laugh,
divers wayes that at length we understand whether it tended. ^^^^ Zltche,
Afterward the humour knowen, we so stir it that alwayes some sweate ':
it is brought to the perfection of open foly. And some is and this
wexed foolish in verses, some in musicke, some in love, some disease is
in daunsinge, some in makynge antiques, some in rydinge, ^"^/i^g^j^u.
some in playnge at fence, everye man accordinge to the rentes of
moine of his mettall, wherby hath ensued (as you know) musick,
marveylous great pastime, I houlde therfore for certeine, whiche must
that in everye one of us there is some seede of folye, the "^^f/"^ifg^^^
which beyng stirred may multiplye (in a maner) infinite, diseased
Therfore I would this night our pastime were to dispute beynge cou-
upon this matter : and that everye man myght say his strained with
mynde, seeynge I must be openly foolysh, in what sort of the mebdye^^
foly I am foolysh, and over what matter, judginge it the ^ daunsinge
issue for the sparkles of folye that are daylye sene to pro- ^jth long
ceade from me. And let the lyke be sayd of all the rest, exercise over-
kepinge the order of oure devises, and let everye man do commeth the
his best to grounde his opinion upon some sure signe and ^yg^j^
argument, a>nd 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 Frier Marian,
shal gaigne a soule whiche shalbe no smal gaigne. At this
devise there was much laughing, and none could refraine
from speakinge. One sayde, I shoulde be founde foolysh in
imagining. An other, in viewinge. An other sayde, he was
already e become foolysh for love : and suck lyke matters.
Then frier Seraphin after his maner, laughing : This Frier Sera-
(quoth he) should be to tedious a matter. But if you wyll phm-
have a pretye pastime, let every man 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 nowe began he to enter into his triflyng tales, but
the L. Emilia commaunded him to silence, and overscipping
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THE FIRST BOOKE
Unico Aret- the Lady that satt there, made a signe to Unico Aretino
tinos devise, 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 de-
ceytes 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 venomous a serpent that is so desirous 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 lawfull 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 shoulde expresse
his fansye what the S dothe signify that the dutchesse
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 hatha
to slea and bury alyve in calamitie hym that honoureth
and serveth her. The dutchesse laughed : and Unico, per-
ceiving she would have excused her self of thys interpre-
tacion, 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
al 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
38
OF THE COURTYER
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 and 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 The L.
of love in my daies, I am sure the Dutchesse and the Octavian
L. Emilia, althoughe they beleved it not in deede, yet J^^y^J^^^^
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 be-
wailings of some lovers, that with their palenes, sorow, and
silence, it appeareth they have evermore their owne discom-
fort painted in their eyes. And if they speake, accompany-
inge 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 cherefull lookes,
lovinge woordes, and sweete countenances of their ladies,
39
THE FIRST BOOKE
but also sauce their sorowes with sweetenesse, so that they
count the debates, the angers and the disdeignes of them,
moste swecte. Therefore these men seme unto me to be
much more then ha])py, 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 hym in the person
beloved, what the cause should be that should make the
persone 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 holdyng her peace, M. Peter Be]mbo,
M. Peter that satt next in order, spake in this maner : My Lordes,
Bembos this pastime that the L. Octavian hath propounded hath
devyse. 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) scene 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 had bine put into her head
by some mennes report to my hindraunce, so that I beleaved
no grief might be compared to myne. And me thought
that the greatest sorowe I felt was to suffer wythout de-
servyng, and to sustayne this affliction, not for any offence
of mine, but for the small love that was in her. At other
40
OF THE COURTYER
times I saw her disdeignefuU 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 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 everye 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 Avithout anye woord speakyng to
Bembo, she tourned her and made a signe to Sir Friderick
Fregoso to shew his devyse. And he incontinentlye beegan S. Friderick
thus : Madam, I woulde it were lawfull for me, as the maner Fregosos
is manye tymes to remytte me to the judgement of an other, <^i"^is6.
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 I ^.
earth up into heaven the simplist wittes in the worlde, he \
might wel do it without suspicion of flattery. For perad-
venture in all Italy a man shall have muche a do to fynde Good Court-
out so many gentlemen and noble personages that are so yers in the
worthy, and besyde the principall profession of Chivalrye so tTVV*
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 Courtver, I would have suche a
F " 41
THE FIRST BOOKE
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
tills name. And in suche thinges as shall not appere
necessarie, that it may be lawfull for every man to replye
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 upon the Lady Emilia to appoint
who shoulde first beginne. Who tournynge her towarde
the dutchesse, sayde : Commaunde you (madam) whom shall
please you to take this enterprise in hande, 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 s^THSd
then the rest, and so do wrong to some.
Tiie 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 thing 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
42
OF THE COURTYER
(madam) that we shal wante contrarying in wordes againste
hym that telleth the trueth, as longe as you bee here.
And after they had laughed a whyle at this answer, he
preceded on : But truely I would with all 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 j udge 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 judgemente, the which I
knowe is muche 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, peradventure it shoulde not beeamysse 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 fewe woordes, and the sodeinnesse
of the matter shall so excuse me, that it shall be lawfull for
me to speak withoute 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 The true per-
everye thynge it is so harde a matter to knowe the true feccion in
perfeccion, that it is almoste unpossible, and that by reason t"inges.
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 alvvayes
doynge : other, one that sheweth a quietnes and a respecte
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THE FIRST BOOKE
in everye thynge. And thus dooeth everye man prayse or
dysprayse accordynge to hys fansye, alwayes coverynge a
Vice cloked vyce with the name of the next vertue to it, and a vertue
with the with the name of the nexte vice : as in calHng him that is
name of a sawcye, bolde : hym that is sober, drie : hym that is seelye,
contrariwise, g^od: hym that 'is unhappye, wittie : and lykewyse in the
reste. Yet doe I thinke that eche thing hath his perfec-
cion, althoughe it be hid, and with reasonable dyscourses
myght be judged of hym that hath knowlege 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 knowlege, I cannot
praise but that kynde 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 stifle
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.
The facioningll wyll have this our Courtyer therfore to be a Gentleman
ofaCourtyer.lborne and of a good house. For it is a great deale lesse
A Gentleman dyspraise for him that is not born a gentleman to faile in
borne. t^e 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
noblenesse 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 birthe counte it a shame not to arrive at the
leaste at the boundes of their predecessours 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
44
OF THE COURTYER
thing hath depely sowed that privie sede, which geveth .. C„:;tl;rr:n
certain force and propertie of her beginning, unto whatso- of most )
ever springeth of it, and maketh it lyke unto her selfe. As P^'o^vesse. ^
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 bee trayned up in good nourtour, moste Good bringing
commonlye they resemble them from whom thei come and ^P "^ youthe.
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 Some borne
I endowed wyth suche graces, that they seeme not to have ^^^^ clm^i-^
1 bene borne, but rather facioned with the verye hande of ^gg_
some God, and abounde in all goodnesse bothe of bodye and
mynde. As againe we see some so unapte and dull, that a Some borne
man wyl not beleve, but nature hath brought them into the veryasseheds.
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 Hypolitus da
Ferrara, he hath hadde so happye a birthe, that his person, Este brother
his countenaunce, his woordes, and all his gestures are so ^^p^®^^,^^^^®
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 leame.
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
fonde 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
45
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THE FIRST BOOKE
, t'cfaultes of nature. The Courtyer therfore, besyde noble-
I nt'sse of birthe, I wyll have hym to be fortunate in this
J4)ehalfe, and by nature to liave not only a wytte, and a comely
.} shape of persone and countenance, but also a certain grace,
I and (as they saie) a hewe, that shal make him at the first
sight acceptable and lovyng unto who so beholdcth him.
And let this be an ornament to frame and accompanye all his
actes, and to assure men in his looke, suche a one to bee
woorthy the companye and favour of every great man.
Here without any longer tariyng the L. Gaspae, Palla-
viciN 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 birthe is not so
necessarie for the Courtyer. And if I wiste that anye of
you thought it a 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 contrary wise, 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 times whom
pleaseth her without any desert at all, and burie in the
botomles depth the most worthy to be exalted. I confirms
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
46
OF THE COURTYER
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, disposicion 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 tliinke 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 Noblenes of
house which at the first have geven no proofe of themselves birthe in esti-
with woorkes good or bad, assoone as it is knowen that the "j^^^^'^ ^^t"
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 The imprint-
impi-int in mennes heades a good opinion of himselfe, "iges or con-
whiche the other shal geat in a moment, and onely for that ff ^^""^ff^s of
, . ,, ^ • 1 ■ ■ 1 • "^ • j^- the mnid with
ne IS a gentleman : and ho we waightye these impnntinges expectacion.
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 dales did thei
beguyle us, and mainteyned in oure myndes 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 The yl in-
estimacion, and afterwarde in the ende have acquited clynacion of
themselves marvellous well. And of these errors there are F^°^^? "^
divers causes and among other the obstinatenes of princes, iIiq^ th?^ de-
whiche to prove mastries oftentimes bend themselves to serve it not.
47
^v\r^
We he moved
to passions
without anye
manifest
cause why.
Armes thi^
Courtyers
chiefe pro-
fession.
That he take
no foile.
THE FIRST BOOKE
favor him, that to their seeming, deserveth no favour at all,
and manye tymes in deede the}' are deceyved. But because
thei have alwaies many that counterfait them, a very great
report dependeth upon their favor, the which moste com-
monly judgements folow. And if thei find any thing that
semeth contrary to the common opinion, thei ar 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 scene 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 j udge with love or els
with hatred. You see then of what importance this first
imprinting is, and howe he ought to endevoure himself to
get it good in princes, if he entende to be set by, and to
purchase him the name of a good Courtyer. 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
48
OF THE COURTYER
not necessarye in hym so perfect a knowledge of thynges
and other qualities that is requisite in a capitaine. But j
because this is overlarge a scope of matters, wee wyll j
holde oure selves contented (as wee have sayde) with |
the uprightnesse of a well meaning minde, and with an f
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 Cowardes
in daungers that stande them upon, and where many sometime
eyes be, ye shall see some that for all their hearte is dead "^^'^i^-
in their bodie, yet pricked with shame or with the com-
pany, go forwarde (as it were) blindfield and do their dutie.
And God knoweth bothe in matters 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 suche as think Who have the
themselves neither marked, seen, nor knowen, and yet stoutenesse
declare a stout courage, and suffer not the leaste thyng in ^^ courage,
the worlde to passe that male burthen them, they have the
courage of spirite whiche we seke to have in our Courtyer.
Yet will we not have him for al that so iustie to make
braverie in woordes, and to bragge that he bathe wedded
his barneys 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 entertain-
mentes ofFred him, alwaies affirming suche trifles not to be
his profession, at last the Gentlewoman demaundyng 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 beste 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 muche laughinge of the standers by she left him
G 49
;lvm'
^ stout-
herted man.
To avoide
praising a
mans selfe.
Estimation
the reward
of vertious
actes.
In what sort
a man maye
praise him-
self.
THE FIRST BOOKE
with a mocke in his foolishe presumpcion. He therefore
that we seeke for, where the enemies are, shall shewe him-
selfe moste fierce, bitter, and evermore with the firste. In
everie place beside, lowly, sober, and circumspecte, fleeing
above all thinge bragginge and unshamefuU praising him-
self, 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. And 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 muste 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 Couxx : Yf you have well understoode (quoth
he) I blamed the praysynge of a mans selfe impudently
and withoute respecte. And surelye (as you saye) a man
ought not to concevve an yll oppinion of a skilfull 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 mosj;e discrete : and beside the
praises whiche he geveth himselfe, deserveth the same of
other men also, because it is a very harde 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 pravse tell the trueth. But not as those lustie laddes
50
OF THE COURTYER
dooe, that open their mouthe and thruste oute woordes at
aventure they care not how. As within these few dayes one
of oure company beyng pusshed throughe the thygh with a Brave
pyke at Pysa, thought that it was the bytynge of a flie. roysters.
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 countenaunce
he shoulde put himself into much feare.
At this every one laughed. But the L. Cesar Gonzaga
saide unto them : At what laugh you ? Knowe ye not
that the great Alexander, hearing a certayne Philosophers
oppinion to be that there were infinite worldes, fell in Auaxagoras.
weping : and when he was asked the question why he wept,
he aunswered : Because I have not yet one in hande, as
thoughe his 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 helde 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 woordes : shew- \
ing 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 comely-
nesse 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 comelynesse 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 wer: the body and
the rest is meetely wel, Therfore 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.
51
..^
THE FIRST BOOKE
\
The counte-
naunce of the
Courtyer. i
f
/
/
Menne tl«it
wouldeappere
women. /
Good to bee
of ameane
stature.
Rather with
the lowest
then to high.
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 shoulde bee: for
undoubtedly we see your countenaunce is most acceptable
and pleasant to beholde unto every man, although the pro-
porcion 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 suche 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 spyte-
full wonder, and suche men are marvevled at, almoste, as
muclie as men marveile to behonlde monstrous thynges.
Yet if there must needes be a defaulte in one of the two ex-
tremities, it shall be lesse hui'tfull 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 nimeble-
nesse, 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 quickenesse, and to have understandvng in all exercises
52
OF THE COURTYER
of the bodie, that belonge to a man of warre. And herein To be a man
I thinke the chief point is to handle well all kynde of of warre.
weapon both for footeman and horseman, and to know To handle
the vauntages in it. And especially to be skilfull on those ^^ kind of
weapons that are used ordinarily emong gentlemen, for^^^^P°°'
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, where-
upon 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 for- Fightinge
getteth his conning whan he conimeth to the poynte : for ™^k®t'i "<^* ^
to abide by, whoso loseth his conning at that time, sheweth i!^s^eiice^^^
that he hath firste loste his heart and his spirites for feare.
I think also it will sei've his turne greatly, to know the
feate of wrastling, because it goeth much together with all Wrastlynge.
weapon on foote. Againe it is behouffuU bothe for him
selfe and for his frendes, that he have a foresight in the To knowe
quarelles and controversies that may happen, and let him ^hat is
beware of the vaHntasres, declarvnge alwaies in everye pointe }^ "f
bothe courage and wisedome J Neither let him runne rashely ^yjjau ^i^^y
to these combattes, but whan he muste needes to save his happen,
estimation withall : for beside the greate daunger that is in Not rashe to
the doubtfuU lotte, hee that goeth headlonge to these thynges fight com-
and without urgent cause, deserveth verye great blame, battes.
although his chaunce bee good. But whan a man perceiveth
that he is entred so farre that hee can not drawe backe
withoute burdevn, hee muste, bothe in suche thinges he Howe a man
hath to doe before the combat and also in the combat be ought to be-
utterlye resolved with hymselfe, and alwaves shewe a readi- . ^^^^i,!"^^^„
" ] 4- 1 • \ J Vt -J 4.1 "ifigbtynga
nesse and a stomake. And not as some dooe, passe tlie combatte.
matter in arguing and pointes, and having the choise of
weapon, take suche 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 grounde,
in so muche that they declare an extreme faint hert, and
are a mocking stocke to the verye chyldren. As those two
53
A perfecte
horseman.
Alcibiades
excelled other
nations in
theyr owue
feates.
Property of
Italians.
Property of
Frenchmen.
Property of
Spaniardes.
Huntyng.
Swimming.
Leapyng.
Runnyiig.
Castyng the
stone.
THE FIRST BOOKE
of Ancona: that a Avhile a goe fought a combat beside
Perugia, and made them to laugh e that looked on.
And what were they.? quoth the L. Gaspar Pallavicin.
The L. Cesar aunswered: Cousins Germains of two sisters.
Then said the Couxt : 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 what-
soever 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 bee 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 everye
manne in the thynge he hadde moste skyll in. So shall this
our Courtyer passe other menne, and everye manne in his
owne profession. And because it is the peculyer prayse of
us Italians to ryde well, to manege 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
emong the best Frenchemen. At Joco di ca?me, runninge at
Bull, castinge of speares and dartes, he shall be amonge the
Spaniardes excellent. But principallye lette hym accom-
panye 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
male receyve of thys in the warres, it happeneth to hym
54
OF THE COURTYER
manye tymes to make proofe of himselfe in suche thynges,
whereby he getteth hym a reputacion, especiallye among the
multitude, unto whom a man muste sometyme applye hym-
selfe. Also it is a noble exercyse and meete for one lyvyng
in courte to play at tenyse, where the disposition of the Playe at
bodye, the quickenesse and nimeblenesse of everye member tenyse.
is much perceyved, and almoste whatsoever a manne can see
in all other exercises. And I recken vautyng of no lesse Vawtiug.
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 tum- Tumblynge
blyng, clymynge upon a corde, and suche other matters that "otfit for a
taste somewhat of jugglers crafte, and doe lytle beseeme a "^"*^®"^^'^*
Gentleman. But because we can not alwayes endure emonge
these so paynefuU doynges, besyde that the contynuaunce
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 To frame
descende manye times to more easye and pleasaunt exercyses. himself to the
i And to avoyde envye and to keepe companye pleasauntlye ^^^^P^^^*
jwith every man, let him do whatsoever other men do : so
lie decline not at any time from commendable dedes, but
governeth himselfe with that good judgement that will not
suffer hym to enter into any folye : but let him laugh, dalie,
jest, and daunce, yet in such wise that he male 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 Goxzaga, 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
55
THE FIRST BOOKE
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 aunswered the L. Cesar : Therefore must I (madam)
escape punishmente, for that M. Bernard ought to bee pun-
ished 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 punish-
mente for M. Bernard I wyll kepe silence.
And nowe he held his peace, whan the L. Emilia aun-
swered : 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 per-
adventure 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 re-
peted, that the Courtier ought to accompany all his doinges,
J o-estures, 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
Grace. a man may saye, that whoso hath grace is gracious. But
bicause you have saide sundry times that it is the gift of
56
OF THE COURTYER
nature and of the heavens, and againe where it is not so
perfect, that it maye with studye and diligence be made
muche more, they that be borne so happye and so welthye
with such a treasure (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 with what art, with what 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 pray singe thys qualytye to us en-
gendred (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 barneys, 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 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 Grace not to
is not to be learned, I say unto you, whoso mindeth to be ^^ learued.
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
H 57
Aristotle the
first that
taught the
great Alex-
ander.
S. Galeazzo
Sanseverino.
A good scoler
must seeke to
be like his
maister.
Howe grace
is to be
attained.
THE FIRST BOOKE
cunning men. The which thyng how necessarie 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 tliat 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
Frenche king, doth all exercises of the body : and that
because, bcsyde 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 artificiall force and sleight : so in ridyng, in
justyng, and in everye 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 greei^e
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 infyr-
mitye. And manye such there are that thynke they doe
much, so they resemble a great man in somewhat, and take
58
OF THE COURTYER
many tymes the thynge in h^-m 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 A general!
thynk) taketh place in al thynges belongyng to man in rule,
[worde or deede above all other. And that is to eschew as
Imuch as a man may, and as a sharp and daungerous rock,
j Affectation or curiosity and (to speak a new word) to use in To avoid
[every thyng a certain Reckelesness, to cover art withall, curiositie.
jand seeme whatsoever he doth and sayeth to do it wythout Reckelesnes.
Ipain, 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 con-
trarywise 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 To coyer art.
a man to put more diligence 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 most excellent Oratours, which
among other their cares, enforced themselves to make every
man beleve that they had no sight in letters, and dissem-
blinge 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 doubt in the peoples minde,
for feare least he beguiled them. You may see then howe To seme not
to shewe arte and suche bent study taketh away the grace *^."^ 7°*^®*^®
of every thing. Which of you is it that laugheth not when ^j^,^^^ exceU
our M. Peterpaul daunseth after his owne facion with such lently well,
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 the 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
59
THE FIRST BOOKE
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 praise his maner of daunsing, though the reste of
you set litle by it. For if this excellency doeth consist in
lleckelesness, 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 diligence 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
Precisenesse. 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 bottome of his cappe a looking
glasse, and a combe 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 Reckeles-
ness 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 a])peareth
60
OF THE COURTYER
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 wordes, and no bragger, then an other that alwayes
craketh of him self, 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. Jultax : This in like maner is verified Musicke.
in musicke : Avhere 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 un-
pleasaunt discord and not tollerable : and this proceadeth
because the continuance in the perfit tunes engendreth
urkesomnesse, 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 disagrement
of the seconde or seven, as it were with a thing lytle
regarded.
Behould ye then, answered the Count, that curiousnesse
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. To much
and that Apelles found fault with Protogenes because he diligence
coulde not keepe his handes from the table. nurtfuU.
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.
Tiie Count laughed and went forward : Apelles meanyng
was, that Protogenes knew not Avhen 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
61
THE FIRST BOOKE
A manne is
thought
manye times
to be more
cunning then
he is in deede.
A slight trick
betokeneth
knowledge.
Men that wil
be deemed
to be wel
languaged.
bryngeth wyth it also an other ornamente, whych accom-
panyinge 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 im-
printeth in 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 apply 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
weene 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 beyng 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. Often-
tymes 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 evi-
dently 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 curio-
sitye : 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 llomavne tunge, somtime the Spanish tunge,
62
OF THE COURT YER
or the Frenche, and God wotteth howe. And all this pro-
ceadeth 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 Auncient
amonge the Tuscanes nowe a dayes, and beesyde that, I Tuscane
beleeve everye manne would laughe at me. woordes.
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 with-
out 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 aucthoritie unto writinges, and
of them is compact a tonge more grave and more full of
majestie, then of the newe.
I knowe not, answered the Couxt, what grace and auctho- Old wordes to
rity those wordes can geve unto writinges that ought to be ^^ eschewed
eschewed, not only in the maner of speach that we now use . otn in speak-
(which you your self confesse) but also in any other maner writiuff.
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. Therfore 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 wav a man can use in writing, forsomuch as (in
63
THE FIRST BOOKE
What wryt-
yng is.
What is
alowed in
wryting, is
allowed in
speaking.
Why writing
oughte to bee
more under-
stoode then
speaking.
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 pro-
nounced 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 therefore 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 proprest 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, wliere he ought
to use most diligence, and the labour he bestowetli in
writing, in stede of furtherance should hinder him. Ther-
fore 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 dales 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 Siii Frederick : I cannot denye you, Count
Lewis, that writinge is not a maner of speaking. But this
I sale, if the wordes that are spoken have any darkenesse in
them, that communicacion perceth not the minde of him
that heareth : and passing without being understoode,
wexeth vaine and to no purpose : the whiche dothe not
64
OF THE COURTYER
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 con-
sisteth 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, male be so decked oute, that it male 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 male 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 So manye
and divers, and ye have not a notable Citye in Italy that Cities so
hath not a divers maner of speache from all the rest. "'"""^ *^'7^^®
rr^y f • n •.11 1 • 1 • ii mailer 01
ihererore it ye take not the pames to declare wnicne is the gpeaches
best, a manne maye as well geve hym selfe to the Bergamask in Italy.
tunge, as to the Florentine, and to folowe youre advyse it The Berga-
were no erroure at all. Me semeth then who so wyll be mask tunge
out of doubte and well assured, it is requisite for him to the moste
determyne with hym selfe to folowe one, that by al mens i^'j^aiy^^
accorde is judged good, and to take him for a guyde alwaies
THE FIRST BOOKE
Petrarca.
Boccaccio.
Imitatiou.
Virgil.
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 there-
fore 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
iudge 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 under-
stand 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
J 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 greate folye for me
to teache an other that I understand not my self. And
thoughe I were skillfull 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
diligence, unto whose writings I would remit our 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 oure
66
OF THE COURT YER
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 reason-
ing 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 suiFer it decay e, as you do, for a man
may sale nowe, 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 hable to sale. And first I say,
that (to my judgement) this our tunge, whiche we name the
vulgar tunge, is tender and newe, for al it hath bene now
used a long while. For in that Italy hathe bene, not onely
vexed and spoyled, but also inhabited a long time with
barbarous people, by the great resort of those nations,
the Latin tunge was coriTipted and destroyed, and of that
67
^Voordes in
Petrarca,
and in
Boccaccio
not to be
used.
The vulgar
tunge of
Italy is a
new tunge.
How the
Italian tuuge
was cor-
rupted.
Petrarca.
Dante.
Boccaccio.
Speacbes
chaunge from
time to time.
The priestes
of Mars.
THE FIRST BOOKE
corruption have spronge other tunges. The whiche lyke the
ryvers that departe from the toppe of the Appennine and
runne abrode towarde the two seas : so are they also divided,
and some died with the Latin speach have spred abrode
sundrye waies, some into one part, and some into another,
and one dyed with barbarousnesse hath remayned in Italy.
This then hath a long time bene among us out of order and
dyverse, because there was none that would bestow diligence
about it, nor write in it, ne yet seke to geve it brightnesse
or anye grace. Yet hath it bene afterwarde broughte into
better frame in Tuscane, then in the other partes of Italye.
And by this it appeareth that the flowre of it hath remained
there ever since those first times, because that nation hath
kept proper and sweete accentes in the pronunciation and
an order of grammer, where it was meete, more then the
other. And hath had three noble writers, whiche wittily
bothe in the woordes and termes that custome did allowe in
their time, have expressed their conceites and that hath
happened (in my mind) with a better grace to Petrarca in
maters of love, then to any of the other. Where there arose
afterwarde from time to time, not onely in Tuscane, but in
al Italy, among gentlemen brought up in court, in armes
and in letters, some studye to speake and to write more
finely then they did in that first rude age, whan the turmoyle
of the miseries that arose through barbarous nations was
not as yet quieted, many woordes have bene left out as well
in Florence it selfe, and in all Tuscane, as in the residue of
Italy, and other brought in, in their stead, and made in this
behalfe the alteration that happeneth in all worldly thinges :
the whiche also hath evermore chaunced in other tunges.
For in case those auncient Latin writinges had lasted hither-
to, we shoulde see that Evander and Turnus and the other
Latins in those dayes spake otherwise then dyd afterwarde
the laste kinges of the Romaines and the fyrste Consules.
You may see the verses song by the Salii wer scantly
understoode of their posteritie : but because it was so
ordeyned by the first inventours of it, they were not altered
for reverence of religion. So from time to time Oratours
and Poets forsoke manye woordes that had bene used
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amonge their predecessours : for Antonius, Crassus, Hor-
tensius, and Cicero eschewed manye that Cato had used, and
Virgin many of Ennius, and so did the reste. For albeit Meu never
they had antiquitie in great reverence, yet did they not ^elited in
esteme them somuch, that they woulde bee so bounde to ^^^^^^^.j^ ^j^^^^
them, as you wil have us nowe. Yea, where they thoughte
good, they spake agaynst them, as Horace, that sayeth, Horace,
his predecessours dyd foolyshlye praise Plautus, which would
that we should have the aucthoritie to bring up newe
woordes. And Cicero in manye places reprehendeth manye Cicero,
of his predecessours, and to blame S. Galba, he sayeth that
his Oracions smelled of antiquitie. And affirmeth that
Ennius also in some pointes set lytle by his predecessours, so
that yf we wyll folow them of olde tyme, we shall not folowe
them. And Virgil that you saye folowed Homer, folowed
hym not in the tunge. Therfore woulde I (for ray parte)
alwayes shonne the use of those auncient woordes, except it
wer in certayne clauses, and in them very seldome. And
(in my judgement) he that useth them otherwise, committeth
a no lesse errour, then whoso would to folowe them of olde
time, fede upon maste, where he hath nowe aboundaunce of
corne founde oute. And because you saie the auncient
M'oordes onely with the brightnesse of antiquitie decke oute
so highlye every matter, how base so ever it be, that it maye
make it woorthy great commendacion : I saie unto you that
not of these auncient woordes onely, but of those that be
good in dede, I make so smal accompt, that I suppose
without the juyce of fair sentences thei ought of reason to Woordes
be litle set by. For to divide the sentences from the ^"thout faire
woordes, is the deviding of the soule from the body, the iftie^^yrt},g
which cannot be done, neither in the one nor in the other,
without destruccion ensue upon it. That therfore which is
'the principal mater and necessary for a Courtyer to speak
land write wel, I beleve is knowledge. For he that hath not Knowledge
knowledge and the thing in his minde that deserveth to be "ecessane to
understood, can neither speak nor write it. Then must he ^J^jtewell
couch in a good order that he hath to speake or to write, and
afterward expresse it wel with wordes : the which (if I be What words
not deceived) ought to be apt, chosen, clere, and wel applyed, oughte to be.
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THE FIRST BOOKE
Thynges
necessary in
spekinge.
The voyce.
The
sentences.
What he
muste speake
of.
To speake to
raise afFec-
tyons.
and (above al) in use also among the people : for very suche
make the greatnes and gorgeousnes of an Oracion, so he that
speaketh have a good judgement and heedfulnes withal, and
the understanding to pike such as be of most proper significa-
cion, for that he entendeth to speake and commend, and temp-
ring them like wexe after his owne mynde, applyeth them in
suche parte and in suche order, that at the hrste showe they
male set furth and doe men to understand the dignitie and
brightnes of them, as tables of peincting placed in their good
and naturall light. And this do I saie as well of writing as of
speaking, wherein certayne thinges are requisite that are not
necessary in wryting, as a good voyce, not to subtyll or soft,
as in a woman : nor yet so boysterous and roughe, as in one of
the Counti'ey, but shrill, clere, sweete and wel framed with a
prompt pronunciacion and with fitte maners and gestures,
which (in my minde) consiste in certain mocions of al the
body not affected nor forced, but tempred with a manerly
countenance and with a moving of the eyes, that may geve a
grace and accord with the words, and (asmuch as he can)
signify also with gestures the entent and affeccion of the
speaker. But al these thinges wer in vain and of smal accompte
yf the sentences expressed by the wordes should not be fair,
witty, subtil, fine and grave according to the mater.
I doubt, said the M. Morello, if this Courtyer speake
with suche finenesse and gravity among us, there wil be
some that wil not understand him.
Nay, every one shall imderstand him, answered the Count,
for finenes hindreth not the easines of understanding. Neither
wil I have him to speak alwaies in gravity, but of pleasant
matters, of mery conceits, of honest divises, and of jestes
' according to the time, and in al notwithstanding after a pithy
maner,and with redines and varietie without confusion, neither
;shall he in anye part show vanity or childish foly. And whan
he shal then commune of a matter that is dark and hard, I wil
have him both in woordes and sentences wel pointed, to
expresse his judgement, and to make every doubt clere and
plain after a certaine diligent sort without tediousnesse. Like-
wise (whan he shal see time) to have the understanding to
speake with dignitie and vehemency, and to raise those affec-
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tions which oure mindes have in them, and to enflame or stirre
them accordinge to the matter : sometime with a simplicitye
of suche meekenesse of mynde, that a man woulde weene
nature her self spake, to make them tender and (as it wer)
dronken with sweetenesse : and with suche conveiaunce of
easinesse, that whoso heareth him, maye conceyve a good
oppinion of himselfe, and thinke that he also with very
litle a doe, mighte attaine to that perfection, but whan he
"commeth to the proofe shall finde himselfe farre wide. I
would have oure Courtyer to speake and write in that sort,
and not onely choose gorgeous and fine woordes out of every
parte of Italye, but also I would judge him woorthy praise
to use some of those termes bothe Frenche and Spanishe,
.whiche by oure custome have bene admitted. Therfore it Certaine
should not mislike me, fallyng so to purpose, to say, termes out
Vaiintcourroiir : to saye, to acertain, to aventure : to saye, to ^ j <| ^^^^J^"
perce through a body with talke, meaning thereby to use a which sound '
familiaritie wyth him, and to grope him to geat of him some not so wel in
perfect knoweledge : to saie, a royall gentleman, a nete Eng-lishe nor
man to be about a Prince, and suche other termes, so he J^^^^^^PP^^^^
maie thinke to be understoode. Sometime I would have p r s .
him take certain woordes in an other significacion then that ^Voordes in
is proper to them, and wrasting them to his purpose (as it ^^ other syg-
were) graffe them lyke a graffe of a tree in a more luckye "i"<^^<^ion.
stocke, to make them more sightly and faire, and (as it
were) draw the matters to the sense of the verye eyes,
and (as they saie) make them felte wyth hande, for the
delyte of him that heareth, or readeth. Neyther woulde To forge new
I have him to sticke to forge newe also, and with newe ^^ ordes.
figures of speache, deriving them featly from the Latins,
as the Latins in olde tyme, derived from the Grecians.
In case then of suche learned men bothe of good witte and
judgement, as now a dayes may be piked out among us,
there were some that would bestow their travail to write
after the maner that we have spoken of, in this tongue
thinges worth the readinge, wee shoulde soone see it in
good frame and flowinge with termes and good phrases, and
so copious that a man might as well write in it as in anye
other tongue : and thoughe it were not the meere auntient
71
THE FIRST BOOKE
V. tunges of
Greece.
T. Livius.
Virgin.
The vulgar
tunge ought
not to be
dark.
Tuscane tongue, yet shoulde it be the Italian tongue, com-
mune, plentifull, and variable, and (as it were) like a
delicious gardein ful of sundrie flowres and frutes. Neyther
shoulde this be a newe matter : for of the foure tongues
that were in use amonge the Grceke writers, pikinge out of
everye worde, moodes and rules as they thought meete, they
raysed therby an other, whiche was named the Commune
tongue, and afterward all fyve they called with one name
the Greeke tongue. And albeit the Athenian tongue was
more fine, purer, and eloquenter then the rest, yet did
not the good writers that were not of Athens borne, so
affect it, but in the stile of writing, and (as it were) in the
smack and propretie of their naturall speache they were
welinough knowen : neither were they anye whit the lesse
regarded for all that, but rather such as would appeere
over mere Athenians wer blamed for it. Amonge the Latin
writers in like case manye there were in their dayes much
setbye that were no Romanes althoughe there appeared
not in them that propre and peculiar purenesse of the
Romane tons^ie, whiche menne of an other nation can verie
seldome attaine. In times past T. Livius was not neglected,
althoughe some one sayde he founde in him mere Padowan :
nor Virgil, for that he was reprehended that he spake not
Romane. And (as you know) there were also read and
much setbye in Roome manie writers of Barbarous nations.
But we more precise a great deale then they of olde time,
do binde our selves with certaine new lawes out of purpose :
and having the brode beaten waye beefore oure eyes, seeke
through gappes to walke in unknowen pathes. For in oure
owne tounge, whose office is (as all others) to expresse well
and clearlye the conceites of the minde, we delite in darke-
nesse, and callinge it the vulgar tounge, will use in it woordes,
that are not onely not understoode of the vulgar people,
but also of the best sort of menne and that men of learn-
inge, and are not used in any part, not regarding that all
good wryters of olde time blamed such woordes as were
refused of custome, the which you (in my mind) do not well
knowe, for somuche as you say, if any vice of speache be
taken up of manv ignorant parsons, it ought not to be
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OF THE COURTYER
called a custome nor received for a rule of speache. And
(as at other tymes I have hard you say) ye wil have again
in the stead of Capitolio, we should say Campidoglio : for
Hieronymo, Girolamo : Aldace, for Audace : and for Patrone Mere Tuscane
padrone: and such connipt and mangled wordes, because ^^riting of cer-
they have bene founde so written by some ignorant Tuscane *''*"^^ wordes.
of olde time, and because the men of the countrey speak so
-in Tuscane now a dayes. The good use of speache there-
I] fore I beleve ariseth of men that have wytte, and with
i learninge and practise have gotten a good judgement, and
with it consent and agree to receave the woordes that they
think good, which are knowen by a certaine naturall judge-
-ment, and not by art or anye maner rule. Do you not Figures of
knowe that figures of speach which give suche grace and speach, abuse
brig-htnesse to an Oration, are all the abuse of Grammer ^^""^"^"^^^
o ^ rules*
rules, but yet are receaved and confirmed by use, because
men are able to make no other reason but that they delite,
and to the verye sence of our eares it appeareth they bringe
a lief and a sweetenesse .'* And this beleave I is good Good customs,
custome, which the Romanes, the Napolitans, the Lom-
bardes, and the rest are as apt to receave, as the Tuscanes.
Truth it is, in everye tounge some thinges are alwayes good, 'fhinges good
as easinesse to be understoode, a good ordre, varietie, piked i'^ every
sentences, clawses wel framed : and on the other side Affecta- ™'^S^-
tion, and the other contrary to these are to be shonned.
But of woordes some there are that last a good tyme and
afterwarde wexe stale and cleane lose their grace : other
some take force and creepe into estimation, for as the
seasones of the yeare make leaves and fruites to fal, and
afterward garnish the trees a freshe with other: evenso,
doth time make those first Avordes to fall, and use maketh
other to springe afreshe and giveth theim grace and estima-
tion, untill they in like sorte consumed by lytle and lytle
with the envyous biting of tyme come to their end, because
at the last both we and whatsoever is oures, are mortall.
Consider with your selves that we have no more any knowe- Tunges
leage of the Osca tunge. The Provinciall tung, that (a man decayed
may say) the last day was renowmed of noble writers, now ^^ ^'"®'
is it not understoode of the inhabitantes of the countrey.
K 73
THE FIRST BOOKE
Auntient
speach
auntient
custome of
speache.
Olde writel•^
did not imi-
tate in all
pointes.
I beleave therefore (as the L. Julian hath said), that vver
Petrarca, and Boccaccio, at this present in Hef, they would
not use many woordes that we see in their writinges. Ther-
fore (in mine opinion) it is not well done to folow them
therin. Yet do I muche commende them that can folowe
that ought to be folowed : but notwithstanding I beleve it
be possible ynough to write well without folowyng, and
especiallye in this our tunge, wherin we may be helped
by custome, the which I wyll not take upon me in the
Latin.
Then Sir Friderick : Why, wil you (quoth he) custom
should be more appriced in the vulgar tunge, then in the
Latin ?
Nay, bothe in the one and the other (answered the Count)
I judge custome ought to be the maistresse. But forsomuche
as those menne, unto M'hom the Latin tunge was as proper,
as is the vulgar tunge nowe to us, are no more in the world,
we must learne of their writinges that they learned by use
and custome : neyther doeth auncyent speach signifye any-
thing els but an auncyent custome of speach : and it wer a
fond matter to love the auncient speach for nothing elles
but to speake rather as men did speake, then as menne doe
speake.
Did not they then of olde time folowe ? aunswered Sir
Fridericke.
I beleave, quoth the Counte, many did folowe, but not
in every point. An if Virgill had altogether folowed
Hesiodus, he should not have passed him nor Cicero, Crassus,
nor Ennius, his predecessors. Behould Homer, who is so
auntient that he is thought of many to be the first heroical
Poet aswell of time, as also of excellencie of phrase : and
whom wyll you have him to have folowed ?
Some other, aunswered Sir Friderick, more auntient
then he was, whiche we heare not of, by reason of tomuch
antiquitie.
Whom will you say then Petrarca and Boccaccio folowed,
said the Count, whiche (a man may say) were but thre dayes
agoo in the world ?
I knowe not, answered Sir Fridericke, but it is to be
74
OF THE COURT YER
thoughte they in lyke wise bent their minde to folowinge,
thoughe wee knowe not of whom.
The Count aunswered : A man maye beleave that they
that were folowed, were better then they that did folowe :
and it were to great a wonder that their name and renowme
(if they were good) should so soone be cleane lost. But I A man may
beleave their verye maister was witt, and their owne naturall ^vrite well
inclination and judgement. And therat no man ought to "\*.^"* ^'"^"
wonder, for (in a maner) alwayes a manne by sundrye wayes
may clime to the toppe of all perfection. And their is no
matter, that hath not in it many thinges of like sort unlike
the one to the other, which for al that among them selves
deserve a like praise. Mark me musick, wherin are harmonies Alusick.
somtime of base soune and slowe, and otherwhile very
quicke and of newe divises, yet do they all recreat a man :
but for sundrye causes, as a manne may perceive in the
maner of singinge that Bidon useth, which is so artificial}, Sundry sortes
counninge, vehement, stirred, and suche sundrye melodies, **|^"^"i^^^^*°*^
that the spirites of the hearers move al and are enflamed,
and so listening a man would wene they were lifte up in
to heaven. And no lesse doeth our Marchetto Cara move
in his singinge, but with a more softe harmonye, that by a
delectable waye and full of mourninge sweetnesse maketh
tender and perceth the mind, and sweetly imprinteth in it a
passion full of great delite. Sundrye thinges in lyke maner
do equally please oure eyes somuche, that a man shall have
niuche a do to judge in whiche they most delite. Behould
in peincting Leonard Vincio, INIantegna, Raphael, Michel- Sundry
"angelo, George of Castelfranco : they are all most excel- peincters
lent dooers, yet are they in working unlike, but in any of P^^ , •^\'nde
them a man wold not judge that there wanted ought in his of trades.
^kind of trade : for every one is knowen to be of most per-
fection after his maner. The like is of many Poets both
Greeke and Latin, which being diverse in writing are alike
in praise. Oratours also have alwaies had such a diversitye
emong them, as (in a maner) everye age hath brought forth
and set by one sort of Oratours peculiar for that time, which
have bene unlike and disagreing not only to their prede-
cessours and folowers but also emong themselves. As it is
75
"N
THE FIRST BOOKE
Greeke
oratours.
Latin
oratours.
So manye
oratours so
many kiudes
of speach.
De Oratore
lib. i.
Lib. ii.
An errour to
imitate none
but Boccaccio
and Petrarca.
written cmonge the Grecians, of Isocrates, Lysias, Eschines
and many other, al excellent, but yet like unto none saving
themselves. And emong the Latins, Carbo, Laelius, Scipio
Affricanus, Galba, Sulpitius, Cotta, Graccus, Marcus Anto-
nius, Crassus, and so many, that it should be long to repete
them, all good and moste diverse one from an other. So
that whoso could consider all the Oratours that have bene
in the worlde, he should finde so manye Oratours, so many
kindes of speach. Me thynke I remember also that Cicero
in a place bringeth in Marcus Antonius to say unto Sulpi-
tius that ther are many that folow no man, and yet clime
they to a high degree of excellency. And speaketh of
certein that had brought up a new stile and phrase of
speaking faire, but not used of the Oratours of that time
wherin they folowed none but themselves. Therfore he
affirmeth also that maisters shoulde consider the nature of
their scolei's, and taking it for their guide, direct and prompt
them in the way that their witt and naturall inclination
moveth them unto. For this cause therfore. Sir Fridericke,
do I beleve if a man have not an inclination unto some
author whatsoever he be, it were not wel done to force him
to folowing. Bicause the vertue of that disposicion of his,
soone feinteth and is hindered, by reason that it is a stray
out of the way in which he would have profited, had he not
bene stopped in it, I knowe not then how it will stande
wel, in steade of enriching this tunge, and of gevyng it
majestye and light, to make it poore, sclender, bare and
dark, and to seeke to shut it up into so narrowe a rowme,
that everye man should be compelled to folow onely Petrarca
and Boccaccio, and that we should not also in that tung,
credit Laurence de INIedicis, Francis Diaceto, and certein
other that notwithstanding are Tuscanes, and perhappes of
no lesse learning and judgement then Petrarca and Boccaccio.
And truly it should be a great miserye to stoppe without
wading any farther then almost the first that ever wrote :
and to dispaire, that so many and so noble wittes shall
never find out any mo then one good maner of speach in
the tung that unto them is proper and naturall. But now
a daves there be some so scrupulous, that (as it were) with
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OF THE COURTYER
a religion and high misteries of this their Tuscane tung, put
as manye as heareth them in such dread, that they bring
in like case manv oentilmen and learned men into such an
awe, that they dare not open their mouth : and confesse
plainly, that they can not speak the tung which thei have
learned of their nurses, even from their cradel. But in this
point (me think) we have spoken tomuch. Therfore let us
now procead in our communication of the Courtier.
Then answered Sir Fkidkkick : But first I will saye this
lytle, whiche is that I denye not but the opinions and wittes
of men are divers emong themselves: neither doe I judge
it comlye for one that is vehement and quicke of nature to
take in hand to write of soft and quiet matters. Nor yet
for an other that is severe and grave to write of mery con-
ceits. For in this point (me think) it is reason every man
should apply him self to his own proper inclination, and
of this I beleve spake Cicero, when he said that maisters
should have a consideration to the nature of their scholers,
least they should doe like the yll husbandmanne, that some-
time in a soyle that is good onely for vynes will sowe graine.
But it wyll not sinke into my head why in a perticuler
tunge, that is not so proper unto all menne, as are discourses
and conceites, and many other operations, but an invencion
contained under certaine termes, a man may not with more
reason folowe them that speake best, then speake at al
aventure. And that, as in the Latin tunge a manne ought
to apply himselfe to bee in the tunge lyke unto Virgil and
Cicero, rather then Silius and Cornelius Tacitus, so in the
vulgar tunge why it were not better to folowe the tunge of
Petrarca and Boccaccio then any mannes els : and therin
expresse well his owne conceites, and so applye himselfe as
(Cicero saith) to his owne naturall inclination. And thus
shall the difference whiche you saye is betwene the good
Oratours, be found to consist in the senses and not in the
tunge.
Then the Count : I feare me (quoth he) we shall enter into
a large sea, and leave oure first purpose of the Courtyer.
But I would knowe of you, wherin consisteth the goodnes
of this tunge ?
77
THE FIRST BOOKE
Wherin con- Sill Fridericke aunswered : In kepiiig well the propertie
sisteth the of it : and in taking it in the significacion (using the same
goodnesse o g\^[\Q ^nd measur) that al such have done as have written wel.
I would know then, quoth the Count, whether this stile
and measure which you speake of, arise of the sentences or of
the wordes ?
Of the wordes, answered Sir Friderick.
Do you not think then, quoth the Count, that the wordes
of Silius and Cornelius Tacitus are the very same that Virgil
and Cicero use ? and taken in the same signification ?
Sir Fridericke aunswered : They are the very same in dede,
but some yll applyed and dyverslye taken.
The Count aunswered : In case a manne shoulde pyke out
of a booke of Cornelius and of Silius, al the woordes placed
in other signification then is in Virgil and Cicero, (whiche
shoulde bee verye fewe) woulde you not then saye that Cor-
■^nelius in the tounge were equall with Cicero, and Silius
with Virgil ?
Then the L. Emilia : Me thinke (quoth shee) thys youre
dysputation hathe lasted to longe, and hathe been verye
tedyouse, therefore it shall bee best to deferre it untill
an other tyme.
Sir Fridericke began still to make aunswere, but the
L, Emilia alwayes interrupted hym.
Many talkers At laste the Count saide : Manye will judge of styles and
of imitation, talk e of numbers and measures, and of folowing, but they
cannot doe me to undei'stande what maner a thinge stile
and measure is, and wherin folowing consisteth. Nor why,
thinges taken out of Homer or any other, are so well
couched in Virgil, that they appeare ratiier amplyfied then
folowed, and peradventure the occation thereof is that I am
not able to conceive it. But because a great argument that
a man understandeth a thinge, is the understanding that he
hath to teach it, I feare me they themselves have small
understanding in it, and praise Virgil and Cicero, because
they heare them praised of many, not for that they knowe
the difference betwene them and others, whiche out of per-
adventure consisteth not in the observation of two, or three,
or of tenne woordes used after a divers maner from other.
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OF THE COURTYER
In Salust, in Cesar, in Varro, and in other good writers,
there are founde some termes applyed otherwise then Cicero
applyeth them, and both the one and the other doeth
welinough. Bicause in so triflynge a matter the goodnesse
and perfection of a tunge doeth not consiste as Demosthenes Demosthenes
answered Eschines well that had taken him up, demaundinge aunswer to
him of certaine woordes which he hadde used and yet were ^^ ^'^*^"
not auntient, what monsters or wonderous matters they
were ? Wherat Demosthenes laughed, and answered him,
that the fortunes of Grece depended not upon them. Even
so would I passe full litle if a Tuscane should reprehende
me for speaking rather Satisfatto, then Sodis/atto : and Ho7i- Diversitie of
ojrvole, then Horrevole : and Causa, then Cagione: and '^®'"*^^^ '^"^"
Populo, then Popolo, and such other matters. ^^^}^ the^rest
Then arose Sir Friderick upon his feete and saide : I of Italy,
besech ye give the hearing of these few woordes.
The L. Emilia answered laughing : Uppon jny displeasure
I forbid anye of you to talke any more in this matter,
for I will have you to breake it of untill an other night.
But you Count, proceade you in your communication of the
Courtyer, and let us see how good a memory you have :
for I beleve, if ye can knitt it agayne where you brake of,
ye shall not do a litle.
Madam, answered the Count, me think the thrid is broken
in sunder, but if I be not deceyved, I trowe we saide that
pestylent curiositie doth alwayes geve an il grace unto al \
thinges: and contrary wise simplicity and Reckelesness a
marvailous good grace. In commendation wherof and in ;
dispraise of curiosity, many other thinges might be said, 1
yet wil I alleage but one mo, and then have done. All ^
women generally have a great desire to be, and when they
canne not be, at the least to appear beawtyfull. Therfore Women that
where nature in some part hath not done her devoyr therin, peincte them
they endeavour them selves to supply it with art. Of this foirg to^J^eiT^
ariseth the trymming of the face, with such studye and
many times peines, the pilling of the browes and fore-
head, and the usynge of all those maner wayes, and the
abydyng of such lothsomenesse, as you women beleave are
kepte very secret from men, and vet do all men know them.
79
THE FIRST BOOKE
The La. Constance Fregosa laughed at this, and said :
You shoulde do much better to go forward in your com-
munication, and declare how a man may attein a good
grace, and speak of courtynge, then to discover the faultes
of women wythout purpose.
Nay it is much to purpose, answered the Count, bicause
these defaultes that I talke of take this grace from you : for
they proceade of nothing els but of curiousnesse, wherby ye
discover openlye unto everye man the over great desire that
ye have to be beawtiful. Do you not marke howe much
more grace is in a woman, that if she doth trim her self,
doeth it so scarcely and so litle, that whoso behouldeth
her, standeth in doubt whetlier she be trimmed or no : then
in an other so bedawbed, that a man woulde wene she had
a viser on her face and dareth not laugh for making it
chappe : nor at any tyme chaungeth her colour, but whan
she apparayeleth her self in the morninge, and all the rest of
the daye standeth lyke an image of woodde without mov-
inge, shewinge her self onely in torche light, as craftye
marchaundmen do their clothes in their darke lightes ? How
much more then doeth a man delite in one, I meane not
foule, that is manyfestlye scene she hath nothinge uppon
her face, though she be not so white nor so red, but with
her naturall colour somewhat wan, sometime with blusshinge
or through other chaunce dyed with a pure rednes, with her
hear by happe out of order and ruffled, and with her simple
and naturall gestures, without shewing her self to bestow dili-
gence or study, to make her faire ? This is that not regarded
pureness which best pleaseth the eyes and mindes of men, that
White teath. stande alwayes in awe to be deceived by art. Whyte teeth is
a good sight in a woman, for sence they are not in so open
sight as is the face, but most communly are hid, a man may
think she bestoweth not so much laboure about them, to
make them white, as she doeth in the face : yet who so
shoulde laughe without cause purposly to show them, should
discover the art, and for all their faire whitenesse should
appeare unto all men to have a very yll grace, as Egnatius
Faire handes. in Catullus. The like is in the handes, which being delicate,
smooth and faire, yf they be shewed bare at a tyme whan
80
Women that
bestowe no
payne in set-
tinge out
themselves.
OF THE COURT YER
occasyon is to occupye them, and not of purpose to showe
the beawtye of them, they leave a very great desire of them-
selves, and especiallye after they are covered with gloves
agayne, for a manne would judge that in puttynge them on
againe she passeth not and lytle regardeth whether they be
in sighte or no, and that they are so fayre rather by nature,
then by anye studye or dilygence. Have ye not hadde
an eye otherwhyle, whan eyther in the stretes goynge to
Churche, or in anye other place, or in sportyng, or by any
other chaunce it happeneth that a woman lyfteth up her
i clothes so high, that she sheweth her foote, and sometime a
litle of her pretye legge unwittinglye ? And seemeth shee
I not to you to have a verye good grace, yf ye beholde her
I then with a certayne womanlye disposition, cleanlye and
precise, with her shooes of vellute, and her hose sittynge
cleane to her legge ? Truely it deliteth me much, and I
beleve all of you, for everye manne supposeth that Precise- Clenlyeand
ness in so secret a place and so sildom seen, to be unto that precise in
woman rather natural and propre then forced, and that ggg^^^
thereby she thinketh to gett her no commendation at all.
In such sort is curiousenesse avoyded and covered, the which
you maye nowe conceyve howe contrarye it is, and taketh
awaye the grace of everye operation and deede, aswell of
the bodye as of the minde, whereof hitherto we have spoken The minde.
but litle, and yet ought it not to be omitted, for as the
minde is muche more worthye then the bodye, so deserveth
it also to bee better decked and polished. And howe that
ought to be in oure Courtyer (leavyng a parte the preceptes
of so manye wyse Phylosophers that wryte in this matter and
define the vertues of the minde, and so subtillye dyspute of
the dignitye of them) wee will expresse in fewe wordes,
applyinge to our pourpose, that it is sufficient he be (as they
terme it commonlye) an honest manne and welmeaning : for
in this is comprehended the goodnesse, the wisdome, the
manlynesse and the temperaunce of the mynde, and all
other qualityes that belonge to so worthye a name. And I To applye a
recken hym onely a true morall Phylosopher that wyll be mans good
good, and to that, he needeth fewe other preceptes then J^^j^^ ^^'^~
that will of his. And therefore saide Socrates well, that he
L 81
THE FIRST BOOKE
The French
menne make
none ac-
compte of
learning.
Francis i.
French king.
Universitye
of Paris.
thought his instructions hadde broughte foorth good fruite
whan by them he hadde provoked anye one to applye hys
wyll to the knoweleage and learnynge of vertue. For they
that are come to the pointe that they covette nothynge
more then to be good, do easyly attayne the understandynge
of all that beelongeth thereto : therefore herein we wyll
make no more a do. But besyde goodnesse, the true andj
principall ornament of the mynde in everye manne (ij
beeleave) are letters, although the Frenchmen know onelye'
the noblenesse of armes, and passe for nothing beside : so
that they do not onelye not sett by letters, but they
rather abhorre them, and all learned men they count verie
rascalles, and they think it a great vilany whan any one of
them is called a clarke.
Then aunswered the L. Julian : You say very true, this
errour in deede hath longe reigned among the Frenchemen.
But if Monseigneur Angoulism have so good luck that
he may (as men hope) succede in the Croun, the glory of
armes in Fraunce doeth not so florishe nor is had in suche
estimation, as letters wilbe, I beleave. For it is not long
sins I was in Fraunce, and saw this Prince in the Court
there, who semed unto me beside the handsomenesse of per-
sonne and beawty of visage, to have in his countenance so
great a majestic, accompanyed neverthelesse with a certayne
lovelye courteisy, that the realme of Fraunce should ever
seeme unto him a small matter. I understoode afterward by
many gentilmen both French and Italian, very much of the
most noble condicions, of the greatnesse of courage, prowesse
and liberalitie that was in him : and emonge other thinges, it
was tolde me that he highly loved and esteamed letters, and
had in verie great reputation all learned men, and blamed the
Frenchemen themselves that their mindes were so farr wide
from this profession, especially having at their doores so noble
an universitye as Paris is, whpra a]] the world resortgth.
Then spake the Count : It is great wonder that in these
tender yeres only by the provocation of nature, contrary to
the maner of the countrey, he hath geven himself to so
good a way. And because subjectes folow alwaies the con-
dicions of the higher powers, it is possible that it may come
82
OF THE COURTYER
to passe (as you say) that the Frenchmen will yet esteeivi^ --^
letters to be of that dignity that they are in deed. Th^^' fg^f ner ''*'
which (if they wil geve ear ther to) they may soone be per^ * ..
swaded, forsomuch as men ought to covet of nature nothing •'>iiv.
so much and that is more proper for them, then knowleage :
which thing it wer a great folly to say or to holde opinion Knowleage.
that it is not alwaies good. And in case I might com-
mune with them, or with other that were of a contrarie
opinion to me, I would do my diligence to show them,
how much letters (which undoubtedlye have bene graunted
of God unto men for a soveraigne gift) are profytable and
necessarye for our lief and estimation. Neyther should I
want thexamples of so many excellent capitaines of old
time, which all joyned the Ornament of letters, with the Howe
prowesse of amies. For (as vou know) Alexander had Homer the great
in such reverence, that he laide his lUas alwayes under his Alexander
beddes head : and he applied diligentlye not these studies jjQj^gj. p^y.
onely, but also the speculations of Fhilosophye under the tarck, in
discipline of Aristotle. Alcibiades encreased his good con- the life of
dicions and made them greater with letters, and with the Alexander,
instructions of Socrates. Also what dyligence Cesar used Alcibiades
in studye, those thinges which he hath so divinely written Socrates
him self, make triall. It is said that Scipio Africanus caried
alwayes in his hande the bookes of Xenophon, wherein under
the name of Cyrus he instructeth a perfect king. I could ^c^P^^
recite unto you LucuHus, Sylla, Pompeius, Brutus, and '
many other Romanes and Gretians, but I will do no more J''\\-^
■X ■^ , ■ /> TT -1 1 1 • 1 1 • 11 J. pnontis.
but make mencion ot Hanibal, which being so excellent a .
captaine (yet for all that of a fierce nature, and voide of all learned,
humanitye, an untrue dealer, and a despiser of men and of
the Gods) had also understanding in letters, and the know-
leage of the Greeke tunge. And if I be not deceived (I
trowe) I have read in my time that he left a booke behind
him of his owne makynge in the Greeke tunge. But this
kynd of talke is more then nedeth, for I knowe all you
understand howe much the Frenchemen be deceived in
houlding opinion letters to do anye hurt to amies. You
knowe in great matters and aventurous in wanes the true
provocation is glory : and whoso for lucres sake or for any Glorye.
83
THE FIRST BOOKE
thoier consideration taketh it in hand (beside that he never
wb>eth anye thynge woorthy prayse) deserveth not the name
cv a gentleman, but is a most vile marchaunt. And every ^
X- .iters the man maye conceive it to be the true glorye, that is stored up
true glorye. in the holy treasure of letters, excepte such unlucky creatures
as have had no tast therof. What minde is so fainte, so
bashefuU and of so base a courage, that in reading the actes
and greatnesse of Cesar, Alexander, Scipio, Hannibal, and
so many other, is not incensed with a most fervent longing
to be like them : and doth not preferre the getting of that
perpetuall fame, before this rotten life that lasteth twoo
dayes ? Which in despite of death maketh him lyve a greate
deale more famous then before. But he that savoureth not
the sweetnesse of letters, cannot know how much is the
greatnesse of glorye, which is a longe whyle preserved by
Noble
courages
euflamed in
readyng the
actes of
famous cap-
taines.
The uu-
learuedknowe them, and onely measureth it with the age of one or two
not glorye.
Why the un-
learned seeke
not to be
famous.
Italians faint
in armes.
men, for farther he beareth not in minde. Therfore can he
not esteme this shorte glorye so much as he woulde do that,
which (in a maner) is everlastinge, yf by his ill happe he
wer not barred from the knowleage of it. And not passing
upon it so much, reason perswadeth and a man may well
beleave he wyll never hasard hym self to come by it, as he
that knoweth it. I would not nowe some one of the con-
trarye parte shoiilde alleage unto me the contrarye effectes
to confute mine opinion with all : and tell me how the
Italians with their knowleage of letters have shewed small
prowesse in armes from a certaine time hitherto, the which
neverthelesse is to true. But in very dede a man may well
saye that the offence of a few, hath brought (beside the great
damage) an everlasting reproche unto all other. And the
very cause of our confusion, and of the neglecting of vertue
in our mindes (if it be not clean dead) proceaded of them.
But it were a more shamefull matter unto us to publishe it,
then unto the Frenchmen the ignoraunce in letters. Ther-
fore it is better to passe that over with silence that cannot
be rehersed without sorow, and leaving this purpose into the
which I am entred against my will, retourne againe unto
oure Courtier, whom in letters I will have to bee more then
indvfferentlye well scene, at the leaste in those study es,
84
OF THE COURTYER
/which they call Humanitie, and to have not only the under- The Courtier
' standinge of the Latin tunge, but also of the Greeke, '^'Jg^t t^ '^«
because of the many and sundrye thinges that with greate ^^^yj^^d.
excellencye are written in it. Let him much exercise hym ^" numauiiy,
selfe in poets, and no lesse in Oratours and Historiographers, In the Latyn
and also in writinge bothe rime and prose, and especiallye j*"" tireeke
in this our vulgar tunge. For beside the contentation that ^*
he shall receive thereby him selfe, he shall by this meanes " P^® ^^'
never want pleasaunt interteinments Avith women which ^" oratours.
ordinarylye love such matters. And if by reason either of I" Historio-
his other busines beside, or of his slender studie, he shall ^^^P ^^^'
not attaine unto that perfection that hys writinges may be ^" writynge
worthye much commendation, let him be circumspect in ^^^gg
keeping them close, least he make other men to laugh at ^,„ .
him. Onely he may show them to a frend whom he may i^g j^^g jj£j^
trust, for at the leastwise he shall receive so much profite, mans writ-
that by that exercise he shall be able to geve his judge- inges.
ment upon other mennes doinges. For it happeneth verye
sildome, that a man not exercised in writinge, how learned The not
so ever he be, can at any tyme know perfectly the labour practised can
and toile of writers, or tast of the sweetenes and excellencye "^ •'" ^^'
of styles, and those inner observations that often times are
found in them of olde tyme. And besyde that, those
study es shall make him copyous, and (as Aristippus aunswered
that Tiran) bould to speake uppon a good grounde wyth Dionisius.
jeverye manne. Notwithstanding I wyll have oure Courtier
to keepe faste in his minde one lesson, and that is this, to
[be alwaies wary both in this and in every other point, and To be rather
rather fearefull then bould, and beware that he perswade ^^arie then
not him self falsely to knowe the thing he knoweth not f^Jj|*^gg" "^'^
'indede. Because we are of nature al the sort of us much
more gredy of praise then is requisite, and better to our
eares love the melody of wordes sounding to our praise, The wordes
then any other song or soune that is most sweete. And ther- of flatterers
fore manye tymes, lyke the voices of Meremaydens, they are ^^^^ ^*
the cause of drownyng him that doeth not well stoppe his
eares at such deceitfuU harmonic. This daunger being per-
ceived, there hath bene among the auncient wise men that
hath written bookes, howe a manne should know a true
85
THE FIRST BOOKE
Men take
nu livedo *
flatterers,
Men flattex-
themselves.
T-
\ friend from a flatterer. But what availeth it "^ If there be
many of them (or rather infinit) that manifestly perceive
there are flatterers, and yet love hym that flattereth them,
and hate him that telleth them the trothe, and often times
(standinge in opinion that he that praiseth them is to scace
in his woordes) they themselves helpe him forward, and
utter such matters of themselves, that the most impudent
flatterer of all is ashamed of. Let us leave these blinde
busardes in their owne erroure, and make oure Courtyer of
so good a judgement, that he will not be geven to under-
stand blacke for white, nor presume more of him selfe then
what he knoweth very manifestlye to be true, and especially
in those thinges, which (yf he beare well in minde) the L.
Cesar rehearsed in his divise of pastimes, that we have
manye tymes used for an instrument to make many become
foolysh. But rather, that he may be assured not to fall into
anye errour, where he knoweth those prayses that are geven
him to be true : let hym not so openly consent to them, nor
confirme them so without resistance, but rather with modesty
(in a maner) denye them cleane, shewyng alwayes and count-
ynge in effect, armes to be his principall profession, and al
the other good qualities for an ornament thereof, and pryn-
cypallye amonge souldiers, least he be like unto them that
in learnyng will seeme men of Avarr, and among men of
warr, learned. In this wise for the reasons we have said he
shal avoyde curyousnesse, and the meane thinges which he
taketh in hand, shal appeare very great.
Here M. Peter Bembo answered : I know not (Count
Lewis) howe you will have this Courtier, being learned and
of so many other vertuous qualities, to count every thing
for an ornament of armes, and not armes and the reste
for an ornamente of letters. The whyche wythout other
addicyon are in dignitie so muche above armes, as the
minde is above the bodye : because the practising of them
belongeth properly to the mind even as the practising of
armes dooeth to the body.
to^Sie mhid"^ The Count answered then : Nay the practisinge of armes
and bodv beelongeth aswel to the mind as to the body. But I wold
both. ' not have you (M. Peter) a judge in this cause, for you would
^ -86
How he
should avoid
flatterers.
Letters an
ornamente
of armes .
itiil^ v'S
^ r
bv
OF THE COURTYER
be to partial to one of the partes. And forsomuch as this
disputation hath already bene tossed a longe time by moste
wise men, we neede not to renew it, but I count it resolved
upon amies side, and wil have our Courtier (since I have
the facioning of him at mi wil) think thus also. And if
you be of a contrary opinion, tary til you heare a disputa-
tion, where it may be as well lawfull for him that taketh
part with armes, to use his armes, as thei that defend
letters use in the defence the very same letters.
Oh (quoth M. Peter) you rebuked the Frenchmen before
for setting litle by letters, and declared what a great light
of glory they shew unto men and how they make them
immortal: and now it seemeth you are in an other opinion.
Do you not remember that :
The great Macedo, when he proched neer Petrarca :
Fiers Achils famous Toumb, thus said and sight : Son. 155.
O happy Prince that found a Tromp so cleer, Alexander.
And happy he that praysd so worthy a wight. Homer.
And if Alexander envied Achilles not for his deedes but Quint. Curt,
for his fortune that gave him so great luck to have his lib. 2.
actes renowmed by Homer, a man may gather he estemed
more the letters of Homer then the armes of Achilles.
What other judge then or what other sentence looke you
for, as touching the dignity of armes and letters, then
that which was geven by one of the greatest capitaines that
ever were .''
The Count answered : I blame the Frenchmen because they \
think letters hurt the profession of armes: and I hould opinion /^
that it is not so necessary for any man to be learned, as it is /
for a man of war. And these two pointes linked together and The Courtyer
aided the one by the other (which is most fit) wil I have to amanne of
bee in the Courtier. Neyther doe I thinke my self for this Jlgj-^gd"
to be in an other opinion, but (as I have said) I will not
dispute : whiche of them is most worthy praise, it sufficeth
that learned men take not in hande at anye time to praise
any but great men, and glorious actes, which of themselves
deserve prayse by their proper essentiall vertues from Qjorjoug
whence they arrise. Beside that, they are a most noble actes a noble
Theme for writers, which is a great ornament, and partly the Theme.
87
THE FIRST BOOKE
Alexander
thought not
himself in-
fer iour to
Achilles.
What Alex-
ander ment
by calling
Achilles
happy.
cause of continuance of writinges, that paraventure should
not be so much read and set by, if there wanted in them
noble matter, but counted vaine and of smal reputation.
And if Alexander envied Achilles bicause he was praised of
him that did it, yet doth it not consequently folowe that he
esteamed letters more then armes. Wherin if he had
knowen himself so farr wide from Achilles, as in writing he
thought al they would be from Homer that should go about
to write of him, I am sure he would muche sooner have
desired wel doing in himself then wel speaking in an other.
Therfore think I that this was a close praise of himself, and
a washing for that he thought he had not, namelye the high
excellency of a writer, and not for that he thought with
himself he had already obtayned, that is to say, the prowess
of armes, wherin he counted not Achilles any whit his
superiour, wherefore he called him happye, as it were sig-
nifiyng, where his fame in foretime was not so renowmed in
the worlde, as was the fame that by so divyne a Poeme was
cleere and excellent, it proceaded not for that his prowes
and desertes were not such and worthy so much praise : but
it arose of fortune that had before hand prepared for
Achilles that miracle of nature for a glorious renowme and
trompet of his actes. And peradventure again he minded
thereby to stirr up some noble wit to wryte of himself,
declaring thereby how acceptable it should be to him,
forsomuch as he loved and reverenced the holye monumentes
of letters : about the which we have now spoken sufficient.
Nay more then sufficient, aunswered the L. Lodovicus Pius.
For I beleve there is never a vessell in the worlde possible to
be founde so bigge that shalbe able to receive al the thinges
that you wil have in this Courtyer.
Then the Count : Abide yet a while (quoth he) for there
be manye other thinges to be had in him yet.
Peter of Naples aunswered : After this maner Crassus de
Medicis shal have great avantage of M. Peter Bembo.
At this they all laughed. And the Counte beginning a
freshe : My Lordes (quoth he) you must thinke I am not
pleased with the Courtyer if he be not also a musitien, and
beside his understanding and conning upon the booke,
88
OF THE COURTYER
have skill in lyke maner on sundrye instruments. For The Courtyer
yf we waie it well, there is no ease of the labours and ^ musitien.
medicines of feeble mindes to be founde more honeste
and more praise worthye in tyme of leyser then it. And
princypally in Courtes, where (beside the refreshing of
vexacyons that musicke bringeth unto eche man) many \ ^
thynges are taken in hande to please women withal, whose \ ^'
tender and soft breastes are soone perced with melody and /^ ^V^
fylled with swetenesse. Therefore no marvaile that in the
olde times and nowe a dayes they have alwayes bene
enclined to musitiens, and counted this a moste acceptable
foode of the mynde.
Then the L. Gaspar : I beleve musicke (quoth he) together
with many other vanities is mete for women, and paradventure
for some also that have the lykenes of men, but not for
them that be men in dede : who ought not with suche
delicacies to womannishe their mindes, and brynge them-
selves in that sort to dread death.
Speake it not, answered the Count. For I shall enter
into a large sea of the praise of Musicke, and call to rehear-
sal howe much it hath alwayes bene renowmed emong them Musick in
of olde time, and counted a holy matter : and how it hath estimation in
. bene the opinion of most wise Philosophers that the world is ^^^^ **'"®-
made of musick, and the heavens in their moving make a
Imelody, and our soule framed after the very same sort, and
H:herfore lifteth up it self and (as it were) reviveth the vertues
and force of it with musick : wherfore it is written that
Alexander was sometime so ferventely styrred with it, that Alexander
(in a maner) against his wvU he was forced to arise from styrred
bankettes and runne to weapon, afterward the musitien
chaunging the stroke and his maner of tune, pacified himself ^^°?^*"*'
againe and retourned from weapon to banketting. And I
shall tell you that grave Socrates whan he was well stricken Socrates
in yeares learned to playe uppon the harpe. And I remem- beyng olde
ber I have understoode" that Plato and Aristotle will have J^^harT''
a man that is well brought up, to be also a musitien : and
declare with infinite reasons the force of musicke to be to
very great purpose in us, and for many causes (that should
be to long to rehearse) ought necessarilye to be learned
M 89
Why musick
is good.
Lycurgus.
The
Lacedemons.
The
Cretenses.
Epaminondas.
Themistocles
the lesse
estemed for
not beyng
a musitien.
Chirou.
Achilles a
musitien.
Wielde
beastes delyte
in musicke.
Dolphines
delyte in
musicke.
Musicke
acceptable
to God.
Labourers.
Couiitrey-
women.
Mariners.
Pylgroms.
THE FIRST BOOKE
from a mans childhoode, not onely for the superficial melodic
that is hard, but to be sufficient to bring into us a newe
habite that is good, and a custome enclyning to vertue,
whiche maketh the minde more apt to the conceiving of
felicitie, even as bodely exercise maketh the bodie more
lustie, and not onely hurteth not civyl matters and warre-
lyke affaires, but is a great staie to them. Also Lycurgus
in his sharpe lawes allowed musicke. And it is read that
the Lacedemons, whiche were valiaunt in armes, and the
Cretenses used harpes and other softe instrumentes : and
many most excellent captaines of olde time (as Epaminondas)
gave themselves to musicke : and suche as had not a syght
in it (as Themistocles) were a great deale the lesse set by.
Have you not read that among the first instruccions which the
good olde man Chiron taught Achilles in his tender age,
whome he had brought up from his nurse and cradle, musick
was one .'* And the wise maister would have those hands
that should shed so muche Troyan bloude, to be oftentimes
occupyed in playing upon the harpe.'' What souldyer is
there (therefore) that will thinke it a shame to folow
Achilles, omitting many other famous captaines that I could
alledge.'* Do ye not then deprive our Courtyer of musicke,
which doth not onely make swete the mindes of men, but
also many times wilde beastes tame : and whoso savoureth it
not, a manne may assuredly thinke him not to be wel in his
wittes. Beholde I pray you what force it hath, that in
times paste allured a fishe to suffer a man to ride upon him
throughe the tempestious sea. We maie see it used in the
holy temples to render laude and thankes unto God, and it
is a credible matter that it is acceptable unto him, and that
he hath geven it unto us for a most swete lightning of our
travailes and vexations. So that many times the boisterous
labourers in the fieldes in the heate of the sunne beguyle
theyr paine with rude and cartarlyke singing. With this
the unmanerly countreywoman that aryseth before daye
oute of her slepe to spinne and carde, defendeth her self and
maketh her labour pleasant. This is the moste swete
pastime after reigne, wind, and tempest unto the miserable
mariners. With this do the wery pilgromes comfort them-
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selves in their troublesome and long viages. And often
tyraes prisoners in adversitie, in fetters, and in stockes. In Prisoners.
lyke maner for a greater proofe that the tunablenes of
musicke (though it be but rude) is a very great refreshing
of al worldly paines and griefs, a man would judge that
nature hath taughte it unto nurses for a speciall remedye to
the contynuall waylinges of sucking babes, whiche at the Suckyng
soune of their voice fall into a quiete and sweete sleepe, babes.
forgetting the teares that are so proper to them, and geven
us of nature in that age for a gesse of the reste of oure life
to come.
Here the Count pausing a whyle the L. Juliax saide : I
am not of the L. Gaspars opinion, but I beleve for the
reasons you alledge and for many other, that musicke is not
onelye an ornament, but also necessarie for a Courtyer.
But I Avoulde have you declare how this and the other
qualities whiche you appoint him are to be practised, and at
what time, and in what sorte. Because many thinges that
of them selves bee worthie praise, oftentimes in practisyng
theym out of season seeme moste foolish. And contrary-
wise, some thinges that appere to be of smal moment, in the
wel applying them, are greatly estemed.
Then saide the Count : Before we enter into this matter,
I will talke of an other thing, whiche for that it is of
importaunce (in my judgemente) I beleve our Courtyer
ought in no wise to leave it out. And that is the cunning in
drawyng, and the knowledge in the very arte of peincting. Peincting.
And wonder ye not if I wish this feat in him, whiche now a
dayes perhappes is counted an handycraft and ful litle to
become a gentleman, for I remember I have read that the
men of olde time, and especially in all Greece would have Gentlemens
Gentlemens children in the schooles to apply peincting, as a cbildren
matter both honest and necessary. And this was received ^^^^^
in the firste degree of liberal artes, afterwarde openly
enacted not to be taught to servauntes and bondmen. Peincting
Emong the Romanes in like maner it was in very great forbid to
reputacion, and thereof sprong the surname of the most '^"•imen.
noble family of Fabii, for the first Fabius was surnamed Fabius
Pictor, because in dede he was a most excellent peinter, and Pictor.
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Temple of
health.
Necessarye
The world and
peincting.
Auntient
ymages.
Carving.
so addicted to peincting, that after he had peincted the
walles of the temple of Health, he writte therein hys name
thinking with himselfe, that for all he was borne in so noble
a familye whiche was honoured with so many titles of
Consulshippes and triuniphes and other dignities, and was
learned and well seene in the lawe, and reckened among
Oratours, to geve also an encrease of brightnesse and an
ornament unto his renowme, by leavyng behynde him a
memorie tiiat he had bene a peinter. There have not in
lyke maner wanted many other of notable famylyes that
have bene renowmed in this art, of the which (beside that
in it selfe it is moste noble and worthye) there ensue manye
commodities, and especiallye in warre to drawe oute
countreys, plattefourmes, ryvers, brydges, castelles, houldes,
fortresses, and suche other matters, the which thoughe a
manne were liable to kepe in mynde (and that is a harde
matter to doe) vet can he not shewe them to others. And
in verye dede who so esteameth not this arte, is (to my
seemyng) farre wyde from all reason : forsomuche as the
engine of the worlde that we behoulde with a large sky, so
bright with shining sterres, and in the middes, the earth
environed with the Seas, severed in partes wyth Hylles,
Dales, and Rivers, and so decked with suche diverse trees,
beawtifull flowres and herbes, a man maye saye it to be a
noble and a great peincting, drawen wyth the hande of
nature and of God : the whych whoso can folow in myne
opinion he is woorthye much commendacion. Neyther can
a man atteyne to thys wythout the knoweledge of manye
thinges, as he well knoweth that trieth it. Therefore had
they of olde time in verye great estimation both the art and
the artificers, so that it came to the toppe of all excellencye.
And of this maye a man gather a sufficient argument at the
auntient ymages of marble and mettall, whyche at thys daye
are to be seene. And though peincting be a diverse matter
from carving, yet do they both arise of one self fountayne
(namelye) of a good patterne. And even as the ymages are
divine and excellent, so it is to be thought peinctinges were
also, and so much the more, for that they conteine in them
a greater workemanshipp.
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Then the L. Emilia tourning her unto Johnchristopher
Romano that sat ther emong the rest : How thinke you
(quoth she) to this judgement, will you graunt that peinct-
ing conteineth in it a greater workmanship, then carving ?
JoHN('HRisTOPHER auswered : In my mynde carving is of
more travaile, of more art, and of a more dignitye then
peincting.
Then said the Count : Bicause y mages are more durable,
perhappes a man may say that they are of a more dignity.
For sith they are made for a memory, they better satisfy
the effect why thei be made, then peincting. But beside
memory, both peincting and carving are made also to set
out a thing, and in this point hath peincting a great deale
the upper hande, the which though it be not so longe lastyng
(to terme it so) as carving is, yet doth it for al that endure
a long tyme, and for the while it lasteth, is much more
sightly.
Then aunswered Johnchkistopher : I beleave verelye
you thynke not as ye speake, and all this do you for your
Uaphaelles sake. And perad venture to, you judge the Raphael,
excellency you know to be in him in peincting to be of such
perfection, that carvynge in marble cannot come to that
degree. But weye with your selfe, that this is the praise of
the artificer and not of the art. Then he proceaded : And
I judge also both the one and the other to be an artificiall
folowing of nature. But vet I know not how you can say,
that the trueth and property that nature maketh, cannot be
folowed better in a figure of marble or mettall, wherin the
members are all round, proporcioned and measured as nature
her self shapeth them, then in a Table, where men perceyve
nothing but the outwarde syght and those coulours that
deceive the eyes : and say not to me that being, is not
nigher unto the trueth then seeming. Again, I judge
carving in marble much harder, bicause if ye make a fault it ^Vlly carving
cannot be amended again, for marble cannot be joyned i'^ harder then
together, but ye must be drieven to make a newe image, pemctyng'-
the which happeneth not in peincting, for a man may alter,
put to, and diminish, alwaies making it better.
The Count said laughing : I speake not for Raphaelles
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Michelange.
Prospective.
Wherin the
peincter
passeth the
sake, neither ought you to tliink me so ignoraunt a person,
but I understand the excellency of Michelangelo, of you
your selfe, and of other men in carvyng of marble, but I
speak of the art and not of the artificers. And you say
wel, that both the one and the other is the folowing of
nature. But for al that, it is not so, that peinting
appeareth and carving is : for although images are all
round like the lively patterne, and peinctyng is onely
seene in the outward apparance, yet want there manye
thynges in ymages, that want not in penctinges, and
especiallye lightes and shadowes, for fleshe geveth one
light, and Marble an other, and that doth the Peincter
naturally folow with cleare and darke, more and lesse,
as he seeth occasion, which the graver in marble can
not doe. And where the Peincter maketh not his figure
round, he maketh the muscules and the members in round
wise, so that they go to meete with the partes not seene,
after such a maner, that a man may very well gather the
peincter hath also a knowleage in them and understandeth
them. And in this poynt he must have an other craft that
is greater to frame those membres, that they may seeme
short and diminishe accordinge to the proportion of the sight
by the way of prospective, which by force of measured lines,
coulours, lightes and shadowes discover unto you also in the
outward sight of an upright wal the plainnesse and farnesse,
more and lesse, as pleaseth him. Think you it agayn a
triflynge matter to counterfeyt naturall coulours, flesh,
clothe, and all other couloured thinges ? This can not now
the graver in marble do, ne yet express the grace of the
sight that is in the black eyes or in azurre with the shininge
of those amorous beames. He can not show the coulour of
yelow hear, nor the glistring of armour, nor a darke nyght,
nor a Sea tempest, nor those twincklinges and sperkeles, nor
the burninge of a Citye, nor the rising of the mornyng in
the coulour of roses with those beames of purple and gold.
Finallye he can not show the skye, the sea, the earth, hilles,
woddes, medowes, gardeines, rivers, Cityes, nor houses, which
the peincter doeth all. For this respect (me thinke) peinct-
ing is more noble, and conteyneth in it a greater workeman-
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shippe then graving in marble. And among them of olde
tyme I beleve it was in as high estimation as other thinges,
the which is also to be discerned by certayn litle remnantes Remnants'of
that are to be sene yet, especiallye in places under ground peinctinge^in
in Roome, but much more evidentlye may a man gather it '^oome.
by olde wrytinges, wherein is so famous and so often mention
both of the workes and workemen, that by them a man maye
understande in what high reputation they have bene
alwaies with Princes and Comnmne weales. Therefore it is
read that Alexander loved highlye Appelles of Ephesus, and Alexander
somuch, that after he had made him draw out a woman of ^<^^^<1
his, naked, whom he loved most deerly, and understandinge -'^PP^^^^s-
that this good peincter, for her marveylous beauty was
most fervently in love with her, without any more a do, he
bestowed her upon him. Truely a woorthy liberalitye of Alexanders
Alexander, not to geve onelye treasures and states, but also gift to
his owne affections and desires, and a token of very great -^^PP^^^^s-
love towai-de Appelles, not regarding (to please him with
all) the displeasure of the woman that he highly loved, who
it is to be thought was sore agreved to chaunge so great a
king for a peincter. There be manye other signes rehersed
also of Alexanders good will toward Appelles, but he shewed
plainlye in what estimation he had him, whan he com-
maunded by open proclamation no other peincter shoulde Onely
be so hardy to draw out his picture. Here could I repete Appelles
unto you the contentions of manye noble peincters with the ^f^^^? ^^^
greatest commendation and marvaile (in a maner) in the
world. I coulde tel you with what solemnitie the Emperours
of old time decked out their tryumphes with peinctinges,
and dedicated them up in haunted places and how deere it
cost them. And that there wer some Peincters that gave Estimation of
their woorkes freel}', seeming unto them no golde nor silver peincting.
was inough to value them. And how a table of Protogenes Atablewherin
was of such estimation, that Demetrius lying encamped Bacchus was
before Rhodes, where he might have entred the citie by P^^^*^*^-
setting fier to the place where he wiste this table was, for
feare of burning it, staid to bid them battaile, and so he wan
not the city at al. And how Metrodorus a Philosopher and Metrodorus.
a most excellent peincter was sent out of Athens to L. Paulus
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to bringe up his children and to deck out his triumph he had
to make. And also manye noble writers have written of
this art, which is a token great inough to declare in what esti-
mation it hath bene. But I will not we procede any farther
in this communication. Therfore it sufficeth onely to say
that our Courtier ought also to have a knowledge in peincting,
Profite of since it was honest and profitable, and much set by in those
peincting. daies whan men were of a more prowesse then they are now.
And thoughe he never geat other profite or delite in it
(beside that it is a helpe to him to judge of the ymages both
olde and new, of vessels, buildings, old coines, cameses,
gravings and such other matters) it maketh him also under-
stand the beawtye of livelye bodies, and not onely in the
sweetenesse of the fisnamy, but in the proportion of all the
rest, aswell in men as other living creatures. Se then how
the knowleage in peinctinge is cause of verye great pleasure.
Lovers ought And this let them think that do enjoy and view the beauty
to have a of a woman so throughly that they think them selves in
sight in it. paradise, and yet have not the feate of peinctinge : the
which if they had, they would conceive a farre greater con-
tentation, for then should they more perfectly understand
the beauty that in their brest engendreth such hartes ease.
Here the L. Cesar laughed and saide : I have not the art
of peincting, and yet I knowe assuredly I have a far greater
delyte in behoulding a woman in the world then Appelles
himselfe that was so excellent whom ye named right now,
could have if he wer nowe in lief again.
Affection The Count answered : This delite of yours proceadeth not
or love. wholy of the beawty, but of the affection which you per-
happes beare unto the woman. And if you wil tell the troth,
the first time you beheld that woman, ye felt not the
thousandeth part of the delite which ye did afterward,
though her beauty wer the very same. Therfore ye may
conceive how affection beareth a greater stroke in your
delite then beauty.
I deny not that (quoth the L. Cesar) : but as delite ariseth
of affection, so doth affection arise of beauty, therfore a man
may say for al that, that beauty is the cause of delite.
The Count aunswered : There may be other thinges also
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that beside beawty often times enflame our mindes, as
iiianers, knowleage, speach, gestures and a thousand mo
(which perad venture after a sort may be called beauty to)
and above all the knowing a mans self to be beloved : so
that without the beautys you reason of, a man may be most
ferventlye in love, but those loves that arise onelye of the
beauty which we dyscerne superficially in bodyes, without
doubt will bring a farre greater delite to him that hath a
more skill therein then to him that hath but a litle, Ther-
fore retourning to our pourpose, I beleve Appelles conceived
a far greater joy in behoulding the beawty of Campaspes Campaspes.
then did Alexander, for a man maye easilye beleeve that the
love of them both proceaded of that beawtye, and perhaps
also for this respect Alexander determined to bestowe her
upon him, that (in his minde) could knowe her more per-
fectlye then he did. Have you not read of the five daughters V. doughters
of Croton, which among the rest of the people, Zeusis the ^^ Croton.
peincter chose to make of all five one figure that was most Zeusis.
excellent in beawty, and wer renowmed of many Poets, as
they that wer alowed for beawtifull of him that ought to
have a most perfect judgment in beawty ?
Here the L. Cesar, declaring him self not satisfied nor
willing to consent by any meanes, that any man coulde tast
of the delite that he felt in beholding the beawty of a
certein woman, but he him self, began to speake : and then
was there hard a great scraping of feet in the floore with a
cherme of loude speaking, and upon that every man tourninge
him selfe about, saw at the Chambre doore appeare a light
of torches, and by and by after entred in the L. Generall with L. Francisco-
a greate and noble traine, who was then retourned from ™^"^^ aella
accompaninge the Pope a peece of the way. And at his
first entrey into the Palaice demaundinge what the Dutches
did, he was certefied what kind of pastime they had in hande
that night, and howe the charg was committed to Count
Lewis to entreat of courting. Therfore he hasted him as
much as he could to come betime to heare somewhat. And
assone as he had saluted the Dutchesse and setled the reste
that were risen up at his comminge, he satte hym downe in the
circle amonge them and certeine of the chiefe of his traine,
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amonge which were the marquesse Phebus of Ceva, and
Ghirardin brethern, M. Hector of Roome, Vincent Calmeta,
Horace Floridus and many other.
And whan al was whist, the L. General said : My Lordes,
my comminge shoulde bee to hurtefull, if I should hindre
such good communication as I gesse was even now emong
you. Therfore do you me not this injurie to deprive both
youre selves and me of this pleasure.
Then aunswered Count Lewis : I beleave (my Lorde)
silence ought rather to please all parties then speakinge.
For seinge it hath bene my lot this night before all other to
take this travaile in hande, it hath nowe weried me in speak-
inge and I werie all the rest in hearinge : because my talke
hath not bene worthye of this companye, nor sufficient
ynoughe for the waightinesse of the matter I have bene
charged withall, wherin sins I have litle satisfied my self,
I recken I have muche lesse satysfied others. Therfore (my
Lorde) your lucke hath bene good to come at the latter end,
and nowe shal it be wel done to geve the enterprise of that
is behind to an other that may succede in my roume. For
whosoever he be, I knowe well he will much better acquite
him selfe then I should do if I went forwarde with it, beinge
thus wery as I am.
This will I in no wise permit, aunswered the L. Julian, to
be deceived of the promise ye have made me. And I knowe
well the Lord Generall will not be against the understand-
inge of that point.
And what promise was that ? quoth the Count.
I The L. Julian answered : To declare unto us in what
'sort the Courtyer ought to use those good condicions and
I qualities which you say are meete for him.
{ The Lorde Generall, though he wer but a child in
yeares, yet was he wise and discreete more then a man
would think belonged unto those tender yeares of his, and
in every gesture he declared with a greatnesse of minde a
certaine livelinesse of wit, which did sufficiently pronosticate
the excellente degree of honoure, and vertue whereunto
afterwarde he ascended. Wherfore he said incontinently e :
If all this be behinde yet to be spoken of (me thinke) I am
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OF THE COURTYER
come in good season. For understandinge in what sort the
Courtier muste use his good condicions and qualities, I shall
knowe also what they are, and thus shall I come to the
knowleage of al that have bene spoken hitherto. Therfore
sticke not (Count) to pay this debt, being alreadye dis-
charged of one part therof.
I should not have so greate a debt to discharg, answered
the Count, if the peynes were equallye devided, but the faulte
hath bene, in gevinge a Ladye authoritye to commaunde,
that is to partial.
And so smiling he beheld the Lady Emilia, which said
immediatly : You ought not to complain of my partialyty,
yet sins ye do it against reason, we wil give one part of this
honor, which you call peynes, unto an other : and tourninge
her unto Sir Friderick Fregoso, You (quoth she) propounded
this devise of the Courtier, therfore reason willeth ye should
say somewhat in it : and that shalbe to fulfill the L. Julians
request, in declaring in what sort, maner and time the
Courtier ought to practise his good condicions and quality es,
and those other thinges which the Count hath said are
meete for him.
Then Sir Friderick: Madam (quoth he) where ye will
sever the sort, the time and the maner of good condicions
and qualityes and the well practisinge of the Courtyer, ye
will sever that can not be sundred : for it is these thinges that
make the condicions and qualityes good and the practising
good. Therfore sins the Count hath spoken so much and
so wel, and also said somwhat of these circumstances, and
prepared for the rest in his mind that he had to say, it
were but reason he should go forward untill he came to
the ende.
The Lady Emilia aunswered : Set the case you were the
Count your self, and spake that your mind geveth you he
would do, and so shall all be well.
Then said Calmeta : My Lordes, sins it is late, least Sir
Friderick should find a scuse to utter that he knoweth, I
beleve it were wel done to deferre the rest of the communi-
cation untill to morowe, and bestowe the small time that
remayneth about some other pasty me without ambicion.
THE COURTYER
The which being agreed upon of all handes, the Dutches
willed the Lady Margaret and the Lady Constance Fregosa
to shew them a daunce. Wherefore Barletta immediatly, a
very pleasaunt musitien and an excellent daunser, who con-
tinually kept al the Court in mirth and joy, began to play
upon his instrumentes, and they hande in hande, shewed them
a daunce or twoo with a verye good grace and greate pleasure
to the lookers on : that doone, because it was farre in
nighte, the Dutches arrose uppon her feete, and so
every man taking his leave reverentlye of
her, departed to his reste.
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OF THE COURTYER OF COUNT
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
UNTO MAISTER
ALPHONSUS ARIOSTO
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THE SECOND BOOKE
OT without marveile many a time and
often have I considered wyth my self
howe one errour should arise, the which
bicause it is generallye scene in olde
men, a man may beleave it is proper and
naturall unto them : and that is, how (in An errour
a maner) all of them commend the times i" ^^•
past, and blame the times present : dis-
praising our doinges and maners : and whatsoever they dyd
not in their youthe : affirmynge moreover every good custome
and good trade of lyving, every vertue, finally ech thing to
declyne alwayes from yll to worse. And in good sooth it
seemeth a matter very wide from reason and worthye to be
noted, that rype age whiche with long practise is wont to
make mennes judgementes more perfecte in other thynges,
should in this behalf so corrupt them, that they should not
discerne, yf the world wexed worse and worse, and the
fathers Avere generally better then the children, we should
long ere this tyme have ben come to that utmost degree of
yll that can not wexe worse. And yet doe we see not onely
in our dayes, but also in tymes past that this hath alwaies
ben the peculier vyce of that age. The which is to be
manifestlye gathered by the writynges of manye most
auntient aucthours, and especyally comedy writers, whiche
expresse better then the rest, the trade of mannes lyfe. The
cause therefore of this false opinion in old menne, I beleve
(in mine opinion) is, for that, yeares wearing away, cary also
with them many commodities, and emonge other take awaye xhe cause of
from the bloud a greate part of the lyvely spirites that the errour.
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THE SECOND BOOKE
altereth the complection, and the instrumentes wexe feeble,
wherby the soule worketh her efFectes. Therfore the sweete
flowers of delite vade away in that season out of oure heartes,
as the leaves fall from the trees after harvest, and in steade
of open and cleere thoughtes there entreth cloudy and
troublous heavinesse accompanied with a thousand heart
grieffes : so that not onely the bloude, but the mind is also
feble, neither of the former pleasures receyveth it anye
thynge elles but a fast memorye and the print of the beloved
Tyme of time of tender age, which whan we have upon us, the heaven,
youth. the earth, and ech thing to our seeming rejoiceth and
laugheth alwayes about our eyes, and in thought (as in a
savoury and pleasaunt gardein) florisheth the sweete spring
time of mirth, so that peradventure it were not unprofitable,
when now in the colde season, the Son of our lief (taking
.away from us oure delites) beginneth to draw towarde the
/ Weste, to lose in like case therwithal the mindefulnesse of
them, and to find out (as Themistocles sayth) an art to
Senses of teach us to forget : for the sences of oure bodye are so
the body. deceyvable, that they beguile many times also the judgment
of the mind. Therefore (me thinke) olde men be like unto
/ them, that saylinge in a vessell out of a haven, behoulde the
ground with their eyes, and the vessell to ther seeminge
standeth styll and the shore goeth : and yet is it cleane con-
trarye for the haven, and likewise the time and pleasures
continue still in their astate, and we with the vessell of
mortalitye flying away, go one after an other through the
tempestuous sea that swaloweth up and devoureth al thinges,
neither is it graunted us at any time to come on shore
again, but alwaies beaten with contrary windes, at the end
we break our vessell at some rocke. Because therefore the
The mind of minde of old age is without order subject to many pleasures,
olde age. j^ can not taste them : and even as to them that be sycke
of a feaver whan by corrupt vapours they have lost theyr
taste, all wines appeare moste bitter, though they be precious
and delicate in dede : so unto olde men for there unaptenes
(wherein notwithstanding desier fayleth them not) pleasures
seeme without taste and colde, much differing from those
they remember they have proved in foretyme, althoughe
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the pleasures in themselves be the selfe same. Therfore
when they feele themselves voide of them, it is a griefe, and
they blame the time present for yll, not perceyvinge that
this chaunge proceadeth of themselves and not of the
tyme. And contrarywyse whan they call to minde the
pleasures past, they remember therwithall the time they had
them in, and therfore commend it for good, because to their
weening it carieth with it a savour of it, which they felt in
them whan it was presente, by reason that in effecte our
mindes conceyve an hatred against all thynges that have
accompanyed oure sorowes, and love suche as have accom- Thinges be-
panied oure pleasures. Upon this it commeth that unto a ^"^'^'^ *^^*
lover it is most acceptable sometime to behoulde a window pleasures,
though it be shutte, because otherwhiles it may be hys
chaunce to see his maistresse there : in like maner to see
a rynge, a letter, a gardein or anye other place or what ever
other thynge he supposeth hathe bene a wittinge testimonial!
of his pleasures. And contrariwise, often times a faire
trymmed and well decked chamber is abhorred of him that
hath bene kept prysoner in it, or abidde therin any other
sorow. And in my dayes I have knowen some that will
never drinke of a cup like unto that wherin in their sicke-
nesse they had taken a medicin. For even as that windowe,
ringe or letter, doeth bring to the minde a sweete remem-
braunce unto the one that somuch pleaseth him, for that he
imagineth it was a percell of his pleasures, so unto the other
the chamber or cuppe seemeth to bringe with the memory
his sicknes or imprisoninge againe. The verye same cause
(I beleave) moveth old men to praise the times past and
discommend the present. Therfore as they talke of other
thynges, so do they also of Courtes, affirminge suche as have
bene in their memory to be much more excellent and farre
better furnished with notable men, then we see them to be
that are now a dayes. And immediatly whan they entre
into this kinde of talke, they beginne to extoll with infinyte
praises the Courtes of Duke Philip, or of Duke Borso, and
declare the sayinges of Nicholas Piccininus and reherse that Old mens
in those tymes a man should very sildome have hearde of ^P'^^"**^
a murther committed, and no combattes, no craftes nor
O 105
THE SECOND BOOKE
Envie.
Women
wanton.
Men
womanish.
Aparaile.
Contraries.
Socrates.
Esopus.
deceites : but a certaine faithful and loving good meaning
emong all men and an upright dealing. And in Courtes
at that time there reigned suche good condicions and such
honestie that the Courtyers were (in a maner) religious folke :
and woe unto him that shoulde have spoken an yll word of
an other, or made but a signe otherwyse then honestly to a
woman. And on the other side, they say in these dayes
every thing is cleane contrary, and not onelye that brotherlye
love and manerlye conversation loste emonge Courtiers, but
also in Courtes there reigneth nothynge elles but envye and
malyce, yll maners, and a most wanton lyfe in every kinde
of vice : the women enticefull past shame, and the men
womanishe. They disprayse also the apparaile to be dis-
honest and to softe. To be shorte, they speake against
infinite thinges, emonge the whiche many in very dede
deserve to be discommended, for it cannot be excused, but
there are many yll and naughtie menne emonge us, and this
oure age is muche more full of vices then was that whiche
they commende. But (me thinke) they doe full yll skanne
the cause of this difference, and they bee fonde persones,
because they woulde have all goodnesse in the worlde with-
oute anye yll, whiche is unpossible. For synce yll is con-
trarie to good, and good to yll, it is (in a maner) necessarie
by contrarietye and a certayne counterpese the one shoulde
underproppe and strengthen the other, and where the one
wanteth or encreaseth, the other to want or encrease also :
beecause no contrarye is wythoute hys other contrarye. Who
knoweth not that there shoulde bee no Justyce in the worlde,
were it not for wronges ? no stoutenesse of courage, were
there not feynthearted ? nor continency, were there not
incontinencie ? nor health, were there not sickenes ? nor
trueth, were there not lyes ? nor happynesse were there not
mischaunces ? Therefore Socrates saieth well in Plato that
he marveyleth that Esope made not an Apologus or fable,
wherein he mighte have feigned that God, since he coulde
never coople pleasure and sorowe together, might have knit
them with an extremitie, so that the beginninge of the one
shoulde have beene the ende of the other. For we see no
pleasure can delite us at anye time if sorow goeth not beefore.
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Who can love rest well onlesse he have firste felte the griefe One contrarie
of weerinesse ? Who savereth meate, drinke, and sleepe, iffoloweth
he have not firste felt hunger, thirste, and watchinge ? I ^° ^ ^^'
beleave therfore passions and dyseases are geven to menne
of nature, not principallye to make them subject to them,
for it wer not mete that she, whiche is the mother of all
goodnesse, shoulde by her owne purposed advise give us so
manye evilles, but since nature doth make healthe, pleasure
and other goodnesse, consequentlye after these, were joyned
diseases, sorowes and other evilles. Therfore since vertues
were graunted to the worlde for a favoure and gifte of
nature, by and by were vices by that lincked contrariety
necessarily accompanied with them : so that the one encreas-
ing or wanting, the other must in like maner encrease or
want. Therfore when our olde men praise the Courtes of
times past because there were not in them so vitious men,
as some that are in oures, they doe not knowe that there
were not also in tliem so vertuous men, as some that are in
oures : the which is no wonder, for no yll is so evill, as that
which arriseth of the corrupte seede of goodnesse. And
therfore where nature now bringeth forth muche better Better wittes
wyttes then she didde tho, even as they that bee geven to ^^^^ J^^^" ^^
goodnesse doe muche better then didde those of theyr tyme, o^^*^"^®-
so also they that be geven to yll doe muche woorse. There-
fore it is not to bee saide, that suche as absteyned frome
doinge ill because they knewe not howe to doe it, deserved
in that case anye praise : for althoughe they dyd but a lyttle
yll, yet dydde they the woorste they knewe. And that the
wittes of those tymes were generally much inferiour to these
now a dayes, a man may judge by all that hath proceaded
from them, letters, peynctynges, statues, buildinges and al
other thinges. Again these olde men discommende many
thynges in us, which of themselves are neyther good nor
badde, onelye because they did them not : and say it is no
good sight to see yonge men on horsebacke aboute the
stretes and especially upon Mules, nor to weare furres, nor
syde garmentes in winter, nor to weare a cappe before a man Thinges
be at the least xviii. yeares of age, and such other matters, "either good
wherin truly they be much deceyved. For these facions "*"* • *
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THE SECOND BOOKE
Facions setby
in the olde
tyme.
The sayinge
of olde men.
Noble wittes
in the Court
of Urbin.
(beside that they be commodious and profitable) are brought
up by custome, and generallve men delite in them, as at
that time they were contented to goe in their jacket, in their
breechelesse hose and in their lowe shoes with lachettes, and
(to appeere fine) carye all day longe a hauke upon their fiste,
without pourpose, and daunce without touching a womans
hand, and used many other facions, the which as they are
nowe stale, so were they at that time muche set by. There-
fore may it be lawefuU for us also to followe the custome of
our times, without controulment of these olde men, whiche
going about to praise themselves, say : Whan I was xx.
yeares olde I laye wyth my mother and sisters, nor a great
while after wiste I what women ment : and nowe children
are not so soone crepte oute of the shell, but they knows
more naughtynesse, then they that were come to mans state
did in those dayes : neither be they aware in so sayinge that
they confirme our children to have more wit then their olde
men. Let them leave therfore speakinge against our times,
as full of vyces: for in takinge awaye them, they take also
away the vertues. And let them remember that among the
good men of auncient time, when as the glorious wittes
florished in the world, which in very dede were of most
perfection in every vertue, and more then manlye, there
were also manye moste mischevous, which if they had still
lived, shoulde have excelled oure yll men somuch in ill, as
those good men in goodnes, and of this do all Histories
make full mention. But unto these olde men I weene I
have made a sufficient aunswer. Therfore we will leave
aparte this discourse, perhappes to tedious, but not alto-
gether out of pourpose : and beeing sufficient to have declared
that the Courtes of oure time are worthy no lesse praise,
then those that old men commend so much, we wil atteride
to our communication that was had about the Courtier,
wherby a man may easely gather, in what degre the Court
of Urbin was emonge the reste, and what maner a Prince
and Lady they were that had suche noble wyttes attendyng
upon them, and howe fortunate all they might call them-
selves that lyved in that familiar felowship. Whan the day
folowinge therefore was come, there was great and sundrye
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talke betweene the Gentlemen and Ladies of the courte
upon the disputacion of the night beefore : which arrose a
greate parte of it, upon the L. Generalles greedy desire, to
understande asmuch as had bene said in the matter, who had
enquired it almoste of everye manne : and (as it is alwaies
wont to come to passe) it was reported unto him sundrye
wayes, for some praised one thing, some an other, and also
emong many there was a contencion of the Countes oune
meaning, for everye man did not so fullye beare in minde
the matters that had bene spoken.
Therfore almost the whole day was spent about talking in
this, and assone as night drue on, the L. Generall commaunded
meate to be set on the borde, and toke all the Gentelmen
with him, and immediatlye after supper he repayred to the
Dutches side : who beehouldinge so great a companye assem-
bled sooner then they had done at other times, saide : Me
thinke, it is a great weight. Sir Friderick, that is layd upon
your shoulders, and a greate expectacion that you must satisfy.
Here not tariynge for Sir Friderickes answere. And what
greate weight (I beseche ye) is it ? said then Uxico Aretixo,
Who is so foolishe that whan he can do a thinge, will not
do it in a fit and due time ?
Reasoning in this wise about the matter, every man satte
him downe in his wonted place and maner with very heedfull
expectacion of the propounded talke.
Then Sir Friderick tourninge him to Unico : Doe you
not think then, M. Unico (quoth he) that I am laden this
night with a great and peinful burden, since I must declare
in what sorte, maner and time, the Courtier hath to practise
hys good condicions and qualities, and to use those other
thinges that are alreadie saide to be mete for him ?
Me thynke it is no great matter, answered Ukico : and I
beleve a good judgement in the Courtyer is sufficient for al
this, which tiie Count saide well yesterday nighte that he
oughte to have : and in case it be so, without any other
preceptes, I suppose he may practyse welynough the thynge
that hee knoweth in due time and after a good sorte. The
whiche to bring more particularly into rule were to harde a
matter, and perhappes more then nedeth, for I know not
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THE SECOND BOOKE
who is so fonde to go about his fence, whan the rest be in
their musicke : or to goe about the streetes daunsing the
Morisco, though he could doe it never so well : or goinge
aboute to comfort a mother that had buried her childe, to
beginne to talke with her of pleasant matters and mery con-
ceites. I beleve surely no gentleman will do this, onlesse
he wer cleane out of his wittes.
Me think (M. Unico) quoth Sir Friderick then, ye harpe
to muche uppon youre extremities. For it happeneth other-
while a man is so fonde that he reraembreth not himself so
easilye, and oversightes are not all alike. And it may be,
that a man shall abstaine from a common foly which is to
manifest, as that is you speake of, to go daunce the Morisco
in the market place, and yet shal he not refraine from
praising himself out of purpose, from using a noysome
sawcinesse, from casting out otherwhile a worde thinking
To observe to make men laughe, whiche for that it is spoken out of
time. time will appeare colde and without any grace, and these
oversightes often times are covered with a certaine veile
that sufFereth a manne not to forget who dothe them,
onlesse he take no heede to them : and although for many
causes our sight descerneth but litle, yet for ambicions sake
it is darkened in especyall, for every man willingly setteth
forth himselfe in that he perswadeth himself he knoweth,
whether this perswasion of his bee true or false. Therefore
the well behaving of a mannes selfe in this case (me think)
. consisteth in a certain wisedome and judgement of choise,
I and to knowe more and lesse what encreaseth or diminisheth
1 in thinges, to practise them in due time or out of season.
And for all the Courtyer be of so good a j udgement that he
can descerne these differences, yet shall he the sooner com-
passe that hee seketh, if his imagination be opened with
some rule, and the wayes shewed him, and (as it were) the
places where he should ground himself upon, then yf he
should take him self onely to the generaltie. Forsomuche
as therefore the Count yesterday night entreated upon
Courtyership so copiously and in so good a maner, he hath
made me (truely) conceive no small feare and doubte that I
shall not so throughly satisfie this noble audience in the
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OF THE COURTYER
matter that lieth upon me to discourse in, as he hath done
in that was his charge. Yet to make my self partener in
what I maye of his praise, and to be sure not to erre (at
the least in thys part) I will not contrarie him in any point.
Wherefore agreing to his opinions, and beside the reste, as
touchynge noblenes of birthe, wit and disposition of person
and grace of countenaunce, I say unto you that to gete hym
prayse worthely and a good estimation with all men, and
favour with suche great men as he shal attende upon, me
thinke it behouftuU he have the understanding to frame all
hys life and to set foorth his good qualities generally in To set
company with al men without purchasing himself envy, forthe good
The whiche howe harde a matter it is of it selfe, a man ^"^ ' '^^'
maye consider by the sildomenesse of suche as are seen to
at ain to that point : because we are al the sort of us in
very dede more enclined of nature to dispraise faultes, then
to commende thinges well done. And a man would thinke
that many by a certain rooted malice, although they mani-
festly descerne the goodnes, enforce themselves with al study Manye bent
and diligence to finde in us either a faulte or at the leaste ^o finde
the likenes of a fault. Therefore it behoveth oure Courtyer
in all his doinges to be charie and heedfull, and what so he
saith or doeth to accompany it with wisedome, and not onely j
to set his delite to have in himself partes and excellent
qualities, but also to order the tenour of his life after suche
a trade, that the whole may be answerable unto these partes,
and see the selfe same to bee alwayes and in every thing
suche, that it disagree not from it selfe, but make one body
of all these good qualities, so that everye deede of his may
be compact and framed of al the vertues, as the Stoikes say Stoici.
the duetie of a wiseman is : although not withstanding
alwaies one vertue is the principal!, but all are so knit and
linked one to an other, that they tende to one ende, and all
may bee applyed and serve to every purpose. Therefore it To set out
behoveth he have the understandynge to set them forth, one qualytie
and by comparason and (as it were) contrariety of the one, ^ another,
sometime to make the other the better knowen : as the
good peincters with a shadow make the lightes of high places
to appeere, and so with light make lowe the shadowes of
111
Loweliuesse.
Generall
rules.
Avoid
curiositye.
Circum-
stances.
THE SECOND BOOKE
plaines, and meddle divers coulours together, so that
throughe that diversitie bothe the one and the other
are more sightly to behoulde, and the placing of the
figures contrarie the one to the other is a helpe to them
to doe the feate that the peincters mynde is to bring to
passe. So that lowlines is muche to be commended in a
I Gentleman that is of prowesse and well seene in armes :
and as that fearcenesse seemeth the greater whan it is
accompanied with sobermoode, even so dooeth sobermood
encrease and shewe it selfe the more through fiercenesse.
Therefore little speaking, muche dooing, and not praising
a mannes owne selfe in commendable deedes, dissemblyng
them after an honeste sorte, dooeth encrease both the
one vertue and the other in a person that can discreatly
use this trade : and the like is to be said in all the other
good qualities. Therefore will I have our Courtyer in that
he doeth or saieth to use certaine general rules, the whiche
(in my minde) containe briefly asmuch as belongeth to me
to speake. And for the first and chief lette him avoid (as
the Count saide wel in that behalf yester night) above all
thinges curiositie. Afterwarde let him consider wel what
the thing is he doth or speaketh, the place wher it is done,
in presence of whom, in what time, the cause why he doeth
it, his age, his profession, the ende whereto it tendeth, and
the meanes that may bring him to it : and so let him apply
himselfe discreatly with these advertisementes to whatsoever
he mindeth to doe or speake.
After Syr Fridericke had thus saide, he seemed to staye
a whyle.
Then said M. Morello of Ortona : Me thinke these your
rules teache but litle. And I for my parte am as skilfull now
as I was before you spake them, althoughe I remember I have
harde them at other times also of friers with whom I have bene
in confession, and I weene they terme them circumstances.
Then laughed Syr Fridericke and said : If you doe well
beare in mynde, the Counte willed yesternighte that the
chief profession of the Courtyer should bee in armes, and
spake very largely in what sorte he shoulde do it, therefore
will we make no more rehearsall thereof: yet by our rule it
112
OF THE COURTYER
may be also understoode, that where the Courtyer is at a An example
skirmishe, or assault, or battaile upon the land, or in such ^^tli^^^ircum-
r other places of enterprise, he ought to worke the matter ^ "*^^^*
il wisely in seperating himself from the multitude, and under-
take his notable and bould feates which he hath to do with
as litle company as he can, and in the sighte of noble men ^
' that be of most estimation in the campe, and especially in
:.the presence and (if it wer possible) beefore the very eyes of
'::his king or greate parsonage he is in service withal : for in
Idede it is mete to set forth to the shew thinges well done.
[' And 1 beleave even as it is an yll matter to seke a false
renoume, and in the thing he deserveth no praise at all, so
is it also an yll matter to defraude a mans self of his due
I estimation, and not to seke that praise, which alone is the Praise to be
Ltrue reward of vertuous enterprises. And I remember I sought for.
have knowen of them in my time that for all they wer of
prowesse, yet in this point they have shewed themselves but
grossheaded, and put their life in as great hasard to go take Grosheaded
a flock of shiepe, as in being the formost to scale the walles persons,
of a hatred towne, the which our Courtyer wil not doe if
he beare in minde the cause that bryngeth him to the warre, The cause to
which ought to be onely his estimation. And if he happen venture life is
moreover to be one to shewe feates of Chivalrie in open ^^ i"iacion.
sightes at tilt, turney, or Joco di canne or in any other Open showes.
exercise of the person, remembryng the place where he is,
and in presence of whom, he shall provide before hand to be
in his armour no lesse handsome and sightly then sure, and Readie in his
feede the eyes of the lookers on wytli all thinges that he shall armour,
thinke may geve him a good grace, and shall do his best to
gete him a horse sett out with fair harneis and sightly trap- A horse well
pinges, and to have proper devyses, apt poesies, and wittie trimmed,
inventions that may drawe unto him the eyes of the lookers Wittye
on, as the Adamant stone doth yron. He shall never be inventions,
among the last that come furth into the listes to shewe Not of the
themselves, considering the people, and especially women laste to come
take muche more hede to the fyrste then to the last : because
the eyes and mindes that at the begynning are greedy of
that noveltye, note everye lyttle matter and printe it, after-
ward by continuaunce they are not onely full, but weery of
P 113
Q. Roscius
comwdus.
A respect to
the talke of
armes.
J
THE SECOND BOOKE
it. Therefore was there a noble Stageplaier in olde tyme
that for this respecte would alwaies be the first to come
furth to playe his parte. In like maner also if our Courtier
do but talke of armes, he shal have an eie to the profession
of them he talketh withall and according to that frame
himselfe, and use one maner of talke with men, and an other
with women : and in case he will touche any thing sounding
to his own praise, he shall do it so dissemblinglye as it wer
at a chaunce and by the way and with the discretion and
warinesse that count Lewis shewed us yesterday. Do you
not nowe thinke (M. Morello) that our rules can teache
somewhat ? Trowe you not that friende of ours I tould
you of a fewe dayes agoe had cleane forgotten with whom
he spake, and why ? Whan to entertein a gentilwoman
whom he never saw before, at his first entring in talke with
her, he began to tell how many men he had slain and what
a hardie felow he was, and how he could play at twohand-
sworde and had never done untill he hadde taught her howe
to defende certeine strokes with a Pollaxe being armed and
how unarmed, and to shewe howe (in a mannes defence) to
lay hande uppon a dagger, so that the poore gentilwoman
stood upon thornes, and thought an houre a thousande yeare
till she were got from him, for feare least he would go nigh
to kil her as he had done those other. Into these errours
runne thev that have not an eye to the circumstances whiche
you saye ye have heard of Friers. Therfore I say of the
exercises of the body, some there are that (in maner) are
never practised but in open shewe, as runninge at Tilt,
Barriers, Joco di Canne, and all the reste that depende
uppon Armes, Therefore whan oure Courtyer taketh any
of these in hande, firste hee muste provide to bee so well in
vided for open order for Horse, Harneys, and other fournitures beelongynge
showes. thereto, that he wante nothinge. And if he see not hym
selfe throughelye fournyshed in all poyntes, lette him not
meddle at all. For if he dooe not well, it can not bee scused
that it is not his profession. After thys, he oughte to have
a great consideration in presence of whom he sheweth him-
selfe, and who be his matches. For it were not meete that
a Gentilman shoulde be present in person and a doer in such
114
Well pro-
OF THE COURTYER
a matter in the countrey, where the lookers on and the
doers were of a base sort.
Then saide the L. Gaspar Pallavicin : In our countrey
of Lumbardy these matters are not passed uppon, for you
shall see there yonge Gentilmen upon the holy dayes come
daunce al the day long in the Sunne with them of the
countrey, and passe the time with them in casting the barre,
in wrastling, running and leaping. And I beleve it is not
ill done. For no comparason is there made of noblenesse
of birth, but of force and slight, in which thinges many
times the men of the countrey are not a whit inferiour to
Gentilmen, and it seemeth this familiar conversation con-
teineth in it a certein lovely freenesse.
This daunsing in the son, answered Syr Fridericke, can
I in no case away withall : and I can not see what a man
shal gain by it. But whoso wyll wrastle, runne and leape How to prac-
with men of the countrey, ought (in my judgement) to do tise feates
it after a sorte : to prove himselfe and (as they are wonte to )Y^*" "^^^ "*
saye) for courtesie, not to trye maistry with them : and a
man ought (in a maner) to be assured to get the upper
hand, elles let him not meddle with al, for it is to ill a sight
and to foule a matter and without estimation to see a
Gentilman overcome by a Cartar and especially in wrastling.
Therfore I beleve it is wel done to abstaine from it, at the
leastwise in the presence of many, because if he overcome,
his gaine is small, and his losse in being overcome very
great. Also they play at tenise (in maner) alwaies in open Play at
sight, and this is one of the commune games which the tenise.
multitude with their presence muche set furth. I will have
oure Courtier therfore to do this and all the rest beside
handlyng his weapon, as a matter that is not his profession :
and not seeme to seeke or loke for any praise for it, nor be
acknowen that he bestoweth much study or time about it,
although he do it excellently well. Neither shall he be like The fond
unto some that have a delite in musicke, and in speaking with toyesof some,
whom soever alwaies whan he maketh a pause in their talke,
begine in a voice as though they would sing. Other walk-
ing in the stretes or in the churches, go alwayes daunsing. V
Other meetyng in the market place or whersoever anye
THE SECOND BOOKE
Daunsing.
Daunsinjj'e
privatlye.
To be ill
maske.
Maner of
disguising.
friende, make a gesture as though they would play at fence,
or wrastle, according as their delite is.
Here, said the L. Cesar Gonzaga, we have in Roome a
yong Cardinal that doeth better then so, whiche feeling
him selfe lusty of person leadeth as manye as come to visit
him (though he never sawe them before) into a gardein, and
is very instant uppon them to strippe themselves into their
dublet to leape with him.
Syr Fridericke laughed, afterwarde he proceaded on :
There be some other exercises that may be done both openly
and privately, as dauncyng : and in this I beleve the Courtier
ought to have a respecte, for yf he daunseth in the presence
of many and in a place ful of people, he must (in my mind)
keepe a certain dignitie, tempred notwithstanding with a
handsome and sightly sweetnesse of gestures, and for all he
feeleth himself very nimble and to have time and measure
at will, yet let him not enter into that swiftnesse of feete
and doubled footinges, that we see are very comely in oure
Barletta, and peradventure were unseemely for a Gentilman,
although privately in a chamber 'together as we be nowe, I
will not saye but he maye do both that, and also daunce
the morisco and braulles, yet not openlye onlesse he were
in a maske. And thouorh it were so that all menne knewe
him, it skilleth not, for there is no way to that, if a man
will shewe himselfe in open sightes about such matters,
whether it be in armes, or out of armes. Because to be in
a maske bringeth with it a certaine libertie and lycence,
that a man may emong other thinges take uppon him the
fourme of that he hath best skill in, and use bente studye
and preciseness about the principall drift of the matter
wherin he will shewe himselfe, and a certaine Reckelesness
aboute that is not of importaunce, whiche augmenteth the
grace of the thinge, as it were to disguise a yonge man in
an olde mannes attire, but so that his garmentes be not a
hindraunce to him to shew his nimblencs of person. And
a man at armes in fourm of a wield shepehearde, or some
other suche kinde of disguisinge, but with an excellent
horse and wel trimmed for the purpose. Because the minde
of the lookers on runneth furthwith to imagine the thing
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that is offered unto the eyes at the first shew, and whan
they behold afterward a farre greater matter to come of it
then they looked for under that attire, it deliteth them and
they take pleasure at it. Therefore it were not meete in
such pastimes and open shewes, where they take up counter-
faiting of false visages, a prince should take upon him to The prince in
be like a prince in dede, because in so doing, the pleasure "^J^^^J"^^*^
that the lookers on receyve at the noveltye of the matter ^^ jf prjuce!^^
should want a great deale, for it is no noveltie at all to any
man for a prince to bee a prince. And whan it is perceyved
that beside his beinge a prince, he wil also beare the shape
of a prince, he loseth the libertie to do all those thinges
that are out of the dignity of a prince. And in case there
should any contencion happen especially with weapon in
these pastimes, he mighte easily make men beleave that he
keepeth the persone of a prince because he will not be beaten
but spared of the rest : beside that, doing in sport the very
same he should do in good earnest whan neede required, it
woulde take away his authoritye in deede and would appeere
in lyke case to be play also. But in this point the prince
stripping himself of the person of a prince, and minglinge
himselfe equallye with his underlinges (yet in suche wise
that he maye bee knowen) with refusynge superioritye, lette
him chalenge a greater superioritie, namelye, to passe other
men, not in authoritie, but in vertue, and declare that his
prowes is not encreased by his being a prince. Therefore
I saye that the Courtier ought in these open sightes of
armes to have the self same respect according to his degree.
But in vauting, wrastling, running and leaping, I am well ^
pleased he flee the multitude of people, or at the least be In some exer-
sene very sildome times. For there is nothing so excellent ^^^i^itu^J;
in the world, that the ignorant people have not their fil of,
and smallye regard in often beholding it. The like judge- f^^^^Pj^^^^^^
ment I have in musike : but I would not our Courtier '^jj
should do as many do, that assone as they come to any
place, and also in the presence of great men with whom
they have no acquaintance at al, without much entreating ^qj^q get out
sett out themselves to shew asmuch as they know, yea and them selves
many times that thei know not, so that a man would weene unadvisedly.
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How to shew
musike.
Pricke song.
To synge to
the lute.
Singinge
with dittie.
Instrumentes
with freates.
A sette of
violes.
A mannes
brest.
Shalmes.
Dulcimer;
Harpe.
they cam purposely to shew themselves for that, and that it__
is their principall profession. Therfore let oure Courtier
come to shewe his musike as a thing to passe the time
withall, and as he wer enforced to doe it, and not in the
presence of noble menne, nor of any great multitude. And
for all he be skilfull and doeth wel understand it, yet wil I
have him to dissemble the study and peines that a man
must needes take in all thinges that are well done. And
let him make semblante that he estemeth but litle in him-
self that qualitie, but in doing it excellently wel make it
muche estemed of other menne.
Then saide the L. Gaspar Pallavicin : There are manye
sortes of musike aswell in the brest, as upon instrumentes,
therfore would I gladly learne Avhiche is the best, and at
what time the Courtyer ought to practise it.
Me thinke, answered Sir Friderick, pricksong is a faire
musicke, so it bee done upon the booke surely and after a
good sorte. But to sing to the lute is muche better, because
al the sweetenesse consisteth in one alone, and a manne is
muche more heedefuU and understandeth better the feate
maner and the aer or veyne of it, whan the eares are not
busyed in hearynge any moe then one voyce : and beesyde
everye lyttle erroure is soone perceyved, whiche happeneth
not in syngynge wyth companye, for one beareth oute an
other. But syngynge to the Lute wyth the dyttie (me
thynke) is more pleasaunte then the reste, for it addeth to
the wordes suche a grace and strength, that it is a great
wonder. Also all instrumentes with freates are ful of
harmony, because the tunes of them are very perfect, and
with ease a manne may do many thinges upon them that fil
the minde with the sweetnesse of musike. And the musike -
of a sette of Violes doth no lesse delite a man, for it is verie
sweete and artificiall. A mannes breste geveth a great
ornament and grace to all these instrumentes, in the which
I wil have it sufficient that our Courtyer have an under-
standing. Yet the more counninger he is uppon them, the
better it is for him, withoute medlynge muche with the
instrumentes that IVIinerva and Alcibiades refused, because
it seemeth they are noisome. Nowe as touchyng the time
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and season whan these sortes of musike are to be practised :
I beleve at all times whan a man is in familiar and loving Time to prac-
company, having nothing elles a doe. But especiallye they tise musike.
are meete to bee practised in the presence of women, because
those sightes sweeten the mindes of the hearers, and make
them the more apte to bee perced with the pleasantnesse
of musike, and also they quicken the spirites of the verye
doers. I am well pleased (as I have saide) they flee the
multitude, and especially of the unnoble. But the season-
ing of the whole muste bee discreation, because in effect it Discreation.
wer a matter unpossible to imagine all cases that fall. And
if the Courtyer be a righteous judge of himselfe, he shall
apply himselfe well inough to the tyme, and shall discerne
whan the hearers mindes are disposed to geve eare and
whan they are not. He shall knowe his age, for (to sale the
trueth) it were no meete matter, but an yll sight to see a
man of env estimation being olde, horeheaded and tooth- Olde men.
lesse, full of wrinckles, with a lute in his armes playing upon
it and singing in the middes of a company of women,
although he coulde doe it reasonablye well. And that,
because suche songes conteine in them woordes of love, and
in olde men love is a thing to bee jested at : although
otherwhile he seemeth emonge other miracles of his to take
delite in spite of yeres to set a fier frosen herts.
Then answered the L. Julian : Doe you not barr poore
olde men from this pleasure (Syr Fridericke), for in my time
I have knowen men of yeeres have very perfect brestes and
most nimble fingers for instrumentes, much more then some
yong men.
I go not about, quoth Syr Fridericke, to barr olde men
from this pleasure, but I wil barr you these Ladies from
laughing at that folic. And in case olde men wil sing to How olde men
the lute, let them doe it secretly, and onely to ridde their should prac-
mindes of those troublesome cares and grevous disquiet- ™"®^ ^*
inges that oure life is full of: and to taste of that excel-
lency which I beleve Pythagoras and Socrates favoured in
musike. And set case they exercise it not at all : for that
thei have gotten a certain habit and custome of it, they
shal savour it muche better in hearing, then he that hath
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THE SECOND BOOKE
no knowledge in it. For like as the amies of a smith that
is weake in other thinges, because they are more exercised,
be stronger then an other bodyes that is sturdy, but not
exercysed to worke with his armes : even so the eares that
be -exercised in musike do muche better and sooner descerne
it, and with much more pleasure judge of it, then other,
how good and quicke soever they be that have not bene
practised in the varietie of pleasant musike : because those
musical tunes perce not, but withoute leaving anye taste
of themselves passe by the eares not accustomed to lieare
them although the very wilde beastes feele some delite in
melodye. This is therfore the pleasure meete for olde
men to take in musike. The self same I say of daunsing,
for in dede these exercises oughte to bee lefte of before age
constraineth us to leave them whether we will or no.
It is better then, aunswered here M. Morello, halfe
chafed, to excepte all olde men and to sale that only yong
men are to be called Courtiers.
Then laughed Syr Fridericke and said : Note (M. Morello)
whether suche as delite in these matters, yf they bee not
Olde men yo^^ge men, do not study to appere yonge, and therfore
that will seme dye their hear and make their beard grow twise a weeke, and
yonge against j-j^jg proceadeth upon that nature saith to them in secrete,
na ure. that these matters are not comely but for yong men.
All the Ladies laughed, because thei knew these wordes
touched M. Morello, and he seemed somwhat out of pacience
at the matter.
Yet are there other enterteinments with women, saide
immediatly Syr Fridericke, meete for olde men.
And what be these, quoth M. Morello, to tell fables ?
And that to, answered Syr Fridericke. But every age
(as you know) carieth with him his thoughtes, and hath some
The nature of peculiar vertue and some peculier vice. And old men for
olde men. al they are ordinarily wiser then yong men, more continent,
and of a better foresight, yet are they withall more lavish in
wordes, more greedie, harder to please, more fearfull, alwayes
chafyng in the house, sharpe to their children, and will have
The nature of every man wedded to their will. And contrarywise, yonge
yong men. men are hardy, easie to be entreated, but more apt to
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brawling and chiding, waveringe and unstedfast, that love
and unlove all at a time : geven to all their delites, and
ennemies to them that tell them of their profit. But of all
the other ages, mans state is moste temperate, whiche hath Mans state
nowe done with the curst prankes of youth, -and not yet ™*'^*® *^"^"
growen to auncienty. These then that be placed (as it ^^^^ ®"
were) in the extremities, it is behoufFuU for them to knowe
howe to correct the vices with reason, that nature hath
bredde in them. Therefore oughte olde men to take heedc Thebehaviour
of muche praising themselves, and of the other vices, that of oWe men.
we have said are proper to them, and sufFre the wisdome
and knowledge to beare stroke in them that they have
gotten by long experience, and be (as it were) Oracles, to
the whiche everye man should haunt for counsaile, and have
a grace in utteringe that they knowe, applying it aptlye
to tiie purpose, accompanying with the grace of yeeres a
certaine temperate and meery pleasauntnesse. In this wyse
shall they be good Courtiers, and be well entertayned wyth
menne and women, and everye man will at all tymes be glad
of their companye, without syngynge or daunsynge : and
whan neede requireth they shall showe their prowesse in
matters of weighte. The verye same respecte and judge- Thebehaviour
mente shall yonge menne have, not in keepynge the facion of yonge
of olde menne (for what is meete for the one, were not in all ™®'i'^®-
poynctes so fitte for the other, and it is a commune sayinge.
To muche gravytee in yonge menne is an yll signe), but in
correctynge the natural vices in them. Therfore delite I
in a yonge manne, and especiallye a man at armes, if he
have a certayne sagenesse in him and few woordes, and Sageuesse.
somewhat demure, wythoute those busye gestures and un-
quyete manners whyche we see so manye tymes in that age :
for they seeme to have a certayne gyfte above other yonge
menne. Beesyde that, thys mylde beehavyour conteyneth
in it a kynde of syghtelye fiersenesse, because it appeereth
to bee sturred, not of wrathe but of judgemente, and rather
governed by reason then appetyte : and thys (in manner)
alwayes is knowen in al menne of stomacke, and we see j^^^j^ ^^j. ^
it lykewyse in brute beastes, that have a certayne noble in brute
courage and stoutenesse above the reste : as the Lion and beastes.
Q 121
THE SECOND BOOKE
the Egle, neither is it voide of reason, forsomuche as that
violente and sodeyne mocyon withoute woordes or other
token of coler whyche wyth all force bursteth oute together
at once (as it were the shott of a gunn) from quietnesse,
whyche is contrarye to it, is muche more violente and
furious, then that whiche encreaseth by degrees and wexeth
hott by little and little. Therefore suche as goynge aboute
some enterpryse, are so full of woordes, that they leape and
skip and can not stande sty 11, it appeereth they be ravyshed
in those matters, and (as oure M. Peter Mount sayeth well)
they doe like children, that goinge in the nighte singe for
feare, as though that synginge of theirs shoulde make them
plucke up their spirites to be the boulder. Even as ther-
fore in a yonge man a quiet and ripe youthe is to be com-
Lightuesse. mended, because it appeareth that lightnesse (whiche is the
peculiar vice of that age) is tempred and corrected : even
so in an olde man a grene and lively olde age is much to be
esteamed, because it appeareth that the force of the minde
is so much, that it heateth and geveth a certein strength to
that feeble and colde age, and mainteineth it in that middle
state, which is the better part of our life. But in conclu-
sion al these good qualities shal not suffise oure Courtyer
( , to purchase him the general favour of great men, Gentle-
Behaviour in ; men and Ladies, yf he have not also a gentle and lovynge
dailye coil- j behaviour in his daily conversation. And of this I beleve
versatiou. verely it is a hard matter to geve anye maner rule, for the
infinit and sundry matters that happen in practising one
So many men with an other : forsomuch as emong al the men in the
so many world, there are not two to be found that in every point
mindes. agree in mind together. Therfore he that must be pliable
to be conversant with so many, oughte to guide himselfe
with hys own judgement. And knowing the difference of
one man and an other, every day alter facion and maner
accordyng to the disposition of them he is conversant
withall. And for my part I am not able in this behalf
to geve him other rules then the aforesaid, whiche oure
M. Morello learned of a child in confessing him self.
Here the L. Emilia laughed and said : You would rid
your handes of peines taking (Syr Fridericke) but you shall
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not escape so, for it is youre parte to minister talke untill
it be bed time.
And what if I have nothing to saye (madam) ? Howe
then ? aunswered Sir Fridericke.
The L. Emilia said : We shal nowe trie your wit. And
if al be true I have heard, there have bene men so wittie
and eloquent, that thei have not wanted matter to make
a booke in the praise of a flie, other in the praise of a
quartaine fever, an other in the praise of bauldnes, doth not
your hert serve you to finde oute somwhat to saie for one
nyghte of Courting ?
We have already, answered Syr Fridericke, spoken as-
much as wil go nigh to make two bokes. But since no
excuse shal serve me, I wil speak until you shal think I have
fulfilled though not my duety, yet my poure. I suppose
the conversation which the Courtier ought chiefly to be Conversation
pliable unto with al diligence to get him favour, is the very ^^ith his
same that he shal have with his prince. And although this P^^^*'®-
name of conversation bringeth with it a certain equalitie
that a man would not judge can reigne betweene the maister
and the servaunt, yet will we so terme it for this once. I
will have our Courtyer therfore (beside that he hath and
doeth daily geve men to understande that he is of the;
prowesse which we have said ought to be in him) to turnej
al his thoughtes and force of minde to love, and (as it were)
to reverence the Prince he serveth above al other thinges, .
and in his wil, maners and facions, to be altogether pliable h'o please his
to please him. prince.
Here without anye lenger staye, Peter of Naples saide :
Of these, Courtyers noweadayes ye shall finde ynow, for
(me thinke) in fewe wordes ye have peincted us out a joly
flatterer.
You are farre deceived, answered Syr Fridericke, for
flatterers love not their Lordes nor their friendes, the whiche Flatterers.
I saie unto you I will have principally in our Courtyer : and
to please him and to obey hys commaundementes whom he
serveth, may be done without flattery, for I meane the com- •
maundementes that are reasonable and honest, or suche as
of themselves are neyther good nor bad, as is gaming and
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THE SECOND BOOKE
pastime, and geving himself more to some one exercise then
to an other. And to this will I have the Courtyer to frame
His behaviour himselfe, though by nature he were not enclined to it: so
in his princes that whansoever his lorde looketh upon him, he may thinke
presence. ^^ j^jg minde that he hath to talke with him of a matter
that he will be glad to heare. The which shal come to
passe if there bee a good judgement in him to understand
what pleaseth his prince and a wit and wisedom to know
how to applie it, and a bent wil to make him pleased with
the thing which perhappes by nature should displease him.
And havinge these principles, he shal never be sad before
his prince nor melancholy, nor so solein as many, that a
man would weene wer at debate with their Lordes, whiche
Not yl is truly an hateful matter. He shall not be yll tunged,
tunged. and especiallye againste his superiours, whiche happeneth
often times : for it appeereth that there is a storme in
courtes that carieth this condicion with it, that alwaies
The most looke who receyveth most benifittes at his Lordes handes,
made of worst and promoted from very base degree to high astate, he is
reporters. evermore complaynynge and reporteth woorst of hym : which
is an uncomly thing, not onely for suche as these be, but
even for such as be yll handled in deede. Oure Courtier
Not saucye. shall use no fonde sausinesse. He shall be no carier about
No pratler of trifling newes. He shall not be overseene in speakinge
of newes. otherwhile woordes that may oft'ende, where his entent was
Not stub- to please. He shall not be stubborne and full of contencion,
borne. as some busy bodyes that a man would weene had none other
delite but to vexe and stirr men like flyes, and take uppon
them to contrarie every man spitefullye without respect.
No babbler. He shall be no babbler, not geven to lyghtenesse, no lyar,
No lyar. ^o boaster, nor fonde flatterer, but sober, and keapinge hym
No fl^^tte^e • ^■l^v^yes within his boundes, use continually, and especially
abrode, the reverence and respecte that beecommeth the
Thebehaviour servaunte towarde the mayster. And shall not do, as many
of some fonde that meetinge a Prince how great soever he be, yf they have
persons to- once spoken with him beefore, come towarde him with a
men. ^ certaine smilynge and frindly countenaunce, as though they
would make of one their equall, or showe favour to an
inferiour of theirs. Very sildome or (in maner) never shall
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he crave any thinge of his Lorde for himselfe, least the Why he shall
lorde having respect to denie it him for him selfe, should "?* sue for
happen to graunte it him with dyspleasure, which is farr ""^ ^^ ®"
worse. Againe in suinge for others, he shall discreatly His sute for
observe the times, and his suite shall be for honest and others,
reasonable matters, and he shall so frame hys suite, in leav-
inge out those poinctes that he shall knowe wil trouble him,
and in making easie after a comely sort the lettes, that his
Lord wil evermore graunt it him : and though he denie it,
he shall not think to have offended him whom he ment not
to doe, for, because greate menne often times after thei
have denied request to one that hath suid to them with
great instance, thinke the person that laboured to them so The imagi-
earnestlv for it, was very greedy of it, and therefore in not nacyou of
obtaining it, hath cause to beare him yll will that denied P""*^®^-
him it, and upon this suspicion thei conceive an hatred
against that person, and can never afterwarde brooke him
nor aforde him good countenance. He shall not covet to He shall not
preSse into the chamber or other secrete places where his presse into
Lord is withdrawen, onlesse he be bed, for all he be of great ^^^^^^ P^^*^^^*
authoritie with him : because great men often times whan
thei are privatly gotten alone, love a certain libertie to
speake and do what thei please, and therefore will not be
scene or herd of any person that may lightly deeme of
them, and reason willeth no lesse. Therfore suche as speake
against great menne for making of their chamber persons Greate men
of no great qualitie in other thinges but in knowing how to ^^^^^ "f'^®
attende about their person (me thinke) commit an errour : ^^^, ^^^ ^f m,
because I can not see why they should not have the libertie greate estima-
to refresh their mindes, whiche we oure selves would have to tion.
refreshe ours. But in case the Courtyer that is inured with
weightie affaires, happen to bee afterwarde secretely in
chamber with him, he oughte to chaunge his coate and to
diflf'err grave matters till an otlier time and place, and frame
himself to pleasante communicacion, and suche as his lorde
will bee willing to geve eare unto, least he hinder that good
moode of his. But herein and in al other thinges, let him
have an especial regard, that he be not combrous to him.
And let him rather looke to have favour and promotion
125
Not to sue for
promotions.
Tlie griefe of
some for
The wye of
some in a
meaiie autlio-
ritye.
Behaviour in
receivynge
promotion.
Promotions
not begged.
THE SECOND BOOKE
offred him, then crave it so openly in the face of the worlde,
as manye dooe, that are so greedy of it, that a man would
weene the not obtaynynge it, greeveth them as muche as
the losse of lyfe : and yf they chaunce to enter into anye
displeasure, or elles see other in favoure, they are in suche
anguishe of mynde, that thei can by no meanes dissemble the
malice, and so make al men laugh them to scorne : and
many times thei are the cause that great men favour some
one, only to spite them withal. And afterward if thei
happen to enter in favour that passeth a meane, they are so
dronken in it, that thei know not what to do for joy : and
a man would wene that thei wist not what wer become of
their feete and handes, and (in a maner) are ready to cal
company to behoulde them and to rejoice with them, as a
matter they have not bene accustomed withal. Of this sort
I wil not have our Courtyer to be. I would have him
esteame favour and promotion, but for al that, not to love
it so much, that a man should thinke he could not live
without it. And whan he hath it, let him not shew himself
new or straunge in it : nor wonder at it whan it is offred
him : nor refuse it in such sort as some, that for very ignor-
ance receive it not, and so make men beleve that thei
acknowledge themselves unworthy of it. Yet ought a man'
alwaies to humble himself somewhat under his degree, and
not receive favour and promocions so easilye as thei be
offred him, but refuse them modestlye, shewing he much
estemeth them, and after such a sort, that he may geve him
an occasion that offi-eth them, to offer them with a great
deale more instance : because the more resistance a man
maketh in such maner to receive them, the more doeth he
seeme to the prince that geveth them to be estemed, and
that the benefite whiche he bestoweth is so muche the more,
as he that receiveth it seemeth to make of it, thinking
himself much honoured therby. And these are the true
and perfect promotions that make men esteamed of such as
se them abrode : because whan they are not craved, everye
man conjectureth they arrise of true vertue, and so muche
the more, as they are accompanied with modestie.
Then said the L. Cesar Goxzaga : Me thinke ye have
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this clause oute of the Gosspell where it is written : Whan
thou art bed to a mariage, go and sit thee downe in the
lowest rowme, that whan he commeth that bed thee, he
may saie, Friende come higher, and so shal it be an honour
for thee in the sight of the gestes.
Syr Fridericke laughed and said : It were to great a
sacrilege to steale out of the Gospell. But you are better
learned in scripture then I was aware of: then he pro-
ceaded. See into what daunger they fal sometime, that
rashly before a great manne entre into talke unrequired : The raslmes
and manye times that Lord to skorne them withall, maketh of some,
no aunswere and tourneth his head to the other hand : and
in case he doeth make aunswere, every man perceyveth it is
done full skornfullye. Therfore to purchase favour at great lu-
mens handes, there is no better waye then to deserve it./To deserve
Neyther must a manne hope when he seeth an other in "^^our.
favour with a Prince, for whatsoever matter, in folowinge Not to coun-
his steppes to come to the same, because every thing is not terfait other
fitt for every man. And ye shal finde otherwhile some one "i6"s doings,
that by nature is so readie in his meerye jestes, that what Some ready iu
ever he speak eth bringeth laughter with it, and a man their jestes.
would weene that he were borne onlye for that : and if
another that hath a grave facipn in him, of howe good a
witt so ever he be, attempt the like, it will be very colde
and without any grace, so that he will make a man abhorre
to heare him, and in effect will be like the asse, that to
counterfeyt the dogg would play with his maister. There-
fore it is meete eche man knowe himselfe and his own
disposicion, and applye himselfe thereto, and consider what
thynges are mete for him to folow, and what are not.
Before ye go anye farther, saide here M. Vixcext Calmeta,
if I have well marked, me thaught ye said right now, that
the best way to purchase favour, is to deserve it : and the
Courtier oughte rather to tarie till promotions bee offered
him, then presumpciously to crave them, I feare me least
this rule bee litle to purpose, and me thinke experience
doeth us very manifestly to understande the contrarye :
because noweadayes very fewe are in favoure with Princes
but such as be malapert. And I wote well you can be a
127
The Frenche
gentlemen
without cere-
Spauiardes.
Many
Spaniardes
be sawcye.
THE SECOND BOOKE
good witnesse of some, that perceivyng themselves in smal
credite with their Princis, are come up only with presump-
tion. As for such as come to promotion with modestie, I
for my parte know none, and if I geve you respite to be-
think your self, I beleve ye wil finde out but fewe. And if
you marke the French Court, which at this day is one of
the nobleste in al Christendome, ye shal find that al such
as are generally in favour there, have in them a certein
malapertnesse, and that not onely one with an other, but
with the king himselfe.
Do you not so say, answered Syr Fridericke, for in
Fraunce there are very modest and courtious gentlemen.
Truth it is, that they use a certein libertie and familiaritie
without ceremonies, which is proper and natural unto them,
and therefore it ought not to be termed malapertnesse.
For in that maner of theirs, although they laugh and jeste
at suche as be malapert, yet do they sett muche by them
that seeme to them to have any prowesse or modesty in
them.
Calmeta answered : Marke the Spaniardes that seme the
very maisters of Courtly facions, and consider how many ye
find that with women and great men are not moste malapert,
and so muche woorse then the Frenchemen, in that at the
fyrste showe they declare a certein modesty. And no doubt
but they be wise in so doing, because (as I have said) the
great men of our time do al favour suche as are of these
condicions.
Then answered Syr Friderick : I can not abide (M. Vin-
cent) that ye should defame in this wise the great men of
our time, because there be many notwithstanding that
love modesty : the which I do not say of it self is sufficient
to make a man esteamed, but I sale unto you, whan it is
accompanied with great prowesse it maketh him muche
esteamed that hath it. And though of it self it lye styll,
the woorthye deedes speake at large, and are much more
to be wondred at, then if they were accompanied with
presumption or rashnes. I will not nowe denie but many
Spaniardes there be full of malapertnesse : but I sale unto
you, they that are best esteamed, for the moste part are
128
OF THE COURTYER
very modest. Agayne some other there be also so cold,
that they flee the company of menne to out of measure, and
passe a certein degree of meane : so that they make men
deeme them either to fearfull or to high minded. And this ^Yha,t
doe I in no case allowe, neyther would I have modestie so modestie
drye and withered, that it shoulde become rudenesse. But ^^^ ^'
let the Courtier, whan it commeth to pourpose, be well
spoken, and in discourses uppon states, wise and expert :
and have such a judgement that he maye frame himselfe to
the manners of the countrey where ever he commeth. Then
in lower matters, let him bee pleasauntly disposed, and
reason well uppon everye matter, but in especial! tende
alwayes to goodnesse. No envious person, no caryar of an
yll tunge in his head : nor at anye tyme geven to seeke
prefarmente or promotion anye naughtie waye, nor by the
meane of anye subtyll practise.
Then saide Calmeta : I wyll assure you all the other
waies are muche more doubtfull and harder to compasse,
then is that you discommende : because now a dayes (to
rehearse it againe) great menne love none but such as be of
that condicion.
Do you not so say, answered then Syr Fridericke, for
that were to plaine an argumente that the greate menne of
our tyme were all vitious and naughte, whiche is untrue, for
some there be that bee good. But if it fell to oure Courtyers VVhat he must
lott to serve one that wer vitious and wycked, assoone as he ^o in service
knoweth it, let him forsake hym, least he taste of the bytter Y]^^ ^^^
peine that all good menne feele that serve the wicked.
We muste praie unto God, answered Calmeta, to helpe
us to good, for whan wee are once with them, wee muste
take them with all theyr faultes, for infinite respectes con-
straine a Gentleman after he is once entred into service
with a Lorde, not to forsake him. But the yll lucke is in
the begynnyng : and Courtyers in this case are not unlyke
unluckye foules bread up in an yl vale.
Me thinke, quoth Syr Fridericke, duetye oughte to pre-^
vayle beefore all other respectes, but yet so a gentleman
forsake not his Lorde at the warre or in anye other ad-
versitie, and bee thought to doe it to followe Fortune, or
R ' 129
Whan a man
may forsake
his maister.
Howe and in
what princis
are to be
obeied.
Thinges
otherwhile
seeme good
that be yll.
THE SECOND BOOKE
because he wanted a meane to profitte by, at al other times
I beleve he maye with good reason, and oughte to forsake
that service, that among good men shall put hym to shame,
for all men will imagine that he that serveth the good, is
good, and he that serveth the yll, is yll.
I woulde have you to clere me of one doubt that I have
in my head, quoth then the L. Lodovicus Pius, namely,
whether a gentleman be bound or no, while he is in his
Princis service, to obey him in all thinges which he shal
commaund, though they were dishonest and shamefull
matters.
I In dishoneste matters we are not bounde to obey any
jibody, aunswered Syr Fridericke.
And what (replyed the L. Lodovicus Pius) if I be in
service with a Prince who handleth me well, and hopeth
that I will do any thing for him that may be done, and he
happen to commaunde me to kyll a man, or any other like
matter, ought I to refuse to do it ?
You ought, answered Syr Fridericke, to obey your Lorde
in all thinges that tende to his profitt and honour, not in
suche matters that tende to his losse and shame. Therefore
yf he shoulde commaunde you to conspire treason, ye are not
onely not bounde to doe it, but ye are bounde not to doe it,
bothe for your owne sake and for being a minister of the
shame of your Lorde. Truth it is, many thinges seeme at the
-first sight good, which are il : and many ill, that not with-
standing are good. Therefore it is lawfuU for a man sorae-
tyme in his Lordes service to kill not one manne alone, but
tenne thousande, and to do many other thinges, which if a
man waye them not as he ought, will appeare yll, and yet
are not so in deede.
Then aunswered the L. Gaspar Pallavjcin : I beseche
you let us heare you speake somwhat in this case, and teach
us how we male descerne thinges good in dede, from suche
as appeare good.
I pray you pardon me, quoth Syr Fridericke, I will
not at this time enter into that, for there were to muche
to be saide in it: but all is to be referred to your
discretion.
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OF THE COURTYER
Olere ye me at the least of another doubt, replied the
L. Gaspar.
And what doubt is that ? quoth Syr Fridericke.
This aunswered the L. Gaspar : I would know where I Whether a
am charged by my maister in expresse wordes in an inter- "i^" i"aie
prise or businesse what ever it be, what I have to do therein : ^^^^ ^^^^^
if I, at the deede doynge thinkynge wyth my selfe in mind in a
dovnge it more or lesse, or otherwise then my commission, commission,
to bringe it more prosperouslye to passe and more for his
profit that gave me that commission, whether ought I to
govern my selfe accordinge to the first charge withoute
passinge the boundes of the commission, or elles do the
thinge that I judge to be best ?
Then answered Sir Friderick : In this pointe I woulde
geve you the judgemente with the example of Manlius T. Manlius
Torquatus, whiche in that case for overmuch afFeccion slue "^P^^- ^^^^^ed
his Sonne, if I thoughte hym woorthy great praise, which be^g^ahie^for
(to saie the troth) 1 doe not : although againe I dare not fighting con-
discommende him, contrarye to the opinion of so manye trary to com-
hundreth yeeres. For oute of doubte, it is a daungerous maundement.
matter to swarve from the commaundementes of a mannes
superiours, trusting more in his owne judgement then in
theirs, whom of reason he ought to obey : because if his
imagination faile him and the matter take yll successe, he
renneth into the errour of disobedience, and marreth that
he hath to doe, without any maner excuse or hope of
pardon. Againe in case the matter come well to passe
accordinge to his desier, he muste thanke his fortune, and
no more a doe. Yet in this sorte a custome is brought up Commaunde-
to set litle by the commaundementes of the superiour mentes of the
poures. And by his example that bryngeth the matter to ^upenoure
J u- u i. • • J I, 4-1, J- poures are to
good passe, which paraventure is a wise man and hath dis- jjg obeyed.
coursed with reason and also ayded by fortune, afterwarde a
thousand other ignoraunt persons and light headed will take
a stomake to aventure in matters of moste importaunce to
doe after their owne waye, and to appere wise and of
authoritie, wil swarve from the commission of their heades,
whiche is a very yll matter, and often times the cause of
infinite errours. But I beleave in this point, the person
131
What he that
receiveth a
charge ought
to doe.
The nature
of the L. to be
considered.
The crueltye
of Mutianus.
THE SECOND BOOKE
whom the matter toucheth ought to skanne it depely, and
(as it were) put in a balaunce the goodnesse and commoditie
that is like to ensue unto him in doing contrarie to that he
is charged, admytting his purpose succede according to his
hope: and counterpese on the other side the hurt and dis-
commoditie that arriseth, if in doing otherwise then he is
commaunded, the matter chaunce to have yll successe : and
knowing that the hurt may be greater and of more import-
ance, if it succeede yll, then the profitt, if it happen well,
he ought to refrain, and in every point to observe his com-
mission. And contrarywise, if the profitt be like to bee of
more importaunce, if it succeede well, then the hurte, if it
happen amisse, I beleve he may with good reason take in
hand to do the thing that reason and judgement shall sette
before him, and leave somewhat a side the very fourme of
the commission, after the example of good marchaunt men,
that to gaine much, adventure a litle, and not much, to
gaine a litle. I allowe well that he have a regarde to the
nature of the Lorde he serveth, and according to that,
frame hymselfe. For in case he be rigorous (as many suche
there are) I woulde never counsell him, if he were my
friende, to varye in any parcell from the appointed order,
least it happen unto him, as a maister Inginner of Athens
was served, unto whom P. Crassus Mutianus being in Asia
and going aboute to batter a towne, sent to demaunde of
him one of the two shipmastes that he had sene in Athens
to make a Ramm to beate down the walles, and sayde he
woulde have the greater. Thys Inginner, as he that was
verye counnynge in deede, knewe the greater woulde not
verye well serve for thys pourpose, and because the lesser
was more easy to bee caried, and also fytter to make that
ordinaunce, he sent that to Mutianus, After he had under-
stoode how the matter passed, he sente for the poore
Inginner and asked hym why he obeyed hym not, and not
admyttynge anye reason he could e alleage for hymselfe,
made hym to bee strypped naked, beaten and whipped with
roddes, so that he died, seemyng to hym in steede of obey-
ing him, he would have counsailed him : therefore with
suche rigorous men, a man muste looke well to his doynges.
132
OF THE COURT YER
But lette us leave a parte nowe this practyse of the supe- Conversacion
riours, and come downe to the conversation that a manne ^ithainaJiiies
hath with his equalles or somewhat inferiours, for unto ^iiualles.
them also must a manne frame hymselfe, because it is more
universallye frequented, and a manne findeth himselfe oftner
emonge them, then emong his superiours. Although ther
be some fonde persons that beeing in companye with the Some felow-
greatest friende they have in the worlde, if they meete wyth ship them
one better apparailed, by and by they cleave unto him : and ^^^it^^t^e^est^
yf an other come in place better then he, they doe the like apparailed.
unto him. And againe, whan the Prince passeth throughe
the market place, through churches, or other haunted
places, they make all men geve them rowme with their Men that will
elbowes tyll they come to their heeles, and thoughe they seeme to be
have nothing to sale to him, yet wyll they talke with him '" favour.
and keape him with a long tale, laugh, clappe the handes,
and nod the head, to seeme to have weightie businesse, that
the people maye see they are in favoure. But because these
liynde of menne vouchesafe not to speake but with great
menne, I wyll not we should vouchsafe to speake of them.
Then the L. Julian : Since ye have (quoth he) made men-
tion of these that are so ready to felowshippe themselves
with the wel apparailed, I would have you to shew us in Of raiment
what sorte the Courtier shoulde apparayle hymself, what ^^^ apparail.
kind of garment doeth beste become hym, and howe he
shoulde fitte himselfe in all his garmentes aboute his bodye:
beecause we see infinite varietie in it, and some are arayed
after the Frenche facion, some after the Spanyshe attier,
an other wyll seeme a Dutcheman. Neyther wante wee
of them also that wil cloth themselves lyke Turkes : some
weare beardes, other dooe not. Therefore it were a good
deede in this varietie, to shewe howe a manne shoulde
chouse oute the beste.
I Syr Fridericke saide : In verye deede I am not able to
geve anye certeyne rule aboute rayment, but that a man
should frame himselfe to the custome of the moste. And
since (as you saye) this custome is so variable, and Italians
are so desirous to take up other mennes facions, I beleave
every manne maye lawfullye apparaile himselfe at his plea-
Caldaei.
Italy a prey to
all uations.
Frenchemeu
use long
wastes.
Dutchmen
short.
Grave
apparaile.
Black e
coulour.
Coulours
upon armour.
THE SECOND BOOKE
sure. But I knowe not by what destinye it commeth that
Italy hathe not, as it was wonte to have, a facion of attier
knowen to bee the Italian facion, for although the bringing
up of these new facions maketh the first to appeere very
grosse, yet were they peraventure a token of libertie, where
these have bene a pronosticate of bondage, the which (me
thinke) now is plainly ynough fulfilled. And as it is written,
when Darius the yere before he fought with Alexander had
altered his swerd he wore by his side, which was a Persian
blade, into the facion of Macedony, it was interpreted by
the Sothsayers, how this signified, that they into whose
facion Darius had altered the fourme of his Persian blade
should become rulers of Persia : even so where we have
altered our Italian facions into straunge, me thinke, it signi-
fied, that all they into whose facions oures wer chaunged,
should come in to overrunne us : the whiche hathe been to
true, for there is not nowe a nation lefte that hath not
made us their prey, so that there remaineth little behinde
to prey upon, and yet for all that cease they not to prey
still. But I wyll not enter into communication of sorowe :
therefore it shalbe wel to speake of the raiment of our
Courtyer, the whiche so it be not out of use, nor contrary
to his profession, in the rest (I thinke) it will do welynough,
so the wearer be satisfied withall. Truth it is, that I
woulde love it the better yf it were not extreme in anye
part, as the Frenchman is wont to bee sometyme over
longe, and the Dutchmanne overshorte, but as they are
bothe the one and the other amended and broughte into
better frame by the Italians. Moreover I will houlde
alwayes with it, yf it bee rather somewhat grave and
auncient, then garishe. Therefore me thinke a blacke
coulour hath a better grace in garmentes then any
other, and though not throughly blacke, yet somwhat
darke, and this I meane for his ordinary apparaile. For
there is no doubt, but upon armour it is more meete to
have sightly and meery coulours, and also garmentes for
pleasure, cut, pompous and riche. Likewise in open showes
about triumphes, games, maskeries, and suche other matters,
because so appointed there is in them a certein livelinesse
134
OF THE COURTYER
and mirth, which in deede doeth well sette furth feates of
armes and pastimes. But in the rest I coulde wishe they
should declare the solemnitie that the Spanyshe nation Solemnitie
muche observeth, for outwarde matters manye times are a of Spaniardes,
token of the inwarde.
Then saide the L. Cesar Gonzaga : I woulde not sticke
muche at this, for so a gentleman be of woorthinesse in
other matters, his garmentes neyther encrease nor minishe
reputation.
Syr Friderick answered : Ye saie true. Yet whiche of
us is there, that seeing a gentleman go with a garment upon
his backe quartred with sundry coulours, or with so many
points tyed together, and al about with lases and fringes set
overthwart, will not count him a very disard or a commune
jestar ?
Neither disard, quoth M. Peter Bembo, nor jestar woulde
a man count him, that had lived any while in Lumbardy,
for there they go all so.
Why then, aunswered the Dutchesse smylyng, if they go
all so, it ought not to bee objected to them for a vice, this
kinde of attier being as comely and proper to them, as it is
to the Venetians to weare their longe wyde sleeves, and to
the Florentines, their hoodes.
I speake no more of Lumbardy, quoth Syr Fridericke,
then of other places, for in every nation ye shall finde bothe
foolishe and wyse. But to speake that I thinke is most
requisite as touching apparaile, I will have the Courtier in '
all his garmentes handsome and clenlye, and take a certain ';
delite in modest Precisenesse, but not for all that after a
womanish or lyghte maner, neither more in one point, then
in an other, as we see many so curious about their hear, that
they forget all the rest. Other delite to have their teeth Delites of
faire. Other in their beard. Other in buskines. Other "^en.
in cappes. Other in coyfFes. And so it commeth to passe,
that those fewe thinges whiche they have clenly in them,
appeere borowed ware, and all the rest, whiche is most
fonde, is knowne to be their owne. But this trade wil I
have our Courtier to flee by my counsel, with an addition
also, that he ought to determine with himselfe what he will
135
The garment
judgetli the j
mynde.
Operations.
Gozzuti,
men in the
mountaines
with great
bottles of flesh
under their
chin, through
the drinking
of snow water.
THE SECOND BOOKE
appeere to be, and in suche sorte as he desireth to bee
esteamed so to apparaile himselfe, and make his garmentes
helpe him to be counted suche a one, even of them that
heare hym not speake, nor see him doe anye maner thyng.
I thinke it not meete, quoth then the L. Pallavicin,
neyther is it used emong honest menne to judge mennes
conditions by their garmentes, and not by their woordes and
deedes, for many a manne might be deceived : and this
proverb arriseth not without cause : The habit maketh not
the Monke.
I say not, answered Syr Friderick, that menne shoulde
geve a resolute judgement by this alone, of mennes condi-
tions, and that they are not knowen by wordes and deedes,
more then by the garmentes. But I saie that the garment
is withall no small argument of the fansie of him that
weareth it, although otherwhile it appeere not true. And
not this alone, but all the behaviours, gestures and maners,
beeside wordes and deedes, are a judgement of the inclina-
tion of him in whom they are scene.
And what thynges be those, aunswered the L. Gaspar,
that you fynde we maye geve judgement upon, that are
neyther woordes nor deedes.
Then said Syr Friderick : You are to subtill a Logicien,
but to tell you as I meane, some Operations there are that
remayne after they are done, as buylding, writynge, and
suche other : some remayn not, as these that I meane now.
Therefore doe I not counte in this pourpose, goynge,
laughyng, lookyng, and suche matters to bee Operations,
and notwithstandyng outwardly doe geve many times a
knowledge of that is within. Tell me, dyd you not geve
your judgemente upon that friende of oures we communed
of this morning paste, to bee a foolishe and light person,
assoone as you sawe he wried his head and bowed his bodye,
and invited with a cheerfull countenaunce the companye to
put of their cappes to him ? So in like maner whan you
see one gase earnestely with his eyes abashed, lyke one that
had lytle witt : or that laugheth so fondly as do those dombe
menne, with the great wennes in theyr throte, that dwell in
the Mountaines of Bergamo, thoughe he neyther speake ne
136
OF THE COURTYER
doe anye thinge elles, will you not counte him a verye
foole? Ye may see then that these beehaviours, raaners
and gestures, whiche I mynde not for this time to terme
Operations, are a great matter to make menne knowne.
But me thynke there is an other thyng that geveth andn
dimynisheth muche reputation: namely, the choyse of ^^hoise of
friendes, with whom a manne must have inwarde conversa- irieudes.
tion. For, undoubtedly reason wylleth that suche as are
coopled in streicte amitie and unseparable companye,
should be also alike in wyll, in mynde, in judgemente, and
inclination. So that who so is conversaunt wyth the
ignoraunt or wycked, he is also counted ignoraunt and
wycked. And contrariwise he that is conversaunt with the
good, wyse, and dyscreete, he is reckened suche a one. For
it seemeth by nature, that everye thing doeth willingly
felowshippe with his lyke. Therefore I beleave that a man
oughte to have a respect in the first beeginning of these
frendshippes, for of two neere friendes, who ever knoweth
the one, by and by he ymagineth the other to bee of the
same condition.
Then aunswered M. Peter Bembo : To bee bounde in
frendshyppe with suche agreemente of mynde as you speake i
of, me thynke in deede a manne ought to have great respect,
not onely forgetting or leesing reputation, but because nowe
adaies ye finde very fewe true friendes. Neyther doe I
beleave that there are any more in the world, those Pylades
and Orestes, Theseus and Perithous, nor Scipio and Laelius,
but rather it happeneth dailye, I wote not by what destinye,
that two friendes whiche many yeeres have lyved together
with most hartie love, yet at the ende beguile one an other,
in one maner or other, either for malice, or envye, or for
lightnesse, or some other yll cause : and eche one imputeth
the faulte to his felow, of that whiche perhappes both the
one and the other deserveth. Therfore because it hath
happened to me more then once to bee deceived of hym
whom I loved beste, and of whom I hoped I was beloved
above anye other person, I have thought with my selfe
alone other while to bee well done, never to put a mannes
trust in any person in the worlde, nor to geve himselfe so
S 137
Frendshippe
necessarye
for the lyfe
of man.
Frendshippe
of two
together.
THE SECOND BOOKE
for a prey to friend how deere and loving so ever he wer,
that without stoppe a manne shoulde make him partaker
of all his thoughtes, as he woulde his owne selfe : because
there are in our mindes so many dennes and corners, that
it is unpossible for the witt of manne to knowe the dis-
symulations that lye lurking in them. I beleave therefore
that it is well done to love and awaie with one more then
another, according to the desertes and honesty : but not for
all that so to assure a mannes selfe, with this sweete bait
of frendship, that afterwarde it shoulde be to late for us
to repente.
Then Syh Fridericke : Truely (quoth he) the losse
shoulde bee much more then the gain, if that high degree
of friendshippe shoulde bee taken from the felowshippe of
manne, whiche (in mine opinion) ministreth unto us all
the goodnes conteined in our life : and therefore wyll I in
no case consente to you, that it is reasonable, but rather I
can finde in my heart to conclude, and that with moste
evident reasons, that without this perfect friendship, men
were much more unluckie, then all other livyng creatures.
And albeit some wicked and prophane taste of this holye
name of friendship, yet is it not for all that to be so rooted
oute of mennes mindes, and for the trespasse of the yll, to
deprive the good of so great a felicitie. And I beleave
verely for my parte, there is here emong us moe then one
couple of friends, whose love is indissoluble and without any
guile at all, and to endure untill death, with agreement
of will, no lesse then those menne of olde time, whom you
mentioned right nowe. And so is it alwaies, whan beside
the inclination that commeth from above, a man chouseth
him a friende lyke unto himselfe in conditions. And I
meane the whole to consist emong the good and vertuous
menne, because the friendship of the wicked, is no friend-
shippe. I allowe well that this knott, which is so streicte,
knitt or binde no mo then two, elles were it in a hasarde :
for (as you knowe) three instrumentes of musike are hardlier
brought to agree together then two. I woulde have our
Courtier therefore to finde him oute an especiall and hartie
friende, if it were possible, of that sort we have spoken of.
138
OF THE COURTYER
Then according to their desertes and honesty, love, honour,
and observe all other menne, and alwaies do hys beste to
felowshippe himselfe with menne of estimation that are
noble and knowen to bee good, more then with the unnoble
and of small reputation, so he be also beloved and honoured
of them. And this shall come to passe if he be gentle,
lowely, freeherted, easie to be spoken to, and sweete in com-
pany, humble and diligent to serve, and to have an eye to A mans duetie
his friend es profitt and estimation, as wel absente as present, towarde his
bearing with their naturall defaultes that are to be borne f"®^^"-
withall, without breaking with them upon a small grounde,
and correcting in himselfe such as lovingly shall bee toulde
him, never prefarring himselfe before other menne in seek-
ing the hyghest and chiefe rowmes of estimation, neither in
doing as some that a manne would weene despised the
worlde, and with a noysome sharpnes will tell every manne
his duetie, and beside that they are full of contention in
every trifling matter, and out of tyme, they comptroule
whatsoever they doe not themselves, and alwaies seeke cause
to complaine of their friendes, which is a most hatefull
thing.
Here whan Sir Friderick had made a stay, the L. Gaspar
Pallavicin saide : I would have you to expresse somewhat
more particularlye this conversation with friendes, then you
doe, for in deede ye keepe your self to muche in the generall,
and touch unto us thinges (as it were) by the waie.
Howe by the waye ? aunswered Syk Fridericke. Woulde
you have me to tell you also the verye woordes that a
manne muste use ? Suppose you not then we have suffi-
ciently e communed of this ?
I thynke yea, aunswered the L. Gaspar. Yet doe I
desier to understand also some particular point of the maner
of enterteinment emong menne and women, whiche (me
thynke) is a verye necessary matter, consideryng the moste
parte of a mans tyme is spent therein in Courtes, and if it
were alwayes after one maner Avyse, a manne would soone
wexe weerye of it.
]Me thynke, aunswered Syr Fridericke, we have geven the
Courtier a knowledge in so many thynges, that he maye
139
Dice and
Gardes.
The play at
Chestes.
The meaue
knowledge
is best in
the play at
Chestes.
Spaniardes
dissemble
their study in
the play at
Chestes.
THE SECOND BOORE
well varye his conversation and frame hymselfe accordynge
to the inclination of them he accompany eth hymself withall,
presupposyng him to be of a good judgemente, and there-
withall to guyde hymself. And according to the time
otherwhile, have an eye to grave matters, and sometyme to
pastimes and games.
And what games .'' quoth the L. Gaspar.
Syu Friderick aunswered : Lette us aske counsel of Frier
Seraphin that daily inventeth newe.
But in good earneste, replied the L. Gaspar, doe you not
thynke it a vice in the Courtier to plaie at Dice and Gardes ?
I thynke it none, quoth Syr Fridericke, onlesse a man
apply it tomuch, and by reason of that, setteth aside other
thynges more necessary, or elles for none other entent but
to get money, and to beguile his felow, and in his losse,
fume and take on so, that it might be thought a token of
covetousnesse.
The L. Gaspar answered : And what say you to the game
at chestes ?
It is truely an honest kynde of enterteynmente and wittie,
quoth Syr Friderick. But me think it hath a fault,
whiche is, that a man may be to couning at it, for who ever
will be excellent in the playe of chestes, I beleave he must
beestowe much tyme about it, and applie it with so much
study, that a man may assoone learne some noble scyence, or
compase any other matter of importaunce, and yet in the
ende in beestowing all that laboure, he knoweth no more
but a game. Therfore in this I beleave there happeneth a
very rare thing, namely, that the meane is more commend-
able, then the excellency.
The L. Gaspar answered : There be many Spaniardes
excellent at it, and in many other games, whiche for all
that bestowe not muche studye upon it, nor yet lay aside
the compassing of other matters.
Beleave not the contrarye, aunswered Syr Fridericke, but
they beestowe muche studye upon it, although feiningly.
As for those other games ye speake of beeside chestes, par-
aventure they are like many which I have seen that serve
to small pourpose, but onely to make the commune people
140
OF THE COURTYER
wonder, Therfore (in mine opinion) thei deserve none
other praise or reward, then the great Alexander gave unto
him, that standyng a farr of, did so well broch Chiche peason
upon a nedle. But because fortune, as in manye other
thinges, so in the opinion of men seemeth to beare a great
stroke, it is somtime seen that a gentleman, how well con- Somewoorthy
ditioned ever he be, and endowed with many qualities, shall i" deede,
be litle set by of a great man, and (as thei say) gro^^'^th ^^^^^^ ^^"
not in favour with him, and without any cause why, that a gj-gat meu.
man may discearn. Therefore whan he commeth into his
presence without any acquaintance before hande, with the
reste about him, though he be wittie and ready in his
answeres, and showeth himself handsomly wel in his bee-
haviours, in his conditions and wordes, and in what ever
belongeth unto him, yet wil that Lord sett light by him,
and rather geve hym an yll countenance, then esteame him :
and of this wil arrise that the rest immediatly will frame
themselves to their lordes mind, and it shall seeme unto
every man that he is litle worth, neyther will any manne
regarde hvm, or make of him, or laugh at his pleasante
sayinges, or set any thing by hym, but will beeginne all to
serve him sluttish pranckes, and make him a Cousin, neyther
shall good aunsweres suftyce the poore soule, nor yet the
takynge of thynges as spoken in jeste, for even the verye
Pages wyll bee at hym, so that were he the fairest condicioned
man in the world, he can not chouse but bee thus baited and
jested at. And contrariwise, if a Prince bee inclined to one Ignoraunt
that is moste ignoraunt, that can neither do nor saie any "^^!| other-
thing, his maners and beehaviours (be they never so fonde favour.
and foolish) are many tymes commended with acclamation
and wonder of all menne, and it seemeth that all the Courte
behouldeth and observeth him, and everye manne laugheth
at his boording and certein cartarlike jestes, that shoulde
rather move a manne to vomite, then to laughe : so addicted
and stifFe menne bee in the opinions that arrise of the j
favoures and disfavoures of great men. Therefore wil I
have our Courtier the best he can (beside his worthinesse) '
to help himself with witt and art, and Avhan ever he hath
to goe where he is straunge and not knowen, let him procure
141
Report
deceiveth
THE SECOND BOOKE
Good opinion, there goe first a good opinion of him, beefore he come in
person, and so woork, that they maie understand there,
howe he is in other places with Lordes, Ladyes and gentle-
men in good estimation : because that fame, which seemeth
to arrise of the j udgementes of many, engendreth a certeine
assured confidence of a mans worthinesse, which afterwarde
finding mennes mindes so settled and prepared, is easily
with deedes mainteined and encreased, beeside that a man
is eased of the trouble that I feele, whan I am asked the
question, who I am and what is my name.
I can not see what this can helpe, aunswered M. Bernard
BiBiENA, for it hath sundry tymes happened unto me, and I
beleve to many moe, after I had grounded in my mynde by
reporte of manye menne of judgemente a matter to bee
of great perfection beefore I had scene it, whan I had
once seen it, it feinted muche, and I was muche deceived
in mine imagination, and this proceaded of nothyng elles,
but of geving to muche credit to fame and reporte, and
of conceivinge in my minde so greate an opinion, that
measuring it afterwarde with the trueth, the effecte, thoughe
it were greate and excellente, yet in comparison of that I
had imagined of it, seemed very sclender unto me. Even
so (I feare me) maye also come to passe of the Courtyer.
Therefore I can not see howe it were well done to geve
these expectations, and to sende that fame of a man
beefore : because oure mindes manye times facion and shape
thinges, whiche is unpossible afterwarde to aunswere to and
fulfill, and so doeth a man lose more then he gayneth by it.
Here Sir Friderick saide : Thinges that unto you and
many moe are lesse in effect than the fame is of them, are
for the most part of that sort, that the eye at the first sight
maie geve a judgemente of them. As if you have never
been at Naples or at Roome, whan you here men commune
of it, you imagine muche more of it, then perhappes you
find afterwarde in sight. But in the conditions of menne it
is not alike, because that you see outwardly is the least part.
Therefore in case the first dale you heare a gentlemanne
talke, ye perceive not the worthinesse in him that you had
beefore imagined, you doe not so soone lose the good
142
Tlie report
of thinges
that the eye
is judge of,
may deceyve.
OF THE COURTYER
opinion of him, as you doe in the thinges wherein your eye
is by and by a judge. But you will looke from day to day, Thiu^es in
to have him disclose some other hid vertue, keping notwith- the judge-
standing alwaies that stedfaste imprinting whiche you have, ™?"J of the
risen by the woordes of so manye. And this man then
beeing (as I set case our Courtyer is) of so good qualities,
he will every houre strengthen you more and more, to geve
credence to that fame, for that with his doinges he shall
geve you a cause, and you will ever surmise somwhat more
to bee in him, then you see. And certeinly it can not bee
denied, but these first imprintinges, have a very great force. The first con-
and a man ought to talTelnucTTe Eeede to them. And that ceiving of a
you may understand of what weight they bee, I saie unto ^hmg m ones
you, that I have knowen in my dayes a gentleman, who
albeit he was of sufficient manerly beehaviour and modest
conditions and well scene in armes, yet was he not in any of
these qualities so excellente, but there were manie as good
and better. Notwithstandynge (as lucke served him) it An example
beefell that a gentlewoman entred most fervently in love what i-eporte
with him, and this love daily encreasing through declaration *^^" "°^-
that the yonge man made to agree with her in that beehalf,
and perceivinge no maner meane how they might come to
speake together, the gentlewoman provoked with to greate
passyon opened her desire to an other gentlewoman, by
whose meane she hoped upon some commodity, this woman
neyther in blood nor in beautie was a whitt inferiour to the
firste. Uppon this it came to passe that she, perceivynge
her talke so efFectuallye of this yonge manne, whom she
never sawe, and knowinge howe that gentlewoman, whom
she wist well was most discreete and of a very good judge-
ment, loved him extreemelye, imagyned furthwyth that he
was the fairest, the wisest, the discreetest, and finallie the
worthiest manne to be beloved that was in the world : and
so without seeinge him fell so deepe in love wyth hym, that
she practised what she coulde to come by him, not for her
friend, but for her owne selfe, and to make him answerable
to her in love, the which she brought to passe without anye
greate a doe, for (to say the troth) she was a woman rather \
to be sought upon then to seeke upon others. Now heare a f
143
THE SECOND BOOKE
pretye chaunce. It happened no longe time after, that a
letter which this last gentlewoman writt unto her lover
came to the handes of another, that was a noble woman of
excellent qualities and singular beawtye, who beeinge (as
the most part of women are) inquisitive and greedie to
understande secretes and especyallye of other women, opened
the letter, and in readinge it perceyved it was written with
an extreeme affection of love. And the sweete woordes full
of fire that she reade, firste moved her to take compassyon
on that Gentlewoman (for she knew verie well from whom
the letter came and to whom it went) afterward they had
suche force, that skanning them in her minde, and consider-
inge what maner a man this was like to be, that could bring
that woman into suche love, by and by she fell in love wyth
him, and that letter was more efFectuall to woorke in thys
case, then peradventure it would have bene if it had bene
sent her from the yonge man himselfe. And as it chaunceth
sometime, poyson prepared in a dishe of meate for some
great man, killeth him that tasteth first of it, so thys poore
gentlewoman because she was to greedye, dranke of the
amorous poyson that was ordeyned for an other. What
shall I saye to you .'' The matter was verie open and spred so
abrode, that manie women beeside these, partlye in despite
of the other, and partly to do as the other did, bent all
their studie and diligence to enjoy e his love, and for a season
played as children do at Chopchirie, and the wholl proceaded
of the first opinion which that woman conceyved that heard
him so praysed of an other.
Nowe the L. Gaspar Pallavkin answered here smilinge :
You to confirme your judgement with reason, alleage unto
Womens me womens doinges, Avhich for the most part are voide of al
dedesoutof I reason. And in case you would tell all, this good felowe
reason. thus favoured of so manie women was some doult, and a
man in deede not to be regarded, because the maner of them
is alwayes to cleave to the woorst, and like sheepe to do that
they see the first do, bee it well or yll : beeside that they be
so spitefull emong themselves, that if he had bene a mon-
strous creature they would surelye have stolen him one from
an other.
144
OF THE COURTYER
Here manie began and (in maner) all, to speake againste
the L. Gasper, but the Dutchesse made them all to
houlde their peace. Afterward she said smilinge : If the
yll which you speake of women were not so farr wide from
the truth, that in speakinge it, it hurteth and shameth
rather the speaker then them, I \vould suffer you to
be answered. But I will not have you, in speaking
agaynste you w-yth a number of reasons, forsake thys youre
ill custome, because you may be sharplie punished for this
offence of yours : which shall be with the ill opinion that
all thei wil conceive of you that heare you talke in this
wise.
Then aunswefed Syr Fridericke : Saye not, my L.
Gaspar, that women are so voide of reason, though somtime
they applie themselves to love, more through the judgemente
of others then their owne, for great men and many wyse
men doe often times the like. And if it be lawfull to tell
the troth, you your selfe and all we here have many tymes,
and doe at this presente credit the opinion of others, more
then our owne. And that it is true, not long agoe there
were certein verses showed here, tliat bore the name of
Sanazarus, and were thought of every bodie very excellent,
and praised out of reason, afterwarde whan they wer cer- What opinion
teinly knowen to bee an other mannes doyng, they loste by doetli.
and by their reputation, and seemed worse then meane.
And where there was song in the Dutchesse presence, here a
certein An theme, it never delited nor was reckened good,
until it was knowen to be the doing of Josquin de Pris.
But what token will you have more plainer of opinion ?
Doe you not remember where you your selfe dranke of one
self wine, sometime ye said it was most perfect, and an other
time, without al taste ? and that because you had been
perswaded they w-ere two sortes, the one of the Coost of
Genua, and the other of this soile : and whan the errour
was opened, by no meanes you woulde beleave it : that false
opinion w^as grounded so stifly in your head, whiche arrose
notwithstanding of other mennes woordes. Therefore ought
the Courtier diligently to applie in the beeginning to geve
a good imprinting of himself, and consider what a harmefull
T 145 ^
THE SECOND BOOKE
and deadly thing it is, to runne in the contrarie. And in
Men that this daunger more then other menne doe they stande that
counterfeit wil make profession to be very pleasaunt and with this their
to be pleasant, meerie facion purchase them a certeine libertie, that law-
fully they may saye and doe what commeth in their rainde,
without thinking upon it. For suche men many times
enter into certein matters, which whan thei can not gete
out again, will afterwarde helpe them selves with raising
laughter, and it is done with so yll a grace that it will in no
wise frame, whereby they bring a very great lothsomenesse
upon as manie as see or heare them, and they remain very
colde and without any grace or countenance. Sometime
thinking thereby to bee subtill witted and ful of jestes, in
the presence of honourable women, yea, and often times to
Filthy talke. them themselves, they thrust out filthie and most dishonest
woordes : and the more they see them blush at it, the better
Courtiers they recken themselves, and styll they laugh at it,
and rejoyce emong themselves at thys goodlie vertue they
thinke thei have gotten them. But they practise this
Good felowes. beastlinesse for none other cause, but to bee counted good
felowes. This is the name alone whiche they deeme woorthie
praise, and whiche they bragg more of, then of anye thing
elles, and to gete it them, thei speak the foulest and shame-
Ruffianlye fullest villanies in the world. Many times they shoulder
pranckes. one an other downe the stayers, and hurle billettes and
brickes, one at an others head. They hurle handfulles of
dust in mens eyes. Thei cast horse and man into ditches,
or downe on the side of some hill. Then at table, potage,
sauce, gelies, and what ever commeth to hande, into the
face it goith. And afterwarde laughe : and whoso can doe
most of these trickes, he counteth himselfe the best and
galantest Courtyer, and supposeth that he hath wonne great
glorye. And in case otherwhile they gete a gentleman in
these their pleasaunt pastimes, that will not geve himselfe
to suche horseplay, they say by and by : He is to wise, we
shall have him a Counseller, he is no good felowe. But I
will tell you a worse matter. Some there bee that contende
and laye wager, who can eate and drinke more unsaverye
and stincking thinges, and so abhorrvng and contrary to
146
J
OF THE COURTYER
mans senses, that it is not possible to name them, without
very great lothsomenesse.
And what thinges be those ? quoth the L. Lodovicus
Pius.
Syr Friderick aunswered : Let the Marquesse Phebus
tell you, for he hathe often seen it in Fraunce, and per-
aventure felte it.
The Marquesse Phebus aunswered : I have seen none of
these thinges done in Fraunce more then in Italy. But
looke what good thinges the Italyans have in their gar-
mentes, in feastinge, in bancketting, in feates of amies and Italyans
in every other thinge that belongeth to a Courtier, they borow of the
have it all of the Frenchmen. Frenchmen.
I denie not, answered Syr Friderick, but there are also
emong the Frenchmen verye honest and sober gentlemen,
and for my part I have knowen manye (without peraventure)
worthy e all praise. But yet some there are of litle good
maner : and to speake generally (me thinke) the Spaniardes Spauiardes
agree more wyth Italyans, in condicions, then Frenchmen : agree wyth
because (in my minde) the peculiar quiet gravitie of the "alJans in
o • J • 1-1 i i j-u 4.V, condicions.
Spaniardes is more agreeable to oure nature then the
quicke livelinesse that is perceived in the French nation g ""^^i ^^ '^
almost in every gesture: which is not to be discommended
in them, but is rather a grace, for it is so naturall and p^ench men
propre to them, that there is no maner affecting or curiositie
in it. There are many Italians that would faine counterfeit
their facion, and can do naught elles but shake the head in Frenche
speakinge, and make a legg with an yll grace, and when facions.
they come oute of their doores into the Citie, goe so faste
that good footemen canne scant overtake them, and with
these maners they weene themselves good Frenchmen, and
to have of that libertye : whiche (y wisse) chaunseth verie
sildome savinge to suche as are brought up in Fraunce and
have learned that facion from their childhood. The like is
to be said in the knowleag of sundrie tunges, which I com- To have
mend much in oure Courtier, and especiallye Spanish and ^undry
Frenche, because the entercourse of both the one nation and ^ ^
the other is much haunted in Italy, and these two are more
agreable unto us then any of the rest, and those two Princes
147
Some com-
meude not
thynges well
done.
Many places
to be com-
mended bee-
side the best.
THE SECOND BOOKE
for that they are verye mighty in war and most riall in
peace, have their Court alwaies fournished with valiant
gentlemen, whiche are dispersed throughout the world, and
againe we must needes practise with them. I wil not now
proceade to speake any more particularly of matters to well
knowen, as that oure Courtier ought not to professe to be a
glutton nor a dronkard, nor riotous and unordinate in any
11 condicion, nor filthy and unclenly in his living, with
certaine rude and boysterous beehaviours that smell of the
plough and cart a thousand mile of, for he that is of that
sort, it is not only not to be hoped that he will make a good
Courtier, but he can be set to no better use then to kepe
sheepe. And to conclude, I saye that (to doe well) the
Courtier oughte to have a perfect understandinge in that
we have sayde is meete for him, so that every possible thinge
may be easye to him, and all men wonder at him, and he at
no manne : meaning notwithstanding in this poinct that
there be not a certaine loftye and unmanerlye stubburnnesse,
as some men have that showe themselves not to wonder at
the thinges which other men do, because they take upon
them that they can do them much better : and with their
silence do commend them as unworthy to be spoken of, and
wyll make a gesture (in a maner) as though none beeside
were (I will not say their equall, but) able to conceyve the
understanding of the profoundnes of their conning. Ther-
fore ought the Courtier to shonn these hateful maners, and
with gentlenesse and courtesie praise other mens good dedes :
and thoughe he perceyve himselfe excellent and farr above
others, yet showe that he esteameth not hymselfe for such a
one. But because these so full perfections are very sildome
founde in the nature of man, and perhappes never, yet ought
not a man that perceyveth himself in some part to want, to
lay aside his hope to come to a good passe, though he can
not reach to that perfect and high excellency which he
aspireth unto : because in every art there be manye other
places beeside the best, all praiswoorthye : and he that
striveth to come by the highest, it is sildome sene that he
passeth not the meane. I will have our Courtier therfore,
if he find himself excellent in anie thinge beeside armes, to
148
OF THE COURTYER
sett out himselfe, and gete him estymatyon by it after an Howe a mau
honest sorte, and be so dyscreete and of so good a j udge- ^^^"^*^ ^^**^^
mente, that he maye have the understandinge after a comelye "^ counmg.
maner, and with good pourpose to alhire men to heare or to
looke on that he supposeth himselfe to be excellente in :
making semblant alwaies to doe it, not for a bragge and
to shewe it for vainglory, but at a chaunce, and rather
praied by others, then commyng of his owne free will.
Aad ill every^thiiig that he hath to do or to speake, if it be
possible, lette him come alwaies provided and thinke on it
bgpfore hande. showyng notwithstanding, the whole to bee
clone ex tempore, and at the first sight. As for the thinges
he hath but a meane skill in, let him touche them (as it
were) by the waie, without grounding muche upon them,
yet in such wise that a man may beleve he hath a great deale
more cunning therin, then he uttereth : as certein Poetes
sometime that harped upon verye subtill pointes of Philo-
sophie, or other sciences, and paraventure had small under-
standing in the matter. And in that he knoweth himself Somtyme a
altogether ignoraunt in, I will never have him make any mannesignor-
profession at all, nor seeke to purchase him anye fame by •''""^^ ^^ *^ "^
it : but rather M^han occasion serveth, confesse to have no
understanding in it. . . — ^r-r:^^^^^^— v
This, quoth Calmeta, would Nicholetto never have done,
whiche being a verye excellent Philosopher, and no more
skilfull in the lawe then in fleeing, whan a Governour of
Padoa was mynded to geve him one of those Lectures in the
lawe, he woulde never yelde at the perswasion of many
Scholars, to deceyve the opinion whiche the governour had
conceived of him, and confesse that he had no understanding
in it : but saide styll that he was not in this point of Socrates
opinion, for it is not a Phylosophers part to saye at anye
tyme, that he hath no understanding.
I say not, aunswered Syr Frtdericke, that the Courtyer
should of hymself go say he hath no understandyng, without
it bee required of hym : for I allowe not this fondnesse to
accuse and debase himselfe. Againe I remember some othei- ^^j^Q^gg ^J
whyle that in like sorte doe willingly disclose some matters, their shame
whiche although they happened perhappes without any faulte many times.
149
How he
should doe iu
a matter he
hath no skil
in.
Men that
take in liand
thinges they
have no skill
THE SECOND BOOKE
of theirs, yet bring they with them a shadowe of sclaunder,
as did a gentleman (whom you all know) which alwayes
whan he heard any mencion made of the battaile beeside
Parma agaynst kynge Charles, he woulde by and by declare
how he fled away, and a man would weene that he sawe
or understoode nothing elles in that journey. Afterward
talking of a certein famous just, he rehersed continuallie
howe he was overthrowen : and manye times also he seemed
in his talke to seeke how he might bringe into pourpose to
declare that upon a nyghte as he was goynge to speake
with a gentlewoman, he was well beaten wyth a cudgell.
Such triflinge folyes I will not have our Courtier to speake
of. But me thinke whan occasion is offred to showe his
skill in a matter he is altogether ignoraunte in, it is well
done to avoide it. Yf necessitie compell him, let him
rather confesse plainly his lack of understanding in it, then
hasard himself, and so shall he avoide a blame that manye
deserve nowadayes, which I woote not through what cor-
rupte inward motion or judgement out of reason, do alwayes
take upon them to practise the thinge they know not, and
lay aside that they are skilfull in : and for a confirmation of
this, I know a very excellent musitien, which leaving his
musike a part hath whollye geven himselfe to versifiynge,
and thynketh hymselfe a great clearke therin, but in deede
he maketh everye man to laughe him to skorne, and now
hath he also cleane lost his musike. An other, one of the
chiefFest peincters in the world, neglectinge his art wherin
he was verie excellent, hath applied himselfe to learne
Philosophye, wherein he hath such straunge conceites and
monstrous fansyes, that withall the peinctinge he hath he
can not peinct them. And such as these there be infinite.
Some there be that knowing; themselves to have an excel-
lency in one thing, make their principall profession in an
other, in which not withstanding they are not ignorant, but
whan time serveth to show themselves in that they are
most skilfull in, they doe it alwayes verie perfectlye : and
otherwhile it commeth so to passe, that the companye perceiv-
inge them so conning in that which is not their profession,
they imagine them to be much better in that thei professe
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in deede. This art in case it be coopled with a good judge-
niente, discontenteth me nothing at all.
Then answered the L. Gaspar Palavictx : I thinke not
this an art, but a verie deceite, and I beleave it is not meete
for him that will bee an honest man to deceive at anye time.
This, quoth Syr Fridericke, is rather an ornament that
accompanyeth the thinge he doeth, then a deceite : and
though it be a deceite, yet is it not to be disalowed. Will
you not saye also, that he that beateth his felow, where
there be two plaiyng at fence together, beeguyleth hym,
and that is bicause he hath more art then the other ? And
where you have a Jewell that unsett seemeth faire, after-
ward whan it commeth to a goldsmithes handes that in well
setting it maketh it appeere muche more fairer, will you not
saye that the goldsmith deceiveth the eyes of them that
looke on it ? And yet for that deceite, deserveth he praise,
for with judgement and art a couninge hande doeth manie
tymes ad a grace and ornament to yvorie, or to sylver, or to
a stone that is faire in sight, settinge it in golde. We saye
not then that this art or deceite (in case you wyll so terme
it) deserveth anie maner blame. Also it is not ill for a man
that knoweth himselfe skilfull in a matter, to seeke occa-
syon after a comelye sorte to showe hys feat therein, and in
lykecase to cover the partes he thynketh scante woorthye
praise, yet notwithstandinge all after a certeine warye dys-
symulacion. Doe you not remember how kinge Ferdinande King Fer-
wythout makinge any showe to seeke it, tooke occasion dinand of
verye well to stryppe hymselfe sometyme into his doblet ? ^^P^^s*
and that bicause he knewe he was verye well made and
nymble wythall. And bicause hys handes were not all of
the fairest, he sildome plucked of hys gloves, and (in maner)
never. And fewe there were that tooke heede to this wari-
nesse of hys. j\Ie thynke also I have reade, that Julius J. Caesar.
Caesar ware for the nones a garlande of Laurell, to hyde
hys baldenesse withall. But in these matters a mannemuste
be verye circumspecte and of a good judgemente least he
passe hys boundes : for to avoyde one errour often tymes a
manne falleth into an other, and to gete him praise, pur-
chaseth blame.
151
An honest
meane in
liviuffe.
No lyar.
Conceytes
and jestes.
THE SECOND BOOKE
Therfore the surest way in the worlde, is, for a manne in
hys ly ving and conversation to governe himself alwaies with
a certeine honest meane, whych (no doubt) is a great and
moste sure shield againste envie, the whiche a manne ought
to avoide in what he is able. I wyll have oure Courtier also
take heede he purchase not the name of a lyar, nor of a
vaine person, whiche happeneth manie tymes and to them
also that deserve it not. Therfore in his communicatyon
let him be alwayes heedefuU not to goe out of the lykely-
hoode of truth, yea and not to speake to often those truthes
that have the face of a lye, as manye doe, that never speake
but of wonders, and will be of suche authoritye, that everye
uncredyble matter must be beleaved at their mouth. Other,
at the firste entringe into a frendshipp wyth a newe friende,
to gete favour wyth hyni, the firste thynge they speake,
sweare that there is not a person in the world whom thei
love better, and they are wyllynge to jeoparde their lyfe for
hys sake, and suche other matters out of reason, and whan
they part from hym makewise to weepe, and not to speake a
woorde for sorowe. Thus bicause they woulde bee counted
to lovynge woormes, they make menne counte them lyars,
and fonde flatterers. But it were to longe a matter and
tedyous to recken uppe all vyces that maye happen in con-
versatyon. Therefore, for that I desire in the Courtyer, it
suffyceth to saye (beesyde the matters rehersed) that he bee
suche a one that shall never wante good communycatyon
and fytte for them he talketh wythall, and have a good
understandynge with a certein sweetenesse to refresh the
hearers mindes, and with meerie conceites and Jestes to
provoke them to solace and laughter, so that without beinge
at any time lothesome or satiate he may evermore delite
them. Now I hope my L. Emilia wil give me leave to houlde
my peace, which in case she denie me, I shall by mine owne
woordes be convicted not to be the good courtier I have
tould you of, for not only good communication, which
neither at this time nor perhappes at any other ye have
heard in me : but also this I have, such as it is, doeth
cleane faile me.
Then spake the L. Generall : I will not have this false
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opinion to sticke in the heade of anye of us, that you are
not a verye good Courtier, for (to say the trutli) this desire
of yours to houlde your peace proceadeth rather because
you would be rid of your peine, then for that ye want
talke. Therfore that it maye not appeare in so noble
assemblye as this is, and in so excellent talke, any percell
be left out, saye you not nay to teach us how we shoulde
use these Jestes you have made mention of, and showe us
the art that beelongeth to all this kinde of pleasant speach
to provoke laughter and solace after an honest sorte, for
(in myne opinion) it is verye necessary and much to pour-
pose for a Courtier.
Aly Lord, answered Syr Friderick, Jestes and meerie Thisdiscourse
conceites are rather a gifte, and a grace of nature, then of of Jestes is
art, but yet there are some nations more redier in it then ^.*^^" out of
other some, as the Tuscanes, which in deede are very subtill. cj^^^ jj^, jj^
Also it appeareth propre to the Spaniardes to invent meerie
conceites. Yet are there manye notwithstanding both of
this nation and other also that in to much babblinge passe
sometime their boundes and wexe unsavery and fonde,
because thei have no respecte to the condicion of the person Respectes in
they commune withall, to the place where they be, to the jesting.
time, to the gravitie and modestye which they ought to
have in themselves.
Then answered the L. Gexerall : You denie that there
is any art in Jestes, and yet in speaking against such as
observe them not with modestye and gravitie and have not
respecte to the time and to the person they commune withal,
me thinke ye declare that this may also be taught and hath
some doctrine in it.
These rules my Lorde, answered Sir Fridericke, be so
generall that they maye be applied to everie matter, and
helpe it forward. But I have said there is no art in Jestes, Cavillatio.
because (me thinke) they are onlie of two sortes : whereof
the one is enlarged in communication that is longe and
without interruption : as is seene in some men that with so
good an utterance and grace and so pleasantly declare and
expresse a matter that happened unto them or that they
have seene and hearde, that with their gesture and woordes
U 153
THE SECOND BOOKE
they sett it beefore a mans eyes, and (in maner) make him
feele it with hande, and this peraventure for want of an
other terme we may calle Festivitie or els Civilitie. The
other sort of Jestes is verie breef, and consisteth only in
Dicacitas. quicke and subtill saiynges, as manie times there are heard
emong us, and in nickes, neyther doeth it appeare that they
are of any grace without that litle bitynge, and these emong
Dicta. them of olde time wer also called Saiynges, now some terme
them Privie tauntes. I say therfore in the first kinde,
whiche is a meerye maner of expressinge, there needeth no
art, bicause verye nature her self createth and shapeth
menne apt to expresse pleasantly and geveth them a coun-
tenaunce, gestures, a voice, and woordes for the pourpose
to counterfeit what they luste. In the other of Privie
tauntes what can art doe ? Sins that quippie ought to be
shott out and hit the pricke beefore a man can descerne
that he that speaketh it can thinke upon it, elles it is
colde and litle woorth. Therfore (thinke I) all is the
woorke of witt and nature.
Then tooke M. Peter Bembo the matter in hande, and
said : The L. Generall denieth not that you say : namely
that nature and witt beare not the chiefFest stroke, especi-
allye as touching invention, but it is certein that in echmans
mind, of howe good a witt soever he be, there arrise conceites
both good and badd, and more and lesse, but then judge-
ment and art doeth polishe and correct them, and chouseth
the good and refuseth the bad. Therfore laiynge aside that
beelongeth to witt, declare you unto us that consisteth in
art : that is to weete, of Jestes and meery conceites that
move laughter, whiche are meete for the Courtier and
whyche are not, and in what time and maner they ought
to be used : for this is that the L. Generall demaundeth
of you.
Then Sir Friderioke said smilynge : There is never a one
of us here that I will not geve place unto in everie matter,
and especiallie in Jestinge, onlesse perhappes folies, whiche
make menne laugh manie times more then wittie saiynges,
were also to be allowed for Jestes.
And so tourning him to Count Lewis and to M. Bernarde
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Bibiena, he said unto them : These be the maisters of this
facultie, of whom in case I must speake of meerie saiynges,
I must first learne what I have to saye.
Count Lewis answered : ]Me thynke you beegin nowe to
practise that you saye ye are not skilfull in, whiche is, to
make these Lordes laughe in mocking M. Bernarde and me,
bicause everye one of them woteth well that the thinge
which you praise us for, is much more perfectly in you.
Therefore in case you be weerie, it is better for you to sue
to the Dutchesse that it would please her to deferr the
remnaunt of oure talke till to morowe, then to go about
with craft to rid your handes of peines takinge.
Sir Friderick beegan to make answere, but the L. Emilia
interrupted him immediatlye and said : It is not the order
that the disputacion shoulde be consumed upon your praise,
it sufficeth ye are verie well knowen all. But bicause it
commeth in my minde that you (Count) imputed to me
yesternyght, that I divided not the paines takinge equallye,
it shall be well done that Syr Frvdericke reste hym a whyle
and the charge of speakynge of Jestes we wyll commytte to
M. Bernarde Bibiena, for we doe not onlve knowe hvm verye
quicke wytted in talkynge wythoute intermission, but also it
is not oute of oure memorye that he hath sundrye tymes
promysed to wryte of thys matter. And therfore we maye
thynke he hath verye well thought uppon it all thys whyle,
and ought the better to satysfie us in it. Afterwarde when
there shall be sufficientlye spoken of Jestes, Syr Fridericke
shall proceede forwarde againe wyth that he hath yet bee-
hinde concerning the Courtier.
Then sayde Sir Fridericke : Madam, I knowe not what
I have lefte beehinde anie more, but lyke a travailer on the
wave nowe weerie of the peinefulnesse of mv longe journey
at noone tide, I will reste me in ]\I. Bernardes communica-
tion at the sowne of hys woordes, as it were under some
faire tree that casteth a goodlye shadowe at the sweete
roaringe of a plentifull and livelye springe : afterward (maye
happe) beeinge somewhat refreshed I maye have somewhat
elles to saye.
M. Berxarde answered laughvng-e : Yf I showe you the
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THE SECOND BOOKE
toppe ye shall see what sliadowe may be hoped for at the
leaves of my tree. To heare the roaringe of the livelye
sprynge ye speake of, it maye happen bee your chaunce so
to doe, for I was once tourned into a sprynge : not by
anye of the goddes of olde tyme, but by oure frier Marian.
And from tliat tyme hytherto I never wanted water.
Then beegan they all to fall in a laughynge, bicause thys
pleasante matter whiche M. Bernarde ment that happened
to him in Roome in the presence of Galeotto Cardinal of
S. Petro in Vincula, was well knowen to them all.
After they had ceased laughinge the L. Ejmilia saide :
Leave nowe makynge us laugh wyth practisynge of Jestes,
and teache us howe we should use them, and whence they
are deryved, and what ever elles ye knowe in thys matter.
And for losynge anye more tyme beegyne oute of hande.
I doubte me, quoth M. Bernarde, it is late, and leaste
my talke of pleasant matters should seeme unpleasant and
tedyous, perhappes it were good to deferr it tyll to morow.
Here incontinentlye many made answer that it lacked yet
a good deale of the hourc whan they were wont to leave of
reasoning.
Then M. Bernarde tourning to the Dutchesse and to
the L. Emilia, I wil not refuse this labour (quoth he)
althoughe I be wont to marveile at the bouldnesse of them
that dare take upon them to sing to the lute, whan our
James Sansecondo standeth by, even so ought not I in the
presence of hearers that have much better understanding in
that I have to saye, then I my selfe, take upon me to entreate
of Jestes. Nevertheles least I should show a president to
anye of these Lordes to refuse that they shall bee charged
withall, I will speake as breeflye as I can possible what
eommeth in my minde as touching matters that cause
laughter, which is so propre to us that to describe a man
Homo animal the commune saiyng is. He is a livinge creature that can
risibile. laugh : because this laughing is perceived onlie in man, and
(in maner) alwaies is a token of a certein jocundenesse and
meerie moode that he feeleth inwardlie in his minde, which
by nature is drawen to pleasantnesse and coveteth quietnes
and refreshing, for whiche cause we see menne have invented
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many matters, as sportes, games and pastimes, and so many
sundrie sortes of open showes. And because we beare good
will to suche as are the occasion of this recreation of oures,
the maner was emonge the kinges of olde time, emong the
Romanes, the Athenians and manie other, to gete the good
will of the people with all, and to feede the eyes and myndes To fede the
of the multitude, to make greate Theatres, and other ^V^^ ^^ *^®
publyque buildinges, and there to showe new devises of ^^^^ ^'
pastimes, running of horses and Charettes, fightinges of
men together, straunge beastes, Comedies, Tragedies, and
daunses of Antique. Neither did the grave Philosophers
shonn these sightes, for manie tymes both in thys maner
and at banckettes they refreshed their weeryesome myndes,
in those high discourses and divine imaginacions of
theirs. The which in lykewyse all sortes of men are wyl-
linge to doe, for not onlye Ploughmen, Mariners, and all
such as are inured wyth harde and boysterous exercises,
with hande, but also holye religious men and prisoners that
from hour to hour waite for death, goe about yet to seeke
some remedy and medicine to refreshe themselves. What-
soever therefore causeth laughter, the same maketh the
minde jocunde and geveth pleasure, nor suffreth a man in
that instant to minde the troublesome greeffes that oure
life is full of. Therfore (as you see) laughing is very
acceptable to all men, and he is muche to be commended
that can cause it in due time and after a comlie sort. But
what this laughing is, and where it consisteth, and in what
maner somtime it taketh the veines, the eies, the mouth
and the sides, and seemeth as though it woulde make us
burst, so that what ever resistance we make, it is not possible
to kepe it, I will leave it to be disputed of Democritus, the
which also in case he woulde promise us, he should not per-
fourme it. The place therfore and (as it were) the hed- Wherein
spring that laughing matters arrise of, consisteth in a certein laughing
deformitie or ill favoured nesse, bicause a man laugheth onlie "^^tt^^s
at those matters that are disagreeing in themselves, and (to
a mans seeminge) are in yll plight, where it is not so in
deede. I wote not otherwise how to expounde it, but if
you will beethinke your selfe, ye shall perceive the thinge
157
Considera-
tions in
jesting.
Who are to
be jested at.
Praise or dis-
praise in the
self woordes.
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that a man alvvajes laugheth at, is a matter that soundeth
not well, and yet is it not in yll syttinge. What kinde of
wayes therefore those be that the Courtier ought to use in
causing laughter and of what scope, I will assay in what I
can to utter unto you as farr as my judgemente can give me,
bicause to make men laughe alwayes is not comelie for the
Courtier, nor yet in suche wise as frantike, dronken, foolishe
and fonde men and in like maner commune jesters do : and
though to a mans thinkinge Courtes cannot be without
suche kinde of persons, yet deserve they not the name of a
Courtier, but eche man to be called by his name and esteamed
suche as they are. The scope and measure to make men
laughe in tauntinge must also be diligentlye considered :
who he is that is taunted, for it provoketh no laughter to
mocke and skorne a seelye soule in miserie and calamitie,
nor yet a naughtie knave and commune ribaulde, bicause a
man would thinke that these men deserved to be otherwise
punished, then in jestinge at. And mens mindes are not
bent to scoff them in misery, onelesse such men in their
mishapp bragg and boast of them selves and have a proude
and haughtye stomake. Again a respect must be had to
them that are generallye favoured and beloved of everie
man, and that beare stroke, bicause in mockinge and scorn-
inge such a one, a man may sometime purchase himselfe
daungerous enimitie. Therefore it is not amysse to scoff
and mocke at vices that are in persons not of such miserye
that it should move compassion, nor of suche wickidnesse
that a man woulde thinke they deserved not to go on the
grounde, nor of such aucthoritie that any litle displeasure
of theirs may be a great hindraunce to a man. You shall
understande moreover that out of the places jestinge
matters are derived from, a man may in like maner pike
grave sentences to praise or dispraise. And otherwhile
with the self same woordes : as to praise a liberall man that
partaketh his gooddes in commune with his friendes, the
commune saying is, That he hath is none of his owne.
The like may be saide in dispraise of one that hath stolen
or compased that he hath by other ill meanes. It is also a
commune saiyng, She is a woman of no smalle price, whan
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a man will praise her for her vertues, for her wisedome and
^oodnes. The very same may be said of a woman that loketh
to be kept sumptiouslye : but it commeth oftner to pourpose
that a man in this case serveth his tourne with the self
same places then with the self same woordes. As within
these few dayes three Gentilmen standinge at masse together
in a Churche where was a gentilwoman one of the three was
in love withall, there came a poore beggar and stood before
her requiringe her almes, and so with much instance and
lamenting with a groning voice repeted manie times his
request: yet for all that did she not give him her almes,
nor denie it him in making signe to depart in Gods name,
but stoode musing with her self as though she minded
another matter. Then said the gentilman that loved her
to his two companions. See what I maye hope for at my
maistresse handes, which is so cruell, that she will neither
give the poore naked soule dead for hunger, that requireth
her with such passion and so instantly, her almes, ne yet
leave to depart, so much she rejoyceth to beehoulde with her
eyes one that is broughte lowe with misery and that in vaine
requireth her reward. One of the two answered : It is no
crueltye, but a privie admonicion for you to doe you to
weete that your maistresse is not pleased with him that
requireth her with much instance. The other answered :
Nay, it is rather a lesson for him, that although she give
not that is required of her, yet she is willing inough to be
suid to. See here, bicause the gentilwoman sent not the
poore man away, there arrose one saying of great dispraise,
one of modest praise and another of nipping boord. To
retourn therfore to declare the kindes of Jests apperteining
to our pourpose, I say (in mine opinion) there are of three
sorts, although Sir Friderick hath made mention but of two. Re. ^
The one a civill and pleasant declaration without interrup-
tion, which consisteth in the effect of a thing. The other a
quicke and subtill readines, which consisteth in one saiyng Blcto.
alone. Therfore will we ad a third sort to these, which we „.
call Boordes or meerie Prankes, wherin the processe is long tioneth not
and the saiynges short and some deedes with all. The this last kind
firste therfore that consisteth in communication without of jestes.
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interruption are in that sort (in a maner) as though a man
woulde tell a tale. And to give you an example, whan Pope
Alexander the sixte died and Pius the thirde created, bee-
inge then in Roome and in the Palaice youre Sir Anthonye
Agnello of Mantua, my L. Dutchesse, and communynge of
the death of the one and creatyon of the other, and therin
makyng sundrie discourses with certein friendes of his, he
said : Sirs, in Catullus time gates beegan to speake without
tunge and to heare without eares and in that sort discovered
advouteries. Now although men be not of such worthinesse
as they were in those daies, yet perhappes the gates that are
made, a great sorte of them, especiallye here in Roome, of
auntient Marble, have the same vertue they had then. And
for my parte I beleave that these two will cleere us of all
our doubtes, in case we will aske counsell of them. Then
those Gentilmen mused much at the matter and attended to
see to what ende it woulde come, whan Sir Anthony folow-
inge on still up and downe lifte up his eyes, as at a sodeine,
to one of the two gates of the hall where they walked : and
stayinge a while with his finger he showed his companye the
inscriptyon over it, which was Pope Alexanders name, and
Alexander at the ende of it was V and I, bicause it should signifie (as
PP. VI. ye knowe) the sixt. And said : See here, this gate sayth
Alexander Papa VI. which signifieth he hath bin Pope
through the force he hath used, and hath prevailed more
thereby then with right and reason. Now let us see if we
may of this other understand anye tliinge of the newe
Bishoppe : and tournyng him as at aventure to the other
N. PP. V. ^ate, pointed to the inscription of one N. two PP. and one
V. whiche signifieth Nicholaus Papa Quintus, and immedi-
ately he said : Good Lord ill newis, see here this gate saith
Nihil Papa Valet. See now how this kinde of Jestes is
propre and good and how fitting it is for one in Court,
whether it be true or false a man saith, for in this case it is
lawfull to feigne what a man lusteth wythout blame : and in
speakinge the truthe, to sett it furthe with a feat lye,
augmentinge or diminishinge according to the pourpose.
But the perfect grace and very pith of this, is to set furth
so well and without peine not onlie in woordes but in ges-
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tures, the thynge a man pourposeth to expresse, that unto
the hearers he maye appeere to do before their eyes the
thinges he speaketh of. And this expressed maner in this
wise hath suche force, that otherwhile it setteth furth and
maketh a matter deHte verie muche, whiche of it selfe is not
verie meerie nor wittie. And althoughe these protestacions
neede gestures, and the earnestnesse that a liveHe voice hath,
yet is the force of them knowen also otherwhile in writing.
Who laugheth not when John Boccaccio in the eight Giornataviiu
journey of his hundreth tales declareth howe the priest of-^^^^^^^^^-
Varlungo strayned himselfe to singe a Kyrie and a Sanctus,
when he perceived Belcolore was in the Church ? These be
also pleasant declarations in his tales of Calandrino and
manie other. After the same sort seemeth to be the Gjor. viii.
makinge a man laughe in counterfeitinge or imitatinge -'^^'J'^^- "•
(howe-ever we lyste to terme it) of a mans maners, ^^.^-^^ j^
wherin hitherto I have scene none passe oure M. Robert Kovel. iii.
of Bari. and v.
This were no small praise, quoth M. Robert, if it were
true, for then Avould I surely go about to counterfeite rather
the good then the bad : and if I could liken my self to some
I know, I would thinke my selfe a happye man. But I feare
me I can counterfeite nothinge but what maketh a man
laughe, which you said before consisteth in vice.
M. Bernarde answered : In vice in deede, but that that
standeth not in yll plight. And weete you well, that this
counterfeitinge we speake of, can not be without witt, for
beeside the maner to applie his woordes and his gestures,
and to set beefore the hearers eyes the countenance and
maners of him he speaketh of, he must be wise, and have
great respect to the place, to the time and to the persons
with whom he talketh, and not like a commune Jester passe
his boundes, which thinges you wonderfully well observe, and
therefore I beleave ye are skilfuU in all. For undoubtedlye Counter-
it is not meete for a Gentlemanne to make weepinge and feitersof mens
laughing faces, to make sounes and voices, and to wrastle '^^"®^^-
with himselfe alone as Berto doeth, to apparaile himself
like a lobb of the Countrey as doeth Strascino, and such
other matters, which do well beecome them, bicause it is
X 161
THE SECOND BOOKE
Nippes that
touch a man.
Foolish
matters.
their profession. But we must by the way and privilie
steale this counterfeiting, alwayes keaping the astate of a
gentilman, without speaking filthy wordes, or doing un-
comelye deedes, without making faces and antiques, but
frame our gestures after a certein maner, that who so
heareth and seeth us, may by our wordes and countenances
imagin muche more then he seeth and heareth, and upon
that take occasion to laughe. He must also in this counter-
feiting take heed of to much taunting in touching a man,
especially in the ill favourednesse of visage or yll shape of
bodye. For as the mishappes and vices of the bodie
minister manie times ample matter to laughe at, if a man
can discreatly handle it, even so the usinge of this maner to
bytingly is a token not onlie of a commune jester, but of
a plaine ennemy. Therfore must a man observe in this
poinct (though it be hard) the facion of our M. Roberte, as
I have said, which counterfeiteth al men and not with out
touchinge them in the matters wherein they be faultie and
in presence of themselves, and yet no man findeth himselfe
agreeved, neyther may a man thinke that he can take it in
ill part. And of this I will give you no example, bicause
we all see infinit in him dailie. Also it provoketh much
laughter (which nevertheles is conteined under declaration)
whan a man repeteth with a good grace certein defaultes of
other men, so they be meane and not worthy greater correc-
tion : as foolishe matters sometime symplye of themselves
alone, somtime annexed with a litle readie nippinge fonde-
nesse. Likewise certein extreme and curious matters. Other-
while a great and well forged lye. As few dayes ago oure
M. Cesar declared a pretie foolishe matter, which was, that
beeyng with the Mayor of this Citie, he saw a Countrey
man come to him to complaine that he had an Asse stolen
from him, and after he had toulde him of his povertie and
how the thief deceyved him, to make his losse the greater
he said unto him : Syr if you had seen mine Asse you should
have knowen what a cause I have to complaine, for with his
pad on his backe a man would have thought him very Tully
himself. And one of our train meetinge a herd of Gotes
beefore the which was a mightie great Ramm Gote, he
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OF THE COURTYER
stayed and with a merveilous countenaunce, saide : Marke
me this Gote, he seemeth a Saint Paul.
The L. Gasper saith he knew an other, whyche for that
he was an olde servaunt to Hercules duke of Ferrara, did
offre him two pretie boyes which he had, to be hys pages,
and these two died both beefore they came to hys service.
The which whan the duke understoode, he lamented lov-
inglie with the father, saiyng that he was verie sorie,
bicause whan he sawe them upon a time he thought them
handsome and wittie children. The father made answere,
Nay My Lorde, you sawe nothing, for within these fewe
dayes they were become muche more handsomer and of
better qualities then I woulde ever have thought, and sange
together like a coople of haukes. And one of these dayes a
Doctour of oures beehouldinge one that was judged to be
whipped aboute the markett place, and taking pitye upon
him bicause the poore soules shoulders bled sore, and went
so soft a pace, as thoughe he had walked about for his
pleasure to pass the time withall he sayd to hym : Goo on
a pace poore felowe that thou mayst be the sooner out of
thy peine. Then he tourninge about and beehouldynge him
that so said (in a maner) with a wonder, staide a while
withoute anye woord, afterwarde he saide : Whan thou art
whipped goe at thy pleasure, for nowe will I goe as I shall
thinke good.
You may remember also the foolyshe matter that not
longe a goe the Duke rehersed of the Abbot that beeynge
presente upon a daye whan Duke Fridericke was talkynge
where he shoulde bestowe the greate quantitye of rubbyshe
that was caste up to laye the foundacyon of thys Palayce,
woorkynge dailye upon it, sayde: My Lorde, I have well Tlie judge-
beethoughte me where you shall beestowe it, let there be a ment of an
great pitt digged and into that may you have it cast -^°"^''-
without any more ado. Duke Fridericke answered him not
withoute laughter : And where shall we beestowe then the
quantitie of earth that shall be cast out of that pitt ? The
abbot saide unto him : Let it be made so large that it may
well receive both the one and the other. And so for all the
Duke repeted sundrie times, the greater the pitt was, the
163
THE SECOND BOOKE
more earth should be cast out of it, yet coulde he never
make it sinke into his braine, but it might be made so large
that it mighte receive both the one and the other : and he
answered him nothinge elles but make it so much the larger.
Now see what a good forecast this Abbot had.
Then said M. Peter Bembo : And why tell you not that,
of your great Capitain of Florence that was beeseaged of
the Duke of Calabria within Castellina ? Where there
were found upon a day in the towne certeine quarelles
poysoned that had bine shott out of the campe, he wrott
unto the Duke, yf the warr should procead so cruellye, he
would also put a medicin upon his gunnstones, and then he
that hath the woorst, hath his mendes in his handes.
M. Beuxarde laughed and saide : Yf you houlde not
youre peace (M. Peter) I will tell whatsoever I have seene
my selfe and hearde of your Venetians, which is not a litle,
and especially when they play the riders.
Doe not I beesech ye, answered M. Peter, for I will keepe
to my selfe two other verie pretye ones that I knowe of your
Florentines.
Siena. M. Bernarde saide : They are rather of the Seneses, for
it often happeneth emonge them. As within these fewe
dayes one of them hearing certein lettres read in the Counsell
chamber, in which for avoidinge to often repetition of his
name that was spoken of, this terme was manie times put
in, il Prelabato (which signifieth the aforenamed) he said
unto him that read them : Soft, stay there a litle and tell
me, this Prelibato what is he ? A frinde to oure Com-
munaltye ?
M. Peter laughed, then he proceaded : I speake of
Florentines and not of Seneses.
Speake it hardly, quoth the L. Emilia, and bash not for
that matter.
M. Peter said : Whan the Lordes of Florence were in warr
against the Pisanes, they were otherwhile out of money by
reason of theyr great charges, and laying their heades to-
gether upon a daye in the counsell chambre what waye were
beste to make provision to serve their tourne withall, after
many divises propounded, one of the auntientest Citizins
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OF THE COURTYER
said : I have founde two wayes, wherby without much travaile A Florentines
we may in a small while come by a good portion of money, devise.
Wherof the one is (bicause Ave have no redier rent then the
custome at the gates of Florence) where we have xi. gates,
let us with speede make xi. mo, and so shall we double oure
revenue. The other way is, to set up a mint in Pistoia and
an other in Prato no more nor lesse then is here within
Florence : and there doe nothinge elles daye and night but
coyne money, and all Ducates of golde, and this divise (in
mine opinion) is the speedier and lesse chargeable.
They fell a laughing apace at the subtill divise of this
Citizin, and whan laughinge was ceased the L. Emilia said :
Will you (M. Eernarde) suffre M. Peter thus to jeste at
Florentines without a revenge ?
M. Bernarde answered smilinge : I pardon him this
offence, for where he hath displeased me in jestinge at
Florentines, he hath pleased me in obeyinge of you, the
which I would alwaies do my selfe.
Then said the L. Cesar : I heard a Brescian speake a jolie Upon the
grosse matter, whiche beeinge this yeere in Venice at the ascention
feast of the Assention, rehersed in a place where I was to „,.ga^ fjjii-e
certain mates of his, the goodlye matters he had scene in Venice.
there, what sundrie merchaundise, what plate, what sortes
of spices, and what cloth and silke there was, then how the
Signoria yssued out with a great pompe in Bucentoro to A faire vessell
wedd the Sea, in which were so nianie gentilmen well ap- of pleasure in
parailed, so manie sortes of instrumentes and melodies that ^^P/.^^. ™^ ®
111 1 1 • 1- ATI Gallnvise.
a man wouide have thought it a paradise. And whan one Everye yeere
of his companions demaunded him what kynde of musike upon the
did please him best of all that he had heard there, he said : Ascension
All were good, yet emong the rest I saw one blowe in a^^^j^^^^^
straunge trumpett, whiche at everye pushe thrust it into ^,^^^5^11 „q^Jj
his throte more then two handful, and then by and by drew in it a mile or
it out again, and thrust it in a freshe, that you never sawe two into the
a greater wondre. ^^^' ^""^ there
Then they all laughed, understandinge the fonde ima- pf^^rold i^ito it
gination of him that thoughte the blower thruste into thinking by
his throte that part of the Sagbout that is hid in puttinge this yeerly
it backe againe. ceremonye
165
they so marie
the Sea that
it will never
leave the
Citye on drie
lande.
Feat lyes.
Polonia.
Muscovia.
Boristhenes
THE SECOND BOOKE
Then M. Berxarde went forward : Those Affectations
and curiosities that are but meane, bringe a lothsomnesse
with them, but whan they be done oute of measure they
much provoke laughter. As otherwhile whan some men
are heard to speake of their auntientrye and noblenesse of
birth : sometime women of their beawtie and handsomenesse:
as not long ago a Gentilwoman did, which at a great feast
beinge verie sad and musing with her self, it was demaunded
of her, what she thought upon that should make her so sad.
And she made answere, I thought upon a matter whiche as
ofte as it commeth into my minde doth muche trouble me,
and I can not put it out of my hert : whiche is, where in the
daye of generall judgement all bodies muste arrise again
and appeere naked beefore the judgement seat of Christ, I
can not abide the greef I feele in thinkins; that mine must
also be sene naked. Such Affectacions as these be bicause
they passe the degree, doe rather provoke laughter then loth-
somnesse. Those feat lyes now that come so well to pourpose,
how they provoke laughter ye all knowe. And that friend
of oures that suffreth us not to wante, within these fewe
dayes rehersed one to me that was very excellent.
Then said the L. Julian : What ever it were, more ex-
cellenter it can not be, nor more suttler then one that
a Tuscane of oures, whiche is a merchaunt man of Luca,
affirmed unto me the last day for most certein.
Tell it us, quoth the Dutchesse.
The L. JuLiAX said smilinge: This merchaunt man (as
he saith) beeinge upon a time in Polonia, determined to
buie a quantitie of Sables, mindinge to bringe them into
Italy and to gaigne greatly by them. And after much
practisinge in the matter, where he could not himselfe go into
Moscovia bicause of the warr beetweene the kynge of Polonia
and the Duke of Moscovia, he tooke order by the meane of
some of the Coun trey that upon a day apointed certein mer-
chaunt men of Moscovia shoulde come with their Sables
into the borders of Polonia, and he promysed also to be
there himselfe to bargaine with them. This merchaunt
man of Luca travailing then with his companie toward
Moscovia, arrived at the river of Boristhenes, which he
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OF THE COURTYER
found hard frosen like a marble stone, and saw the Mos-
covites, which for suspicion of warr were in doubt of the
Polakes, were on the other side, and neerer cam not than
the breadth of the river. So after they knewe the one the
other, makinge certein signes, the Moscovites beegan to
speake aloud and toulde the price how they would sell
their Sables, but the colde was so extreme, that they were
not understood, bicause the woordes beefore they cam on
the other syde where thys merchaunt of Luca was and
his interpreters, were congeled in the acre and there re-
mayned frosen and stopped. So that the Polakes that
knew the maner, made no more adoe but kindled a great
tire in the middest of the river (for to their seeminge that
was the point wherto the voice came hott beefore the frost
tooke it) and the river was so thicke frosen that it did well
beare the fire. Whan they had thus done the wordes that
for space of an houre had bine frosen beegan to thawe and
cam doune, making a noyse as doeth the snow from the
mounteignes in Maye, and so immediatlye they were well
understood, but the men on the other side were first de-
parted, and bicause he thought that those woordes asked to
great a price for the Sables, he woulde not bargaine, and so
cam awaye without.
Then they laughed all. And M. Bernarde : Truelye
(quoth he) thys that I wyll tell you is not so subtill,
vet is it a pretye matter, and this it is. Where talke
Avas a fewe dayes ago of the countrey or world newly
founde out by the mariners of Portugal, and of straunge
beastes and other matters brought from thens, that friend
I toulde you of, affirmed that he had scene an Ape,
verie divers in shape from such as we are accustomed to
see, that played excellently well at Chestes. And emong An ape plaied
other times upon a day beefore the king of Portugal the at chestes.
Gentilman that brought herr played at Chestes with herr,
where the Ape showed some draughtes very suttill, so that
she put him to his shiftes, at length she gave him Checke-
mate. Upon this the gentilman beeinge somwhat vexed (as To lose at
communlie they are all that lose at that game) tooke the chestes vexeth
kinge in his hande whiche was good and bigg (as the facion "^^"'
167
THE SECOND BOOKE
is emonge the Portugalles) and reached the Ape a great
knocke on the heade. She furthwith leaped aside com-
playning greatly, and seemed to require justice at the
kinges handes for the wrong done her. The gentilman
afterward called her to play with him again, the whiche
with signes she refused a while, but at last was contented to
play an other game, and as she had done the other time
beefore, so did she now drive him to a narrow point. In
conclusion : the Ape perceivinge she could give the gentil-
man the mate, thought with a newe divise she would be sure
to escape without any mo knockes, and privilie conveyed
her right hande without makinge semblant what her entent
was, under the gentilmans left elbowe, leaning for pleaser
upon a litle taffata coushin, and snatchinge it slightlie
awaye, at one instant gave him with her left hande a mate
with a paune, and with her right hande caste the coushin
upon her heade to save her from strokes, then she made
a gamboll beefore the king joifully, in token (as it were)
of her victory. Now see whether this Ape were not wise,
circumspect and of a good understanding.
Then spake the L. Cesar Gonzaga : It must needes be
that this ape was a Doctour emong other Apes and of
much authoritie : and I beleave the commune weale of the
Apes of India sent her into Portugall to gete a name in a
straunge countrey.
At this every manne laughed, both for the lye and for
the addition made to it by the L. Cesar.
So proceadinge on in his talke M. Bernarde said : You
have understoode therfore what Jestes are that be of effect
and communication without interruption asmuche as cum-
meth to mynde : therfore it shall be well nowe we speake
of such as consist in one sayinge alone, and have a quicke
sharpenesse that lyeth breefly in a sentence or in a word.
And even as in the first kind of meerie talke a man must
in his protestacion and counterfeitinge take heede that he
be not like commune jesters and parasites, and such as
with fonde matters move menne to laughe, so in this breef
kinde the Courtier must be circumspect that he appeere not
malitious and venimous and speake tauntes and quippies
168
OF THE COURTYER
only for spite and to touch the quick, bicause such men
often times for offence of the tunge are chastised in the
wholl body. Of those readie Jestes therfore that consist in
a short sayinge, such are most livelie that arrise of doubtful -
nesse, though alwais they provoke not laughing, for they be
rather praised for wittie, then for matters of laughter.
Come pochi di sono disse' il nostro M. Anniball Palleotto Tliese two
ad uno che' li proponea un maestro per insegnare' Gram examples are
matica a suoi figliuoli, et poi che' gliel hebbe' laudato per ?^^ "^ Italian,
molto dotto, venendo al salario, disse', che' oltre' ai danari have ioo o-race
volea una camera fornita per habitare e dormire, perche' in the English
esse non havea letto. Allhor M. Anniball subito rispose', tunge by
e come' puo esfli esser dotto se non ha letto ? reason of the
c i_ 1 1 u J. 1 4- 4- 4.1, J • • •£ doubtfuhiesse
see howe well he tooke avauntage at the diverse sigmnca- ofthewoordes
tion of haver letto (which is interpreted both to have a bed that may be
and to have read). But bicause these doubtfull woordes taken two
have a pretie sharpenesse of witt in them, beeing taken in a sundry wayes:
contrarie signification to that al other men take them, it EnffHshe as
appeereth (as I have said) that they rather provoke a plentifull of
manne to wondre then to laughe, except whan they be these jestes as
joyned with other kindes of sayinges. The kinde therfore ^^^7 ^*her
of wittie sayinges that is most used to make men laughe, is c^^^pij^ ^"°
whan we give eare to heare one thinge, and he that maketh Moore ex-
answere, speaketh an other and is alleaged contrarye to celled in our
expectacion, and in case a doubt be annexed therwithall, time,
then is it verie wittie and pleasant.
Come' laltr' hieri disputandosi di far un bel mattonato Mattonato
nel camerino della S. Duchessa, dopo molte' parole Voi M. ^ paviment,
Jo, Christofero diceste, Se' noi potessimo havere' il ves-
covo di Potentia, e farlo ben Spianare, saria molto a propo-
sito, perche egli e' il piu bel matte nato ch' io vedessi mai. Matto nato
Ogn'un rise molto, perche' dividendo quella parola matto ^ "aturall
nato faceste' lo ambiguo, poi dicendo che' Si havesse a ®*
spianare' un vescovo e metterlo per pavimento d'un
camerino fu fuor d'opinione' di chi ascoltava, ccsi riusci il
motto argutissimo e risibile.
But of doubtfull woordes there be manie sortes, therfore
must a man be circumspect and chouse out termes verie
artificiallye, and leave oute suche as make the Jest colde,
Y 169
Jestes that
are to nipping,
To nicke a
man with liis
owne woordes
Catullus
answere to
Philippus.
To chaunge
a letter or
sillable.
THE SECOND BOOKE
and that a man would weene were haled by the hears, or
elles (as we have saide) that have to much bitternesse in
them. As certeine companions beeinge in a friendes house
of theirs, who had but one eye, after he had desired the
company to tarye dinner with him, they departed all saving
one, that said : And I am well pleased to tarye, for I see a
voide roume for one, and so with his fingre poyncted to the
hole where his eye had bine. See howe bytter and dis-
courtious this is passynge measure, for he nipped him
without a cause and wythout beeinge first pricked himselfe :
and he saide the thynge that a man might speake against
blinde men. Suche generall matters delyte not, bicause it
appeereth they are thought upon of pourpose. And after
thys sorte was the saiynge to one wythout a nose : And
where doest thou fasten thy spectakles ? Or, wherewithal!
doest thou smell roses at the time of the yere .? But emong
other meerie saiynges, they have a verie good grace that
arryse whan a man at the nippynge talke of his felowe
taketh the verye same woordes in the self same sence, and
retourneth them backe agayne pryckynge hym wyth hys
owne weapon. As an attourney in the lawe, unto whom in
the presence of the judge his adversarye saide, What barkeste
thou ? furthwyth he answered : Bycause I see a thief. And
of this sorte was also, whan Galeotto of Narni passyng
throughe Siena stayed in a streete to enquire for an ynn,
and a Senese seeinge hym so corpulente as he was, saide
laughinge : Other menne carye their bougettes beehynde
them, and this good felowe caryeth his beefore him.
Galeotto answered immediatlye : So must menne do in the
Countrey of theeves. There is yet an other sorte called in
Italian Bischizzi, and that consisteth in chaungynge or
encreasinge, or diminisshinge of a letter or syllable. As he
that saide : Thou shouldest be better learned in the Latrine
tunge then in the Greeke. And to you (madam) was
written in the superscription of a letter, To the Ladye
Emilia Impia. It is also a meerye divise to mingle together
a verse or mo, takyng it in an other meeninge then the
Author doeth, or some other commune sayinge. Sometyme
in the verye same meanynge, but altringe a woorde, as a
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OF THE COURTYER
Gentilman said that had a foule and scoulinge wief : whan
he was asked the question howe he dyd, answered : Thynke
thou thy selfe, for Furiarum maxima juxt a me achat. And Virgil.
M. Hierom Donato goynge a visitinge the Stacions of The vii.
Roome in Lente, in companye wyth manye other Gentil- churches of
men, mett with a knott of faire Romaine Ladies, and whan ^^'"®-
one of those gentilmen had said :
Quot coelum stellas, tot habet tua Roma Puellas, Ovid.
by and by he added : Of wanton
•^ . dames
Pascua quotque hsedos, tot habet tua Roma cinaedos^ Roome hath
showinge a rout of yonge menne that came on the other ^^^^ store,
side. And Marcantonio della Torre sayde after the maner ^iu\*h"skie^
to the Byshoppe of Padoa : Where there was a Nounrye ^g ^any
in Padoa under the charge of a religious person muche boyes pre-
esteamed for hys good lyfe and learnynge, yt happened that servde for
thys father hauntinge much to the Nounrye verie familiarlie, a K'dd '
and confessynge often the Sisters, beegat five of them with pastures lie.
chylde, where there were not passinge five mo in all. And
whan the matter was knowen, the father would have fled,
and wist not howe. The bishoppe caused him to be appre-
hended, and upon that, he confessed that he had gotten
those five Nounnes with childe through the temptacion of
the Dyvell, so that the Bishoppe was fullye bent to chastice
him sore. And bicause this man was learned, he had manye
friendes, which altogether assayed to helpe him, and emonge
the rest there went also M. Marcantonio to entreate for
him. The Bishoppe would in no wise give eare to them.
At length they beynge instant upon him and commending
the gyltie, and excusinge him throughe the commoditie of
place, frailtye of manne and manie other causes, the Bishop
said : I will do nothing for you, bicause I must make accompt .
unto God of tliis. And whan they had replyed again, the accomptofthv
Bishop said : What answere shall I make unto God at the day husbandrie.
of judgement, whan He shall say unto me Redde' Rat'ionem Lord, thou
villicatioms tue ? M. Marcantonio answered him immediatly : dehveredst
Mary my lord the verie same that the Gospell sayth : Domini talentes be-
quinque talenta tradidisti mihi, ecce alia quiiique superlucratus holde I have
sum. Then could not the Bishoppe absteine laughing and gained v. mo.
171
To allude to
names.
Dooble signi-
fication of
Calio.
Dooble signi-
fication of
Officium.
THE SECOND BOOKE
he asswaged much his anger and the punishmente that he
had ordemed for the offender. It is likewise verie pretie
to allude to names and to feine somwhat, for that he the
talke is of, is so called, or els bicause he doeth some such
thinge. As not longe sins Proto da Luca (which as you
know is one meerelie disposed) asking the Bishopprike
of Calio, the Pope answered him : Doest thou not knowe
that Calio, in the Spanishe tunge is as muche to say as,
I houlde my Peace, and thou art a great prater ? Therfore
it were untittinge for a Bishoppe at any time in naminge
his title to make a lye, now Calia, houlde thy peace
then. To this Proto gave an answere, the which although
it were not in this sorte yet was it no lesse pretie then
this. For after he had often put him in remembrance of
this his suite and sawe it take none effect, at last he said :
Holye father, in case youre holynesse do give me this bis-
shoppricke, yt shal not be without a profit to you, for then
will I surrender two offices into your handes. And what
offices hast thou to surrender into my handes ? quoth the
Pope. Proto answered : I shall surrender unto you Officium
principale, and Officium hcatcc Marice. Then coulde not
the Pope though he were a verye grave person, absteine
from laughinge. An other also in Padoa said Calphurnius
was so named, bicause he was wont to heate fourneyses. And
upon a day whan I asked Phedra how it happeneth, where
prayer is made in the Church upon goodfridaye not onlie for
Chrystyans, but also for Paganes and for Jewes, there was no
mention made of the Cardinalles, as there was of Bishops
and other prelates. He answered me, that the Cardinalles
were conteined in the Collet, Oremus pro hccreticis et Schis-
maticis. And oure Count Lewis saide that I reprehended a
ladie of love for occupyinge acertein kinde of lye that shined
muche, bicause whan she was trimmed therwithall, I might
see my selfe in her face, and for that I was yll favoured I
coulde not abyde to looke upon my selfe. In this maner
was that M. Camillo Paleotto saide unto M. Anthonio
Porcaro, whiche reasoninge of a companion of his that
imder confessyon had sayde unto the Priest that he
fasted with all his harte, and went to Masse and to holye
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service and did all the good deedes in the worlde, said :
This felowe in stead of accusynge prayseth hym self.
Unto whom M. Camillo answered : Nay, he rather con-
fesseth himself of these matters, bicause he reckeneth the
doinge of them great sinn. Do you not remember how
well the L. Generall said the last daye, whan Johnthomas
Galeotto wondred at one that demaunded two hundreth
Ducates for a horse? for whan Johnthomas saide that he
was not Avorth a farthinge, bicause emong other yll properties
he had, he could not abide weapons, neyther was it possible
to make him come nighe where he sawe anye, the L.
Generall said (willing to reprehende him of cowardise): Yf
the horse hath this propertie that he can not abide weapons,
I marveile he asketh not a thousand Ducates. Also some-
time a man speaketh the verie same woord, but to another
ende then the commune use is. As, whan the Duke was
passing over a very swift river, he said to the trompetter :
Goo on. The trumpetter tourned him backe with his cappe
in his hande and after a reverent maner, saide : It shalbe
youres my lorde. It is also a pleasant maner of jestinge,
whan a man seemeth to take the woordes and not the mean-
inge of him that speaketh. As this yeere a Dutch man in
Roome meetinge in an Eveninge oure M. Phillipp Beroaldo
whose Scholar he was, said unto him : Domlne magister,
Deus (let vobis boniim sero. And Beroaldo answered incon-
tinently : Tibi malum cito. And Diego de Chignognes ^ ,.
beeinge at table with the Great Capitain, whan an other Consalvo
Spaniarde that satt there had saide. Vino dios (calling x- + h th
for wine) Diego answered hym again : Vino, y nolo cono- dooble siffuifi-
ciites, to nip him for a marrane. Also M. James Sad oleto cation of rt«o.
said unto Beroaldo, that had tould him how he wold in Diegotookeit
any wise go to Bolonia : What is the cause that maketh "^^ ^J^'^ ^"®
you thus to leave Roome where there are so manie plea- ^^^^ jjg
sures, to go to Bolonia full of disquietnesse ? Beroaldo came indeed
answered : I am forced to go to Bolonia for three Countes, (quoth Diego,
And nowe he had lifte up three fingers of hys left hande meamnge it
to alleage three causes of his goynge, whan M. J^'"^^^ ^^^j ^j^"^ ^-^
sodeinlye interrupted hym and said : The three countes knewest him
that make you goe to Bolonia are, Count Lewis da San not: wherbv
173
he signified to
the hearers
thatSpaniarde
to be of the
beleaf that
Christ is not
yet come.
Couutes
taken here
both for re-
speetes or
causes and
also for Erles.
Contrary
woordes.
To enterpret
otherwise
then a man
meaneth.
THE SECOND BOOKE
Bonifacio, Count Hercules Rangon and the Count of Pepoli.
Than they all laughed bicause these three Countes had
bine Beroaldoes Scholers and were propre yonge menne and
applyed their studie in Bolonia. This kinde of meerye
jestinge therfore maketh a man laughe muche, bicause it
bryngeth wyth it other maner answeres then a manne
looketh for to heare : and oure owne errour doeth naturallye
delite us in these matters, whyche whan it deceyveth us of
that we looke for, we laughe at it. But the termes of
speache and fygures that have anye grace and grave talke,
are likewise (in a maner) alwayes comelye in Jestes and
meerye pleasantnesse. See howe woordes placed contrary-
wyse give a great ornament, whan a contrarye clause is sett
agaynste another. The same maner is often times verye
meerye and pleasant. As, a Genuese that was verye
prodigall and lavysh in hys expences beeinge reprehended
by a usurer, who was most covetous, that said unto him :
And whan wilt thou leave castynge away thy substance .''
Then he answered : Whan thou leavest stealinge of other
mens. And bicause (as we have alreadie said) from the
places that we derive Jestes from, that touch a manne, Ave
may manie times from the verie same take grave sentences
to prayse and commende, it is a verye comelye and honest
maner both for the one and the other pourpose, whan a
man consenteth to and confirmeth the selfe same thinge
that the other speaketh, but interpreteth it otherwise then
he meaneth. As within these fewe dayes a Priest of the
Countrey sayinge Masse to his parishioners, after he had
toulde them what holye dayes they shoulde have that weeke,
he beegane the generall confession in the name of all the
people, and sayde : I have synned in yll dooynge, in yll
speakynge, in yll thynkynge, and the rest that foloweth,
makynge mentyon of all the deadlye sinnes. Then a
Gossippe of his and one that was verye familyar wyth the
Priest to sporte with hym, saide to the standers bye : Beare
recorde, Sirs, what he confesseth with hys owne mouth he
hath done, for I entende to present him to the Bishoppe for
it. The verye same maner used Sallazza della Pedrata to
honoure a Ladve of love wythall. With whome entringe in
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talke, after he had praysed herr beeside her vertuous
qualities for her beawtie also, she answered him that she
deserveth not that praise, bicause she was now well striken
in yeeres. And he then said to her : That is in you of age,
is nothing elles but to liken you unto the aungelles, whiche
were the firste and are the auntientest creatures that ever
God made. Also meerie sayinges are muche to the pourpose
to nippe a man, aswell as grave sayinges to praise one, so
the metaphors be well applyed, and especiallye yf they be
answered, and he that maketh answere continue in the self
same metaphor spoken by the other. And in this sorte was
answered to ]M. PallaStrozzi, whiche banished out of Florence, Palla Strozzi.
and sendinge thither one of his about certein affaires, said
unto him after a threatninge maner : Tell Cosmus de Medicis Cosimo de
in my name that The henn sitteth abroode. The mes- ^ledici.
senger did the errand to him, as he was wylled. And
Cosmus without anv more deliberacion, answered him
immediatlye : Tell M. Palla in my name again, that
Hennes can full yll sitt abroode out of the nest. With
a metaphor also M. Camillo Porcaro commended honor-
ablye the Lorde ^Nlarcantonio Colonna, who understand- The Lorde
ynge that M. Camillo in an Oration of hys had extolled ^^^rcus
certein noble men of Italy that were famous in marcial r^^^ °^^^^
prowesse, and emonge the rest had made most honorable
mention of him, after rendringe due thankes, he said to him :
You (]\I. Camillo) have done by your friendes as some mer-
chaunt men play by their money, which findinge a counter-
feit Ducat, to dispatch him away, cast him into a heape of
good ones and so uttre him : even so you, to honour me
withall, where I am litle woorth, have sett me in company
with so excellent and vertuous personages, that through
their prowesse, I may peraventure passe for a good one.
Then INI. Camillo made answere : They that use to coun-
terfeit Ducates, gylte them so that they seeme to the eye
much better then the good : therfore if there were to be
founde counterfeiters of menne, as there be of Ducates, a
man might have a juste cause to suspect you were false,
beeinge (as you are) of much more faire and brighter mettall
then any of the rest. You may see that this place is
175
THE SECOND BOOKE
commune both for the one and the other kinde of Jestes,
and so are manie mo, of the which a man might geve infinite
examples, and especially in grave sayinges. As the great
Capitain saide, whiche (beeinge sett at table and everye
roume filled) sawe two Italian Gentilmen standinge bye
that had done him vei-ye good service in the warr, sodainly
he start up and made all the rest to arrise to give place
to those two, and said : Make roume Sirs for these gen-
tilmen to sitt at their meat, for had not they bine we
should not have had now wherwithall to feade our selves.
He saide also to Diego Garzia that perswaded hym to remove
out of a daungerous place that lay open upon gunnshott :
Sins God hath not put feare into your mynd, put not you
Lewis the it into myne. And kinge Lewis, which is nowe Frenche
XII. kinge, where it was saide unto him soone after his creation,
that then was the time to be even with his enemies that had
done him so much injurye while he was Duke of Orleans.
He made answere : That the French kinge hath nothing
ado to revenge the wronges done to the Duke of Orleans.
A man toucheth also in Jest manye times with a certein
Gain gravitie without moving a man to laughe. As Gein
Ottomaui. Ottoman! brother to the great Turke, whan he was pri-
soner in Roome, he said : Justinge (as we used it in
Italy) seemed to him overgreat a daliaunce, and a tryfle to
that should be in deede. And he said, whan it was tould
him that kinge Ferdinande the yonger was nimble and
quycke of person in renning, leapinge, vautynge and suche
matters, in his country slaves used these exercises, but great
men learned from their childhood liberalitie and were
renowmed for that. And in a maner after the same sort,
savinge it had a litle more matter to laughe at, was that the
archbishopp of Florence said unto Cardinal Alexandrino :
That men have nothinge but Substance, a body and a soul :
their Substance is at Lawyars disposynge, their Bodye at
Phisitiens, and their Soul at divines.
Then answered the L. Julian: A man might ad unto
this the saiynge of Nicholetto : which is, that it is seldome
seene a Lawyer to go to lawe, nor a Phisitien take medicin,
nor a divine a good Christian.
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M. Bernarde laughed, then he proceaded : Of this there
be infinite examples spoken by great Princes and verie grave
men. But a man laugheth also manye times at compara- Comparasons.
sons. As oure Pistoia vvrott unto Seraphin : I sende thee
backe again thy great male whiche is like thy selfe. If ye
remember well Seraphin was muche like a male. Again,
there be some that have a pastime to liken menne and
women to horses, to dogges, to birdes, and often times to
coffers, to stooles, to cartes, to candelstickes, which somtime
hath a good grace and otherwhile verye stale. Therfore
in this point a man must consider the place, the time, the
persones, and the other thinges we have so manie times
spoken of.
Then spake the L. Gaspar Pallavicin : The comparason
that the L. John Gonzaga made of Alexander the Great to
M. Alexander his son, was verye pleasant.
I wote not what it was, answered M. Bernarde.
The L. Gaspar said : The L. John was playinge at dice
(as his use is) and had lost a numbre of Ducates and was
still on the losinge hande, and M. Alexander his sonn, which
for all he is a childe delyteth no lesse in playe then his
father, stoode verie still to beehould him and seemed verye
sad. The Count of Pianella, that was there present with
manye other Gentilmen, said : See (my Lorde) M. Alex-
ander is verie heavie for youre losse, and his hert panteth
waytinge whan lucke will come to you that he may gete
some of your winninges : therfore rid him of this griefe, and
beefore ye lose the rest, gyve hym at the least one Ducat
that he maye goe playe him too, emonge hys companyons.
Then sayde the L. John : You are deceyved, for Alex-
ander thynketh not upon suche a trifle, but as it is wrytten
of Alexander the great, while he was a childe, understand-
inge that Philipp his father had dyscomfited a great armie,
and conquered a certein kingdome, he fell in weepinge, and
whan he was asked the question whye he wept, he answered,
bicause he doubted that his father would conquerr so manye
Countryes, that he should have none left for him to
conquerr : even so nowe Alexander my sonne is sorye and
ready e to weepe in seeinge me his father lose, by cause he
Z 177
THE SECOND BOOKE
Filthy and
baudie
persons in
talke.
doubteth that I shall lose so much, that I shall leave him
nothinge at all to lose.
Whan they had a whyle laughed at this M, Berxarde
wente forwarde : A man must take heede also hys jestynge
be not wicked, and that the matter extende not (to appeere
Blasphemye. quycwitted) to blasphemye, and studye therin to invent
newe wayes : least herein, where a manne deserveth not
onelye blame, but also sharpe punishment, he should appeere
to seke a praise, which is an abhominable matter. And
therfore suche as these be, that goe about to shew their
pregnant witt wyth small reverence to Godward, deserve to
be excluded out of everye Gentylmans companye. And no
lesse, they that be filthye and bawdye in talke, and that in
the presence of women have no maner respect, and seeme to
take none other delite but to make women blushe for shame,
and upon thys goe seekynge oute meerye and jestynge
woordes. As thys yeere in Ferrara at a banckett in pre-
sence of manye Ladyes there was a Florentine and a Senese,
whiche for the moste parte (as you knowe) are ennemies
together. The Senese sayd to nipp the Florentine : We have
maryed Siena to the Emperour and given him Florence in
dowerye. And this he spake bicause the talke was abrode
in those dayes, that the Seneses had given a certein quan-
titie of money to the Emperour, and he tooke the protection
of them upon him. The Florentine answered immediatlye :
But Siena shalbe first ridden (after the Frenche phrase, but
he spake the Italian worde) and then shall the dowerye
afterward be pleaded for at good leyser. You may see the
taunt was wittie, but bicause it was in presence of women
it appeered bawdie and not to be spoken.
Then spake the L. Gaspar Pallavicix : Women have
none other delite but to heare of such matters, and yet will
you deprive them of it. And for my part I have bine ready
to blushe for shame at woordes which women have spoken
to me oftener then men.
And I speake not of such women as these be, quoth
M. Bernarde, but of the vertuous that deserve to be
reverenced and honoured of all gentilmen.
The
178
L. Gaspar saide : It were good we
might
finde out
OF THE COURTYER
some pretie rule howe to knowe them, bicause moste
communlie the best in apparance are cleane contrarye in
effect.
Then said M. Bernarde smylinge : Were not the L.
Julian here present that in everye place is counted the
protectour of women, I woulde take upon me to answere
you, but I will not take his ofFyce from him.
Here the L. Emilia in like maner smilinge, said : Women
neede no defendoure againste an accuser of so small autho-
ritie. Therfore let the L. Gaspar alone in this his froward
opinion, risen more bicause he could never finde woman that
was willynge to loke upon him, then for anye want that is
in women, and proceade you in youre communication of
Jestes.
Then M. Bernarde : Truly e madam (quoth he) me thinke
I have named unto you manie places, out of the which a
man may pike pleasant and wittie sayinges, which afterward
have so much the more grace, as they are set furth with a
comelie protestacion. Yet may there be alleaged manie
other also, as whan to encrease or diminish, thinges be
spoken that uncrediblye passe the likelihoode of truth.
And of this sort was that Marius da Volterra said by a
prelate that thought himselfe so taule a person, that as he
went into Saint Peters, he stowped for hittinge his heade
againste the greate beame over the porche. Also the
L. Julian here saide that Golpino hys servaunte was so
leane and drie, that in a morning as he was blowing the
fire to kendle it, the smoke bore him up the chimney
unto the tonnell, and had gone awaye with him had he
not stooke on crosse at one of the holes above. And M.
Augustin Bevazzano toulde, that a covetous manne whiche
woulde not sell hys corne while it was at a highe price,
whan he sawe afterwarde it had a great falle, for despera-
cion he hanged himself upon a beame in his chamber,
and a servaunt of his hearing the noise, made speede, and
seeing his maister hang, furthwith cut in sunder the
rope and so saved him from death : afterwarde whan the
covetous man came to himselfe, he woulde have had hys
servaunt to have paide him for his halter that he had cut.
179
Dissimula-
cion.
THE SECOND BOOKE
Of this sort appeareth to be also that Laurence de Medicis
said unto a colde jester: Thou shouldest not make me
laugh if thou ticklidest me. The like he answered unto
an other foolishe person, who in a morninge had found him
in bed verie late and blamed him for sleeping somuche,
sayinge unto him : I have now bine in the new and olde
markett place, afterward I went oute at the gate of San
Gallo to walke about the walles, and have done a thousande
other matters, and you are yet in bed. Then said Laurence:
That I have dreamed in one houre is more woorth, then
al that you have done in foure. It is also pretie whan
one reprehendeth a thinge which a man would not thinke
he minded to reprehende. As the marquesse Friderick
of Mantua oure Dutchesse father, beeinge at table wyth
manye gentilmen, one of them after he had eaten up his
dishe of broth, said : By your leave my L. marquesse.
And whan he had so said, he beegane to suppe up the
rest that remayned in the dishe. Then said the marquesse
by and by : Aske leave of the swyne, for thou doest me no
wronge at all. Also M. Nicholas Leonicus said, to touch
a noble manne that was falselye reported to be liberall :
Gesse you what liberality e is in him that doeth not onlye
geve awaye hys owne good but other mens also. That is
in like maner an honest and comelie kinde of jesting that
consisteth in a certein dissimulacion, whan a man speaketh
one thinge and privilie meaneth another. I speake not
of the maner that is cleane contrarye, as if one shoulde
call a dwarf a giaunt : and a blacke man, white : or one
most ilfavoured beawtifull, bicause they be to open con-
traries, although otherwhile also they stirr a man to laughe.
But whan with a grave and drie speache in sportinge a
man speaketh pleasantlie that he hath not in his minde.
As whan a gentilman tould M. Augustin Folietta a loude
lye and earnestlye did affirme it, bicause he thought he
scase beleaved it. At laste M. Augustin said : Gentilman,
if you will ever do me pleaser, be so good to me as to
quiet your selfe in case I do not beleave anye thinge you
saye. Yet whan he replied again and bound it with an
othe to be true, at lengthe he saide : Sins you wyll have
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OF THE COURTYER
me, I am content to beleave it for youre sake, for to saye
the trueth I would do a greater thinge for you then this
commeth to. In a maner after the same sorte Don Gio-
vanni di Cardona said of one that woulde forsake Rome :
In mine opinion thys felowe is yll advysed, for he is so
wicked that in abidinge in Rome it maye be his chaunce
in time to be made a Cardinall. Of this sorte is also
that Alphonsus Santacroce said, whiche a litle beefore
havinge certein injuries done him by the Cardinall of Pavia,
and walking without Bolonia with certein Gentilmen nighe
unto the place of execution, and seeinge one newlye hanged
there, tourned him that waye with a certein heavie looke
and said so loude that every man might heare him :
Thou art a happie man that hast nothinge adoo with the
Cardinal of Pavia. And the kinde of jestinge that is Jesting
somewhat grounded upon scoffinge seemeth verie meete for grounded
great men, bicause it is grave and wittie and may be ^P*'" ^*^*^t~
used both in sportynge matters and also in grave. Ther- f^j. gi-eat
fore dyd manye of olde time and menne of best estima- men.
tyon use it : as Cato, Scipio AfFricanus minor. But
above all they saye Socrates the Philosopher excelled in it.
And in oure time Kynge Alphonsus the first of Aragon :
which upon a time as he went to diner tooke manye ryche
jewelles from his fingers, for wetting them in washing hys
handes, and so gave them to him that stoode nexte him as
thoughe he had not minded who it was. This servaunt had
thought sure the king marked not to whom he gave them,
and bicause his heade was busied with more waightie affaires,
wold soone forgete them cleane, and therof he tooke the
more assurance, whan he sawe the kinge asked not for them
again. And whan the matter was passed certein dayes,
wekes and monthes without hearinge anye woord of it, he
thought surelye he was safe. And so about the yeeres end
after this matter had happened, an other time as the kinge
was in like maner going to diner, he stepped furth and put
out his hande to take the kinges ringes. Then the kinge
rounding him in the eare, said : The first is well for thee,
these shall be good for an other. See this taunt how
pleasant, wittie and grave it is, and woorthie in verie deede
181
THE SECOND BOOKE
To name au
yll thing
with honest
woordes.
Frumpes.
Pope Alex-
ander V'l.
usurped the
dukedome of
Urbin and
gave it to
hys Sonne
Cesar Borgia,
communlye
called Duca
Valentino.
for the noble courage of an Alexander. Like unto this
maner grounded upon scoffinge there is also an other kinde,
whan with honest woordes, a man nameth a vitious matter
or a thinge that deserveth blame. As the great Capitain
said unto a Gentilman of hys, that after the journey of
Cirignola and whan all thinges were alreadye in safetye,
mett him as richelye armed as might be, readye to fight.
Then the greate Capitain tourninge to him Don Ugo di
Cardona, saide : Feare ye not now any more Sea tempest, for
Saint Hermus hath appeered. And wyth thys honeste
woorde he gave him a nicke. Bicause you knowe Saint
Hermus doeth alwayes appeere unto Mariners after a tem-
peste and gyveth a token of caulme. And the meaning of
the great capitain was, that whan this gentilman appeered
it was a signe the daunger was alreadye clean e past. Again
M. Octavian Ubaldino beeinge in Florence in companye wyth
certein of the best Citizins and reasoninge together of
souldiers, one of them asked him whether he knewe Antonello
da Forli whiche was then fled out of the state of Florence.
M. Octavian answered : I have no great knowledge of him,
but I have heard him alwaies reported to be a quick souldier.
Then said an other Florentin : It appeereth he is quicke,
for he taried not so longe as to aske leave to depart. They
be also pretie tauntes whan a man of the verie communica-
tion of his felowe taketh that he would not, and my
meaning is in that sort, as our Duke answered the Capitain
that lost Saint Leo. Whan this state was taken by Pope
Alexander and given to Duke Valentin, the Duke beeing in
Venice at that time I speake of, manie of his subjectes came
continually to give him secret information how the matters
of state passed, and emonge the rest, thither came also this
Capitain, whiche after he had excused himselfe the best he
coulde, laiynge the fault in his unluckinesse, he saide : My
Lorde doubt ye not, my hart serveth me yet to woorke a
meane that Saint Leo may be recovered again. Then
answered the Duke : Trouble not thy self any more about
that, for in losinge it thou haste wrought a meane that it
may be recovered again. Certein other sayinges there are
whan a man that is knowen to be wittie speaketh a matter,
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that seemeth to proceede of folye. As the last day M.
Camillo Paleotto said by one : That foole, as soone as he
beegane to wexe riche, died. There is like unto this maner
a certein wittie and kinde dissimulacion, whan a man (as I Dessimula-
have said) that is wise maketh semblant not to understande *^^^'^'
that he doth understande. As the marquesse Friderick of
Mantua, which beeing sued too by a prating felow that
complained upon certein of his neighbours takinge the
Pigions of his Dovehouse with snares, and helde one con-
tinuallye in his hande hanging by the foote in a snare,
which he had founde so dead, he answered him that there
should be a remedye for it. This felow never satisfied, not
once but manye a time repeted unto him his losse, showinge
alwaies the Pigion so hanged, and saide still : But I besech
you, howe thinke ye (my Lorde) what should a man do in
this matter ? The marquesse at length said : By mine advise
the Pigion ought in no wise to be buried in the Church, for
sins he hath so hanged himself, it is to be thought that he
was desperat. In a maner after the same sorte was that
Scipio Nasica said unto Ennius. For whan Scipio went unto
Ennius house to speake with him and called to him in the
streete, a maiden of his made him answere that he was not
at home. And Scipio heard plainlye Ennius himselfe saye
unto his mayden to tell hym that he was not at home, so he
departed. Within a while after Ennius came unto Scipioes
house, and so likewise stoode beneethe and called him.
Unto whom Scipio himselfe with a loude voice made answere
that he was not at home. Then said Ennius : What, do
not I knowe thy voice ? Scipio answered : Thou hast smalle
Courteysie in thee, the last day I beleaved thy maiden
that thou waste not at home, and now wilt not thou beleave
me my selfe? It is also pretie whan one is touched in the Totouche in
verie same matter that he hath first touched his felowe. ^^^ ^^"^^
As Alonso Carillo beeinge in the Spanishe Court and ^^ touched
havynge committed certein youthfull partes that were of no
great importance, was by the kinges commaundement caried
to prison, and there abode for one night. The next day he
was taken out again, and whan he came to the Palaice in
the morninge, he entred into the chamber of presence that
183
The manei* of
Spaine.
A semblant
of laughing.
With a cer-
tein gravitie.
A matter
that seemeth
foolishe.
THE SECOND BOOKE
was full of gentilmen and Ladies, and jestynge together at
this his imprisonment, maistresse Boadilla said : M. Alonso,
I tooke great thought for this mishap of yours, for al that
knew you were in feare least the kinge wold have hanged
you. Then said immediatlye Alonso : Indeede maistresse,
I was in doubte of the matter my selfe to, but yet I had
a good hope that you would have begged me for your
husbande. See howe sharpe and wittie this is. Bicause in
Spaine (as in many other places also) the maner is, whan a
manne is lead to execution, if a commune harlot will aske
him for her husbande, it saveth his life. In this maner
also did Raphael the peincter answere two Cardinalles (with
whom he might be familiar) which to make him talke,
found fault in his hearinge with a table he had made, where
Saint Peter and Saint Paul were : saiynge, that those twoo
pictures were to red in the face. Then said Raphael by
and by : My lordes, wonder you not at it, for I have made
them so for the nones, bicause it is to be thought that Saint
Peter and Saint Paul are even as red in heaven as you see
them here, for verie shame that their Churche is governed
by such men as you be. Also those Jestes are pleasant, that
have in them a certein privie semblant of laughter. As
whan a husband lamented much and bewayled his wief that
had hanged her selfe upon a figgtree, an other came to him
and pluckynge him by the slieve, said : Friend, may I receive
such pleaser as to have a graff of that figgtree to grafF in
some stocke of myne Orcharde ? There be certein other
Jestes that be pacient and spoken softlie with a kinde of
gravitie. As a man of the Countrye caryinge a coffer upon
his shoulders, chaunced therwithall to gyve Cato a harde
pushe, and afterward said : Give roume. Cato answered :
Haste thou anye thinge upon thy shoulders beeside that
coffer? It is also a matter of laughter whan a man hath
committed an errour and to amend it speaketh a matter
pourposelye that appeereth foolishe, and yet is applyed
to the ende that he hath appointed, and serveth hys tourne
therwithall that he seeme not oute of countenaunce and
dismayed. As not longe sins two ennemies beeinge together
in the Counsell chamber of Florence (as it happeneth often
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OF THE COURTYER
in those Commune weales) the one of them, which was of
the house of Altoviti, slept, and he that satt next unto him Altoviti.
for a sporte, where his adversarye that was of the house of
Alamanni, had said nothinge neyther then nor beefore, Alamanni.
stirringe him wyth his elbowe made him awake, and saide
unto him : Hearest thou not what such a one saith ? Make
answere, for the Lordes aske for thine advise. Then did
Altoviti all sleepie arrise upon his feete and without anye
more deliberation said : My Lordes, I say the cleane con-
trarye to that Alamanni hath spoken. Alamanni answered :
What ? I have said nothinge. Altoviti said immediatlye :
To that thou wilt speake. In this maner also did youre M.
Seraphin the Phisitien here in Urbin saye unto a manne of
the Country, which had receyved suche a stroke upon the
eve, that in verie deede it was oute, yet thought he beste
to go seece to M. Seraphin for remedie. Whan he saw it
thoughe he knewe it was past cure, yet to plucke money out
of his handes as that blowe had plucked the eye oute of his
heade, he promised him largelye to heale it. And so he
was in hande with him everye day for money, puttinge him
in comforte that within sixe or seven dayes, he shoulde
beegine to see wyth it agayn. The poore countrye manne
gave him the litle he had, but whan he sawehim so prolonge
the matter, he beegane to finde himself agreeved wyth the
Physitien, and sayde that he was nothinge the better,
neyther coulde he see anye more wyth that eye, then if he
had hadd none at all in hys heade. At length M. Seraphin
perceyvynge there was no more to be gotten at hys handes,
saide : Brother myne, thou muste have pacience, thou haste
cleane lost thine eye and no remedye is there for it, praye
God thou lose not thyne other wythall. The Countrye
manne seeynge thys, fell in weepynge, and lamented muche
and saide : Mayster myne, you have pylled me and robbed
me of my money, I will complayne to the Duke, and made
the greatest outcryes in the worlde. Then sayde M. Sera-
phin in a rage and to cleere hymselfe : Ah thou vyllein
knave : thou wouldest then have two eyes as Cityzins and
honest menne have, wouldest thow ? Get thee hence in the
Dyvelles name. And these woordes were thruste oute wyth
A A 185
To enterpret
a matter
meerely.
Dame aske.
This letter
be geven to
the cause of
my griefe.
Familiar
admonition
in maner of
counsell.
Matters
disagreeiuge.
THE SECOND BOOKE
suche furye that the poore selie manne was dismayed, and
held his peace, and soft and faire departed in Gods name,
thinking that he himselfe had bine in the wronge. It is
also pretie whan a man deciareth or enterpreteth a matter
meerilie. As in the Spanishe Court in a morning there
came into the Palaice a knight who was very ylfavoured :
and his wief, that was verie beawtifull, both apparailed
in white Damaske, and the Queene said unto AlonsoCarillo:
Howe thinke ye Alonso by these two ? Madam, answered
Alonso, me thinke the Ladye is the Dame, and he the aske,
which signifieth a foule person and uglesome. Also whan
Raphael de Pazzi sawe a letter that the Priour of Messina
had written to a maistresse of his, the superscription whereof
was : Esta carta s" ha da dar a qui en causa mi penar. Me
thinke (quoth he) this letter is directed to Paul Tholossa.
Imagine you how the standers bye laughed at it, for they
all knew that Paul Tholossa had lent tenn thousand Ducates
to the Priour of Messina, and bicause he was verie lavishe
in his expences, he could finde no waye to pay his dett. It
is like unto this, whan a man geveth familiar admonition
in maner of counsell, but dissemblinglie. As Cosmus de
Medicis said unto a friend of his that had more riches then
wit, and by Cosmus meanes had compassed an office without
Florence, and at his settinge furthe askinge Cosmus what
way he thought best for him to take to execute this office
well : Cosmus answered him : Apparaile thy selfe in scar-
late, and speake litle. Of this sort was that Count Lewis
said unto one that woulde passe for an unknowen person in
a certein daungerous place, and wist not howe to disguise
himself, and the Count beeinge demaunded of hys advise
therin, answered : Apparaile thy selfe like a Doctour, or in
some other rayment that wise men use to weare. Also
Jannotto de Pazzi said unto one that minded to make an
armynge coat of as manye divers colours as might be in-
vented : Take the woordes and deedes of the Cardinall of
Pavia. A man laugheth also at certein matters disagree-
inge. As one said the last daye unto M. Antony Rizzo
of a certein Forlivese : Gesse whether he be a foole or
no, for his name is Bartholomew, And an other : Thou
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OF THE COURTYER
seekest a rider and hast no horses. And this man wanteth
nothinge but good and a horse. And at certein other That seeme
that seeme to agree. As within these few dayes where to agree,
there was a suspicion that a friend of oures had caused
a false advoucion of a benifice to be drawen out, after-
ward whan an other Priest fell sicke, Antony Torello
saide unto him : What doest thou lingre the matter,
whie doest thou not sende for thy Gierke and see
whether thou cannest hit upon this other benefyce.?
Likewise at certein that doe not agree. As the last day That agree
whan the Pope had sent for M. Johnluke of Pontremolo "ot.
and M. Dominick dalla Porta, which (as you knowe) are
both crookbacked, and made them Auditours, sayinge that
he entended to bringe the Rota into a right frame, M. Latin The Rota in
Juvenal saide : Oure holie father is deceived yf he thinke Roome is
that he can bringe the Rota into a right frame with two j^^tter as the
crooked persons. Also it provoketh laughter, whan a man Court of the
graunteth the thinge that is toulde him and more, but Arches in
seemeth to understande it otherwise. As Capitain Peralta England,
beeing brought into the listes to fight the combatt wyth
Aldana and Capitain Molart that was Aldanas patrine
requiringe Peralta to sweare whether he had about him any
Saint Johns Gosspell or charme and inchauntmente, to pre-
serve him from hurt. Peralta swore that he had about
him neyther Gosspell nor inchauntment, nor relike, nor any
matter of devocion wherein he had anv faith. Then said
Molart, to touch him to be a marrane : Well no mo woordes
in this, for I beleave without swearinge that you have no
faith also in Christ. It is pretie moreover to use metaphors
at a time in such pourposes. As oure M. Mercantonio that
said to Botton da Cesena, who had vexed him with woordes:
Botton, Botton, thou shalt one day be the botton, and the
halter shalbe the bottonhole. And also whan Marcantonio
had made a comedye whiche was verie longe and of sundrye
actes, the verye same Botton saide in like maner to Marcan-
tonio : To play your Comedye ye shall neede for preparation
asmuche wood as is in Sclavonia. M. Marcantonio answered :
And for preparation of thy Tragedie thre trees is inoughe.
Again a man speaketh a word manie times wherin is a
187
THE SECOND BOOKE
Au answere
to that a man
hath not said.
privie signification farr from that appeereth he wold say.
As the L. Generall here being in company where there was
communication of a Capitain that in deede al his lief time
for the more part had received the overthrow, and as then
by a chaunce wann the victorie : and whan he that ministred
this talke said : Whan he made his entrie into that towne
he was apparailed in a verie faire crimosin velute coate,
which he wore alwaies after his victories. The L. Generall
said : Beelike it is verie new. And no lesse doeth it pro-
voke laughter, whan otherwhile a man maketh answere
unto that which the other he talketh withall hath not
spoken : or els seemeth to beleave he hath done that he hath
not done, and should have done it. As Andrew Cosia, when
he went to visit a gentilman that discourtiously suffered
him to stand on his feete and he himselfe satt, saide : Sins
you commaund me sir, to obey you I will sitt, and so satt
him downe. Also a man laugh eth whan one accuseth him-
selfe of some trespace. As the last daye whan I saide to
the Dukes Chapplaine, that my Lordes grace had a Chapp-
laine that coulde say masse sooner then he : he answered
me, It is not possilale. And roundinge me in the eare,
saide : You shall understande that I say not the third part
of the secretes. Also Biagin Crivello, whan a priest was
slain at Millane, he required his benefice of the Duke, the
which he was minded to bestowe upon an other. At length
Biagin percey vinge no other reason wold prevaile. And what
(quoth he) if I were the cause of his death, why will you
not geve me his benefice ? It hath also manie times a good
To wish that grace to wish those thinges that can not be. As the last
day one of our companie beehouldinge all these Gentilmen
here playnge at fence, and he liynge uppon a bed, said :
Oh what a pleasure it were, were this also a valiaunt mans
and a good souldiers exercise. In like maner it is a pretie
and wittie kinde of speakinge and especially in grave men
and of authoritie, to answere contrarye to that he would,
with whom he speaketh but drilie and (as it were) with a
certein doubting and heedfull consideracion. As in times
past Alphonsus the first Kinge of Aragon, gevinge unto a
servaunt of his, horse, harneis and apparaile, bicause he
188
cannot be.
A contrarye
answere.
OF THE COURT YER
toulde him how the night beefore he had dreamed that his
highnesse had given him all those kinde of matters, and not
longe after, the verie same servaunte said again how he
dreamed that night, that he had given him a good sort of
royalles, he answered him : Hensfurthe beleave dreames no
more, for they are not alwaies true. In this sort also did
the Pope answere the Bishop of Cervia, that to grope his
minde saide unto him : Holye father, it is noysed all Hoome
over and in the Palice to, that your holynesse maketh me
Governour. Then answered the Pope : Let the knaves
speake what they luste, doubt you not, it is not true I
warrant you. I could (my Lordes) beeside these gather
manye other places, from whiche a manne maye dirive
meerye and pleasant Jestes, as matters spoken with feare,
wyth marveyle, with threatninges oute of order, with over-
muche furiousnesse : beesyde this, certein newlye happened
cases provoke laughter : sometime silence with a certein
wonder, at other tymes verie laughter it selfe without pour-
pose : but me thinke I have nowe spoken sufficient, for the
Jestes that consiste in woordes (I beleave) passe not these
boundes we have reasoned of. As for such as be in opera-
cion, though there be infinite partes of them, yet are they
drawen into fewe principles. But in both kindes the chief
matter is to deceive opinion, and to answer otherwise then
the hearer loketh for : and (in case the Jest shal have any
grace) it must nedes be seasoned with this deceit, or dis-
simulacion, or mockinge, or rebukinge, or comparason, or
what ever other kinde a man will use. And althoughe all
kinde of Jestes move a man to laugh, yet do they also in
this laughter make diverse effectes. For some have in them piverse
a certein cleannesse and modest pleasantnesse. Other bite ^ff^ctes in
sometime privily, otherwhile openlye. Other have in them-^p
a certein wantonnesse. Other make one laughe assone as he
heareth them. Other the more a man thinketh upon them.
Other in laughinge make a man blushe withall. Other
stirr a man somewhat to angre. But in all kindes a man
must consider the disposition of the mindes of the hearers,
bicause unto persons in adversitie oftentimes meery toyes
augment their affliction : and some infirmities there be, that
189
THE SECOND BOOKE
The smalle
respett some
have in
jestinge.
A paltockis
ynn.
the more a man occupieth medicine aboute them, the woorse
they wexe. In case therfore the Courtier in jestinge and
speakinge meerie conceytes have a respecte to the time, to
the persons, to his degree, and not use it to often (for parde
it bringeth a lothsomnesse if a man stand evermore about it,
all day in all kinde of talke and without pourpose) he maye
be called pleasant and feat conceyted. So he be heedefull
also that he be not so bitter and bitinge, that a man mighte
conjecture he were an envious person in prickinge without a
cause, or for plaine malice, or men of to great authoritie
(whiche is lacke of discreation) or of to much miserie (which
is crueltye) or to mischevous (which is vanitie) or elles in
speakinge matters that may ofFende them whom he would
not ofFende (which is ignoraunce). For some there be that
thinke they are bound to speake and to nippe Avithout
regard, as often as they can, howe ever the matter goe after-
warde. And emonge these kinde of persons are they, that
to speake a woord which should seeme to come of a readi-
nesse of witt, passe not for staynynge of a woorthie gentil-
womans honesty, which is a very naughtie matter and
woorthie sore punishment. Bicause in this point women
are in the number of selie soules and persons in miserye,
and therfore deserve not to be nipped in it, for they have
not weapon to defende themselves. But beeside these re-
spectes he that wilbe pleasant and full of jestinge, must be
shaped of a certein nature apt to all kinde of pleasantnesse,
and unto that frame his facions, gestures and countenaunce,
the which the more grave, steadie and sett it is, somuch the
more maketh it the matters spoken to seeme wittie and subtil.
But you (Sir Fridericke) that thought to rest your selfe under
this my tree without leaves and in my withered reasoninges,
I beleave you have repented youre selfe, and you recken ye
are entred into the baytinge place of Montefiore. Therfore
it shall be well done for you like a wel practised Courtier
(to avoide an ill hosterie) to arryse somwhat beefore your
ordinarye hour and set forwarde on your journey.
Nay, answered Sir Fridericke, I am come to so good an
hosterie, that I minde to tarye in it lenger then I had
thought at the firste. Therfore I will rest me yet a while,
190
OF THE COURTYER
untill you have made an ende of all the talke ye have beegone
withall. Wherof ye have left oute one percell that ye named
at the beeginning: whiche is, Meerie Pranckes, and it were not
well done to deeeyve the companye of it. But as you have
taught us manie pretie matters concerninge Jestes, and made
us hardie to use them throughe example of so many singular
wittes, great men, Princis, Kinges and Popes, I suppose ye
will likewise in Meerie Pranckes so boulden us, that we maye
take a courage to practise some against you your selfe.
Then said M. Berxarde smilinge : You shall not be the
firste, but perhappes it will not be your chaunce, for I have
so manie times bin served with them, that it maketh me
looke wel about me : As dogges, after they have bine once
scaulded with hott water, are aferd of the colde. How be
it sins you will have me to speake somewhat of this to, I
beleave I may rid my handes of it in fewe woordes. And What is a
in mine opinion a Meerie Prancke is nothinge elles, but a Meerye
friend lye deceit in matters that offende not at all or verie P^'^^^ke.
little. And even as in Jestynge to speake contrary to
expectacyon moveth laughter, so doeth in Meerie Pranckes
to doe contrarie to expectacion. And these doe so muche
the more delite and are to be praised, as they be wittie and
modest. For he that will woorke a Meerie Prancke without
respect, doth manie times offende and then arrise debates and
sore hatred. But the places that a man may dirive Merie
Pranckes from are (in a maner) the verie same that be in
Jestes. Therfore to avoide repetition of them, I will say
no more but that there be two kyndes of Meerie Pranckes
everye one of which may afterwarde be divided into mo
partes. The one is, whan any man whoever he be, is
deceyved wittilie, and after a feat maner and with pleasant-
nesse. The other, whan a manne layeth (as it were) a nett,
and showeth a piece of a bayte so, that a man renneth to be
deceyved of himself The first is suche, as the Meerie
Prancke was, that within these fewe dayes was Avrought
unto a coople of greate Ladyes (whom I will not name)
by the meane of a Spaniarde called Castillo.
Then the Dutchesse : And whie (quoth she) will you not
name them "^
191
THE SECOND BOOKE
M. Bernaiide answered : Bicause I would not have them
to take it in yll part.
Then said the Dutchesse again, smilinge : It is not
againste good maner sometime to use Meerie Pranckes Avith
great men also. And I have heard of manie that have
bine played to Duke Fridericke, to kinge Alphonsus of
Aragon, to Queene Isabel of Spaine, and to manie other
great Princis, and not oniie they tooke it not in ill part,
but rewarded very largely them that plaied them those
partes.
M. Bernarde answered : Neyther upon this hope do I
entend to name them.
Say as pleaseth you, quoth the Dutchesse.
Then proceaded M. Bernarde and said : Not manie dayes
since in the Court that I meane, there arrived a manne of
the Countrie about Bergamo, to be in service wyth a
Gentilman of the Court : whyche was so well sett oute with
garmentes and so finelye clad, that for all hys brynginge up
was alwayes keapinge Oxen and could doe nothinge elles,
yet a manne that had not hearde him speake woulde have
judged him a woorthie Gentilman. And so whan those
two Ladies were enfourmed that there was arrived a
Spaniarde, servaunt to Cardinal 1 Borgia, whose name was
Castillo, a verie wittie man, a musitien, a daunser and the
best Courtier in all Spaine, they longed verie much to speake
with him, and sent incontinentlye for him, and after they
had receyved him honorablye, they caused him to sitt downe,
and beegan to entertein him with a verie greate respect in
the presence of all menne, and fewe there were present that
knew him not to be a Bergamask Cowherd. Therfore
seeinge those Ladies enterteine him with such respect, and
honour him so muche, they fell all in a laughyng, the more
The woorst bicause the seelie felowe spake still his natyve language, the
speach in all nieere Bergamaske tunge. But the Gentilmen that divised
^' this Prancke, had first toulde those Ladyes that emonge
other thinges he was a great dissembler and spake all
tunges excellentlye well, and especiallye* the Countrie
speache of Lumbardye, so that they thought he feigned,
and manie tymes they beehelde the one the other with cer-
192
OF THE COURTYER
tein marveilinges, and saide : What a wonderfull matter
is this, howe he counterfeyteth this tunge ! In conclusion
thys communication lasted so longe that everye mans sydes
aked for laughinge, and he could not chouse himselfe but
uttre so manye tokens of hys noblenesse of birth, that at
length those Ladies (but with muche ado) beleaved he was
the man that he was in deede. Suche Meerie Pranckes we
see daily, but emong the rest they be pleasant that at the
first make a man agast and after that, ende in a matter of
suretie, bicause he that was deceived laugheth at himself Whan a man
whan he perceyveth he was afeard of nothing. As liynge i^ afeard of
upon a time in Paglia, there chaunced to be in the verie ^'^ ^"^"
same ynn three other good felowes, two of Pistoia and wf ^^-n^ '^
one of Prato, whiche after supper (as the maner is for ^^ ^.j^^ utmost
the most part) fell to gamynge. And not longe after, one boundes of
of the Pistoiens losinge his reste, had not a farthynge left the territorie
him to blesse himselfe, but beegan to chafe, to curse, and to ^^ Siena.
bann and to blaspheme terribly e, and thus tearinge of God
he went to bed. The other two after they had played a
while, agreed to woorke a Meerie Pranke Avith him that was
gone to bed. And whan they perceyved that he was fallen
in sleepe, they blew out the candels and raked up the fire
and beegane to speake aloude, and to m.ake the greatest
hurly burlye in the worlde, makinge wise to contende to-
gether about their game. The one said : Thou tookest
the carde underneath. The other deniynge it said : Thou
hast viede upon flush, let us mount : and suche other
matters with suche noise that he that slept awoke, and
hearynge them at play and talkinge even as though they
had scene the cardes, did a litle open his eyes : whan he
sawe there was no maner light in the chamber, he sayde :
What a Dyvell meane you to crie thus all night ? After-
warde he layed him downe again to sleepe. The other two
companions gave him no maner answere, but still continued
in their pourpose untill he awoke better and muche wondred,
and whan he saw for certeintie that there was neyther fire
nor anye kinde of lighte and perceyved they played still
and fell in contention, he said : And how can ye see the
cardes without light .'' The one of the two answered : I
BB 193
The greatest
pilgromage
in Italy.
Aquapen-
dente is a
towne of
the Popes
xii. miles
from Paarlia.
THE SECOND BOOKE
weene thou hast lost thy sight aswel as thy money. Seest
thou not that we have here two candels ? He that was in
bed lift up himselfe upon his elbowes and in a nianer
angred, said : Eyther I am dronken or blinde, or elles you
make a lye. The two arrose and went to bed darkelong,
laughing and makinge wise to beleave that he went about
to mocke them. And he again saide to them : I tell you
troth I see you not. At length the two beegane to seeme
to wonder much, and the one saide to the other : By good
Lord, I beleave he speaketh in good earnest, reach me
the candell, and lett us see least perhappes he have some
impediment in his sight. Then thought the poore wretch
surelie that he had bine blinde, and weeping dounright,
saide : Oh Sirs, I am blinde : and furthwith he beegane
to call upon our Ladye of Loreto and to beeseche her
to perdon him his blasphemies and cursinge for the
losse of his money. But his two companions put him
in good comforte and saide : It is not possible but thou
shouldest see us. Yt is some fansye that thou haste con-
ceyved in thine heade. Oh good lorde, answered the other,
it is no fansye, nor I see no more then if I had never had
eyes in my heade. Thy sighte is cleere inoughe, quoth the
two. And the one said to the other : Marke how well he
openeth his eyes.? And how faire they be to looke to?
And who wolde beleave but he coulde see ? The poore
soule wept faster, and cried God mercye. In conclusion
they said unto him : See thou make a vow to go divoutlye
to our ladye of Loreto barefoote and barelegged, for that
is the best remedie that may be had. And in the meane
space we will goe to Aquapendente and the other townes
here about to seeke for some Phisitien, and will helpe the
in what we can. Then did the seelie soule kneele upon
his knees in the bed, and wyth aboundance of teares and
verie bitter repentance for his blaspheminge, made a solemne
vow to go naked to our ladye of Loreto and to ofFre unto
her a paire of eyes of silver, and to eate no flesh upon the
Wenesdaye nor egges upon the Fridaye, and to faste bread
and water every Saturday in worship of our lady : yf she
give him the grace to receyve his sight again. The two
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companions entringe into an other chamber, lighted a can-
dell, and came with the greatest laughter in the world
beefore this poore soule, who for all he was rid of so great
an anguish as you may thinke he had, yet was he so astonied
with his former feare, that he could not onlye not laugh,
but not once speake a woord, and the two companions
did nothinge elles but sturr him, saiynge that he was
bounde to perfourme all those vowes, for that he had
received the grace he asked. Of the other kynde of Meerie
Pranckes whan a man deceyveth himselfe, I will give you Whan a man
none other example, but what happened unto me my selfe deceiveth
not longe sins. For this shroftide that is past, my Lordes "i™selte.
grace of Saint Peter ad Vincula, which knoweth full wel
what a delite I have whan I am in maskerie to play Meerie
Pranckes with friers, havinge first given order as he had
di vised the matter, cam upon a daye with my L. of Aragon
and certein other Cardinalles, to the windowes in the
banckes, making wise to stande there to see maskers passe
to and fro, as the maner of Roome is. I being in maskerie
passed bye, and whan I behelde on the one side of the
streete a frier standinge (as it were) in a studye with him-
selfe, I judged I had found that I sought for, and furthwith
rann to him, like a greedye hauke to her preye, and whan
I had asked him and he toulde me who he was, I made
semblant to knowe hym, and wyth manye woordes beegane
to make him beleave that the marshall went about to seeke
him for certein complaintes against him, and persuaded him
to go with me to the Chauncerye and there I would save
him. The frier dismayed and all tremblinge seemed as
thoughe he wist not what to do, and said that he doubted
taking in case he should go far from Saint Celso. Still
I put him in good comfort, and saide somuche to him that
he leaped up beehinde me, and then me thought my divise
was fully accomplished. And I beegane to ride my horse
by and by up and downe the merchauntes streete, which
went kicking and winsing. Imagine with your selves now
what a faire sight it was to beehould a frier on horsebacke
beehinde a masker, his garmentes fleeing abrode and his
head shaking to and fro, that a man would have thought he
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THE SECOND BOOKE
had bine alwaies falling. With this faire sight, the gentil-
men beegane to hurle egges out at the windowes, and after-
warde all the bankers and as many as were there, so that
the haile never fell with a more vyolence from the skye,
then there fell egges out from the windowes, whiche for the
moste part came all upon me. And I for that I was in
maskerie passed not upon the matter, and thought verilie
that all the laughinge had bine for the frier and not for me,
and upon this went sundrie times up and downe the Bankes
alwayes with that furye of hell beehinde me. And thoughe
the frier (in maner) weepinge beesought me to lett him goe
downe and not to showe suche shame to the weede, yet did
the knave afterward privilie cause egges to be given him by
certein Lackayes sett there for the nones, and makinge wise
to greepe me harde for fallynge, squised them in my bosome,
and many times on my head, and otherwhile in my forehead,
so that I was foule arayed. Finally whan everie man was
weerye both of laughinge and throwing egges, he leaped
downe from behind me, and plucking his hood backward
showed me a great bushe of heare, and said : M. Bernarde,
I am a horse keaper in the stable at Saint Peter ad Vincula,
and am he that looketh to youre mulett. Then wiste I
not whyche prevayled moste in me, grief, angre or shame.
Yet for the lesse hurt I fled towarde my lodgynge, and the
nexte mornynge I durste not showe my heade abrode. But
the laughynge at that Meerie Prancke dyd not endure the
daye folowynge onelye, but also lasteth (in a maner) until
this daye.
And so whan they had a whyle renewed the laughinge
at rehersynge this agayn, M. Bernarde proceaded. It
is also a good and pleasant kinde of Meerie Pranckes,
from whens in like maner Jestes are dirived, whan one
To feine the beleaveth that a man will do a matter which he will not in
doinge of a deede. As whan I was in an Eveninge after supper uppon
matter. ^^^ bridge of Leo, and goinge together with Cesar Bocca-
dello sportinge one with an other, we beegan to take hould-
fast the one of the others amies, as though we wold have
wrastled, bicause then we perceyved no man about the
bridge, and beeing in this maner together, there came two
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Frenchmen by, which seeing us thus striving, demaunded
what the matter ment, and stayed to part us, thinkinge we
had bine at debate in good ernest. Then said I inconti-
nentlye : Helpe sirs, for this poore gentilman at certein
times of the moone is frantike, and see now how he striveth
to cast himselfe of the bridge into the river. Then did the
two renn and layed hande upon Cesar with me and helde
him streict. And he (sayinge alwayes that I was out of my
witt) struggled the more to winde himself out of their
handes, and they greeped him somuch the harder. At this
the people assembled to beehoulde our rufflinge together,
and everie manne rann, and the more poore Cesar layed
about him with his handes and feete (for he beegane nowe
to enter into coler) the more resorte of people there was,
and for the greate strength he put, they beleaved verelie
that he woulde have leaped into the river, and therfore
helde they him the streicter, so that a great thronge of
people caried him to the ynn above grounde, all tourmoiled
and without his cappe, pale for wrathe and shame that
nothinge he spake coulde prevaile, partlye bicause those
Frenchmen understood him not, and partly bicause I also
cariynge him to the ynn did alwaies bewaile the poore
soules ill lucke, that was so wexed out of his witt. Now
(as we have saide) of Meerie Pranckes a man maye talke at
large, but it sufficeth to repete that the places whens thei
are dirived be the verie same whiche we have said of Jestes.
As for examples, we have infinit whiche we see daylye : and
emong the rest there are manye pleasant in the tales of
Boccaccio, as those that Bruno and BufFalmacco played to Giomat. viii.
their Calandrino, and to M. Symon : and manie other oi Novel, m.
women, which in verie deede are wittie and pretie. I re- \^^'^ii ^'•
member also I have knowen in my dayes manye that have j^r^^^ii jx!
bine meerilie disposed in this maner, and emonge the rest Giomat. ix.
a Scholar in Padoa borne in Sicilia called Pontius, which Novell, iii.
seeinge upon a time a man of the countrey have a coople "^ ''"^^^* ^•
of fatt capons, feininge himselfe to bye them, was at a point Pontius a
with him for the price, and bed him come wyth him to his scholar of
lodginge, for beeside his price he woulde geve him somwhat
to breake his fast withall. And so brought him to a place
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THE SECOND BOOKE
where was a styple that stoode by himself, alone severed
from the Church, that a manne might goe rounde about
him, and directlye over againste one of the foure sides of
the styple was a lane. Here Pontius, whan he had first
beethought himselfe what he had to doe, saide unto the
man of the countrey : I have layd these Capons on a wager
with a felowe of mine, who saith that this toure compaseth
xl. foote, and I say no, and even as I met with thee I had
bought this packthrid to measure it, therefore beefore we
go to my lodging I will trie which of us hath wonn the
wager. And in so saiynge he drewe the packthrid out of
his sleeve, and put the one ende of it into the man of the
countreys hand, and saide : Give here, and so tooke the
Capons : and with the other ende he beegane to go about
the bell toure, as though he would have measured it,
making first the man of the countrey to stand still, and to
houlde the packthrid directlye on the contrary side of the
toure to that, that was at the head of the lane, where
assone as he came, he drove a naile into the walle, to the
which he tyed the packthrid, and leavynge it so, went his
wayes without anye more a do downe the lane with the
Capons. The man of the Countrey stoode still a good while,
alwayes lookinge whan he wolde have done measuring. At
length after he had said manie times, What do you so longe ?
he thought he woulde see, and founde that Pontius held not
the line, but a naile that was driven into the walle, which
onlye remayned for payment of his Capons. Of this sort
Pontius played manye Meerie Pranckes. And there have
bine also manie other pleasaunt men in this maner, as
Gonella, Meliolo, in those dayes, and now our frier Seraphin
and frier Marian here and manye well knowen to you all.
And in verie deede this kinde is to be praysed in men that
make profession of nothinge elles. But the Meerie Pranckes
that the Courtier ought to use, must (by myne advyse) be
somewhat wyde from immoderate jesting. He ought also
Pilferinge. to take heed that his Meerie Pranckes tourne not to pilfer-
inge, as we see many naughtipackes, that wander about the
world with divers shiftes to gete money, feining now one
matter, now an other. And that they be not to bitter, and
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above all that he have respect and reverence, aswell in this, Reverence
as in all other thinges, to women, and especially where the to women,
staininge of their honestie shall consist.
Then the L. Gaspar : Trulye, M. Bernarde (quoth he) you
are to partiall to these women. And whie will you that
men shoulde have more respecte to women then women
to men ? Set not you asmuch by your honestie, as they do
by theirs ? Thinke you then that women ought to nippe
men both with woordes and mockes in every matter without
any regarde, and men shoulde stande with a flea in their
eare, and thanke them for it ?
M. JBerxarde answered : I say not the contrarye, but
women in their Jestes and Meerie Pranckes ought to have
the respectes to menne which we have spoken of. Yet
I say with more libertie may they touch men of smalle
honestie, then men maye them. And that bicause we oure
selves have established for a lawe, that in us wanton lief is
no vice, nor default, nor anye sclaunder, and in women it is
so great a reproch and shame, that she that hath once an
yll name, whether the report that goith of her be true or
false, hathe loste her credit for ever. Therfore sins the
talkinge of womens honestie is so daungerous a matter to
ofFende them sore, I say that we oughte to touche them in
other matters and refraine from this. For whan the Jest or
Meerie Pranck nippeth to sore, it goith out of the boundes
whiclie we have alreadye said is fitt for a gentilman.
Here M. Bernarde makinge a little stopp, the L. Octavian
Fregoso saide smylinge : My L. Gaspar can make you an
answere to this law which you alleage that we oure selves^.,- —
have made, that yt is not perchaunce so oute of reason, as
you thynke. For sins women are moste unperfect creatures ^Vomen.
and of litle or no woorthynesse in respect of menne, it J
beehoved for that they were not apt to Avoorke any vertuous ^'
deede of them selves, that they should have a bridle put
upon them with shame and feare of infamye, that shoulde
(in maner) by force bring into them some good condicion.
And continency was thought more necessary in them, then Continencie.
any other, to have assuraunce of children. So that verie
force hath driven men with all inventions, pollicies, and wayes
199
Boccaccio.
Giornat. iii.
Novell, vi.
Giornat. vii.
Novell, vii.
Giorna. vii.
Novel, viii.
THE SECOND BOOKE
possible to make women continent, and (in maner) graunted
them in all thinges beeside to be of smalle woorthinesse, and
to do the cleane contrarye alvvaies to that they ought to do.
Therfore sins it is lawfull for them to swarve out of the waye
in all other thinges without blame, if we should touch them
in those defaultes, wherin (as we have said) they are to be
borne withall, and therfore are not unseemelye in them, and
passe full litle upon it, we shoulde never move laughter.
For you have alreadye said, that Laughter is provoked with
certein thinges that are disagreeinge.
Then spake the Dutchesse : Speake you (my L. Octavian)
of women thus, and then complaine that they love you not .'*
The L. Octavian^ answered : I complaine not of it, but
rather I thanke them for it, sins in not lovinge of me, they
bind not me to love them. Neither do I speake after mine
owne opinion, but I say that the L. Gaspar might alleage
these reasons.
M. Berxarde said : Truly women should make a good
bargayne, if they coulde make attonementes with suche two
^ cte ennemies as you and the L. Gaspar be.
'"t not their ennemye, answered the L. Gaspar, but you
'^emye to menne. For in case you will not have
°"^ -'d in this honesty of theirs, you ought aswell
*° .^PP?y"* ^--m a lawe not to touche menne, in that
whiche IS asmuci. ^^^^^^ ^^ yg^ ^s incontinencye to women.
And why was it n^. ^^^^^^ f^^ ^^^^^^ ^arillo to make
the answere winch ht .^aistres Boadilla of the hope
that he had to save T. j-^^ j^^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ j,f„^
to husband as It was fc. ,^^^ ^^ ^^^^. ^j^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^
him thought the kinge w .^ j^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ j^.^ ^^^ ^j^.^
was It not as lawefull f(^, j^j^j^^^.^ Minutoli to beguile
Philippellos wief, and to ^^^^ ^^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^ f^ i^
was for Beatrice to make ^ ^^^ husbande arrise out
of his bed, and Anichin to f^^g^^^dell him with a cudgell,
?u^?.^ .t ^^fl ^r. 'J ace with him ? And the other
that tied the packthrid to ht^ ^^^^ ^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^, ^^^^
husbande beleave that he w.^-^^^ hymselfe, sins you saye
those Meerie Pranckes of woi^^^ -^ Boccaccio are so mttie
and pretie.
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are an
women
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Then said M. Bernarde smiling : My lordes, forsomuch
as my part hath bin to entreat onlie of Jestes, I entende not
to passe my boundes tlierin, and I suppose I have already
showed whie I judge it not meete to touch women neyther
in woorde nor deede about their honestie, and I have also
given them a rule not to nippe men where it greeveth them.
But I saye that those Meerie pranckes and Jestes whiche
you (my L. Gaspar) alleage, as that Alonso said unto M.
Boadilla, althoughe it somwhat touche honestie, yet doeth
it not discontent me, bicause it is fett farr inoughe of, and
is so privie, that it may be simplye understoode, so, that he
might have dissembled the matter, and affirmed that he
spake it not to that ende. He spake an other (in mine
opinion) verie unseemlie, whiche was : Whan the Queene
passed by M. Boadillas house, Alonso sawe peincted with
coles all the gate over, suche kinde of dishonest beastes, as
are peincted about ynnes in such sundrie wise, and cumminge
to the Countesse of Castagneto said unto her : See (madam)
the heades of the wielde beastes that M, Boadilla killeth
everie daye in huntinge. Marke you this, thoughe it were
a wittie metaphor, and borowed of Hunters, that counte it
a glorye to have manie wielde beastes heades nayled at their
gates, yet is it dishonest and shamefull jestinge, Beeside
that, it was not in answeringe, for an answere hath muche
more courtesie in it, bicause it is thought that a manne is
provoked to it, and it must needes be at a sodeine. But
to retourn to our matter of the Meerie Pranckes of women,
I say not that they do well to beeguile their husbandes :
but I say that some of the deceites whiche Boccaccio
recyteth of women, are pretie and wittie inough, and
especiallye those you have spoken of your selfe. But in
mine ophiion the prancke that Richarde Minutoli wrought,
doeth passe the boundes, and is muche more bitterer then
that Beatrice wrought. For Richarde Minutoli tooke
muche more from Philippellos wief, then did Beatrice from
Egano her husbande : bicause Richarde with that privie
poUicie enforced her, and made her to do of herself that
she wolde not have done : and Beatrice deceyved her hus-
bande to do of herself that she lusted.
CC 201
THE SECOND BOOKE
Love without
dissimulatiou,
Tradiment
against one
beloved.
The true end
of lovers
desires.
Unhonest
lovers.
Gyftes in
love.
Then saide the L. Gaspar: For no other cause can a
manne excuse Beatrice but for love, whiche ought to be
alowed aswell in men as in women.
Then answered M. Bernarde : Trulye the passions of
love bringe with them a great excuse of everye fault, yet
judge I (for my part) that a Gentilman that is in love,
ought aswell in this point as in all other thynges, to be
voide of dissimulation, and of an upright meaninge. And
if it be true that it is such an abhominable profit and
trespace to use tradiment against a mans verie ennemye :
consider you how muche more haynous that offence is
againste a person whom a man loveth. And I beleave ech
honest lover susteyneth such peynes, such watchinges,
hasardeth himselfe in suche daungers, droppeth so manie
teares, useth so manie meanes and wayes to please the
woman whom he loveth, not cheeflye to come bye her body,
but to winn the fortresse of that minde, to breake in peeces
those most harde Diamondes, to heate that colde yce, that
lye manye times in the tender brestes of these women. And
this do I beleave is the true and sounde pleasure, and the
ende wherto the entent of a noble courage is bent. And
for my part trulye (were I in love) I wold like it better to
know assuridlye that she whom I loved and served loved me
again with hert, and had bent her minde towarde me,
without receiving any other contentation, then to enjoy e
her and to have my fill of her againste her owne will, for
in that case I shoulde thinke my selfe maister of a deade
carcase. Therfore suche as compase their desires by the
meane of these Meerie Pranckes, which maye perhappes
rather be termed Tradimentes then Meerie Pranckes, do
injury e to other, and yet receyve they not for all that the
contentacion which a man should wishe for in lovef possess-
ynge the bodie without the will. The like I saye of certein
other that in love practise enchauntmentes, sorceries, and
otherwhile plaine force, sometime meanes to cast them in
sleepe and suche like matters. And knowe for a sooth, that
gyftes also diminishe muche the pleasures of love, bicause a
man male stand in doubt whether he be beloved or no, but
that the woman maketh a countenance to love him, to fare
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the better by him : therfore ye see that the love of Ladies
and great women is esteamed, bicause it appeereth that it
can arrise of none other cause, but of perfect and true love,
neyther is it to be thoughte that a great Ladye wyll at anye
tyme showe to beare good will to her inferiour, onlesse she
love him in verye deede.
Then answered the L. Gaspar : I denie not that the
entent, the peynes and daungers of lovers ought not prin-
cipally to have their ende dyrected to the victorye rather of
the minde then of the bodye of the woman beloved. But I
saye that these deceytes whiche you in men terme Tradi-
mentes, and in women INIeerie prankes, are a verie good V
meane to come to this ende, bicause alwayes he that pos- \^
sesseth the bodie of women, is also maister of the mind. /
And if you beethinke you well, Philippellos Avief after her
great lamentatyon for the deceyt wrought her by Richard,
knowinge howe muche more savourye the kysses of a lover
were then her husbandes, tournynge her rigour into tender
affection towarde Richarde, from that daye forwarde loved
hym moste deerlye. You maye perceive nowe that his
continuall hauntinge, hys presentes, and hys so manye other
tokens, whyche had bine so longe a proof of hys good will
toward her, were not able to compasse that, that hys
beeyinge with her a smalle while did. Nowe see this Meerie
Prancke or Tradiment (howe ever you will terme it) was a
good waye to wynn the fortresse of that minde.
Then M. Bernarde : You (quoth he) make a surmise, which
is most false, for in case women should alwayes give their
minde to him that possesseth their body, there should be
none found that wold not love their husbandes more then
anye person in the worlde beesyde, where it is scene not to
be so. But John Boccaccio was (as you be) without cause
an ennemye to women.
The L. Gaspar answered : I am no ennemye of theirs, but
(to confesse the troth) fewe menne of woorthynesse there
be that generally set any store by women, although other-
while, to serve their tourne withall, they make wise to the
contrarye.
Then answered IVI. Berxarde : You doe not onelye
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THE SECOND BOOKE
injurye to women, but to all menne also that reverence
them : notwithstandinge (as I have saide) I will not swarve
from my first pourpose of Meerie Pranckes, and undertake
suche an enterprise so harde, as is the defence of women
against you, that are a valiant Champyon. Therfore I will
ende this my communication, whyche perhappes hath byne
lenger then needed, but oute of paraventure not so pleasaunt
as you looked for. And syns I see the Ladyes so quyet and
beare these injuries at youre handes so pacyentlye as they
doe, I wyll hensefurth beleave that some parte of that which
the L. Octavian hath spoken is true : namely that they
passe not to be yll reported of in everye other matter, so
theyr honesty be not touched.
Then a greate parte of the women there, for that the
Dutchesse had beckened to them so to doe, arrose upon
their feete, and ran all laughyng toward the L. Gaspar, as
they wold have buffeted him and done as the wood women
Orpheus was did to Orpheus, saing continually : Now shall we see whether
torne in we passe to be yll spoken of or no,
peeces with rj.j^^g partlye for laughinge, and partlye for the risinge of
everye one from his seate, yt seemed the sleepe that now
beegane to enter into the eyes and heade of some of them
departed.
But the L. Gaspar said : See I pray you where thei have
not reason on their side, they will prevaile by plaine force,
and so end the communication, gevinge us leave to depart
with stripes.
Then answered the L. Emilia : No (quoth she) it shall
not be so : for whan you perceyved M. Bernarde was weerie
of his longe talke, you beegan to speake so muche yll of
women, thinkinge you shoulde finde none to gainsaye you.
But we will sett into the field a fresher knight that shall
fight with you, bicause your offence shall not be so long
unpunished. So tourninge her to the L. Julian that hitherto
had said little, she said unto him : You are counted the
protectour of the honour of women, therfore it is nowe
hyghe time to showe that you come not by this name for
nothinge, and in case ye have not bine woorthelye recom-
pensed at anye time for this profession hitherto, nowe muste
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OF THE COURTYER
you thinke that in puttinge to flight so bitter an ennemy,
you shall binde all women to you muche more, and so muche,
that where they shall do nothinge elles but rewarde you, yet
shall the bondage still remaine freshe, and never cease to be
recompensed.
Then answered the L. Julian : Me thinke (madam) you
show great honour to your ennemy, and verie litle to youre
defender : for undoubtedlye the L. Gaspar hath said nothing
against women, but it hath bine fullye answered by M.
Bernarde. And I beleave everye one of us knoweth, that it
is meete the Courtier beare verie great reverence towarde
women, and a discreete and courtiouse person ought never
to touch their honestie neither in boord, nor in good earnest.
Therfore to dispute of this so open a trueth, were (in maner)
to put a doubt in manifest matters. I thinke wel that the
L. Octavian passed his boundes somwhat in sayinge that
women are most unperfect creatures and not apt to woorke
anye vertuous deede, and of litle or no woorthinesse in
respect of men. And bicause manie times credit is geven to
men of great authority, although they speake not the full
truth, and also whan they speake in boorde, the L. Gaspar
hath suffered himselfe to be lead by the L. Octavians
woordes to saye that Men of wisdome sett no store by them,
which is most false. For I have knowen few men of Men of
woorthinesse at anye time that doe not love and observe worthines
women, the vertue and consequentlye the woorthinesse of^ ®^^®
whom I deeme not a jott inferiour to mens. Yet if we
should come to this contention, the cause of women were
lyke to quaile greatlie, bicause these Lordes have shaped a
Courtier that is so excellent and of so manie divine qualities,
that whoso hath the understanding to consider him to be
such a one as he is, will imagin that the desertes of women
can not attaine to that point. But in case the matter should
be equally devided, we have first necde of so witty and
eloquent a person as is Count Lewis and Sir Fridericke, to
shape a gentilwoman of the Palaice with all perfections due
to a woman, as they have shaped the Courtier with the
perfections beelonging to a man. And then if he that
defended their cause were anie thilige wittie and eloquent,
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THE SECOND BOOKE
I beleave (bicause the truth will be a helpe to him) he
may plainlye showe that women are as full of vertues as
men be.
The Ladye Emilia answered : Nay, a great deale more,
and that it is so you may see, vertue is the female, and vice
the male.
The L, Gaspar then laughed, and tourning him to
M. Nicholas Phrisio : What is your judgement, Phrisio
(quoth he) ?
Phrisio answered : I am sorie for the L, Julian that he is
so seduced with the promises and flatteringe woordes of the
L. Emilia to renn into an errour to speake the thinge whiche
for hys sake I am ashamed of.
The L. Ejiilia answered smilinge : You will sure be
ashamed for your owne sake, whan you shall see the L.
Gaspar after he is convicted, confesse his owne errour and
yours to, and demaunde that pardon whiche we will not
graunt him.
Then spake the Dutchesse : Bicause it is very late, I will
we defar the wholl untill to morow, the more for that I
thinke it well done we folow the L. Julians counsell, that
beefore we come to this disputacion we maye have a gentil-
woman of the Palaice so facioned in all perfections, as these
Lordes have facioned the perfect Courtier.
Madam, quoth the L. Emilia then, I pray God it fall not
to oure lott to give this enterprice to anye confederate with
the L. Gaspar, least he facion us for a gentilwoman of the
Court, one that can do nought elles but looke to the kitchiii
and spinn.
Then saide Phrisio : In deede that is an office fitt for
herr.
Then the Dutchesse : I have a good hope in the L. Julian
(quoth she) who will (for the good witt and judgement I
knowe he is of) imagyn the greatest perfection that maye be
wished in a woman, and in like maner expresse it well in
woordes, and so shal we have somewhat to confounde the
L. Gaspars false accusations withall.
Madam, answered the L. Julian, I wote not whether
youre divise be good or no to committ into my handes an
206
OF THE COURTYER
enterprise of so greate weight, for (to tell you the troth) I
thinke not my selfe able inoughe. Neyther am I like the
Count and Sir Fridericke, whiche with their eloquence have
shaped suche a Courtier as never was, nor I beleave ever
shalbe. Yet if your pleasure be so that I shall take this
bourden upon me, let it be at the least with those condicions
that the other have had before me : namely, that everie
man, where he shall thinke good, maye replye against
me, and this shall I recken not overthuartinge but aide,
and perhappes in correctynge mine erroures we shall finde
the perfection of a gentilwoman of the Palaice whiche we
seeke for.
I trust, answered the Dutchesse, your talke shall be such,
that litle may be saide against you. Therfore settle your
minde to thynke upon onlie this and facion us suche a
Gentilwoman that these our adversaries maye be ashamed to
say, that she is not equall with the Courtier in vertue : of
whom it shall be well done Sir Friderick speake no more, for
he hath but to well sett him furth, especiallye sins we must
compare a woman to him.
I have (madam) answered Sir Friderick, litle or nothinge
now left to speake of the Courtier, and that I did thinke
upon, M. Bernardes Jestes have made me forgete.
If it be so, quoth the Dutchesse, assembling together to
morow beetimes, we shal have leiser to accomplish both
the one and the other. And whan she had so said,
they arrose all upon their feete, and takynge their
leave reverentlye of the Dutchesse everye man
withdrue him to his lodging.
207
THE THIRDE BOOKE
OF THE COURTYER OF COUNT
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
UNTO MAISTER
ALPHONSUS ARIOSTO
Englisshed at the request of
the Ladye Marquesse of Northampton
in anno 1551
DD 209
THE COURTYER
THE THIRDE BOOKE
T is read that Pithagoras verie wittilye and
after a suttill maner found out the
measure of Hercules bodye, in that he
knewe that the space where everye fyve
yeeres they kept the games or prices of
Olympicus in Achaia nigh unto Elis
beefore Jupiter Olympicus Temple, was Pisis. ad
measured by Hercules himselfe : and ap- Joyem
pointed a furlonge of grounde there of sixe hundreth and ^""f^picum.
five and twentie of his owne feete : and the other furlonges
whiche after his time were caste oute in diverse partes of
Greece by his successors, were also of sixe hundreth and five Plin. lib. ii.
and twentie of their feete, but for all that somewhat shorter ^^V- ^V- De
then his. Pythagoras knewe furthwith by that proportion "'^ "^' "'*™^*
how muche Hercules foote was bigger then all other mens
feete, and so the measure of his foote once knowen, he
gathered that all Hercules bodye proporcionally in great-
nesse exceaded all other mens, so muche, as that furlonge,
all other furlonges. You may then (gentle M. Alphonsus)
by the verie same reason easlie gather by this least parte
of all the rest of the bodye, how farr the Court of Urbin The Court
excelled all the other in Italy. For if the sportes and of Urbin.
pastymes (that are used to none other end but to refresh
the werisome mindes after earnest labours) far passed all
such as are commonly used in the other Courtes of Italy :
what (gesse you) were al the other vertuous practises,
wherunto al men had their mindes bent and were full and
wholly addicted. And of this I may be boulde to make
my vaunt, nothing mistrusting but to be credited therin,
211
THE THIRDE BOORE
consideringe I goe not about to praise so auntient antiquities
wherin I might, if I were disposed, feine what I lusted : but
of this I speake, I am able to bringe furth manie men of
woorthy credence, for sufficient triall, whiche as yet are in
lief and have themselves seene and marked well the livinge
and conversation of such as in times past excelled in that
Court. And I recken my selfe bounde (for that lyeth in me
to do) to stretch furth my force with all diligence to defende
this famous memorie from mortall oblivion, and with my
penn to make it live in the mindes of oure posteritie, wherby
perhappes in time to come there shall not want that will
envie this our time. For there is no manne that readeth of
the wonderfull families of times past, but in his mind he
conceyveth a certein greater opinion of them that are
written upon, then it appeereth those bookes can expresse
though they have bine written with perfection : even so do
we consider that all the readers of this our travayle (if at
the least wise it shall deserve so much favour, that it may
come to the sight of noble men and vertuous Ladies) will
cast in their minde and thinke for a surety, that the Court
of Urbin hath bine muche more excellent and better four-
nished with notable men, then we are able to expresse in
writinge. And in case so much eloquence were in me, as
there was prowesse in them, I should nede none other
testimonie to make such give full credence to my woordes,
as have not seene it.
Whan therfore the companye was assembled in the accus-
tomed place the day folowinge at the due hour, and set
with silence, everye man tourned his eyes to Sir Fridericke
and to the L. Julian, waytinge whan the one of them would
beegine to speake his minde.
Wherfore the Dutchesse, after she had bine still a while :
My L. Julian (quoth she) every mans desire is to see this
your Gentilworaan well set furthe, and if you showe us her
not in such maner, that all her beawties maye be discerned,
we will suspect that you are jealous over her.
The L. Julian answered : Madam, if I reckened her
beawtifull, I woulde show you her without any other setting
furth, and in suche wise as Paris did beehoulde the three
212
OF THE COURTYER
Goddesses. But in case these Ladies be not a helpe to me Minerva,
to trim her (who can do it right well) I doubt me, that not Ju^o-
onlye the L. Gaspar and Phrisio, but all the other Lordes ^'^"^"
here shall have a just cause to speake yll of her. Therfore
sins she is yet in some part deemed beawtifuU, perhappes it
shall be better to kepe her close and see what Sir Friderick
hath yet beehind to speake of the Courtier, which (no
doubt) is muche more beawtifull then my woman can be.
That I had in minde, answered Sir Fridericke, is not
so necessary for the Courtier, but it may be left out, and
no hurt done : yea, it is a contrarye matter almost to that
hitherto hath bine reasoned of.
And what matter is it then ? quoth the Dutchesse.
Sir Fridericke answered : I was pourposed, in what I
coulde, to declare the causes of these companies and ordres
of knightes brought up by great Princis under diverse
standardes, as is that of Saint Michael in the house of Order of
Fraunce, the order of the Garter under the title of Saint ^- ^^^'^J?,*^^-
George in the house of Englande, the Golden Flice in the q£.Jj^q^j,^^
house of Burgony, and how these dignities be geven, and in piise.
what sort thei that deserve are disgi-aded from them, how
they first came up, who were the founders of them, and to
what ende they were ordeined, bicause we see that these
knightes in great Courtes are alwayes highlye esteamed. I
minded also, if time had suffised me, beside the diversitie of
maners used in the Courtes of christian Princes in feasting
and appeeringe in open showes, to speake somewhat also of
the great Turkes: but much more particularly e of the Sophyes Great Turke.
kinge of Persia : for whan I understood by merchaunt men The Sophy,
a longe time trafficked in that countrey, the noble men
there to be very ful of prowesse and well manered and use
in their conversation one with an other, and in womens
service, and in all their practisinges much courtesie and
great sobrietie, and whan time serveth, in marciall feates, in
sportinges, and undertaking enterprises much sumptuousnes,
great liberality and braverie, I delited to knowe what order
they take in these thinges which they sett most store by,
wherin their Pompes consist and braveries of garmentes and
armour, wherin they differ from us, and wherin we agree,
213
THE THIRDE BOOKE
what kinde of enterteinnient their women use, and with
what sober mode they showe favour to who so is in their
love service : but to say the truth, it is no fitt time nowe to
entre into this talke, especiallye sins there is other to be
said, and much more to our pourpose then this.
Yes, quoth the L. Gaspar, both this and many other
thinges be more to the pourpose, then to facion this gentil-
woman of the Palaice, forsomuche as the verie same rules
that are given for the Courtier, serve also for the woman,
for aswell ought she to have respect to times and places
and to observe (asmuche as her weaknesse is able to bearg)
all the other properties that have bin somuch reasoned
upon, as the Courtier. And therfore in steade of this, it
were not perhappes amisse to teach some particular pointes
that beelong to the service about a Princis person, for no
doubt the Courtier ought to know them and to have a
grace in doing them. Or els to speake of the way that he
ought to take in the bodily exercises, how to ride, to handle
weapon, and wrastle, and wherin consisteth the hardnes of
these feates.
Then spake the Dutchessk, smiling : Princis are not
served about their persons with so excellent a Courtier as
this is. As for the exercises of bodye and strength and
slightnes of person, we will leave them for M. Peter Mount
here to take charge to teache them whan he shall thinke
most meete, for presently the L. Julian hath nothinge elles
to speake of, but of this woman, whom (me thinke) you
nowe beegine to have a feare of, therfore woulde brynge
us oute of oure pourpose.
Phrisio answered : Certein it is, that nowe it is neecl-
lesse and out of pourpose to talke of women, especially
beeinge yet beehinde somwhat to be spoken of the Courtier,
for the one matter ought not to be mingled with the other.
You are in a great errour, answered the L. Cesar Gon-
ZAGA, for like as no Court, how great ever it be, can have
any sightlinesse, or brightnesse in it, or mirth without
women, nor anie Courtier can be gratious, pleasant or
hardye, nor at anye time undertake any galant enterprise
of Chivalrye onlesse he be stirred wvth the conversacion and
21 4
OF THE COURT YER
wyth the love and contentacion of women, even so in like
case the Courtiers talke is most unperfect ever more, if the
entercourse of women give them not a part of the grace
wherwithall they make perfect and decke out their playing
the Courtier.
The L. OcTAviAN laughed and saide : Beehoulde a peece
of the bayte that bringeth men out of their wittes.
Then the L. Julian tourning him to the Dutchesse :
Madam (quoth he) sins it is so youre pleasure, I will speake
that commeth to minde, but with verie great doubt to
satisfie. And iwisse a great deale lesse peine it were for me
to facion a lady that should deserve to be Queene of the
world, then a perfect gentilwoman of the Court, for of herr
I wote not where to fett any pattern, but for a Queene I
should not neede to seeke farr, and sufficient it were for me
onlye to imagin the heavenly condicions of a lady whom I
know, and through seeynge them, direct all my thoughtes
to expresse plainlye with woordes the thynge that manye see
with their eyes, and where I could do no more, yet should
I fulfill my dutie in naminge her.
Then said the Dutchesse : Passe not your boundes (my
L. Julian) but minde the order taken, and facion the gentil-
woman of the Palaice, that this so woorthie a maistresse
maye have hym that shall woorthelie serve her.
The L. JuLiAX proceaded : For a proof therfore (Madam)
that your commaundement may drive me to assay e to do,
yea the thinge I have no skill in, I shall speake of this
excellent woman, as I would e have her. And whan I have
facioned her after my minde, and can afterwarde gete none
other, I will take her as mine owne, after the example of
Pigmalion. And where as the L. Gaspar hath said, that Ovid. lib. xiii.
the verye same rules that are given for the Courtier, ^letam.
serve also for the woman, I am of a contrarye opinion.
For albeit some qualities are commune and necessarye as-
well for the woman as the man, yet are there some other
more meeter for the woman then for the man, and some
again meete for the man, that she ought in no wise to
meddle withall. The verie same I saye of the exercises of
the bodye. But principally in her facions, maners, woordes,
215
THE THIRDE BOOKE
differ from
the man
In what they
agree.
Wherin the gestures and conversation (me thinke) the woman ought to
woman should be niuche unlike the man. For right as it is seemlye for
him to showe a certein manlinesse full and steadye, so doeth
It well in a woman to have a tendernes, soft and milde, with
a kinde of womanlie sweetnes in everye gesture of herrei^
that in goyng, standinge and speakinge what ever she
lusteth, may alwayes make her appeere a Avoman without
anye likenes of man. Adding therfore this principle to the
rules that these Lordes have taught the Courtier, I thinke
well, she maye serve her tourne with manye of them, and be
endowed with verye good qualities, as the L. Gaspar saith.
For many vertues of the minde I recken be as necessary
for a woman, as for a man. Likewise noblenesse of birth,
avoidinge Affectation or curiositie, to have a good grace of
nature in all her doinges, to be of good condicyons, wyttye,
foreseeyng, not haughtie, not envious, not yll tunged, not
light, not contentious, not untowardlye, to have the know-
leage to wynn and kepe the good wyll of her Ladye and of
all others, to do well and with a good grace the exercises
comely for women. Me thinke well beawty is more neces-
sarie in her then in the Courtier, for (to saye the truth)
there is a great lacke in the woman that wanteth beawtie.
She ought also to be more circumspect and to take better
heed that she give no occasion to be yll reported of, and so
to beehave her selfe, that she be not onlye not spotted
wyth anye fault, but not so much as with suspicion.
Bicause a woman hath not so manye wayes to defende her
selfe from sclaunderous reportes, as hath a man. But for
somuch as Count Lewis hath verye particularly expressed
the principall profession of the Courtier, and willeth it to
be in Marsiall feates, me thinke also beehouffuU to uttre
(according to my judgement) what the Gentilwomans of the
Palace ought to be : in which point whan I have throughlye
satisfied, I shall thinke my self rid of the greatest part of
my dutye. Leaving therfore a part the vertues of the
minde that ought to be commune to her with the Courtier,
as wisdome, noblenes of courage, staidenesse, and manie mo,
and likewise the condicions that are meete for all women,
as to be good and discreete, to have the understanding to
216
Beawtie.
Vertues of
the minde.
Commune
properties.
OF THE COURTYER
jjrder her husbandes gooddes and her house and children
whan she is maried, and all those partes that beelonge to a
good huswief : I say that for her that liveth in Court, me
thinke there beelongeth unto her above all other thinges, a
certein sweetnesse in language that may delite, wherby she Sweetenesse
may gentlie entertein all kinde of men with talke woorth in language.
the hearynge and honest, and applyed to the time and place,
and to the degree of the person she communeth withall :
accompaniyng with sober and quiet maners and with the
honestye that must alwayes be a stay to all her deedes,
a readie livelines of wit, wherby she may declare herselfe Livelinesse
far wide from all dulnesse : but with such a kinde of goodnes. of witt.
that she may be esteamed no lesse chaste, wise and courteise,
then pleasant, feat conceited and sobre : and therfore must
she kepe a certein meane very hard, and (in a maner) dirived A meane.
of contrarie matters, and come just to certein limites, but
not passe them. This woman ought not therfore (to make
herself good and honest) be so skemish and make wise to
abhorr both the companye and the talke (though somwhat Wanton
of the wantonnest) if she be present, to gete her thens by ^^■
and by, for a man may lightlye gesse that she feined to be
so coye to hide that in herselfe, whiche she doubted others
might come to the knowleage of: and such nice facions are
alwaies hateful. Neither ought she again (to showe herself To much
free and pleasant) speake wordes of dishonesty, nor use a lamiliantye.
certein familiaritye withoute measure and bridle, and facions
to make men beleave that of her, that perhappes is not :
but beeinge present at suche kinde of talke, she ought to ^'V "
geve the hearinge with a litle blushing and shamefastnes.
Likewise to eschew one vice that I have seen reigne in
many : namely, to speake and willingly to give ear to such To speake
as report ill of other women : for suche as in hearinge the and give eare
dishonest beehaviours of other women disclosed, are offended of other
at the matter, and make wise not to credit and (in maner) women,
to thinke it a wonder that a woman should lead an uncleane ^
lief, they make proof that sins this fault seemeth unto them
so foule a matter, they commit it not. But those that go
alwaies harking out the loves of others and disclose them so
point by point, and with such joye, it seemeth that they
EE 217
THE THIRDE BOOKE
Honest
women
esteamed with
all men.
Beehaviour
in talke.
envy the matter, and that their desire is to have all men
know it, that the like may not be imputed to them for a
trespace, and so they tourne it to certein laughters with a
kind of gesture, wherby they make men to suspect at the
verie same instant that they take great contentacion at it.
And of this arriseth, that men although to their seeming
they give diligent ear to it, for the most part conceive an
ill opinion of them and have them in verye small reputation,
and (to their weeninge) with these beehaviours are enticed
to attempt them farther. And many times afterward they
renn so farr at rovers, that it purchaseth them worthely an
yll name, and in conclusion are so litle regarded, that men
passe not for their companie, but rather abhorr them. And
contrariwise, there is no man so shameles and high minded,
but beareth a great reverence towarde them that be counted
good and honest, bicause that gravitie tempered with know-
leage and goodnes, is (as it were) a shield against the
wanton pride and beastlines of saucy merchauntes. Wher-
fore it is seen that one woord, a laughter or a gesture of
good will (how litle soever it be) of an honest woman, is
more set by of every man, then al the toyes and wanton
gestures of them that so lavishly show small shamefastnesse.
And where they leade not in deede an uncleane lief, yet
wyth those wanton countenaunces, babblinge, scornfulnesse,
and suche scofFynge condicions they make men to thinke
they do. And forsomuch as wordes that are not grounded
upon some pithie foundacion, are vaine and childishe, the
Gentilwoman of the Palaice, beeside her discreation to
understand the condicion of him she talketh withall, to
entertein him honestlye, must needes have a sight in manie
thinges, and a judgemente in her communication to pike
out such as be to pourpose for the condicion of him she
talketh withall, and be heedefull that she speake not other-
while where she wold not, woordes that may offende him.
Let her beeware of praysing her selfe undiscreatly, or
beeinge to tedious that she make him not weerie. Let her
not go mingle with pleasant and laughing talke, matters of
gravitie : nor yet with grave, Jestes and feat conceites. Let
her not foolishlye take upon her to know that she knoweth
Jil8
OF THE COURT YER
not, but soberly seeke to be esteamed for that she knoweth, :i v o i ^
avoiding (as is saide) Curiositie in all thinges. In this Curiositie.
maner shall she be indowed with good condicions, and the
exercises of the body comlie for a woman shall she do with
an exceading good grace, and her talke shall be plentuous
and ful of wisdome, honesty, and pleasaiitnesse : and so
shall she be not only beloved but reverenced of all men, and
perhappes woorthie to be compared to this great Courtier,
aswel for the qualities of the minde as of the bodye.
Whan the L. Julian had hitherto spoken, he helde his
peace, and settled himselfe as thoughe he had made an ende
of his talke.
Then said the L. Gaspar : No doubt (my L. Julian) but
you have decked gaily out this Gentilwoman, and made her
of an excellent condicion : yet me seemeth that you have
gone generallye inough to woorke, and named in her certein
thinges so great, that I thinke in my minde you are ashamed
to expounde them, and have rather wished them in her,
after the maner of them that somtime wishe for thinges
unpossible and above nature, then taught them. Therfore
woulde I that you declared unto us a little better, what
exercises of the bodye are meete for a Gentilwoman of the ^
Palaice, and in what sorte she ought to entertein, and what
those many thinges be whiche you saye she ought to have
a sight in : and whether wisedome, noblenesse of courage,
staidnesse and those manye other vertues that you have
spoken of, your meaninge is should helpe her about the
overseeinge onlie of her house, children and houshoulde
(the which neverthelesse you will not have her principall
profession) or els to entertein, and to do these exercises of
the body with a good grace : and in good felowship take
lieede ye put not these seelie vertues to so vyle an occupa-
tion that they may be ashamed of it.
The L. Julian laughed and said : You can not chouse
»(my L. Gaspar) but still you must uttre youre yll stomake
againste women. But certes me thought I had spoken
sufficient, and especiallie beefore such audience, that I
beleave none here, but understandeth concernynge the ex-
ercises of the body, that it is not comlye for a woman to
219
THE THIRDE BOOKE
Daunsing.
Singinge.
Speculation
of musike.
Instrumentes
of musike.
How she
should come
to showe her
feates.
Garmentes.
practise feates of amies, ridinge, playinge at tenise, wrast-
ling, and manye other thynges that beelonge to men.
Then said Unico Aretino : Enionge them of olde _time
the maner was that women wrastled naked with men, but
we have lost this good custome together with manye mo.
The L. Cesar Gonzaga replied to this : And in my
time I have seene woman playe at tenise, practise feates of
armes, ride, hunt, and do (in a maner) all the exercises
beeside, that a gentihnan can do.
The L. Julian answered : Sins I may facion this woman
after my minde, I will not onelye have her not to practise
these manlie exercises so sturdie and boisterous, but also
even those that are meete for a woman, I will have her to
do them with heedefulnesse and with the soft mildenesse
that we have said is comelie for her. And therfore in
daunsynge I would not see her use to swift and violent
trickes, nor yet in singinge or playinge upon instrumentes
those harde and often divisions that declare more counninge
then svveetenesse. Likewise the instrumentes of musike
which she useth (in mine opinion) ought to be fitt for this
pourpose. Imagin with your selfe what an unsightly matter
it were to see a woman play upon a tabour or drumm, or
bio we in a flute or trompet, or anye like instrumente : and
this bicause the boisterousnesse of them doeth both cover
and take away that sweete mildenes which setteth so furth
everie deede that a woman doeth. Therfore whan she
commeth to daunse, or to show any kinde of musike, she
ought to be brought to it with suffringe her self somewhat
to be prayed, and with a certein bashfulnes, that may
declare the noble shamefastnes that is contrarye to headi-
nesse. She ought also to frame her garmentes to this
entent, and so to apparaile herself that she appeere not
fonde and light. But forsomuch as it is lefull and neces-
sary for women to sett more by their beawty then men, and
sundrie kindes of beawtie there are, thys woman ought to
have a judgement to knowe what maner garmentes set her
best out, and be most fitt for the exercises that she entendeth
to undertake at that instant, and with them to arraye
herselfe. And where she perceyveth in her a sightlye and
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cheerfull beawtye, she ought to farther it with gestures, Beawtie. \/
wordes and apparaile, that all may betoken mirth. In like
case an other that feeleth herself of a milde and grave
disposition, she ought also to accompany it with facions
of the like sort, to encrease that that is the gift of nature.
In like maner where she is somwhat fatter or leaner then
reasonable sise, or wanner, or browner, to helpe it with '
garmentes, but feiningly asmuch as she can possible, and
keapinge herselfe clenlye and handsome, showe alwaies that
she bestoweth no pein nor diligence at all about it. And
bicause the L. Gaspar doeth also aske what these manye
thinges be she ought to have a sight in, and howe to enter-
tein, and whether the vertues ought to be applyed to this
enterteinment, I saye that I will have her to understande A judgement
that these Lordes have wylled the Courtier to knowe : and i" exercises
in those exercises that we have saide are not comelye for ^^t meete tor
her, I will at the least she have that judgement, that men
can have of the thinges which they practise not, and this to
have knowleage to praise and make of Gentilmen more and
lesse accordinge to their desertes. And to make a breef Qualities for
rehecsftll in fewe woordes of that is alreadye saide, I will a Gentil-
tRat this woman have a sight in letters, in musike, in draw- ^om^n. ^.
inge or peinctinge, and skilfull in daunsinge, and in divising
sportes and pastimes, accompaniynge with that discreete
sobermode and with the givinge a good opinion of herselfe,
the other principles also that have bine taught the Courtier.
And thus in conversation, in laughing, in sporting, in jest-
inge, finally in every thinge she shall be had in very great
price, and shall entertein accordingly both with Jestes and
feat conceites meete for her, everie person that commeth in
her company. And albeit staidnes, noblenes of courage,
temperance, strength of the minde, wisdome and the other
vertues a man wold thinke beelonged not to entertein, yet Vertues.
will I have her endowed with them all, not somuch to
entertein (although notwithstanding they may serve therto
also) as to be vertuous : and these vertues to make her
suche a one, that she may deserve to be esteamed, and al
her doinges framed by them.
I wonder then, quoth the L. Gaspar smilinge, sins you
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give women both letters, and staidnesse, and noblenesse of
courage and temperance, ye will not have them also to
beare rule in Cities and to make lawes, and to leade armies,
and men to stand spinning in the kitchin.
The L. Julian answered in like maner smiling : Per-
happes to, this were not amisse, then he proceaded. Do
you not know that Plato (which in deede was not very
friendly to women) giveth them the overseeing of Cities,
and all other marciall offices he appointeth to men ? Thinke
you not there were manye to be found that could aswel skill
in ruling Cities and armies, as men can ? But I have not
appointed them these offices, bicause I facion a waiting
gentilwoman of the Court, not a queene. I se wel you wold
covertly have up again the sclaunderous report that the
L. Octavian gave women yesterday : namely. That they be
moste unperfect creatures, and not apt to woorke anye
vertuous deed, and of verie litle woorthiness and of no value
in respet of men. But surelye both he and you should be in
verie great errour if ye thought so.
Then saide the L. Gaspar : I wyll not have up again
matters alreadye past, but you woulde faine presse me to
speake some worde that might offende these Ladies mindes,
to make them my foes, as you with flattringe them falselye
will purchase their good will. But they are so wise above
other, that they love trueth better (althoughe it make not
so muche with them) then false praises : neyther take they
it in yll part for a man to save, that Men are of a more
woorthiness, and they will not let to confesse that you have
spoken greate wonders, and appointed to the gentilwoman
of the Palaice certein fonde unpossible matters, and so many
vertues that Socrates and Cato and all the Philosophers in
the worlde are nothinge to her. For to tell you the plaine
trothe, I marveile you were not ashamed somuch to passe
youre boundes, where it ought to have suffised ye to make this
gentilwoman of the Palaice beawtifull, sober, honest, wel-
spoken, and to have the understandinge to entertein without
renninge in sclaunder, with daunsinge, musike, sportes,
laughing, Jestes, and the other matters that we see daily
used in Court : but to go about to give her the knowleage
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^f all thinges in the worlde, and to appoint her the vertues
ihat so syldome times are seene in men, yea and in them of
old time, it is a matter that can neyther be held withall nor ^^
gcantlye heard. Now that women are unperfect creatures
and consequently of less woorthiness then men, and not apt (
to conceive those vertues that they are, I pourpose not to I
affirme it, bicause the prowesse of these Ladies were inough
to make me a Iyer. Yet this I saye unto you, that most
wise men have left in writinge, that nature, bicause she is
alwaies set and bent to make thinges most perfect, if she
coulde, woulde continuallye bring furth men, and whan a
woman is borne, it is a slacknes or default of nature, and A woman ,
contrary to that she would do. As it is also seene in one the default
borne blinde, lame, or with some other impediment, and jn *^ ^^*"'^®'
trees manye frutes that never ripen : even so may a woman
be said to be a creature brought furth at a chaunce and by
happe, and that it is so, marke me the woorkes of the man
and the woman, and by them make your proof of the perfec-
tion of ech of them. Howbeit sins these defaultes of women
are the wite of nature that hath so brought them furthe, we d- —
ought not for this to hate them, nor feint in havinge lesse
respect to them then is meete, but to esteame them above
that they are, me thinketh a plaine errour.
The L. Julian' looked the L. Gaspar would have pro-
ceaded on still, but whan he sawe nowe that he helde his
peace, he said : Of the unperfectnes of women me thinke
you have alleaged a verye cold reason, wherunto (albeit may
happ it were not now meete to entre into these subtil
pointes) I answere accordinge to the opinion of him that is
of skill, and accordinge to the truth, that Substance in what Substantia
ever thinge it be, can not receive into it more or less : for as ^on redpit
no stone can be more perfectlye a stone, then an other : as '"?'"* ""^
touchinge the beeinge of a stone : nor one blocke more '"*""*•
perfectlie a blocke, then an other : no more can one man be
more perfectlye a man then an other, and consequently the
male kinde shall not be more perfect, then the female, as
touchinge his formall substance : for both the one and the jjq^q bo^jj
other is conteined under the Species of Homo^ and that man and
wherein they differ is an accidentall matter and no essentiall. woman.
223
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In case you will then tell me that the man is more perfecte
then the woman, thoughe not as touohinge the essential),
yet in the Accidentes, I answere that these accidentes must
consist eyther in the bodye or in the minde : yf in the bodye,
bicause the man is more sturdier, nimbler, lighter, and more
abler to endure travaile, I say that this is an argument
of smalle perfection : for emonge men themselves such as
abounde in these qualities above other, are not for them the
more esteamed : and in warr, where the greatest part of
peinfull labours are and of strength, the stoutest are not for
all that the moste set bye. Yf in the mind, I say, what ever
thinges men can understande, the self same can women
understande also : and where it perceth the capacitie of the
one, it may in likewise perce the others. Here after the
L. Julian had made a litle stopp, he proceaded smilinge:
Do you not know that this principle is helde in Philosophy,
Who so is tender of flesh is apt of mind ? Therfore there is
no doubt, but women beeing tenderer of flesh, are also
apter of minde, and of a more enclined witt to musinges
and speculations, then men. Afterward he folowed on :
But leaving this a part, bicause you said that I should
make my proof of the perfection of ech of them by the
woorkes, I saye unto you, if you consider the effectes of
nature, you shall finde that she bringeth women furth as
they be, not at a chaunce, but fittlye necessary for the ende.
For albeit she shapeth them of bodye not stoute and of a
milde minde, with manye other qualities contrarye to mens,
yet doe the condicions of eche of them stretch unto one self
ende, concerning the self same profit. For even as through
that weake feeblenes women are of a lesser courage, so are
they also by the verye same more warie. Therfore moothers
nourish up children and fathers instruct them, and with
manlines provide for it abrode, that they with carefull dili-
gence store up in the house, which is no lesse praise. In case
you wil then consider the auntient Histories (albeit men at
at all times have bine verie sparing in writinge the prayses
of women) and them of latter dayes, ye shall finde that
continually vertue hath raigned aswell emong women as
men : and that suche there have bine also that have made
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^rr and obteined glorious victories, governed realmes with AV^omen have
great wisdome and justice, and done what ever men have acheved ^reat
done. As touchinge sciences, do you not remember ye have enterprises.
read of so manie that were well seene in Philosophic ? ^^omen
Other, that have bine most excellent in Poetrye ? Other, 1*^^™^^-
that have pleaded, and both accused and defended beefore " V^^o-
Judges most eloquentlye ? Of handicraftes, longe it were "P ^ •
to reherse, neither is it needfull to make any rehersall poetne.
therof. If then in the essentiall substance the man is no Ip Rheto-
more perfect then the woman, nor yet in the Accidentes
(and of this beeside reason, the experiences are seene) I
wote not wherein this his perfection shoulde consist. And
bicause you saide that Natures entent is alwaies to bring
furth thinges most perfect, and therfore if she could, would
alwayes bringe furth a man, and that the bringing a woman
furth is rather a default and slackenesse of nature, then her
entent, I answere you that this is ful and wholly to be
denied, neither can I see whie you maye saye that nature
entendeth not to bringe furth women, without whom man-
kind can not be preserved, wherof nature herself is more
desirous then of anye thinge elles, bicause through the
meanes of this felowship of male and female she bringeth
furth children, that restore the received benifites in their
childhood to their fathers in their olde dayes, in that they
nourishe them : afterwarde they renue them, in beegettinge
them selves also other children, of whom they looke in their
old age to receive it, that beeing yonge they beestowed
uppon their fathers : wherby nature (as it were) tourning
her about in a circle, fulfilleth an everlastingnesse, and in
this wise geveth an immortalitie to mortall men. Sins then
to this, the woman is as needefull as the man, I can not
discern for what cause the one is made by happ more then
the other. Truth it is that Nature entendeth alwaies to
bringe furth matters most perfect, and therfore meaneth to
bring furth man in his kinde, but not more male then
female. Yea were it so that she alwayes brought furth
male, then shoulde it withoute peraventure be an unperfect-
nesse : for like as of the bodye and of the soule there
arriseth a compounde more nobler then his partes, whiche
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is, man : even so of the felowshippe of male and female
there arriseth a compounde preservinge mankinde, with-
out which the partes were in decay e, and therfore male
and female by nature are alwaies together, neither can
the one be without the other : right so he ought not
Male can not to be called the male, that hath not a female (accord-
be without inge to the definition of both the one and the other)
female. j-^^j, gj^g ^j^g female that hath not a male. And for so-
much as one kinde alone betokeneth an imperfection, the
V divines of olde time referr both the one and the other
to God : wherfore Orpheus said that Jupiter was both
male and female : and it is read in Scripture that God
facioned male and female to his likeness. And the Poetes
manie times speaking of the Goddes, meddle the kindes
together.
Then the L. Gaspar: I woulde not (quoth he) we should
entre into these subtill pointes, for these women will not
understande us. And albeit I answere you with verie good
reasons, yet will they beleave, or at the leaste make wise to
beleave that I am in the wrong, and furthwith will geve sen-
tence as they lust. Yet sins we are entred into them, only
/ this will I saye, that (as you know, it is the opinion of most
Fourme. wise men) the man is likened to the Fourme, the woman to
the Mattier : and therfore as the Fourme is perfecter then
Mattier. the Mattier, yea it giveth him his beeing, so is the man
much more perfect then the woman. And I remember that
Aristot. I have heard (whan it was) that a greate Philosopher in
i. Physic, xviii. certein Problemes of his saith : Whens commeth it that
naturally the woman alwaies loveth the man, that hath bine
the first to receive of her, amorous pleasures ? And con-
trariwise the man hateth the woman that hath bine the
first to coople in that wise with him ? and addinge therto
the cause, affirmeth it to be this : For that in this act, the
woman recey veth of the man perfection, and the man of the
woman imperfection : and therfore everie man naturallye
loveth the thinge that maketh him perfect, and hateth that
maketh him unperfect. And beeside this a great argument
of the perfection of the man, and of the imperfection of the
woman, is, that generallye everye woman wisheth she were a
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man, by a certein provocation of nature, that teacheth her
to wishe for her perfection.
The L. Julian answered sodeinlye : The seelie poore
creatures wish not to be a man to make them more per-
fect, but to have libertye, and to be ridd of the rule that
men have of their owne authoritie chalenged over them.
And the similitude which you give of the Mattier and
Fourme, is not alike in everye point : bicause the woman is
not made so perfect by the man, as is the Mattier by the
Fourme, for the Mattier receiveth his beeinge of the Fourme,
and can not stande without it: yea the more Mattier
Fourmes have, the more imperfection they have withall, and
severed from it, are most perfect : but the woman receiveth
not her beeinge of the man, yea as she is made perfect by
the man, so doeth she also make him perfect : wherby both
the one and the other come together to beegete children :
the whyche thinge they can not do any of them by them
selves. The cause then of the continuall love of the woman
towarde the first that she hath bine with, and of the hatred
of the man towarde the first woman, I will not aflfirme to be
that youre Philosopher alleageth in his Problemes, but I
impute it to the surenesse and stablenesse of the woman,
and waveringe of the man, and that not without naturall
reason : for sins the male is naturallye hott, by that qua-
litie he taketh lightnesse, stirring and unstedfastnes, and
contrariwise the woman tiiroughe colde, quietnesse, steadie
waightinesse, and more earnest imprintiriges.
Then the L. Emilia tourninge her to the L. Julian : For
love of God (quoth she) come once out of these your
Mattiers and Fourmes and males and females, and speake so
that you maye be understoode : for we have heard and very
well understoode the ill that the L. Octavian and the L.
Gaspar have spoken of us: but sins we understande not
nowe in what sort you stand in our defence, me thinke
therfore that this is a straiynge from the pourpose, and a
leavinge of the yvell imprintinge in everye mans minde that
these our ennemies have given of us.
Give us not this name, answered the L. Gaspar, for
more meter it were for the L. Julian, whiche in givinge
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V
Heat iiiuche
perfect ^r
then coMe.
Heate.
Women
cold of com-
plexion.
Why the
woman is
more tem-
perat then
the man.
women false prayses, declareth that there are none true
for them.
The L. Julian saide then : Doubt ye not (madam) all
shall be answered to. But I will not raile upon men so
without reason, as they have done upon women. And if
perchaunce there were any one here that meant to penn this
our talke, I wolde not that in place where these Mattiers
and Fourmes were understoode, the argumentes and reasons
which the L. Gaspar alleageth against you shoulde be scene
unanswered to.
I wote not, my L. Julian, quoth then the L. Gaspar,
howe in this you can denie, that the man is not throughe
his naturall qualities more perfect then the woman, whiche
of complexion is colde and the man hott, and muche more
nobler and perfecter is heate then colde, bicause it is active
and furth bringinge : and (as you know) the element pour-
eth downe here emonge us onlye heate, and not colde, which
perceth not the woorkes of nature : and therfore bicause
women are colde of complexion, I thinke it is the cause of
their feinthertednes and fearfulnesse.
Will you still, answered the L. Julian, entre into subtill
pointes.? you shall perceive your self at everye time to come
into a greater pecke of troubles : and that it is so, herken
to. I graunt you, that heat in it self is more perfect then
colde, but this foloweth not in meddled matters and com-
pounded, for in case it were so, the body that were most
hot should be most perfect : whiche is false, bicause tem-
perate bodies be most perfect. I do you to weete moreover,
that the woman is of complexion colde in comparason of
the man : which for overmuch heat is far wide from temper :
but as touching herself, she is temperate, or at the least
neerer to temper then the man, bicause she hath that
moisture within her of equall portion with the natural heat,
which in the man through overmuch drouth doth sooner
melt and consume away. She hath also suche a kinde of
colde that it resisteth and comforteth the naturall heate,
and maketh it neerer to temper, and in the man overmuch
heat doth soone bring the natural warmth to the last degree,
the which wanting nourishment, consumeth away : and
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therfore, bicause men in generacion sooner waxe dry then Men sooner
women, it happeneth oftentimes that they are of a shorter ^ne then
lief. AVherfore this perfection may also be geven to women, ^^"'^'i-
that living longer then men, they accomplish it, that is the The perfec- ^
entent of nature more then men. Of the heat that the tion of women ^
element poureth downe upon us, we talke not nowe, bicause ^^^^^ "*®^-
it is diverse in signification to it whiche we entreat upon: 2-"- . ^
the which sins it is nourisher of all thinges under the sphere "'" \'
of the moone aswell hott as colde, it can not be contrarye
to colde. But the fearfulnes in women although it bee- Fearfulnesse
tokeneth an imperfection, yet doth it arrise of a prais- i" women.
woorthie cause, namely the subtilnes and readines of the
spirites, that convey spedely the shapes to the understanding,
and therfore are they soone out of pacience for outward
matters. Full well shall you see many times some men. Heady
that dread neither death nor any thing els, yet are they not persons.
for all that to be called hardy, bicause they know not the
daunger, and goe furth like harbraines where they see the
way open, and cast no more with them selves, and this
proceadeth of a certein grosnes of the dulled spirites :
therfore a fond person can not be said to be stoutherted,
but verie courage in deede commeth of a propre advisement Courage.
and determined will so to doe, and to esteame more a mans
honestie and dutye, then all the perils in the worlde, and
althoughe he see none other waye but death, yet to be of so
quiet an hert and minde that his senses be not to seeke nor
amased, but do their duty in discoursing and beethinkinge,
even as though they were most in quiet. Of this guise and
maner we have scene and heardsay many great men to be,
likewise manie women, which both in olde time and presentlie
have showed stoutenes of courage, and brought matters to
passe in the world woorthie infinite praise, no lesse then
menne have done.
Then said Phrisio : These matters beegan, whan the first
woman in offending made others to offend also against God, Eve. ^^ — -
and for inheritance left unto mankinde death, afflictions,
sorowes, and all other miseries and calamityes, that be felt
nowe adayes in the worlde.
The L. JuLiAX answered : Sins you will also farther youre
229
Our Lady.
S. Hierom.
Religious
men.
THE THIRDE BOOKE
pourpose with entringe into scripture, doe you not knowe
that the same offence was in like maner amended by a
woman ? Whiche hath profited muche more then she hindred
us, so that the trespace acquited with so woorthye a deede,
is counted moste happye. But I pourpose not now to tell
you, how much in dignitie all creatures of mankinde be
inferiour to the virgin our Lady, for meddlinge holye matters
with these our fonde reasoninges : nor reherse howe manye
women with infinite stedfastnes have suffred cruell death
under Tirannes for the name of Christ : nor them that with
learninge in disputacion have confuted so manye Idolatrers.
And in case you will answere me, that this was a miracle
and the grace of the holy ghost, I say unto you that no
vertue deserveth more praise, then tliat which is approved
by the testimonie of God. Manye other also of whom there
is no talke, you your self maye looke upon, especially in
readinge Saint Hierom, which setteth out certein of his
time with such wonderfull prayses, that they might suffise
the holyest man that can be. Imagin then how many there
have bine of whom there is made no mention at all : bicause
the seelie poore soules are kept close without the pompous
pride to seeke a name of holinesse emong the people, that
now a dayes many men have, accursed Hypochrites, which
not minding, or rather setting smalle store bye, the doctrine
of Christ, that willeth a man whan he fasteth, to annoint
his face, that he maye appeere not to faste, and commaundeth
prayer, almes deedes, and other good woorckes, to be done,
not in the markett place, nor Sinagoges, but in secrete, so
that the left hande knowe not of the right, they affirme no
treasure in the world to be greater, then to give a good
example, and thus hanging their head aside and fastning
their eyes upon the grounde, spreadinge a report about, that
they will not once speake to a woman, nor eate anye thinge
but raw herbes, smokve, with their side garmentes all to
ragged and torne, they beeguile the simple : but for all that,
they absteine not from falsifiynge willes, sowinge mortal!
hatred beetweene man and wief, and otherwhile poison:
usinge sorcery, inchauntmentes and al kinde of ribaldrie,
and afterward alleage a certein authoritie of their owne
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heade, that saith : Si non caste, tamen caute, and with this
weene to heale everye greate sore, and with good reason to
perswade hym that is not heedefuU that God forgiveth soone
all offences how heynous ever they be, so they be kept close
and no ill example arriseth of them. Thus with a veile of
holinesse, and this mischevous devise, manie times they
tourne all their thoughtes to defile the chaste minde of some
woman, often times to so we variance beetweene brethren, to
governe states, to set up the one and plucke downe the
other, to chop of heades, to imprison and banish menne, to
be ministers of the wdckednesse, and (in a maner) the storers
and hoorders up of the robberies that many Princes commit.
Other past shame delite to seeme delicate and smothe, with
their croune minionlye shaven, and well clad, and in their
gate lift up their garment to show their hose sit cleane, and
the handsomnesse of person in makinge courteisie. Other
use certein bye lookes and gestures even at masse, whiche
they houlde opinion beecome them wel, and make men to
beehoulde them : mischeevous and wicked menne, and cleane
voide not onlye of all religion but of all good maner. And
whan their naughty lief is laide to them, they make a Jest
at it, and give him a mocke that telleth them of it, and (as
it were) count their vises a prayse.
Then said the L. Emilia : Suche delite you have to
speake yll of Friers, that ye are fallen into this talke
without all pourpose. But you commit a great offence to
murmur against religious persons, and without any profit ye
burden youre conscience : for were it not for them, that they
pray unto God for us, we shoulde yet have far greater plages
then we have.
Then laughed the L. Julian and said : Howe gessed you
so even (Madam) that I spake of Friers, sins I named them
not .'' But forsooth this that I saye, is not called murmuringe,
for I speake it plaine and openlye. And I meane not the
good, but the bad and wicked, of whom I have not yet
spoken the thousandeth part of that I know.
Speake you not now of Friers, answered the L. Emilia :
for I thinke it (for my part) a greevous offence to give eare
to you, and for hearing you any more, I will gete me hens.
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Women uot
inferiour
to men.
Octavia.
Porcia.
Cecilia.
Cornelia.
Alexandra.
Egesipp.lib. 1
cap. 12.
I am well pleased, quoth the L. Juliax, to speake no more
of this. But to retourn to the prayses of women, I save
that the L. Gaspar shall not finde me out any notable man,
but I will finde his wief or sister or daughter of like merite
and otherwhile above him. Beeside that, manie have bine
occasion of infinite goodnesse to their men, and sometime
broken them of manye erroures. Therfore sins women are
(as we have declared) naturallye as apt for the selfe same
vertues, as men be, and the proof therof hath bine often
seene, I wote not whye, in givinge them that is possible
they maye have and sundrie times have had and still have,
I ought to be deemed to speake wonders, as the L. Gaspar
hathe objected against me: consideringe that there have
ever bine in the worlde and still are, women as nigh the
woman of the Palaice whom I have facioned, as men nigh
the man whom these Lordes have facioned.
Then said the L. Gaspar : Those reasons that have
experience against them (in my minde) are not good. And
ywisse, yf I shoulde happen to aske you what these great
women are or have bine, so worthy praise, as the great men
whose wives, sisters, or daughters they have bine, or that
have bine occasion of anye goodnesse, or such as have broken
them of their erroures, I beeleave it woulde combre you
shreudlye.
Surely, answered the L. Julian, none other thinge coulde
combre me, but the multitude of them : and if time served
me, I woulde tell you to this pourpose the Hystories of
Octavia wief to Marcus Antonius and sister to Augustus.
Of Porcia daughter to Cato and wief to Brutus. Of Caia
Cecilia wief to Tarquinius Priscus. Of Cornelia daughter
to Scipio, and of infinite other, which are most knowen.
And not onelve these of oure Countrey, but also Barbariens,
as that Alexandra whiche was wief to Alexander Kinge of
the Jewes, who after the death of her husbande, seeinge the
people in an uprore, and alreadye runn to weapon to slea
the two children whiche he had left beehinde hym, for a
revenge of the cruell and streict bondage that their father
had alwayes kept them in, she so beehaved herselfe, that
sodeinlye she asswaged that just furye, and in a moment,
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with wisdome made those myndes favourable to the children,
whyche the father in manye yeeres with infinit injuries had
made their most ennemies.
Tell us at the leaste, answered the L. Emilia, howe she
The L. Julian saide : She perceiving her children in so
great a jeopardye, immediatlye caused Alexanders bodye to
be caste oute into the middes of the markett place : after-
warde calling unto her the Citizins, she said, that she knewe
their mindes were set on fire wyth moste juste furye againste
her husbande : for the cruell injuries whiche he wickedlye she asswaged
had done them, deserved it : and even as whan he lyved, she the furye of
dyd her best alwayes to withdrawe hym from so wicked a *^® people,
lief, so nowe she was readie to make a triall therof, and to
helpe them to chastise him even deade, asmuch as she might,
and therfore should take that bodye of his and give it to be
devoured of Dogges, and rente it in peeces in the cruellest
maner they coulde imagin. But yet she desired them to
take pitye uppon the innocent chyldren, that coulde not
onelye be in no fault, but not so muche as weettynge of
their fathers yll doynges. Of such force were these woordes,
that the ragynge furye once conceyved in all that peoples
myndes was sodainlye asswaged, and tourned into so tender
an affection, that not onelye with one accorde they chose
those children for their heades and rulers, but also to the
deade corps they gave a most honourable buryall.
Here the L. Julian made a little pause, afterwarde he
proceaded : Knowe you not that Mithridates wyef and Laodice.
Svsters showed a farre lesse feare of death, then Mithridates
him selfe ? And Asdruballes wief, then Asdrubal himselfe ?
Know you not that Harmonia daughter to Hiero the Syra- Harmonia.
cusan, w^oulde have died in the burninge of her Countrye?
Then Phrisio : Where obstinacye is bent, no doubt
(quoth he) but otherwhile ye shall find some women that
will never chaunge pourpose, as she that coulde no lenger
call her husbande pricklouse, with her handes made him a
The L. Julian laughed and said : Obstinacy that is bent called sted-
to a vertuous ende, ought to be called stedfastnesse. as in fastnesse.
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THE THIRDE BOOKE
Epicharia. Epicharia a libertine of Roome, whiche made privie to a
great conspiracie againste Nero, was of such stedfastnesse,
that beeiiige rent with all the most cruell tormentes that
could be invented, never uttred any of the partners : and
in the like perill manie noble gentilmen and Senatours
fearfullye accused brethren, friendes, and the deerest and
best beloved persons to them in the worlde. What saye
Leena bitt in you of this other, called Leena ? In whose honoure the
sunder her Athenians dedicated before the castle gate a lionesse of
"°f ^/'.^ 4.1 mettall without a tunoe, to beetoken in her the steady
spittitinthe „ T-i *i 1 • • 1-1 J. J • -^
faceofHippias vertue or silence, ror she beenige in like sort made privie
the Tiran. to a conspiracye againste the Tirannes, was not agast at
Plin. lib. 34. the death of two great men her friendes, and for all she
cap. 8. ^g^g torne with infinite and moste cruell tormentes, never
disclosed any of the conspiratours.
Then saide the L. Margaret Gonzaga : Me seemeth that
ye make to breef rehersall of these vertuous actes done by
women. For although these our ennemies have heard them
and read them, yet they make wise not to knowe them, and
would fame the memorye of them were loste. But in case
ye will doe us to understande them, we will at the least
honour them.
Then answered the L. Julian : With a good will. Now
wil I tell you of one, that did suche a deede as I beeleave the
L. Gaspar himself will confesse that verie fewe menne doe.
And beegane. In Massilia there was in times past an
usage, whiche is thought came out of Greece: and that was,
that openlye there was poyson layed up meddled wyth
Cicuta a Cicuta, and it was lefull for him to take it that alleaged to
venimous the Senate that he ought to be rid of his lief for some dis-
herbe horrible commoditie that he felt therin, or elles for some other iuste
kinde wh'erof cause : to the entent that who so had suffered to much
is supposed to adversitie or tasted over great prosperitie, he might not
be hemlocke. continue in the one, or chaunge the other. In the presence
therfore of Sextus Pompeius
Here Phrisio not tariynge to have the L. Julian proceade
farther : This, me seemeth (quoth he) is the beeginninge of
some longe tale.
Then the L. Julian tourninge him to the L. Margaret,
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said : See, Phrisio will not sufFre me to speake. I would
have toulde you now of a woman, that after she had showed
the Senate that she ought of right to die, glad and without
any feare, tooke in the presence of Sextus Pompeius the
poyson with such stedfastnesse of minde and with such wise
and lovinge exhortations to hers, that Pompeius and all the
rest that beeheld in a woman suche knowleao;e and stedinesse
in the tremblinge passage of death, remayned (not without
teares) astonied with great wonder.
Then the L. Gaspar smiling: And I again remember (quoth
he) that I have read an Oration, wherin an unfortunate
husband asketh leave of the Senate to die, and alleageth
that he hath a just cause, for that he can not abide the
continuall weerisomnes of his wives chattinge, and had leiffer
drinke of that poison which you say was laied up openly for
these respectes, then of his wives scoldinges.
The L. Julian answered : How many seelie poore women
should have a just cause to aske leave to die, for abidinge,
I will not say the yll woordes, but the most yvell deedes of
their husbandes ? For I know some my self, that in this
worlde suffre the peines which are said to be in hell.
Bee there not againe, trow vou, answered the L. Gaspar,
manye husbandes that are so tourmented with their wives,
that everye hour they wishe for death ?
And what displeasure, quoth the L. Julian, can women
doe tlieir husbandes, that is so without remedy, as those are
which husbandes do their wives ? which though not for love,
yet for feare are obedient to their husbandes.
Sure it is in deede, quoth the L. Gaspak, that the litle
they do well otherwhile, commeth of feare, for fewe there
are in the world that secretlye in their minde hate not their
husbandes.
Nay, cleane contrarye, answered the L. Julian : and in
case you will remembre what you have read, it is to be
seene in all Histories, that alwaies (in a maner) wives love
their husbandes better then they their wives. Whan have
you ever seene or read that a husbande hath showed such a
token of love towarde his wief, as did Camma towarde her Camma.
husbande.''
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An example
of the true
love of a wief
toward her
husbande.
Plutarc.
I wote not, answered the L. Gaspar, what she was, nor
what token she showed.
Nor I, quoth Phrisio.
The L. Julian answered : Give eare. And you (my L.
Margaret) looke ye beare it well awaye. This Camma was
a most beawtifuU yonge woman, indowed with suche modestie
and honest condicions, that no lesse for them, then for her
beawty she was to be wondred at : and above other thinges
with all her hert she loved her husband, who had to name
Synattus. It happened that an other Gentilman of greater
authoritie then Synattus, and (in a maner) head ruler and
Tirann of the Citie where they dwelled, fell in love with
this yonge woman : and after he had longe attempted by all
wayes and meanes to compasse her, and all but loste labour,
beethinkinge himselfe that the love she bore her husbande,
was the onlye cause that withstood his desires, he caused
this Synattus to be slayne. Thus instant upon her after-
warde continuallye, other frute coulde he never gete of her,
then what he had beefore, Wherfore this love daily en-f
creasinge, he was fullye resolved to take her to wief, for all
in degree she was muche inferiour to him. So suite beeinge
made to her friendes by Sinoris (for so was the lover named)
they tooke in hande to perswade her to be contented wyth
it : declaring that to agree therto, was verye profitable,
and to refuse it, perilous for her and them all.. She after
she had a while gainsaied them, at length made answere
that she was contented. Her kinsfolke brought this tidinges
to Sinoris, which passing measure glad, gave order to have
this mariage made out of hande. After they were then
both come for this pourpose solemnlye into the Temple of
Diana, Camma had caused to be brought to her a certein
sweet drinke whiche she had made, and so beefore the image
of Diana in the presence of Sinoris she dranke the one
moitie. Afterwarde, with her owne hand (for this was the
usage in manages) she gave the remaine to the bridegrome,
whiche dranke it cleane up. Camma assone as she sawe her
device take effect, kneeled her downe verye joy full before
the image of Diana, and said : Oh Goddesse, thou that
knowest the bottome of my hert, be a good witnesse to me,
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liowe hardlye after my deere husbande deceased, I have
refreined from killinge my selfe, and what peines I have
susteined to endure the greef to live in this bitter lief, in
whiche I have felt none other joye or pleasure, but the hope
of the revenge whiche I perceyve nowe is come to effect.
Therfore wyth gladnesse and contentation I go to finde out
the sweete companye of that soule, whiche in lyef and death
I have alwayes more loved then mine owne selfe. And thou
Caytif, that weeneddest to have bine my husbande, in steade
of a manage bed, give ordre to prepare thee a grave, for of
thee do I here make a sacrifice to the shadowe of Synattus.
Synoris amased at these woordes, and alreadye feelynge the
operation of the poyson within him that put him to great
peine, proved many remedies, but all prevayled not. And
Camma had fortune so favourable on her side, or what ever
els, that beefore she died, she had knowleage that Sinoris
was deade. Whan she hearde of that, with verye great
contentation she layed her upon her bed, with her eyes to
heaven, continuallye callynge upon the name of Synattus,
and saying, Oh most sweete mate, sins nowe I have bestowed
for the last tokens upon thy death, both teares and revenge,
and perceive not that I have anye thinge yet beehinde to
doe for thee here, I flee the world and this without thee a
cruell lief, which for thy sake onlye in times past was deere
to me. Come therefore and meete me (oh my Lorde) and
embrace as willinglie this soule, as she willinglye commeth
to thee. And speakinge these woordes, and with her armes
spred, as thoughe she woulde at that instant have embraced
him, died. Say nowe Phrisio, what thinke you by this .?
Phrisio answered : Me thinke you woulde make these
Ladies weepe. But let us sett case this was true, I say
unto you that we finde no more such women in the worlde.
The L. Julian saide : Yes, that there be, and that it is so. An other
give eare. In my dayes there was in Pisa a gentilman whose example of
name was M. Thomas, of what house, I remember not, for '^^^^ ^^
all I heard my fatiier often times tell it, which was his great
friend. This M. Thomas then, passinge upon a daye in aThomaso
litle vessell from Pisa towarde Sicilia about his affaires, was Lucchese.
overtaken with certein foistes of Moores, that were on the
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backe of him unawares and beefore the governours of the
vessell had espied them. And for all the men within,
defended them selves well, yet bicause they were but fewe
and the ennemies manie, the vessell with as manie as were on
horde was taken by the Moores, some hurt, some whole, as
fell to their lotte, and emonge them M. Thomas, whiche
had played the man and slaine with his owne hande a
brother of one of the Capitaines of those foystes : for
which matter the Capitain full of wrathe, as you maye con-
jecture by the losse of his brother, woulde have him for his
prisoner, and beatinge and buffetinge him daily, brought
him into Barbary, where in great misery he determined to
kepe him alive his captive and with muche drugerye. All
the rest, some one waye, some an other, within a space were
at libertye, and retourned home, and brought tidinges to
M. Argentin. his wief, called M, Argentin, and children, of the hard lief
and great affliction which M. Thomas lived in, and was like
without hope to live in continuallye, onlesse God wonder-
fullye helped him. The which matter whan she and they
understoode for a certaintie, attemptinge certein other
wayes for hys deliveraunce, and where he himselfe was
fullye resolved to ende his lief, there happened a carefull
affection and tender pitie so to quicken the witt and courage
of a Sonne of his called Paul, that he had respect to no kind
of daunger, and determined eyther to die or to deliver his
father. The which matter he brought to passe and with
suche privie conveiaunce, that he was first in Ligurno
beefore it was knowen in Barbarye that he was parted thens.
Here hens M. Thomas (beeinge arrived in safetye) writ to
his wief, and did her to weete his settinge at libertie, and
where he was, and how the next daye he hoped to see her.
The honest Gentilwoman filled with so great and sodeine
joye, that she shoulde so shortlye aswell throughe the zeale
Inordinate as prowesse of her sonne, see her husbande whom she loved
aflFection. go much, where she once surelye beleaved never to have seen
him again, after she had read the letter she lifted her eyes
to heaven and calling upon the name of her husbande, fell
starke dead to the grounde, and with no remedie done to her,
did the departed soule retourn to the body again. A cruell
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sight, and inoughe to temper the willes of men and to with-
drawe them from covetinge to ferventlye superfluous joyes.
Then said Phrisio smilinge : What know you whether
she died for sorowe or no, understanding her husbande was
comminge home ?
The L. Julian answered : Bicause the rest of her lief was
nothinge agreeable therto. But I weene rather the soule
could not tary the lingering to see him with the eyes of her
bodye, and therfore forsooke it, and drawen out thens with
covetinge, fled by and by where in readinge the letter, her
thought was fled.
The L. Gaspar said : It may be that this woman was
overloving, bicause women in everie thinge cleave alwayes
to the extremitie, which is yll. And see, for that she was
overloving she did yll to herselfe, to her husbande and to
her children, in whom she tourned into bitternesse the
pleasure of that daungerous and desired libertie of his.
Therfore you ought not to alleage her for one of the women,
that have bine the cause of so great goodnesse.
The L. Julian answered : I alleage her for one of them
that make trial that there are wives whiche love their hus-
bandes. For of such as have bine occasion of great profittes
in the world I coulde tell you of an infinite number, and
reherse unto you so auntient, that welnighe a man wolde
judge them fables. And of suche as emong men have bine
the inventors of suche kinde of matters, that they have
deserved to be deemed Goddesses, as, Pallas, Ceres, the
Sybilles, by whose mouth God hath so oftentimes spoken
and discovered to the world matters to come. And such as
have taught verye great men, as, Aspasia, and Diotima the jT'^ ht^
which also with sacrifice drove of a plague tenn yeeres that the eloquent
shoulde have fallen in Atiiens. I coulde tell you of Nicho- Pericles
strata mother to Evander, whiche showed the Latins their l^uke of
letters. And of an other woman also that was maistres to ^^'^^^s-
Pindarus Liricus. And of Corinna and Sappho, which were Nichostrata.
most excellent in Poetrie : but I wil not seeke matters so Hermione.
far of, I say unto you that leaving the rest apart, of the Corinna.
greatnes of Roome perhappes women were a no lesse cause Sappho,
then men.
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THE THIRDE BOOKE
Women the
cause of the
greatnes of
Roome.
Tiberis.
Roma.
An auntient
custome
emonge the
Romanes.
Women a
helpe to the
encrease of
Roome.
T. Tatius.
This, quoth the L. Gaspar, were good to understande.
The L. Julian answered : Herkeii to it then. After
Troye was wonn, manye Trojans, that in so great a destruc-
tion escaped, fled some one way, some another : of whiche,
one part, that by manye Sea stormes were tossed and tumbled,
came into Italy in the coost where the Tever entreth into
the Sea: so landing to provide for their necessaries, beegane
to goe a forraginge about the Countrie. The women that
taried beehinde in the shippes, imagined emonge themselves
a profitable divise, that shoulde make an ende of their peril-
ous and longe Seawandringe, and in steade of their lost
Countrey recover them a new. And after they had layed
their heades together, in the mens absence, they sett fire on
the shippes, and the firste that beegane this woorke was called
Roma. Yet standinge in feare of the mens displeasure that
were retiringe backe again, they went to meete with them,
and imbracing and kissing in token of good will, some their
husbandes, some their next a kinn, they asswaged that first
brunt: afterwarde they disclosed to them quietlye the
cause of their wittie enterprise. Wherfore the Trojans,
on the one side, for neede, and one the other for beeinge
courteiouslye receyved of the inhabitauntes, were very well
pleased with that the women had done, and there dwelled
with the Latins in the place where afterward was Roome.
And of this arrose the auntient custome emonge the Ro-
manes, that women meetinge their kinsfolke, kissed them.
Now ye see what a helpe these women were to give the
beeginninge to Roome. And the Sabine women were a no
lesse helpe to the encrease of it, then were the Trojane to
the first beeginning : for whan Romulus had purchased him
the generall hatred of al his neighboures, for the ravine that
he made of their women, he was assayled with warre on all
sides, the which for that he was a valiaunt man, he soone
rid his handes of with victorie : onlye the warr with the
Sabines excepted, which was verie sore, bicause Titus Tatius
kinge of the Sabines was verye puissant and wise. Wher-
upon after a sore bickeringe beetweene the Romanes and
Sabines, with verie great losse on both sides, preparynge
for a freshe and cruell battaile, the Sabine women clad in
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blacke, with their heare scattred and haled, weepinge, com-
fortlesse, without feare of weapons now bent to give the
onsett, came into the middes beetweene their fathers and
husbandes, beeseachinge them not to file their handes with
the bloode of their fatherinlawes and sonninlawes, and in
case it were so that they repined at this aliaunce, thei
should bend their weapons against them : for much better
it were for them to die, then to live widowes or fatherles
and brotherlesse, and to remembre that their children had
bine begotten of such as had slaine their fathers, or thev
them selves of such as had slaine their husbandes. With
these pitifull waylinges, manie of them caried in their armes
their yonge babes, of whom some beegane alreadie to leuse
their tunge and seemed to call and sport with their graund-
fathers, unto whom the women showinge furth their
nephewes and weeping, said : Beehoulde youre owne bloode
that in such rage ye seeke to shed with youre owne handes.
Of suche force was in this case the affection and wisedome
of the women, that there was not onlye concluded beetwene
the two Kinges ennemies together, an indissoluble frend-
ship and league, but also (which was a more wonderfull
matter) the Sabines came to dwell in Roome, and of two
peoples was made one, and so did this accorde much
encrease the strength of Roome : thanked be the wise and
couragious women whiche were so rewarded of Romulus,
that partinge the people into thirtie bandes, gave them the 30 curiae,
names of the Sabine women.
Here the L. Juliax pausinge a while, and perceyvinge that
the L. Gaspar spake not : Trowe you not (quoth he) that
these women were occasion of goodnes to their men, and
helped to the greatnesse of Roome ?
The L. Gaspar answered : No doubt, they were woorthie
much praise. But in case you woulde aswell tell the faultes
of women, as their well doinge, you woulde not have kept hid,
that in this warr of T. Tatius a woman betrayed Roome, Sp. Tarpeius
and taught the ennemies the waye to take the Capitolium, daughter
wherby the Romanes were welnighe all undone. corrupted
The L. Julian answered : You mention me one ill woman, j,„ f Xatius
and I tell you of infinite good. And beeside the afore
HH 241
THE THIRDE BOOKE
Venus
armata.
Venus calva.
Fulvia.
Philippus
kinge of
Macedonia
Sonne to
Demetrius.
named, I coulde applye to my pourpose a thousand other
examples of the profit done to Roome by women, and tell
you whie there was once a Temple buylded to Venus armata,
and an other to Venus calva, and howe the feast of Hand-
maydens was instituted to Juno, bicause the Handmaidens
once delivered Roome from the guiles of the ennemies. But
leavinge all these thinges a part, that couragious act for
discoveringe the conspiracye of Catilina, for whiche Cicero is
so praised, had it not cheeflye his beeginninge of a commune
woman, which for this may be said to have bin the occasion
of al the good that Cicero boasteth he did the commune
weale of Roome ? And in case I had sufficient time, I would
(may happe) showe you also that women have oftentimes
corrected men of manye vices : but (I feare me) my talke
hath alreadye bine overlong and combrous. Therfore sins
I have accordinge to my pour fulfilled the charge that
these Ladies have geven me, I meane to give place to him
that shall speake more woorthier matters to be heard, then
I can.
Then the L. Emilia : Do you not deprive (quoth she) women
of the true praises due unto them. And remembre thoughe
the L. Gaspar and perchaunce the L. Octavian to, heare
you with noisomnesse, yet doe we and these other Lordes
herken to you with pleasure.
Notwithstandinge the L, Juliax woulde there have
ended, but all the Lordes beegane to entreat him to speake.
Wherfore he saide laughinge : Least I should provoke
my L. Gaspar to be mine enemy any more then he is,
I will but breefly tell you of certein that come into my
minde, leavinge manye that I could recite unto you.
Afterward he proceaded : Whan Philipp Demetrius sonne,
was about the Citie of Scio, and had layed siege to it,
he caused to be proclaymed, that what ever bondemen
woulde forsake the Citie and flee to him, he promised
them liberty and their maisters wives. The spite of
women for this so shamefuU a proclimation was such,
that they came to the walles with weapon, and fought so
fierslye, that in a smalle time they drove Philipp awaye
with shame and losse, which the men could not do. These
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selfe same women beeing with their husbandes, fathers
and brethren that went into banishment, after they came
into Leuconia, did a no lesse glorious act, then this was.
For the Erythreans that were there with their federates,
made warr against these Sciotis, which not able to houlde
out, came to accorde with composition to depart onlye in
their doblet and shirt out of the Citie. The women hear-
inge of this so shamefull a composition, were muche offended,
revilinge them, that leavinge their weapons, they would
issue out like naked men emonge their ennemies. And
whan they made answere that it was alreadie so condicioned,
they willed them to carye their shield and speare, and leave
their clothes, and answere their ennemies that this was
their arraye. And in so doinge by their womens counsell,
they covered a greate part of the shame, which they coulde
not cleane avoide. Likewise whan Cirus had discomfitted
in battaile the armye of the Persians, as they rann aw^aye,
in their fleeinge they mett with their women without the The stout
gates, who comminge to them, saide: Whither flee ye you ^^^*^ ^'^
cowardes ? Entende ye perhappes to hide you in us from
whens ye came ? These and suche like woordes the men
hearinge, and perceiving howe muche in courage they were
inferiour to their women, were ashamed of themselves, and
retourning backe again to their ennemies fought with them
a freshe and gave them the overthrowe.
Whan the L. Julian had hitherto spoken, he stayed, and
tourning him to the Dutchesse, said : Now (Madam) you
will licence me to houlde my peace.
The L. Gaspar answered : It is time to houlde your
peace, whan you knowe not what to saye more.
The L. Julian saide smiling: You provoke me so, that ye
maye chaunce be occupied all night in hearing the praises
of women. And ye shall understande of manye Spartane
women that much rejoyced at the glorious death of their
children : and of them that forsooke them or slue them
with their owne handes whan they hard they used dastardli-
nesse. Again how the Saguntine women in the destruction
of their Countrey, tooke weapon in hand against Hanni-
balles souldiers. And how the armie of the Dutch men
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Amalasunta.
Theodolincla.
Thendora.
Couiitesse
Matilda.
Urbiu.
Mantua.
Ferrara.
Ann French
Quesne.
L. Margaret.
vanquished by Marius, their women not obteininge their
suite to live free in Roome in service with the virgins
vestalles, killed themselves everie one with their younge
children. And a thousand mo that al auntient Histories
are full of
Then said the L. Gaspar : Tushe (my L. Julian) God
woteth how these matters passed, for those times are so
farr from us, that many lyes may be toulde, and none there
is that can reprove them.
The L. Julian said : In case you will measure in everye
time the woorthinesse of women with mens, ye shall finde
that they have never bine nor yet presently are any whit
inferiour to men. For leavinge apart those so auntient, if
ye come to the time whan the Gothes raigned in Italy, ye
shall finde that there was a queene emong them Amalasunta
that ruled a long while with marvellous wisdome. After-
ward Theodolinda, queene of the Longobardes, of singuler
vertue. Theodora Empresse of Greece. And in Italy
epiong manye other was a most singuler Lady the
Countesse Matilda, whose praises I leave to be toulde of
Count Lewis, bicause she was of his house.
Nay, quoth the Count, it is youre part, for you knowe it
is not meete that a man shoulde praise his owne.
The L. Julian continued on : And how many famous in
times past finde you of this most noble house of Monte-
feltro ? Howe manye of the house of Gonzaga, of Este
and Pij ? In case we will then speake of the time present,
we shall not neede to seeke Examples farr fett, for we have
them in the house. But I will not serve my pourpose with
them whom we see in presence, least ye should seeme for
courteisie to graunt me it, that in no wise ye can denye me.
And to goe oute of Italye, remembre ye, in oure dayes we
have scene Ann Frenche Queene a verye great Ladye, no
lesse in vertue then in State : and if in justice and milde-
nesse, liberalitye and holynesse of lief, ye lust to compare
her to the Kinges Charles and Lewis (whyche had bine
wyef to bothe of them) you shall not finde her a jott
inferiour to them. Beehoulde the Ladye Margaret daughter
to the Emperour Maximilian, whyche wyth great wysedome
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and justyce hitherto hath ruled and still doeth her State.
But omitting all other, tell me (my L. Gaspar) what
kinge or what Prince hath there bine in our dayes, or yet
many yeeres beefore in Christendome, that deserveth to be Isabel
compared to Queene Isabel of Spaine ? Queene of
TheL. Gaspar answered : Kinge Ferdinande her husbande. "-P^"'^-
The L. Julian saide : This will I not denie. For sins the
Queene thought him a woorthie husbande for her and loved
and observed him somuch, yt can not be said nay, but he
deserved to be compared to her. And I thinke well the
reputacion he gote by her was a no lesse dowerie then the
kingdome of Castilia.
Nay, answered the L. Gaspar, I beleave rather of manie Praise of her.
of kinge Ferdinandes actes Queene Isabel bore the praise.
Then saide the L. Julian : In case the people of Spaine,
the Nobles, private persons, both men and women, poore
and rich, be not al agreed together to lye in her praise,
there hath not bine in our time in the world a more cleere
example of true goodnesse, stoutnes of courage, wisdome,
religion, honestie, courteisie, liberalitie, to be breef, of all
vertue, then Queene Isabel. And where the renoume of
that Ladye in everie place and with all Nations is verye
great, they that lived with her and were present at all her
doinges, do all affirme this renoume to be spronge of her
vertue and desertes. And whoso will waye her actes, shall
soone perceive the truth to be so. For leavinge apart
infinite thinges that make triall of this, and might be
toulde, if it were our pourpose, everye man knoweth that in
the first beginninge of her reigne, she founde the greatest
part of Castilia possessed by great Astates : yet recovered
she the whoU again, so justly and in such sort that they
dispossessed themselves continued in a great good affection,
and were willing to make surrender of that they had in
possession. It is also a most knowen thinge with what
courage and wisedome she alwaies defended her realmes
from most puissant ennemies. And likewise to her alone
may be geven the honour of the glorious conquest of the
kingdome of Granada, whiche in so longe and sharpe a warr
against stubborne ennemies, that fought for their livelode,
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for their lief, for their law, and to their weening in Goddes
quarell, declared evermore with counsell and with her owne
person somuch vertue and prowesse, as perhappes in oure
time fewe Princis have had the stomake, not onlye to folowe
her steppes, but to envie her, Beeside this, all that knewe
her, report that there was in her suche a divine maner of
government, that a man woulde have weened that her will
onlye was almost inoughe to make everye man without any
more businesse, to do that he ought : so that scase durst a
man in his owne home and in secrete commit any thinge
that he suspected woulde displease her. And of this a
great part was cause the wonderfull judgement which she
had in knowinge and chousinge ministers meete for the offices
she entended to place them in. And so well could she
joigne the rigour of justice with the mildenesse of mercye
and liberalitie, that there was no good person in her dayes
that coulde complaine he had bine smallye rewarded, ne
anye yll, to sore punisshed. Wherfore emonge her people
toward her, there sprange a verie great reverence dirived of
love and feare, which in all mens mindes remayneth still
so settled, that a man woulde thinke they looked that she
should beehoulde them from heaven, and there above eyther
praise or dyspraise them. And therfore with her name, and
with the wayes which she ordeined, those Realmes are still
ruled, in wise that albeit her lief wanteth, yet her authoritie
lyveth, like a whiele that longe swynged about with violence,
keepeth the same course a good while after of it self,
though no man move it anye more. Consider you beeside
this (my L. Gaspar) that in oure time all the great men of
Spaine and renowmed in what ever thinge, have bine made
Ferdinando by Queene Isabel. And the great Capitain Gonsalve Fer-
Gonsalvo. dinande was more setbye for it, then for all his famous
victories and excellent and couragious actes, that in peace
and warr have made him so notable and famous, that in case
fame be not unkinde, she will for ever spred abrode to the
worlde his immortall prayses, and make proof that in oure
age we have had fewe Kinges or great Princis, that by him
have not bine surmounted in noble courage, knowleage and
all vertue. To retourn therfore to Italye, I saye unto you
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that we have not wanted here also moste excellent Ladies. Queenes
For in Naples we have two Queenes, and not longe a go in of Naples.
Naples likewyse died the other Queene of Hungarye, as Queen of
excellent a Ladye as you knowe anye, and to be compared Huugary.
well inoughe to the mightye and glorious kinge Mathew
Corvin her husbande. Likewise the Dutchesse Isabell of Dut. Isabel
Aragon most woorthie sister to kinge Ferdinande of Naples, ^^ Aragon.
which as golde in the fire, so in the stormes of fortune hath
she showed her vertue and prowesse. If you will come into
Lumbardy, you shall marke the Ladye Isabell marquesse of Isabel Marq.
Mantua, whose moste excellent vertues shoulde receyve great of Mantua,
wronge in speakinge of them so temperatelye, as whoso will
speake of them in this place must be driven to do. I am
sorye moreover that you all knew not the Dutchesse Dut. Beatrice
Beatrice of Millane her sister, that you might never again of Millane.
wonder at a womans wit. And the Dutches Elionor of Dut. Elionor
Aragon Dutches of Ferrara, and mother to both these of Ferrara.
Ladies whom I have named, was suche a one, that her
moste excellent vertues gave a good triall to all the worlde,
that she was not onlye a woorthie daughter to a kinge, but
also deserved to be a Queene over a farr greater State then
all her auncestours possessed. And to tell you of an other:
Howe manie menne knowe you in the worlde, woulde abide
the bitter strokes of fortune so pacientlye, as Queene Isabell Queene Isabel
of Naples hath done.? Whiche for all the losse of her "^ Naples,
kingdome, banishment and deathe of kinge Fridericke her
husbande and two sonnes, and imprisonment of the Duke of
Calabria her eldest, yet still showeth her selfe a Queene :
and so beareth out the myserable inconveniences of wretched
povertie, that every man maye see, thoughe she hath
chaunged fortune, yet hathe she not altered condicion. I
omitt the naminge unto you of infinite other great Ladies,
and also women of lowe degre, as many Pisanes that in Pisanes.
defence of their country against Florentines, have declared
that noble courage without any feare of death, that the
most invincible courages coulde doe that ever were in the
worlde : wherfore certein of them have bine renowmed by
many noble Poetes. I coulde tell you of certein most
excellent in letters, in musicke, in peinctinge, in carvinge,
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These queenes
gave them-
selves to
all their
appetites.
Sardanapalus
a king in
Assiria mon-
strous in all
kinde of
lecherie.
but I wil not any more go searching out emonge these
examples, whiche are most knowen to you all. It sufficeth
that if in youre myndes ye thinke upon women whom
you youre selves knowe, it shall be no harde matter for
you to understande, that they are not most commonlye in
prowesse or woorthinesse inferiour to their fathers, brethren
and husbandes : and that manye have bine occasion of good-
nesse to menne, and manie times broken them of manye of
their vices. And where presentlye there are not founde in
the worlde those great Queenes that go to conquer farr
Countreys, and make great buildinges, Piramides and Cities,
as Thomiris Queene of Scithia, Artemisia, Zenobia, Semi-
ramis, or Cleopatra, no more are there also men like unto
Caesar, Alexander, Scipio, Lucullus, and the other noble
Romane Capitanes,
Say not so, answered then Phuisio laughing, for presently
there are more found like Cleopatra or Semiramis, then
ever there were. And thoughe they have not so many
states, poures and riches, yet there wanteth not in them
good wil to counterfeit them at the least in giving them-
selves to pleasure, and satisfiyng al their lustes asmuche as
they may.
The L. Julian said : You will ever Phrisio passe your
boundes. But in case there be found some Cleopatres,
there want not for them infinit Sardanapalles, whiche is
much woorse.
Make not this comparason, quoth the L. Gaspar then, I
beleave not that men are so incontinent, as women be : and
where they were so, yet shoulde it not be woorse. For of the
incontinencye of women arrise infinite inconveniences, that do
not of mens. And therfore (as it was well said yesterday)
they have wisely ordeined that it may be lawfull for them
to be out of the way without blame in all other thinges,
that they maye applye their force to kepe them selves in this
one vertue of chastitie, without the which children were
uncertein, and the bonde that knitteth all the world to-
gether by bloode and by the love that naturallye ech man
hath to that is borne him, shoulde be lewsed. Therfore a
wanton lief in women is lesse to be borne withall then in
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men, that carie not their children nine monthes in their
bodye.
Then answered the L. Julian : Doubtlesse these be pretie
argumentes that ye make, I merveile you put them not in
Avritinge. But tell me. For what cause is it ordeined that
a wanton lief shoulde not be so shamefull a matter in men
as in women ? Consideringe if they be by nature more
vertuous and of greater prowesse, they maye also the easelier The wanton
kepe themselves in this vertue of continencie: and children lief of men
should be no more nor lesse certain, for if women were geven ™^ -^ women
to wanton living, so men were continent, and consented not
to the wantonnesse of women, they emonge themselves and
without anye other helpe could not beare children. But if Men have
you wil tel the troth, you your self know, that we have of calenged a
our owne authority claymed a libertie, wherby we will have ^^'^^"y®-
selfe same offences in us verye light and otherwhile woorthie
praise, and in women not sufRcientlye to be punished, but
with a shamefull death, or at the least everlastinge sclaunder.
Therfore sins this opinion hath taken root, me thinketh it a
meete matter to punish them in like maner sharjiely, that
with lyes bringe up a sclaunder upon women. And I
beleave that everie worthie gentilman is bounde to defende
alwaies with weapon, where neede requireth, the truth : and
especially whan he knoweth any woman falslye reported of
to be of litle honestie.
And I, answered the L. Gaspar smilinge, do not onlye
affirme to be everye worthye gentilmans dutye that you
saye, but also take it for great courtesy and honestie to
cover some offence that by mishappe or overmuch love a
woman is renn into. And thus you may see that I am
more on womens side, where reason beareth me oute, then
you be. I denie not that men have taken a litle libertie,
and that bicause they know by the commune opinion,
that to them wanton living is not so sclaunderous as
to women, which through the w^eakenes of their kinde,
are muche more enclined to appetites, then men : and in
case they absteine otherwhile from satisfiynge their lustes,
they doe it for shame, not that will is not moste readye
in them, and therfore have men layed uppon them feare
II 249
THE THIRDE BOOKE
Tlie conti-
uencie of
Alexander to-
ward Darius
wief and
daughters.
Q. Curt,
lib. iii.
Carthaaro
The conti-
nency of
Scipio toward
a yong Lad ye
betrothed to
Allucius a
lord among
the Celt- "
iberians.
Xenocrates.
Pericles re-
prehended
Sophocles for
sayinge
0 puerum
pulchrum.
of sclaunder for a bridle, to keepe them (in a maner)
whether they will or no in this vertue, without the whiche
(to saye the trothe) they were litle to be set bye : for the
world hath no profit by women, but for gettinge of children.
But the like is not of men, whiche governe Cities, armies,
and doe so manye other waightye matters, the whiche (sins
you will so have it) I will not dispute, how women coulde
do, yt sufficeth they do it not. And whan it was meete
for men to make triall of their continencie, aswell howe
they passed women in this vertue, as in the rest, althoughe
you graunt it not. And about this, will not I reherse unto
you so many Histories or fables, as you have done, I remit
you to the continencie onlie of two most mightie personages,
youthfuU and upon their victorye, whiche is wont to make
haute men of lowest degree. And the one is, the great
Alexander toward the most beawtiful women of Darius his
ennemie and discomfited. The other, Scipio, unto whom
beeinge xxiiii. yeeres of age, and havinge wonn by force a
Citie in Spaine, there was brought a most beawtiful and
noble Damisell taken emonge manye other. And whan
Scipio understoode that she was affiansed to a Lorde of
the Countrey, he did not only absteine from all dishonest
act towarde her, but undefiled restored her to her husband
and a large gift withall. I coulde tell you of Xenocrates,
which was so continent, that a most beawtifull woman lyinge
naked by his side and dalying with him and using all the
wayes she coulde (in which matters she was verie well
practised) she had never the pour to make him once showe
the least signe of wantonnesse, for all she bestowed a wholl
niorht about it. And of Pericles that did no more but heare
one prayse with overmuche earnestnesse the well favoured-
nesse of a boye, and he tooke him up sharplye for it. And
of manye other most continent of their owne free wil, and
not for shame or feare of punishment, that compelleth the
greatest part of women to kepe them selves upright in this
vertue, whiche notwithstandinge deserve much praise with-
all : and whoso falselye bringeth up of them a sclaunderous
report of uncleannesse of lyvinge, is worthie (as you have
said) very sore punishment.
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Then spake the L. Cesar whiche had helde his peace a
good while : Judge you in what sort the L. Gaspar speaketh
in the dispraise of women, whan these are the matters that
he speaketh in their praise. But if the L. Julian will give
me leave, that I maye in his steade answere him certein few
matters, as touchinge where (in mine opinion) he hath
falselye spoken against women, it shall be good for him and
me bothe. For he shall rest him a while, and shall after-
ward the better go forwarde to speake of some other perfec-
tion of the Gentilwoman of the Palaice, and I shall have a
good tourne that I have occasion to execute jointly e with
him this dutie of a good knight, whiche is to defende the
truth.
jNIary I beseche you, answered the L. Juliax : for me
thinke I have alreadye fulfilled accordinge to my poure, that
I ought, and this communication nowe is out of the pour-
pose that I went about.
The L. Cesar then beegane : I will not nowe speake of
the profit that the worlde hath by women beeside the
bearinge of children, for it is well inoughe declared howe
necessarye they be, not onlye to oure beeinge, but also to
cure well beeinge. But I saye (my L. Gaspar) that in case
they be as you affirme more inclined to appetites, then men,
and notwithstandinge absteine more then men (which you
your selfe graunt) they are so much the more woorthie
praise, as their kinde is lesse able to withstande naturall
appetites. And if you saye they do it for shame, I can not
see but for one vertue you give them two. For in case
shame can doe more in them then appetite, and throughe it Shame,
refraine from yll doynge, I esteame this shame (which in
conclusion is nothinge els but feare of sclaunder) a moste
sildome vertue and reigninffe in verie fewe menne. And if
I coulde without infinite reproche to menne, tell howe manye
of them be drowned in unshamefastnesse and impudencye
(whiche is the vice contrarie to this vertue) I shoulde infect
these devoute eares that heare me. And for moste part . .
these kinde of injurious persons both to God and iiature, •j.^^j^^ ^^
are menne wel stricken in yeeres, which professe some God and
preesthoode, some Philosophye, some divinitie, and rule nature.
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THE THIRDE BOOKE
Zeale of true
vertue and
good report.
Sclaunderous
persons of
womens
honesties.
Commune weales with suche Catoes gravitie in countenance,
that it maketh an outwarde showe of all the honestye in the
worlde, and alwaies alleage woman kinde to be most incon-
tinent, where they at no time finde them selves more
agreeved, then at the want of their naturall lustynesse, that
they may satisfie their abominable desires, whiche still abide
in the minde after nature hath taken them from their bodye,
and therfore manye times finde oute wayes, where force
preveyleth not. But I will not tell farther. It suffyceth
for my pourpose ye graunt that women absteine more from
uncleane livinge, then menne. And sure it is, that they are
not kept short with any other bridle, then what they put
upon them selves. And that it is true, the moste part of
them that be kept under with overstreict looking to, or
beaten of their husbandes or fathers, are lesse chaste, then
they that have some libertye. But generallye a greate
bridle to women, is the zeale of true vertue and the desire of
good name, whyche manye that I have knowen in my dayes
more esteame, then their owne lief. And in case you wil
tell the troth, everie one of us hath seene most noble yonge
menne, discreete, wise, of prowes and welfavoured, spend
many yeeres in lovinge, sparinge for nothinge that might
entice, tokens, suites, teares : to be short, whatsoever may
be imagined, and all but lost labour. And if it might not
be tould me that my condicions never deserved I shoulde be
beloved, I woulde alleage my self for a witnesse, which more
then once throuo-he the unchaungeable and overstedfaste
honestie of a woman was nighe deathes doore.
The L. Gaspar answered : Marveile you not therat, for
women that are suid to, alwayes refuse to fulfill his request
that suith to them, but those that are not suid to, sue to
others.
The L. Cesar said : I never knewe them that have bine
suid to by women, but manye there be that perceivinge they
have attempted in vaine and spent their time fond lye, renn
to this noble revenge, and saye that they had plentie of
the thinge whiche they did but caste in their minde. And
to their weeninge, to report yll and to studye for inven-
tions how to bringe up sclaunderous tales of some woorthie
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gentilwoman, is a kinde^ of Courtiers. But these kinde of
persons that knavishelye make their vaunt of anye woman
of price, be it true or false, deserve very sore correction and
punishment. And if it be otherwhile bestowed upon them,
it can not be saide howe muche they are to be commended
that do this office. For in case they tell lyes, what mis-
chiefe can be greater then to take from a woorthy woman
with guile the thinge which she more esteameth then her
lief? And no other cause, but that ought to make her
renowmed with infinite prayses. If again, it be true they
say, what peine can suffice so trayterous a person, that
rendreth suche ingratitude in recompence to a Gentilwoman,
whiche wonne with his false flattringes, feigned teares, con-
tinuall suites, bewaylinges, craftes, deceites, and perjuries
hath sufFred her selfe to be lead to love overmuche, after-
ward without respect, hath given herselfe unheedfullie for a
praye to so wycked a spirit ? But to answere you beeside to
this wonderfull continencye of Alexander and Scipio which
you have alleaged, I saye, that I will not denie but eche of
them did a deede woorthie much praise. Notwithstandinge
least ye should saye that in rehersinge to you auntient
matters, I toulde you fables, I will alleage a woman of oure
time of base degree, who notwithstanding showed a farr
greater continency then anve of these two great astates. I An example
say unto you therfore that I knewe once a welfavoured and of true con-
tender yonge woman, whose name I tell you not, for givynge tmencye.
matter to manye leude persons to report yll, whiche assone
as they understande a woman to be in love, make an yll
descantinge upon it. She therfore beloved of a woorthie
and faire condicioned yonge Gentilman, was bent with hert
and minde to love him. And of this not I alone, unto
whom of her owne accord she uttered trustfullye the wholl
matter, no otherwise then if I had bine, I will not say a
brother, but an inward sister of herres, but all that beehelde
herr in companye of the beloved yonge man, were well
weettinge of her passion. She thus ferventlye lovinge, as a
most loving minde coulde love, continued two yeeres in
suche contynencie, that she never made anye token to this
yonge man of the love that she bore him, but suche as she
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THE THIRDE BOOKE
coulde not hide from him. At no time she woulde speake
with him, nor receive any letters from him or tokens, where
there never passed daye but she was tempted with both the
one and the other. And howe she longed for it, that wote
I well, for yf otherwhile she coulde privilie gete anye thinge
that had bine the yonge mans, she was so tender over it,
that a manne woulde have thought that of it had spronge
her lief and all her joye. Yet woulde she never in so long
a time content him with other, then to beehoulde him and
be seene of him again, and somtime happening to be at open
feastes, daunce with him as she did with others. And
bicause there was no great difference in their degree, she
and the yonge man coveted that so great a love might have
a luckye ende, and be man and wief together. All the men
and women in the Citie desired the same, savinge her cruell
father, which of a weywarde and straunge opinion minded
to beestowe her upon an other more welthie. And this was
not by the unluckye mayden otherwise gainstoode, then with
most bitter teares. And after this unfortunate manage was
concluded with great compassion of the people there, and
despaire of the poore lovers, yet did not this stroke of fortune
serve to roote up so grounded a love in the hert of ech other,
but lasted afterwarde the terme of three yeeres, albeit she
fidl wiselye dissembled it, and sought everye waye to cutt in
sunder those desires, whiche now were past hope. And in
this while she folowed on still in her set pourpose of con-
tinencye, and perceivinge she could not honestly have him,
whom she worshipped in the world, she chose not to have
him at all, and continued in her wont not to accept messages,
tokens nor yet his lookes. And in this resolved determina-
tion the seelie soule vanquished with moste cruell affliction,
and wexed through longe passion verie feint, at the three
yeeres ende, died. Rather woulde she forgoo her contenta-
cions and pleasures so much longed for, finally her lief, then
her honestie. And yet wanted she no meanes nor wayes to
fulfill her desire most secretlye, and without perill either of
sclaunder or anye other losse. And for all that, refrained
she from the thinge of herselfe that she so muche coveted,
and for the whiche she was so continuallye attempted by the
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person whom alone in the world her desire was to please.
And to this was she not driven for feare or anye other
respect, but onlye for the zeale of true vertue. What will
you say of an other ? that for sixe monthes almost nightlye An other
laye with a moste deere lover of herres, yet in a gardein full example of
of most savoury fruites, tempted with her owne most fervent ^ "^^y^^^*-
longinge and with the petitions and teares of him that was
moore deere to herr then her owne selfe, refrayned from
tastinge of them. And for all she was wrapped and tyed in
the streict chaine of those beloved armes, yet never yelded
she herselfe as vanquished, but preserved undefiled the floure
of her honestie. Trowe you not (my L. Gaspar) that these
be deedes of continencye alike to Alexanders ? Whiche most
ferventlye inamored not with the women of Darius, but with
this renowme and greatnesse, that pricked him forwarde with
the spurres of glorye to abide peines and daungers to make
himself immortall, set at nought not onelie other thinges,
but hys owne lief, to gete a name above all men ? and do we
marveile with suche thoughtes in his hert that he refrayned
from a thinge whiche he coveted not greatlye .'' for sins he
never sawe those women beefore, it is not possible that he
shoulde be in love with them at a blushe, but rather per-
happes abhorred them for Darius his ennemies sake. And
in this case everie wanton act of his towarde them, had bine
an injurye and not love. And therfore no great matter if
Alexander, whiche no lesse with noblenes of courage then
marciall prowesse subdued the world, abstained from doing
injury to women. The continency in like case of Scipio is Scipio.
doubtlesse much to be commended, yet if ye consider wel,
not to be compared to these two womens : for he in like
maner also refrayned from a thing that he coveted not,
beeinge in his ennemies countrey, a fresh Capitain, in the
beeginning of a most weightie enterprise, leaving beehind
him in his Countrie such expectacion of himself, and having
beeside to give accompt to rigorous judges, that often times
chastised not only the great, but the least offences of al,
and emong them he wist well he had enemies, knowing also
if he had otherwise done, bicause she was a noble damsel
and espoused to a noble man, he should have purchased him
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SO many enemies and in such sort, tliat many wold have
driven of and perchaunce have set him cleane beeside his
victory. Thus for so many respectes and so weighty, he
absteined from a light and hurtfull appetite, in showing
continency and a freeherted welmeaning, the which (as it is
written) gote him all the hartes of that people: and an
other armie stood him in steade with favour to vanquish
mens hertes, whiche perhappes by force of armes had bine
invincible. So that this maye rather be termed a warlike
pollicie, then pure continencie : albeit beeside, the report
Cn. Noevius, of this matter is not all of the purest, for some writers of
Val, Antiates. authoritie affirme that this Damsell was enjoyed of Scipio
in the pleasures of love : and of this I tell you ye maye
depose upon.
Phrisio said : Perhappes ye have founde it in the Gospell.
I have seene it m}' self, answered the L, Cesar, and ther-
fore I have a much more certeintye of this, then you or anye
Alcibiades man els can have that Alcibiades arrose no otherwise from
was Socrates Socrates bed then children do from their fathers beddes : for
scholer the ^^ ^^ ^^^ truth, a straunge place and time was bed and
wg1i3.v Oil rG cist *^ o I
vonffe bovin night to view with fixed minde the pure beawty which is said
al Athens. Socrates loved without anye unhonest desire, especiallye
lovinge better the beawtie of the minde, then of the bodj^e :
but in boyes, not in old men, for all they were wiser. And
in good sooth a better example could not have bine pyked
Xenocrates. out to praise the continencie of men, then this of Xenocrates,
which occupied in his studye fastned and bound by his
profession, whiche is Philosophic, that consisteth in good
maners, and not in wordes, old, cleane spent of his natural
lustinesse, nothinge able, no not in makinge profer to be
Lais of able, refrayned from a commune haunted woman, which
Corinth. for the names sake might abhorr him. I woulde sooner
have beleaved he had bine continent, if he had declared
any token to have bine come to his right senses again, and
in that case have used continencie : or elles abstained from
the thinge which olde men covett more then the battailes
Olde men of Venus, namelye from wine. But to establishe well con-
desyrous tinencie in olde age, it is written that he was full and
wine. laden with it. And what can be saide to be more wider
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from the continencie of an olde man, then dronkennesse ?
And in case the shonning of Venus matters in that slow and
colde age deserveth so much praise, how much should it
deserve in a tender majden, as those two I have tould you
of? Of whiche the one most streictlye bridlinge all her
senses, not onlie denied her eyes their light, but also toke
from the hart those though tes, whiche alone had bine a moste
sweete foode a longe time to kepe him in lief. The other
ferventlye in love, beeinge so often times alone in the armes
of him whom she loved more a great deale then all the
world beeside, fightinge against her owne self and against
him that was more deere to her then her owne selfe, over-
came that fervent desire, that many times hath and doth
overcome so manie wise men. Trow ye not nowe (my L.
Gaspar) that writers may be ashamed to make mention of
Xenocrates in this case, and to recken him for chaste ?
where if a man coulde come bye the knowleage of it, I wold
lay a wager that he slept al that night until the next day
diner time, like a dead body buried in wine : and for all the
stirringe that woman made, coulde not once open his eyes,
as though he had bine cast into a dead slepe.
Here all the men and women laughed, and the L. Emilia :
Surelye, my L. Gaspar (quoth she) yf you will beethinke
your selfe a litle better, I beleave you shall finde out some
other prety example of continencye alike unto this.
The L. Cesar answered : Is not this other (thinke ye
Madam) a goodly example of continencye which he hath
alleaged of Pericles ? I muse much that he hath not aswell
called to rehersall the continencie and pretie saiyng that is
written of him that a woman asked to great a summ of for
one night, and he answered her, that he minded not to bye Demosthenes
repentance so deere. answer to
They ceased not laughinge, and the L. Cesar, after he ^'"^ ^^
had stayed a while : My L. Gaspar (quoth he) perdon me, yf asked him
I tell troth. For in conclusion these be the wonderful con- xxiiii. li. for
tinencies that men write of themselves, accusinge women for one night,
incontinent, in whom are dailye scene infinit tokens of
continencie. And certesse if ye ponder it aright, there is
no fortresse so impringable, nor so well fensed that beeinge
KK 257
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Trayters.
Theeves.
Prelates,
Lawyers.
Phisitieus.
Examples of
the chastitie
of womeu.
Ulturno.
assaulted with the thousandeth part of the inginnes and
guyles that are practised to conquer the steadie mind of a
woman, would not yelde up at the first assault. How manye
trained up by great astates and enriched throughe them
and advaunced to great promotion, having in their handes
their fortresses, houldes and Castles, wherupon depended
their whol state, their lief and al their gooddes, without
shame or care to be named Traiters, have disloyallye given
them to whom they ought not.^* And would God in our
dayes there were suche scarcitie of these kinde of persons,
that we might not have much more a do to find out some
one, that in this case hath done that he ought, then to
name suche as have failed therin. See you not so many
other that daily wander about to kill men in thickettes, and
rovinge by sea, onlye to robb mens money ? Howe manye
Prelates make marchaundise with the goodes of the Churche
of God ? How manye Lawiers falsifie testaments ? What
perjuries make they.'' How many false evidences, onlye
to gete money .'' How manye Phisitiens poison the diseased,
onlye for it ? Howe manye again for feare of death do
most vile matters ? And yet all these so stiff and hard
battayles doeth a tender and delicate yonge woman gain-
stande manye times, for sundrye there have bine, that have
chose rather to dye then to lose their honesty.
Then said the L. Gaspar : These (my L. Cesar) bee not,
I beleave, in the world nowadayes.
The L. Cesar answered : And I will not alleage unto
you them of olde time. But this I say, that manye might
be found out, and are daily, that in this case passe not for
death. And nowe it commeth into my mynde that whan
Capua was sacked by the French men (which is not yet so
longe since, but you may full well beare it in minde) a well
favoured yong gentylwoman of Capua, beeinge lead out of
her house where she had bine taken by a companye of
Gascoignes, whan she came to the ryver that renneth by
Capua, she feigned to plucke on her shoe, insomuch that her
leader lett her goe a litle, and she streight waye threw her-
selfe into the river. What will you saye of a poore Countrey
wenche, that not manye monthes ago at Gazuolo beeside
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Mantua gone into the fielde a leazinge with a sister of
herres, sore a thirst entred into a house to drink e water,
where the good man of the house, that was yonge, seeinge
her meetlye welfavoured and alone, takynge her in his
amies, firste wyth faire woordes, afterwarde with threat-
ninges attempted to frame her to do his pleasure, and where
she strived still more obstinatelye, at length with manye
blowes and by force overcame her. She thus tossed and
sobbinge, retourned into the fielde to her sister, and for al
the instance that she made uppon herr, woulde never dis-
close to herr what oultrage she received in that house, but
still drawinge homewarde, and showinge herselfe apeaced by
litle and litle, and to speake without desturbance, she gave
her certein instructions. Afterward when she came to the
Olio, whiche is the river that renneth by Gazuolo, keapinge Olio,
her somewhat a louf from her sister, that knew not nor
imagined that she minded to do, sodeinlye cast her self into
it. Her Sister sorowfull and weepinge, folowed downe by the
rivers side as faste as she coulde, whiche caried her a good
pace awaye, and everye time the poore soule appeared above
water, her sister threw in to her a corde that she had
brought with her to binde the corne withall. And for al
the corde came to her handes more then once (for she was
yet niffh inouo^he to the bancke) the stedfast and reserved
girl alwaies refused it and pushed it from her. And thus
shonninge all succour that might save her lief, in a short
space died. She was neyther stirred by noblenes of blood,
nor by feare of death or sclaunder, but onlye by the greef of
her lost maidenheade. Nowe by this you may gather, howe
manye other women doe deedes moste woorthye memorye,
sins (as a manne maye saye) three dayes a go, this hath
made such a triall of her vertue, and is not spoken of, ne
yet her name knowen. But had not the death folowed at
that time of the Bishop of Mantua uncle to oure Dutchesse,
the bancke of the Olio in the place where she cast herselfe
in, had nowe bine garnished with a verie faire sepulture,
for a memorie of so glorious a soule, that deserved somuch
the more cleere renowme after death, as in lief it dwelled
in an unnoble bodye.
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Here the L. Cesau tooke respit a while, afterwarde he set
forwarde : In my dayes also in Roome there happened a like
A chaunce chaunce, and it was, that a welfavoured and well borne
that happened yonge Gentilwoman of Roome, beeinge longe folowed after
to a gentil- ^^ ^^^^ that showed to love her greatly, wold never please
Roome. ^^^^ with any thing, no not somuch as a looke. So that
this felow by force of money corrupted a waitinge woman
of herres, who desirous to please him to fingre more money,
was in hande with her maistresse upon a daie, no great
One of the holye day, to go visit Saint Sebastianes Church. And giving
vii. Churches \}^q lover intelligence of the wholl, and instructinge him
of Roome 11. ^yhat he had to doe, lead the yonge Gentilwoman into one
the City. ®^ ^'^^ darke Caves under grounde, that whoso go to Saint
Sebastianes are wont to visit. And in it was the yonge man
first closely hid, whiche perceivinge himselfe alone with her
whom he loved somuche, beegane everye waye to exhort her
with as faire language as he could, to have compassion upon
him, and to chaunge her former rigour into love. But whan
he sawe all his prayers coulde take none effect, he tourned
him to threatninges. And whan they prevayled not, he all
to beate her. In the ende he was full and wholye bent to
have his pourpose, if not otherwise, by force, and therin
used the helpe of the naughtye woman that had brought her
thither. Yet coulde he never do so muche as make her
graunt to him, but in woordes and deedes (althoughe her
force was but small) alwaies the seelye yonge woman defended
herselfe in what she coulde possible. So that what for the
spite he conceived, whan he sawe he coulde not gete his will,
and what for feare least the matter shoulde come to her
kinsfolkes eare and make him punished for it, this mis-
chevous person wyth the aide of the woman that doubted the
same, strangled the unluckye yonge woman, and there left
her, and rennynge his waye provided for himselfe for beeinge
founde out again. The waiting woman blinded with her
owne offence, wist not to flee, and beeinge taken upon
certeine susspitions, confessed the wholl matter, and was
therfore punished accordinge to her desertes. The body of
the constante and noble gentilwoman with great honoure
was taken out of the cave and caried to buriall within
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Roome, with a garlande of Laurell about her heade, accom-
panied with an infinit number of men and women : emong
whiche was not one that brought his eyes to his home again
without teares. And thus generallye of all the people was
this rare soule no lesse beewayled then commended. But to
tell you of them that you your selfe know, remembre you
not that ye have heard tel, as the Lady Fcelix della Rovere Lady Foelix
was on her journey to Saona, doubting least certein sailes ^^^^^ Rovere.
that were descried a farr of, had bine Pope Alexanders
vesselles that pursuid her, was utterlye resolved, if they had
made towarde her, and no remedie to escape, to cast herself
into the Sea. And this is not to be thought that she did
upon anye lightnesse, for you aswell as any man, do know
with what a witt and wisedome the singuler beawtie of that
Ladye is accompanied. I can no lenger keepe in silence a
woorde of our Dutchesse, who livinge xv. yeeres in compan ye Praise of the
with her husbande, like a widowe, hath not onlye bine Dutches that
stedfast in not uttringe this to anye person in the world, jj^^ ^,^^^ ^-^^
but also whan she was perswaded by her owne friendes to Duke,
forsake this widowheade, she chose rather to suffer banish-
ment, poverty, and al other kinde of misery, then to agree
to that, which all other men thought great favour and
prosperitie of fortune.
And as he still proceaded in talkinge of this, the Dutchesse
saide : Speake of somwhat els, and no more ado in this
matter, for ye have other thinges inoughe to talke of.
The L. Cesar folowed on. Full well I know that you
wil not denie me this (my L. Gaspar) nor you Phrisio.
No doubtlesse, answered Phrisio : but one maketh no
number.
Then saide the L. Cesar : Truth it is that these so greate
effectes and rare vertues are scene in few women. Yet are
they also that resist the battailes of love, all to be wondred
at, and such as otherwhile be overcome deserve muche com-
passion. For surelye the provocations of lovers, the craftes
that they use, the snares that they laye in waite are suche
and so applyed, that it is to great a wonder, that a tender
girle should escape them. What daye, what hour passeth
at anye time that the yonge woman thus layed at is not
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THE THIRDE BOOKE
The careful!
diligence of
lovers.
tempted by her lover with money, tokens, and al thinges
that he can imaginn may please her? At what time can
she ever looke out at a window, but she seeth continuallye
the earnest lover passe by ? With silence in woordes, but
with a paire of eyes that talke. With a vexed and feint
countenance. ^Vith those kindled sighes. Often times with
most abundant teares. Whan doeth she at any time yssue
out at her doores to Church or any other place, but he is
alwaies in the face of her ? And at everye tourning of a
lane meeteth her in the teeth, with such heavy passion
peinted in his eies that a man wold weene that even at that
instant he were ready to die ? I omitt his precisenesse in
sundrye thinges, inventions, meery conceites, undertaking
enterprises, sportes, daunses, games, maskeries, justes, tour-
neimentes, the which thinges she knoweth al to be taken in
hand for her sake. Again, in the night time she can never
awake, but she heareth musike, or at the least that unquiet
spirit about the walles of her house casting furth sighes and
lamentable voices. If by a hap she talketh with one of her
waiting women about her, she (being already corrupted with
money) hath straight way in a readinesse some pretye token,
a letter, a rime, or some such matter to present her in the
lovers behalf: and here entring to pourpose, maketh her to
understand how this selie soule burneth, how he setteth litle
by his owne lief, to do her service, and how he seeketh
nothing of her but honesty, and that only his desire is to
speake with her. Here then for all hard matters are founde
out remedies, counterfeit kayes, laders of ropes, wayes to
cast into sleepe, a trifling matter is peincted out, examples
are alleaged of others that do much woorse : so that every
matter is made so easy, that she hath no more trouble, but
to say, I am content. And in case the poore soule maketh
resistaunce but a while, they plye her with suche provoca-
tions, and finde suche meanes, that with continuall beatynge
at, they breake in sunder that is a lett to her. And many
there be that perceiving they can not prevaile with faire
woordes, fall to threatninges, and say that they wil tel their
husbandes they are, that they be not. Other bargain
bouldlye with the fathers and manv times wdth the hus-
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bandes which for money or promotions sake give their owne
daughters and wives for a prey against their wil. Other
seeke by inchauntmentes, and witchcraftes to take from
them the liberty that God hath graunted to soules, wherin
are seene wonderfull conclusions. But in a thousand yeere
I coulde not repeate all the craftes that men use to frame
women to their willes, which be infinit. And beeside them
which every man of himselfe findeth out, there hath not also
wanted that hath wittily made bookes, and beestowed great
study to teache how in this beehalfe women are to be
deceived. Now judge you how from so manye nettes these
simple dooves can be safe, tempted with so sweete a bayte.
And what great matter is it then, in case a woman know-
inge her self somuch beeloved and worshipped many yeeres
together, of a noble and faire condicioned yong man, which
a thousand times a day hasardeth his lief to serve her, and
never thinketh upon other but to please her with the con-
tinuall beatinge whiche the water maketh whan it perceth
the most hard marble stone, at length is brought to love
him ? Is this (thinke you) so haynous a trespace, that
the seelye poore creature taken with so manye enticementes,
deserveth not, if the woorst should fal, the perdon that
many times murtherers, theves, fellones and traiters have ?
Wil you have this vice so uncomperable great, that bicause
one woman is found to renn into it, all women kinde shoulde
be cleane despised for it, and generallye counted voide of
continencye ? Not regardinge that manve are founde moste
invincible, that against the continuall flickeringe provoca-
tions of love are made of Diamondes, and stiff in their
infinite steadinesse, more then the rockes against the surges
of the Sea ?
Then the L. Gaspar whan the L. Cesar stayed talkinge,
beegan to make him answere, but the L. Octavian smilinge :
Tushe, for love of God (quoth he) graunt him the victory,
for I know ye shall doe small good, and me thinke I see
you shall not onlye make all the women youre ennemies,
but also the more part of the menne.
The L. Gaspar laughed and said : Nay, the women have
rather great cause to thanke me. For had not I contraryed
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THE THIRDE BOOKE
Women.
The opera-
tions of love.
Why Troy
withstoode
all Greece
X. yeeres.
the L. Julian and the L. Cesar, they shoulde not have
come to the knowleage so manye prayses as they have given
them.
Then saide the L. Cesau : The prayses whiche my L.
Julian and I have given women, and many mo beeside, were
most knowen, therfore they have bine but superfluous. Who
woteth not that without women no contentation or delite
can be felt in all this lief of ourse ? whiche (sett them aside)
were rude and without all sweetenesse, and rougher then
the lief of forest wilde beastes? Who knoweth not that
women rid oure hartes of al vile and dastardlye imagina-
tions, vexations, miseries, and the troublesome heavinesse
that so often times accompanieth them ? And in case we will
consider the truth, we shall know moreover as touchinge.
the understanding of great matters, that they do not stray_
our wittes, but rather quicken them, and in warr make
men past feare and bardie passinge measure. And certesse it
is not possible, that in the hart of man, where once is entred
the flame of love, there should at any time reigne coward-
lynesse. For he that loveth, alwaies coveteth to make him-
self as lovely as he can, and evermore dreadeth that he take
no foyle, that should make him litle set by of whom he
desireth to be much set by : and passeth not to go a thou-
sande times in a daye to his death, to declare himselfe
woorthye of that love. Therfore whoso coulde gather an
armie of lovers, that shoulde fight in presence of the ladies
they loved, shoulde subdue the wholl world, onlesse against
it on the contrarie part there were an other armie likewise
in love. And to abide by, the houldinge out of Troye x.
yeeres against all Greece, proceaded of nothinge elles but of
certein lovers, whiche whan they entended to issue out abrode
to fight, armed themselves in the presence of their Ladies,
and many times they helped them themselves, and at their
settinge furth rounded them some certein woord, that set
them on fire and made them more then men. Afterward
in fightinge they wist well that they were beeheld from the
walles and Toures by the Ladies, wherfore they deemed
every bould enterprise that they undertooke, was commended
of them, whiche was the greatest rewarde to them that they
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coulde have in the worlde, Manye there be that houlde
opinion that the victorye of kinge Ferdinande and Isabell Women the
of Spaine, against the kinge of Granada was cheeflye occa- cause of the
sioned by women, for the moste times whan the armye of ^^"'j^®^*'/'^
Spaine marched to encounter with the ennemyes, Qi^eene ^f Qj.^°^jJ^"^
Isabel set furth also with all her Damselles : and there were
manye noble gentilmen that were in love, who til they
came within sight of the ennemies, alwaies went communing
with their Ladies. Afterwarde echone takinge his leave of
his, in their presence marched on to encountre with the
ennemies, with that fiersenesse of courage, that love and
desire to showe their Ladies that they were served wyth
valiaunt men, gave them. Wherupon it beefell manye
times that a very few gentilmen of Spaine put to flight and
slue an infinit number of Moores, thanked be the courteious
and beloved women. Therfore I wote not (my L. Gaspar)
what weywarde judgement hath lead you to dispraise women.
Do you not see that of all comelye exercises and whiche Women the
delite the worlde, the cause is to be referred to no earthlye cause of wor-
thynge, but to women ? Who learneth to daunce featlye *"'® quahties.
for other, but to please women ? Who apply eth the sweete- . c/'
nesse of musicke for other cause, but for this ? Who to t^o'^ X*^
write in meeter, at the least in the mother tung, but to .fr
expresse the affections caused by women ? Judge you howe
manye most noble Poemes we had bine without both in
Greeke and Latin, had women bine smallye regarded of
Poetes. But leavinge all other a part, had it not bine a
verye great losse, in case M. Francis Petrarca, that writt so Francesco
divinlye his loves in this oure tunge, had applied his minde l*etrarca.
onlye to Latin matters : as he woulde have done, had not
the love of the Damsell Laura sometime strayed him from
it ? I name not unto you the fine wittes that are nowe in
the worlde, and here present, whiche dailye bringe furthe
some noble frute, and notwythstandynge take their grounde
onlye of the vertue and beawtye of women. See whether
Salomon myndynge to write mysticallye verye highe and Salomon,
heavenlye matters, to cover them wyth a gracious veile,
did not feigne a fervent Dialogue full of the affection of a
lover with his woman, seeminge to him that he coulde not
LL 265
THE THIRDE BOOKE
fynde here beeneth emonge us anye lykenesse more meete
and agreeinge wyth heavenlye matters, then the love toward
women : and in that wise and maner minded to gyve us a
litle of the smacke of that divinitye, whiche he bothe for hys
understandynge and for the grace above others, had know-
leage of. Therefore thys needed no disputacyon (my L.
Gaspar) or at the least so manye woordes in the matter.
But you in gainsaiynge the truth have hindred the under-
stanilinge of a thousande other pretie matters and necessary
for the perfection of the gentilwoman of the Palaice.
The L. Gaspar answered : I beleave there can no more
be said. Yet if you suppose that the L. Julian hath not
garnished her throughlye with good condicions, the fault is
not in him, but in him that hath so wrought that there
are no mo vertues in the worlde : for all that there be, he
hath beestowed uppon her.
The DuTCHEssE saide smilinge : Well, you shall see that
the L. Julian will yet finde out mo beeside.
The L. Julian answered : In good sooth (Madam) me
seemeth I have sufficientlye spoken. And for my part I am
well pleased wyth this my woman. And in case these Lordes
will not have her as she is, let them leave her to me.
Here whan all was whist, Sir Fridericke saide : My L.
Julian, to give you occasion to saye somewhat elles, I will
Entertein- hut aske you a question, as touchynge that you have Avilled
ment. to be the principall profession of the Gentilwoman of the
Palayce. And this it is, that I longe to knowe ho we she
shoulde beehave herselfe in a point that (to my seemynge) /
vis moste necessarye. For albeit the excellent qualityes (
1 whiche you have geven her conteine in them discretion, ^
iknowleage, judgemente, sleight, sobermoode, and so manye '
■other vertues, wherebye of reason she ought to have the \
understandynge to entertein everye manne and in all kinde \
of pourpose, yet thinke I notwithstandynge above any other
thing that it is requisite for her to knowe what beelongeth
To talke of to communication of love. For even as everye honest Gentil-
love. manne for an instrument to obteine the good will of women, '
practyseth those noble exercises, precise facions and good
maners whyche we have named, even so to this pourpose
26C^
OF THE COURTYER
applyeth he also hys woordes, and not onlye whan he is
stirred thereto by some passion, but often times also to do
honour to the woman he talketh withall, seemynge to him
that to declare to love her is a witnes that she is woorthie
of it, and that her beawtie and woorthynesse is suche, that
it enforceth everie manne to serve her. Therfore woulde I
knowe, howe this woman in suche a case shoulde beehave
herselfe uprightlye, and howe to answere him that loveth
her in deed, and how him that maketh false semblant : and
whether she ought to dissemble the understandinge of it, or
be answerable, or shonn the matter, and howe to handle
herselfe.
Then said the L. Juliax : It were first needefull to teach
her to knowe them that make semblant to love, and them
that love in deede : afterward for beeinge answerable in
love or no, I beeleave she ought not to be guided by any
other mans will, but by her owne self.
Sir Fridericke saide : Teach you her then what are the
moste certein and surest tokens to descerne false love from
true, and what triall she shal thinke sufficient to content
herselfe withall, to be out of doubt of the love shewed her.
The L. JuLiAX answered smiling : That wote not I,
bicause men be nowadayes so crafty e, that they make
infinite false semblantes, and sometime weepe, whan they
have in deede a greater lust to laughe. Therefore they
shoulde be sent to the constant He under the Arch of faith-
full lovers. But least this woman of mine (which is my
charge and no mans elles, bicause she is my creature) should
renn into those erroures whiche I have scene manye other
renn into, I would saye that she should not be light of cred-
ence that she is beloved : nor be like unto some, that not
onlie make not wise they understande him not that com-
niuneth with them of love, be it never so farr of, but also
at the first woorde accept all the prayses that be given
them : or elles denie them after such a sort, that it is rather
an alluringe for them to love them they commune withall,
then a withdrawinjie of themselves. Therfore the maner
of enterteinment in reasoninge of love that I will have my
woman of the Palaice to use, shall be alwaies to shonn
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/
v^.
H, THE THIRDE BOOKE
beeleavinge that whoso talketh of love, loveth her anye whitt
the more. And in case the Gentilman be (as manye suche
there are abrode) malapert, and hath smalle respect to her
in his talke, she shall shape him such an answere, that he
shall plainly miderstande she is not pleased withall. Again,
if he be demure and useth sober facions and woordes of love
covertlie, in suche honest maner, as I beeleave the Courtier
whom these Lordes have facioned will doe, the woman shall
make wise not to understand him, and shal draw his woordes
to another sense, seekinge alwaies sobrely with the discretion
, and wisdome that is alreadye said becommeth her, to stray
i,/**" * from that pourpose. But in case the communication be
\ ^ ^^'^ a'"""' such that she can not feigne not to understande it, she shall
^^^ c,V<^^ -V take the wholl (as it were) for a meerie divise, and make
wi * xJ^'''* ^^^^^ that she knoweth it is spoken to her rather to honour
J . \^ -^"'^ her withall, then that it is so in deede, debasinge her
desertes and acknowleginge at the Gentilmans courtesie the
prayses which he geveth her : and in this sort she shall be
counted discreete, and shall be on the surer hande for
beeinge deceived. Thus me seemeth the Gentil woman of
I. f fri^W ''the Palaice ought to behave herself in communication of
%c<\)^^H ^*' ^ love.
" .; /w'Nfrtf *^ Then Sir Friderick : You debate this matter, my L.
; . fi-V**^-* ^^ Julian (quoth he) as though it were requisite, that all suche
iyr^V^V as speake with women of love, shoulde tell lyes, and seeke
* to deceive them, the whiche in case it were so, I woulde say
n^^A^^t'*"'^* your lessons were good. But if this gentilman that enter-
r V- teineth, loveth in very deede, and feeleth the passion that
/Vc/'*' ^, so tourmenteth mens hertes sometime, consider you not in
what peine, in what calamitie and death ye put him in,
whan at no time you will that the woman shall beeleave him
in any thinge he saith about this pourpose ? Shall othes,
teares, and so many other tokens then, have no force at all ?
Take heede (my L. Julian) least a manne may thinke that
beeside the naturall crueltye whiche manie of these women
have in them, you teach them yet more.
The L. Julian answered : I have spoken, not of him that
loveth, but of him that enterteineth with communication of
love, wherein one of the necessariest pointes is, that woordes
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OF THE COURTYER
be never to seeke : and true lovers as they have a burninge
hart, so have they a colde tunge, with broken talke and
sodeine silence. Therfore (may happ) it were no false
principle to saye : He that loveth much, speaketh litle.
Howbeit in this I beleave there can be given no certein
rule, by reason of the diversity of mens maners. And
I wote not what I should say, but that the woman be
good and heedfull, and alwaies beare in mynde, that men
may with a great deale lesse daunger declare themselves to
love, then women.
The L. Gaspar said laughinge : Why (my L. Julian) wil
not you that this your so excellent a woman shall love again,
at the least whan she knoweth certeinlye she is beeloved ?
consideringe if the Courtier were not loved again, it is not
likelye he woulde continue in lovinge her : and so shoulde
she want manye favours, and cheefly the homage and rever-
ence, wherwithal lovers obey and (in a maner) woorship
the vertue of the women beloved.
In this, answered the L. Julian, I will not counsel her.
But I say pardee to love, as you now understand, I judge
it not meete, but for unmaried women. For whan this love
can not ende in matrimonye, the woman muste needes have
alwaies the remorse and pricking that is had of unlefull
matters, and she putteth in hasarde to staine the renow^me
of honestie, that standeth her so much upon.
Then answered Sir Fridericke smilinge : Me thinke (my
L. Julian) this opinion of yours is verie soure and crabbed,
and I beleave vou have learned it of some Frier Preacher,
of them that rebuke women in love with lay men, that their
part may be the more. And me seemeth you sett over
hard lawes to maried women, for manye there be that their Marled
husbandes beare verye sore hatred unto without cause, and "omen.
nipp them at the hert, sometime in lovinge other women,
otherwhile in woorkinge them all the displeasures they can
imagin. Some are compelled by their fathers to take olde
men full of diseases, uglesome and weywarde, that make
them lead their lief in continual misery. And in case it
were leful for such to be divorsed and severed from them
thev be ill coopled withal, perhappes it were not to be alowed
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THE THIRDE BOOKE
that they should love any other then their husband. But
whan eyther through the sterres, theyr enemies, or through
the diversitie of complexion, or anie other casualtie it be-
falleth, that in bed, whiche ought to be the nest of agree-
ment and love, the cursed furie of hell soweth the seede
of his venime, which afterwarde bryngeth furth disdeigne,
susspition and the pricking thornes of hatred, that tour-
menteth those unluckie soules bound cruelly together in the
fast lincked chaine that can not be broken but by death,
why will not you have it lefull for this woman to seeke some
easement for so harde a scourge, and give unto an other that
which her husbande not onelye regardeth not, but rather
cleane abhorreth ? I houlde well, that suche as have meete
husband es and be beloved of them, ought not to do them
injurie : but the other in not lovinge him that loveth them
do them selves injurie.
Nay, they do themselves injurie in lovinge other beeside
their husbande, answered the L. Julian. Yet sins not loving
is not many times in our will, if this mishap chaunce to the
woman of the Palaice, that the hatred of her husbande or
, the love of an other bendeth her to love, I will have her to
graunt her lover nothing elles but the minde : nor at any
time to make him any certein token of love, neither in
; woorde nor gesture, nor any other way that he may be fully
assured of it.
Then saide M. Robert of Bari smilinge : I appeale (my
L. Julian) from this judgement of youres, and I beleave I
shall have many felowes. But sins you will teach this cur-
rishnesse (that I maye terme it so) to maried women, will
ye also have the unmaried to be so cruell and discourtious,
and not please their lovers at the least in somewhat ?
In case my woman of the Palaice, answered the L. Julian,
How maidens be not maryed, myndinge to love,J[ wyll have her to love
shoulde love, one, whom she maye marye, neytHer will I thinke it an
offence if she showe him some token of love. In which
matter I will teache her one general 1 rule in fewe woordes,
A generall and that is. That she showe him whom she loveth all tokens
^^^®- of love, but such as may bring into the lovers minde a hope
to obtein of her any dishonest matter. And to this she
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must have a great respect, bicause it is an errour that
infinit women renn into, which ordinarilye covett nothinge
somuch as to be beawtifull : and bicause to have manye
lovers they suppose is a testimonye of their beawtie, they
do their best to winn them as many as they can. Therfore
often times they renn at rovers in beehaviours of small
modestie, and leavinge the temperate sobermoode that is so
sightlye in them, use certein wanton countenaunces, with
baudie woordes and gestures full of unshamefastnesse, hould-
inge opinion that menne marke them and give eare to them
willyngly for it, and with these facions make themselves
beloved, which is false : bicause the signes and tokens that
be made them, sprynge of an appetite moved by an opinion
of easinesse, not of love. Therfore will not I that my
woman of the Palaice with dishonest beehaviours should
appeere as though she wold offre herselfe unto whoso wyll
have her, and allure what she can the eyes and affection
of who so beehouldeth her: but with her desertes and
vertuous] condicions, with amiablenesse and grace drive
into the mind of whoso seeth her the verye love that is due
unto every thinge woorthy to be beloved : and the respect
that alwaies taketh awaye hope from whoso mindeth anye
dishonest matter. He then that shall be beloved of such a The love
woman, ought of reason to houlde himselfe contented with of honest
everye litle token, and more to esteanie a looke of herres with "'<'™6^'
affection of love, then to be altogether maister of an other.
And to such a woman I wote not what to ad more, but that
she be beloved of so excellent a Courtier, as these Lordes
have facioned, and she likewise to love him, that both the
one and the other may have ful and wholy his perfection.
After the L. Julian had thus spoken he helde his peace,
whan the L. Gaspar laughinge : Now (quoth he) you can
not complaine that the L. Julian hath not facioned this
woman of the Palaice most excellent. And if perdee there
be any suche to be found, I say that she deserveth well to
be esteamed equall with the Courtier.
The L. Emilia answered : I will at all times be bounde
to finde her, whan you finde the Courtier.
M. Robert said then : Doubtlesse it can not be saide nay,
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THE THIRDE BOOKE
but the L. Julians woman whiche he hath facioned is most
perfect. Yet in these her last properties as touching love,
me seemeth notwithstanding that he hath made her som-
what over crabbed, and especially where he will have her in
woordes, gestures and countenance to take cleane away all
hope from the lover, and settle him as nigh as she can in
despaire. For (as all menne know) the desires of man stretch
not to suche kinde of matters, whereof there is no hope to
be had. And althoughe at times some women there have
bine, that perhappes bearing themselves loftie of their
beawtie and woorthinesse : the first woorde they have said
to them that communed with them of love hath bine, that
they should never looke to come bye anye thinge of them
that liked them : yet in countenaunce, and daliance together
they have afterward bine more favourable to them, so that
with their gentle deedes they have tempred in part their
proude woordes. But if this woman both in woordes, deedes
and beehaviours take hope quite awaye, I beeleave our
Courtier, if he be wise, will never love her, and so shall she
have this imperfection, that she shall be without a lover.
Then the L. Julian : I wyll not (quoth he) have my
woman of the Palaice to take away the hope of every thinge,
but of dishonest matters, that which, in case the Courtier
be so courteious and discreete, as these Lordes have facioned
him, he will not onelye not hope for, but not once motion.
Honest love. For if beawtie, maners, witt, goodnesse, knowleage, sober-
moode, and so manye other vertuous condicions which we
have given the woman, be the cause of the Courtiers love
towarde her, the ende also of this love must needes be
vertuous : and if noblenesse of birth, skilfulnes in marciall
feates, in letters, in musike, gentlenesse, beeing both in
speach and in beehaviour indowed with so many graces, be
the meanes wherwithall the Courtier compaseth the womans
love, the end of that love must needes be of the same condi-
cion that the meanes are by the whiche he commeth to it.
Beeside that, as there be in the world sundrie kindes of
beawtye, so are there also sundrie desires of men : and
therfore it is scene that manie, perceivinge a woman of so
grave a beawtie that goinge, standinge, jestinge, dalyinge,
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Sundrye
kindes of
beawtye.
OF THE COURTYER
and doinge what she lusteth, so teiiipreth al her gestures,
that it driveth a certein reverence into whoso behouldeth
her, are agast and a ferde to serve her : and rather drawn
with hope, love those garishe and enticefull women, so
delicate and tender, that in their woordes, gestures and
countenance declare a certein passion somewhat feeble, that
promiseth to be easely brought and tourned into love.
Some to be sure from deceytes, love certein other so lavishe
both of their eyes, woordes and gestures, that they do what
ever first commeth to minde, with a certein plainesse that
liideth not their thoughtes. There want not also manye
other noble courages, that seeminge to them that vertue
consisteth about hard matters (for it is over sweete a victorie
to overcome that seemeth to an other impringable) are soone
bent to love the beawties of those women, that in their eyes,
woordes and gestures declare a more churlish gravitie then
the rest for a triall that their prowesse can enforce an
obstinate minde, and bende also stubborne willes and rebelles
against love, to love. Therfore suche as have so great
affiance in themselves, bicause they recken themselves sure
from deceit, love also willinglye certein women, that with a
sharpenesse of wit, and with art it seemeth in their beawtie
that they hide a thousande craftes. Or elles some other,
that have accompanied with beawty a certein skornefuU
facion in few wordes, litle laughing, after a sort as though
(in a maner) they smallye regarded whoso ever behouldeth
or serveth them. Again there are founde certein other, that
vouchesafe not to love but women that in their countenaunce,
in their speacli and in all their gestures have about them all
hansomnesse, all faire condicions, all knowleage, and all
graces heaped together, like one floure made of all the
excellencies in the worlde. Therfore in case my woman of
the Palaice have scarsitie of these loves proceadinge of an
yll hope, she shal not for this be without a lover : bicause
she shal not want them that shalbe provoked through her
desertes and through the affiance of that prowesse in them-
selves, wherby they shal knowe themselves worthy to be
beloved of her.
M. Robert still spake against him, but the Dutchesse
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THE THIRDE BOOKE
toulde him tliat he was in the wronge, confirminge the
L. Julians opinion : after that she added : We have no
cause to complaine of the L. Julian, for doubtlesse I thinke
that the woman of the Palaice whom he hath facioned,
maye be compared to the Courtier, and that with some
avauntage : for he hath taught her to love which these
Lordes have not done their Courtier.
Then spake Unico Aretiko : It is meete to teache women
to love, bicause I never sawe anye that coulde doe it, for
Beawtifull almoste continually e all of them accompanye their beawtje
womeu cruell. ^i^]^ crueltye and unkindnesse toward suche as serve them,
most faithfullye, and whiche for noblenesse of birth, honestie
and vertue deserved a rewarde for theyr good will : and
yet manye times geve themselves for a prey to most blockish
and cowardly men and verye assheades, and which not only
love them not, but abhor them. Therfore to shon these so
foule oversightes, perhappes it had bin well done first to have
taught them to make a choise of him that should deserve to
be beloved, and afterward to love him. The whiche is not
necessarye in men, for they knowe it to well of themselves :
and I my selfe can be a good witnesse of it, bicause love was
never taught me, but by the divine beawty and most divine
maners of a Lady, so that it was not in my will not to woor-
shippe her: and therfore needed I therin no art nor teacher
at all. And I beleave that the like happeneth to as manie
as love truly. Therfore the Courtier hath more neede to
be taught to make him beloved then to love.
Then said the L. Emilia : Do you now reason of this then,
M. Unico,
Unico answered : Me thinke reason woulde that the good
will of women shoulde be gotten in servinge and pleasinge
them. But it, wherin they recken themselves served and
pleased, I beleave muste be learned of women themselves,
whiche oftentimes covett suche straunge matters, that there
is no man that would imagin them, and otherwhile they
themselves wote not what they should longe for : therfore it
were good you (Madam) that are a woman, and of right
ought to know what pleaseth women, shoulde take thys
peine, to do the worlde so great a profit.
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Then saide the L. Emilia : For somuch as you are gener-
allye most acceptable to women, it is a good likelihoode
that you knowe al the waies how their good will is to be
gotten. Therfore is it pardee meete for you to teach it.
Madam, answered Unico, I can give a lover no profit-
abler advise then to procure that you beare no stroke
with the woman whose good will he seeketh. For the
smalle qualities which yet seemed to the world sometime
to be in me, with as faithfuU a love as ever was, were
not of suche force to make me beloved, as you to make
me be hated.
Then answered the L. Emilia : God save me (M. Unico)
for once thinking and much more for workinge anye thinge
that should make you be hated. For beeside that I should
doe that I ought not, I shoulde be thought of a sclender
judgement to attempt a matter unpossible. But sins ye
provoke me in this sort to speake of that pleaseth women, I
will speake of it, and if it displease you, laye the fault in
your selfe. I judge therfore, that whoso entendeth to be Howe to
Jjeloved, ought to love and to be lovely : and these two ostein the
pointes are inoughe to obtein the good will of women. ^^^ ^^ ^
No we to answere to that which you lay to my charge, I
say that everie manne knoweth and seeth that you are moste
lovelie. Mary whether ye love so faithfuUye, as you saye
ye do, I am verye doubtfull and perhappes others to. For,
your beeing over lovely, hath bine the cause that you have
bine beloved of many women : and great rivers divided into
manye armes beecome smalle brookes : so love likewise
scattered into mo then one bodye hath smalle force. But
these your continuall complaintes and accusinge of the
women whom you have served of unkindenesse (which is not
likely, consideringe so manye desertes of yours) is a certein
kind of discretion, to cloke the favours, contentations and
pleasures whyche you have received in love, and an assurance
for the women that love you and that have given themselves
for a prey to you, that you will not disclose them. And
therfore are they also wel pleased, that you should thus
openlye showe false loves to others, to cloke their true.
Wherfore if haplye those women that you nowe make wise
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THE THIRDE BOOKE
to love, are not so light of beleaf, as you would they were,
it happeneth bicause this your art in love beeginneth to be
discovered, and not bicause I make you to be hated.
Then said M. Uxico : I entende not to attempt to confute
your wordes, bicause me seemeth it is aswell my destiny not
to be beleaved in truth, as it is yours to be beleaved in
untruth.
Saye hardlye M. Unico, answered the L. EiMilia, that you
love not so, as you woulde have beleaved ye did. For if
you did love, all your desires should be to please the woman
beloved, and to will the selfe same thinge that she willeth,
The lawe for this is the lawe of love. But your complaininge somuche
of love. of her, beetokeneth some deceite (as I have said) or els it is
a signe that you will that, that she willeth not.
Nay (quoth M. Unico) there is no doubt but I will that,
that she willeth, which is a signe I love her : but it greeveth
me bicause she willeth not that, that I will, which is a token
she loveth not me, according to the verie same lawe that
[ you have alleaged.
The L. Emilia answered : He that taketh in hande to
love, muste please and applye himself full and wholy to
the appetites of the wight beloved, and accordinge to them
frame hys owne : and make his owne desires, servauntes :
and hys verye soule, like an obedient handmaiden : nor at
anye tyme to thynke upon other, but to chaunge his, if it
were possible, into the beloved wightes, and recken this his
cheef joy and happinesse, for so do they that love truly e.
My cheef happinesse were jumpe, answered M. Unico, if
one will alone ruled her soule and myne both.
It lieth in you to do it, answered the L. Emilia.
Then spake M. Bernarde intenniptinge them: Doubtlesse,
who so loveth trulye, directeth all his thaughtes, without
other mens teachinge, to serve and please the woman beloved.
But bicause these services of love are not otherwhile well
knowen, I beleave that beeside lovinge and servinge, it is
necessary also to make some other showe of this love, so
manifest, that the woman may not dissemble to know that
she is beloved : yet with such modesty, that it may not
appeere that he beareth her litle reverence. And therfore
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OF THE COURTYER
you (Madam) that have beegone to declare howe the soule
of the lover ought to be an obedient hand may den to the
beloved, teach us withall, I besech you, this secrete matter,
which me thinke is most needefull.
The L. Cesar laughed and said : If the lover be so
bashfull, that he is ashamed to tell it her, let him write
it her.
To this the L. Ejiilia said : Nay, if he be so discreete, as
is meete, beefore he maketh the woman to understand it. he
ought to be out of doubt to ofFende her.
Then saide the L. Gaspar : All women have a delite to
be suide to in love, althoughe they were mynded to denye
the suite.
The L. Julian said : You are muche deceyved. For I
woulde not counsell the Courtier at anye time to use this
way, except he were sure not to have a repulse.
What shoulde he then do .'* quoth the L. Gaspar.
The L. Julian answered : In case you will needes write or Howe a man
speake to her, do it with such sobermoode, and so warilye, should dis-
that the woordes maye firste attempt the minde, and so closehis love
doubtfullye touch her entent and will, that they maye leave
her a way and a certein issue to feine the understandinge
that those woordes conteine love : to the entent if he finde
anye daunger, he maye draw backe and make wise to have
spoken or written it to an other ende, to enjoye these
familiar cherishinges and daliances with assuraunce, that
oftentimes women showe to suche as shoulde take them for
frendshippe, afterwarde denye them assone as they perceyve
they are taken for tokens of love. Wherefore suche as be
to rashe and venture so saucilie with certein furies and
plunges, oftentimes lose them, and woorthilie : for it dis-
pleaseth alwaies every honest gentilwoman, to be litle
regarded of whoso without respect seeketh for love at her
beefore he hath served her, Therfore (in my minde) the
way which the Courtier ought to take, to make his love
knowen to the woman me thinke should be to declare them
in signes and tokens more then in woordes. For assuredlye
there is otherwhile a greater affection of love perceyved in a
sigh, in a respect, in a feare, then in a thousande woordes.
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The eyes, Afterwarde, to make the eyes the trustye messangers, that
maye carye the ambassades of the hart : bicause they often-
times declare with a more force what passion there is
inwardlye, then can the tunge, or letters, or messages, so
that they not onlye disclose the thaughtes, but also manye
tyraes kendle love in the hert of the person beloved. For
those lively spirites that issue out at the eyes, bicause they
are engendred nigh the hart, entring in like case into the
eyes that they are leveled at, like a shaft to the pricke,
naturallye perce to the hart, as to their restynge place and
there are at truste with those other spirites : and with the
moste subtill and fine nature of bloode whyche they carie
with them, infect the bloode about the hart, where they are
come to, and warme it : and make it like unto themselves,
and apt to receive the imprintinge of the image which they
have caried away with them. Wherfore by litle and litle
comminge and goinge the waye through the eyes to the hart,
and bringinge backe with them the tunder and strikinge yron
of beawtie and grace, these messangers kendle with the
puffinge of desire the fire that so burneth, and never ceaseth
consuminge, for alwayes they bringe some matter of hope to
nourishe it. Therfore it may full well be said, that the
eyes are a guide in love, especiallye if they have a good grace
and sweetenesse in them, blacke, of a cleere and sightlye
blackenesse, or elles gray, meery and laughinge, and so
comely and percinge in beehouldinge, as some, in which a
man thinketh verilie that the wayes that give an issue to
the spirites are so deepe, that by them he maye see as farr
as the hart. The eyes therefore lye lurkinge like souldiers
in warre lyinge in wayte in bushment, and if the fourme of
all the bodye be welfavoured and of good proportion, it
draweth unto it and allureth whoso beehouldeth it a farr of,
until he come nigh : and assoone as he is at hande, the eyes
shoote, and like sorcerers, beewitch, and especiallie v/han by
a right line they sende their glisteringe beames into the eies
of the wight beloved at the time whan they do the like,
bicause the spirites meete together, and in that sweete
encounter the one taketh the others nature and qualitye :
as it is scene in a sore eye, that beehoulding steadilv fi
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sound one, giveth him his disease, Therfore me thinke
oure Courtier may in this wise open a great percel of the
love to his woman. Truth it is that in case the eyes
be not governed with art, they discover manie times the
amorous desires more unto whom a man woulde least : for
through them (in a maner) visibly shinefurth those burn-
inge passions, whiche the lover mindinge to disclose onlie
to the wight beloved, openeth them manie times also unto
whom he woulde most soonest hide them from, Therfore
he that hath not lost the bridle of reason, handleth him-
selfe heedefuUye, and observeth the times and places : and
whan it needeth, refrayneth from so stedfast beehouldinge,
for all it be a most savourie foode, bicause an open love is Open love,
to harde a matter.
Count Lewis answered : Yet otherwhile to be open it
hurteth not : bicause in this case manye times men suppose
that those loves tende not to the ende which everie lover
coveteth, whan they see there is litle heede taken to hide
them, and passe not whether they be knowen or no : and
therfore with deniall a man chalengeth him a certein libertye
to talke openly and to stande without susspition with the
wight beloved : whiche is not so in them that seke to be
secrete, bicause it appeereth that they stande in hope of,
and are nighe some great rewarde, whiche they woulde not
have other men to knowe. I have also scene a most fervent
love springe in the hart of a woman towarde one, that
seemed at the firste not to beare him the least affection in
the world, onlye for that she heard say, that the opinion of
many was, that they loved together. And the cause of this
(I beleave) was, that so generall a judgement seemed a
sufficiente witnesse, that he was woorthie of her love. And
it seemed (in a maner) that report brought the ambassade
on the lovers beehalfe muche more truer and worthier to be
beleaved, then he himselfe coulde have done with letters, or
woordes, or any other person for him : therfore sometime
this commune voice not onlye hurteth not, but farthereth a
mans purpose.
The L, JuiJAN answered : Loves that have report for their
niessanger, are verye perilous to make a man pointed to
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with a finger. And therfore who ever entendeth to walke
this race warilye, needes must he make countenaunce to
have a great deale lesse fire in his stomake, then in deede
he hath, and content himselfe with that, that he thinketh
a trifie, and dissemble his desires, jeolosies, afflictions and
pleasures, and manye times laugh with mouth whan the hart
weepeth, and showe himself lavishe of that he is most cove-
tous of: and these thinges are so harde to be done, that (in
a maner) they are unpossible. Therfore if oure Courtier
would folowe my counsell, I would exhort him to kepe his
loves secrete.
Then said M. Bernarde : You must then teach it him,
and me thinke it is muche to pourpose : for beeside privie
signes that some make otherwhile so closely, that (in a
maner) without any gesture, the person whom they covett,
in their countenance and eyes reade what they have in the
hert, I have sometime heard betweene two lovers a long
and a large discourse of love, wherof yet the standers by
could not plainlye understand any particuler point, nor be
out of doubt that it was of love, suche was the discreation
and heedefulnesse of the talker : for without makinge anie
maner showe that they were not willinge to be hearde, they
rounded privilye the wordes onlie that were most to pour-
pose, and al the rest they spake aloude, Avhich might be
applied to divers meaninges.
Then spake Sir Friderick : To reason thus in peecemeale
of these rules of secretnesse, were a takinge of an infinit
matter in hand : therfore would I that we spake somwhat
rather how the lover shoulde keepe and maintein his Ladies
good wil, which me thinke is much more necessary.
To maintein The L. Julian answered : I beleave the meanes that serve
good will. him to compasse it, serve him also to kepe it, and all this
consisteth in pleasinge the woman beloved, without offend-
ing her at any time. Therfore it were a hard matter to
give any certein rule, bicause whoso is not discrete, infinit
wayes committeth oversightes, whiche otherwhile seeme
matters of nothing, and yet offende they much the womans
minde. And this happeneth more then to others, to suche
as be mastred with passion : as some that whenso ever they
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have opportunitie to speake with the woman they love,
lament and beewaile so bitterlye, and covett manye times
thinges so un possible, that through this unreasonablenesse
they are lothed of them. Other, if they be pricked with
anye jeolosie, storaake the matter so greevouslye, that with-
out stopp they burst oute in raylinge upon him they suspect,
and otherwhile it is without trespace eyther of him or yet
of the woman, and will not have her speake with him, nor
once tourne her eyes on that side where he is. And with
these facions manye tymes, they do not onlye offende the
woman, but also they are the cause that she bendeth herselfe
to love him. Bicause the feare that a lover declareth to
have otherwhile least his Ladye forsake him for the other,
beetokeneth that he acknowleageth himself inferiour in
desertes and prowesse to the other, and with this opinion
the woman is moved to love him. And perceyvinoe that
to put him out of favour he reporteth ill of him, although
it be true, yet she beleaveth it not, and notwythstandinge
loveth him the more.
Then saide the L. Cesar : I confesse that I am not so
wise that I coulde refrayne speakynge yll of my felow lover,
except you coulde teache me some other better waye to
dispatche him.
The L. Julian answered smilinge : It is saide in a Pro-
vei'be. Whan a mans ennemye is in the water uppe to the Au Itahan
middle, lette him reache him his hande. and helpe him from pioverbe.
daunger : but whan he is up to the chinn, set his foote on
his head and drowne him out of hand. Therefore certein
there be that playe so with their felow lovers, and untill
they have a sure ineane to dispatche them, go dissembling
the matter, and rather show themselves friendes then other-
wise. Afterward whan occasion serveth them so fitlye, that
they know they may overthrowe them with a sure riddaunce,
reportinge all yvell of them, be it true or false, they doe it
without sparynge, with art, deceite and all wayes that they
can imagin. But bicause I woulde not lyke that oure -"^^'*'-
Courtier shoulde at anye tyme use anye deceyte, I woulde ^q^^J^^^^I^^
have him to withdrawe the good will of his maistresse from drawen from
his felowlover with none other arte, but with lovinge, with a mans rivale.
NN 281
woordes.
The fondnes
of some
lovers.
THE THIRDE BOOKE
servinge, and with beeinge vcrtuous, of prowesse, discreet,
sober, in conclusion with deservinge more then he, and with
beeinge in everye thynge heedful! and wise, refrayninge
from certain leude folies, into the which often times raanye
ignoraunt renn, and by sundrie wayes. For in times past I
have knowen some that in writinge and speakinge to women
Men that used evermore the woordes of Poliphilus, and ruffled so
professe to be in their subtill pointes of Rhetoricke, that the women were
to lovinge in ^^^^ ^^ conceit with their owne selves, and reckened them-
selves most ignoraunt, and an houre seemed a thousand
yeere to them, to ende that talke and to be rid of them.
Other, bragg and boast to by yonde all measure. Other
speake thinges manie times that redounde to the blame and
damage of themselves, as some that I am wont to laughe at,
which make profession to be lovers, and otherwhile saye in
the company e of women : I never founde woman that ever
loved me, and are not weetinge that the hearers by and by
iudge that it can arrise of none other cause, but that they
deserve neither to be beloved, nor yet so much as the water
they drinke, and count them assheades, and would not love
them for all the good in the worlde : seeming to them that
in case they should love them, they were lesse worth, then
all the rest that have not loved them. Other, to purchase
hatred to some felowe lover of theirs, are so fonde that in
like maner in the companye of women they saye : Such
a one is the luckiest man in the worlde, for once, he is
neyther welfavoured, nor sober, nor of prowess, neyther can
he do or say more then other menne, and yet all women
love him, and renn after him, and thus uttringe the spite
they beare him for this good lucke, althoughe neyther in
countenaunce nor deedes he appeereth lovelye, yet make
they them beleave that he bathe some hid matter in him,
for the whiche he deserveth the love of so manie women,
wherfore the women that heare them talke of him in this
wise, they also upon this beleaf are moved to love him
muche more.
Then Count Lewis laughed and saide : I assure you our
Courtier if he be discreete, will never use this blockishenes,
to gete him the good will of women.
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The L, Cesar Gonzaga answered : Nor yet an other that
a Gentilman of reputation used in my dayes, who shal be
namelesse for the honour of men.
The DuTCHEssE answered : Tell us at the least what
he did.
The L. Cesar said : This manne beeinge beloved of a Blockish
great Lady, at her request came privilye to the towne where over sightes.
she laye. And after he had seene her and communed with
her, as long as they thought meete and had time and leyser
therto, at his leave takinge with many bitter teares and
sighes in witnesse of the extreme greef he felt for this
departinge, he required her to be alwaies mindfull of him.
And afterward he added withall, that she woulde discharge
his ynn, for sins he came thither at her request, he thought
meete that he should not stand to the charges of his beeing
there himself.
Then beegan all the Ladies to laugh, and said that he
was most unwoorthy of the name of a Gentilman : and
many were ashamed with the selfe shame that he himselfe
shoulde woorthilye have felt, if at anye time he had gotten
so muche understandynge, that he might have perceyved so
shamefull an oversight.
Then tourned the L. Gaspar to the L. Cesar and said :
Better it had bine to have omitted the rehersal of this
matter for the honour of women, then the naming of him
for the honour of men. For you may well imagin what a
judgement that great Ladie had in lovinge so unreasonable
a creature. And perhappes to, of manye that served her,
she chose him for the most discreatest, leavinge beehinde,
and showinge ill wil unto them that he was not woorthie to
wayte upon.
Count Lewis laughed and saide : Who woteth whether he
was discreate in other thinges or no, and was out of the
waye onlye about ynnes ? But many times for overmuch Love maketh
love men committ great folies. And if you will tell the men commit
truth, perhappes it hath bine your chaunce to commit mo »
then one.
The L. Cesar answered smilinge : Of good felowshippe
let us not discover oure owne oversightes.
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To kepe
love secrete.
A friende.
Yet we must discover them, answered the L. Gaspar,
that we maye knowe how to amende them, then he proceaded :
Now that the Courtier knoweth how to wynn and kepe the
good will of his Lady, and take it from his felow lover, you
(my L. Julian) are dettour to teache her to kepe her loves
secrete.
The L. Julian answered : Me thinke I have sufficientlye
spoken, therefore gete ye nowe an other to talke of this
secreate matter.
Then M. Bernarde and all the rest beegane a freshe to be
in hande with him instantlye, and the L. Julian said : You
will tempt me. Ye are all the sort of you to great Clearkes
in love. Yet if ye desire to know farther, goe and reade
Ovid.
And ho we, quoth M. Bernarde, shal I hope that his
lessons are any thing worth in love, whan he counselleth
and saith that it is very good for a man in the companye of
his maistresse to feigne the dronkarde ? See what a goodly
way it is to gete good will withall. And he alleageth for a
pretie divise to make a woman understande that he is in
love with her, beeinge at a banckett, to diepe his finger in
wine and write it upon the table.
The L. Julian said smilinge : In those dayes it was no
fault.
And therfore, quoth M. Bernards, seeinge so sluttishe a
matter was not disalowed of men in those daies, it is to be
thought that they had not so courtlye beehaviours to serve
women in love, as we have. But let us not omitt oure first
pourpose to teache to keepe love secrete.
Then saide the L. Julian : In myne advise to keepe love
secrete, the causes are to be shonned that uttre it, whiche
are manye : yet one principall, namelye, to be over secrete
and to put no person in truste. Bicause everye lover
coveteth to make his passions knowen to the beloved, and
beeinge alone, he is driven to make many mo signes and
more evident, then if he were aided by some lovinge and
faithfull friende. For the signes that the lover himselfe
maketh, give a farr greater susspition, then those that he
maketh by them that go in message betwene. And forso-
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much as men naturallye are greedie to understand, assone as
a straunger beeginneth to suspect the matter, he so applieth
it, that he commeth to the knowleage of the truth, and
whan he once knoweth it, he passeth not for disclosinge it,
yea sometime he hath a delite to do it. Which happeneth
not of a friend, who beeside that he is a helpe to him with
favour and counsel!, doeth many times remedie the over-
sightes committed by the blinde lover, and alwaies pro-
cureth secretnes, and preventeth many matters which he
himself can not foresee : beeside the great comfort that he
feeleth, whan he maye uttre his passions and greeff'es, to a
harty friende, and the partening of them likewise encreaseth
his contentations.
Then said the L. Gaspar : There is an other cause that
discovereth loves much more then this.
What is that ? answered the L. Julian.
The L. Gaspah said : Vaine greedinesse joigned with the What dis-
fondenesse and cruelty of women, which (as you your selfe closeth love,
have saide) procure as muche as they can to gete them a
great numbre of lovers, and (if it were possible) they would
have them al to burne and make asshes, and after death to
retourn to lief, to die again. And thoughe they love
withall, yet rejoice they at the tourment of lovers, bicause
they suppose that greef, afflictions and the calling every
hour for death, is a true witnesse that they are beloved,
and that with their beawtie they can make men miserable
and happy, and give them life and death, as pleaseth them.
Wherfore they feede upon this only foode, and are so gredie
over it, that for wanting it they never throughly content
lovers, nor yet put them out of hope, but to kepe them still
in afflictions and in desire, they use a certein lofty sowernesse
of threatninges mingled with hope, and wold have them to
esteame a woorde, a countenance or a beck of theirs for a
cheef blisse. And to make men count them chaste and
honest aswel others as their lovers, they finde meanes that
these sharpe and discourtious maners of theirs may be in
open sight, for every man to thinke that they will much
woorse handle the unwoorthy, sins they handle them so,
that deserve to be beloved. And under this beleaf thinking
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themselves with this craft safe from sclaunder, often times
they lye nightlie with most vile men and whom they scase
knowe. So that to rejoice at the calamitie and continuall
complaintes of some woorthie gentilman, and beloved of
them, they barr themselves from those pleasures, whiche
perhappes with some excuse they might come bye, and are
the cause that the poore lover by verye debating of the
matter is driven to use wayes, by the which the thinge
commeth to liglit, that with all diligence shoulde have
bine kept most secrete. Certein other there are, whiche if
with deceite they can bringe manye in beeleaf that they
are beloved of them, nourish emonge them jeolosies with
cherishinge and makinge of the one in the others presence.
And whan they see that he also whom they love best is now
assured and oute of doubt that he is beloved through the
signes and tokens that be made him, manie times with
doubtful! woordes and feigned disdeignes they put him in
an uncerteintie and nippe him at the verie hart, makinge
wise not to passe for him and to give themselves full and
wholye to the other. Wherupon arrise malice, enimities,
and infinite occasions of stryfe and uttre confusion. For
needes must a man showe in that case the extreme passion
which he fealeth, althoughe it redounde to the blame and
sclaunder of the woman. Other, not satisfied with this
onlye tourment of jeolosye, after the lover hath declared all
his tokens of love and faithfull service, and they receyved
the same with some signe to be answerable in good will,
without pourpose and whan it is least looked for, they
beegine to beethinke themselves, and make wise to beleave
that he is slacked, and feininge newe suspitions that they
are not beloved, they make a countenaunce that they will in
any wise put him out of their favour. Wherfore throughe
these inconveniences the poore soule is constrayned of verye
force to beegine a freshe, and to make her signes, as thoughe
he beegane his service but then, and all the daye longe passe
up and downe through the streete, and whan the woman
goith furth of her doores to accompanye her to Churche and
to everie place where she goith, and never to tourne hys
eyes to other place. And here he retourneth to weepinge,
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to sighes, to heavie countenance, and whan he can talke
with her, to swearing, to blaspheminge, to desperation, and
to all rages which unhappie lovers are lead to by these
wielde beastes, that have greater thirst of blood then the
verie Tygres. Such sorowfull tokens as these be are to
often sene and knowen, and manie times more of others
then of the causer of them, and thus are they in fewe dayes
so published, that a stepp can not be made, nor the leaste
signe that is, but it is noted with a thousande eyes. It
happeneth then, that longe before there be any pleasures
of love beetwext them, they are ghessed and judged of all
the world. For whan they see yet their lover nowe nighe
deathes doore, cleane vanquished with the crueltye and
tourmentes they put him to, determineth advisedlye and in
good ernest to draw backe, then beegine they to make signe
that they love him hartely, and do him al pleasures and
give themselves to him, leaste if that fervent desire should
feint in him, the frute of love shoulde withall be the lesse
acceptable to him, and he ken them the lesse thanke for
doinge all thinges contrarily. And in case this love be
already knowen abrode, at this same time are all the effectes
knowen in like maner abrode, that come of it, and so lose
they their reputation, and the lover findeth that he hath
lost time and labour and shortned his life in afflictions
without any frute or pleasure, bicause he came by his
desires, not whan they should have bine so acceptable to
him that they woulde have made him a most happie
creature, but whan he set litle or nothinge by them. For
his hart was nowe so mortified with those bitter passions,
that he had no more sense to taste the delite or contenta-
tion offred him.
Then said the L. Octavian smilinge : You helde your
peace a while and refrayned from speakinge yll of women, but
now ye have so wel hit them home, that it appered ye waited
a time to plucke uppe your strength, like them that retire
backeward to give a greater pushe at the encounter. And
to say the truth, it is ill done of you, for nowe me thinke ye
may have done and be pacified.
The L. Emilia laughed, and tourninge her to the
287
THE THIRDE BOOKE
Dutchesse she said : See Madam, oure ennemies begine to
breake and to square one wyth an other.
Give me not this name, answered the L. Octavian, for I
am not your adversarie, but this contention hath displeased
me, not bicause I am sorye to see the victory upon womens
side, but bicause it hath lead the L. Gaspar to revile them
more then he ought, and the L. Julian and the L. Cesar to
praise them perhappes somwhat more then due : beeside
that through the lengtii of the talke we have lost the
understandinge of manye other pretye matters that are yet
beehinde to be said of the Courtier.
See, quoth the L. Emilia, whether you be not oure adver-
sarie, for the talke that is past greeveth you, and you would
not that this so excellent a Gentilwoman of the Palaice had
bine facioned : not for that you have any more to say of the
Courtier (for these lordes have spoken already what they
know and I beleave neither you, ne any man elles can ad
ought therto) but for the malice you beare to the honour
of women.
It is out of doubt, answered the L. Octavian, beeside that
is alreadie spoken, of the Courtier, I coulde wishe muche
more in him. But sins every man is pleased that he shall
be as he is, I am well pleased to, and woulde not have him
altered in anye point, savinge in makinge him somwhat more
frindlye to women, then the L. Gaspar is, yet not perhappes,
so much as some of these other Lordes are.
Then spake the Dutchesse : In any case we must see
whether youre witt be suche that it can give the Courtier a
greater perfection, then these Lordes have alreadye done :
therefore dispose your selfe to uttre that you have in your
minde, els will we thinke that you also can not ad unto him
more then hath alreadie bine saide, but that you minded
to diminish the praises and worthinesse of the gentilwoman
of the Palaice, seeing ye judge she is equall with the
Courtier, whom by this meane you would have beleaved might
be muche more perfect, then these Lordes have facioned
him.
The L. Octavian laughed and said : The prayses and dis-
prayses given women more then due, have so filled the eares
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and minde of the hearers, that they have left no voide
rowme for anye thinge elles to stande in : beeside that (in
mine opinion) it is very late.
Then said the Dutchesse : If we tarie till to morowe, we
shall have more time, and the prayses and dispraises, whiche
(you saye) are given women on both sides passinge measure,
in the meane season will be cleane out of these Lordes
mindes, and so shall they be apte to conceyve the truth that
you will tell us. Whan the Dutchesse had thus spoken,
she arrose upon her feete, and courteisly dismissing
them all, withdrew her to the bedchamber, and
everye manne gote him to his rest.
00 289
THE FOURTH BOOKE
OF THE COURTYER OF COUNT
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
UNTO MAISTER
ALPHONSUS ARIOSTO
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THE COURTYER
THE FOURTH BOOKE
HINKINGE to write oute the communica-
tion that was had the fourth night after
the other mentioned in the former bookes,
I feele emong sundry discourses a bitter
thought that gripeth me in my minde,
and maketh me to call to remembraunce
worldlie miseries and our deceitfuU hopes,
and how fortune many times in the verie
middes of our race, otherwhile nighe the ende disapointeth
our fraile and vaine pourposes, sometime drowneth them
beefore they can once come to have a sight of the haven a
farr of. It causeth me therfore to remember that not long-
after tliese reasoninges were had, crueli death bereved our
house of three moste rare gentilmen, whan in their prosperous
age and forwardnesse of honour they most florished, and of
them the first was the Lord Gaspar Pallavicin, who assaulted L. Caspar
with a sharpe disease, and more then once brought to the Pallavicin.
last cast, although his minde was of suche courage that for
a time in spite of death he kept the soule and bodye
together, yet did he ende hys naturall course longe beefore
he came to his ripe age. A very great losse not in our
house onlie and to his friendes and kinsfolke, but to his
Countrie and to all Lumbardye. Not longe after died the
L. Cesar Gonzaga, which to all that were acquainted with L. Cesar
him left a bitter and sorowfuU remembraunce of his death. Gonzaga.
For sins nature so sildome times bringeth furth such kinde
of men, as she doeth, meete it seemed that she shoulde not
so soone have bereved us of him. For undoubtedlye a
man maye saye that the L. Cesar was taken from us even at
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THE FOURTH BOOKE
the very time whan he beegane to show more then a hope
of himself, and to be esteamed as his excellent qualities
deserved. For with manye vertuous actes he alreadie gave
a good testimony of his worthinesse, and beeside his noble-
nesse of birthe, he excelled also in the ornament of letters,
of marciall prowesse, and of everye woorthie qualitie. So
that for his goodnesse, witt, nature, and knowleage, there
was nothinge so highe, that might not have bine hoped for
at his handes. Within a short while after, the death of
M. Robert M. Robert of Bari was also a great heavinesse to the wholl
of Bari. house : for reason seemed to perswade everie man to take
hevily the death of a yonge man of good beehaviour, plea-
saunt and moste rare in the beawtie of fisnamye and in the
makinge of his person, with as lucky and lively towardnes,
as a man coulde have wished. These men therfore, had they
lived, I beleave would have come to that passe, that unto
whoso had knowen them, they woulde have showed a manifest
proof, how much the Court of Urbin was worthie to be com-
mended, and ho we fournished it was with noble knightes,
the whiche (in a maner) all the rest have done that were
brought up in it. For trulye there never issued out of the
horse of Troy so many great men and capitaines, as there
have come menne out of this house for vertue verie singular
The promot- and in great estimation with al men. For as you knowe
iageofcerteiu gi^ Fridericke Fregoso was made archebishop of Salerno.
SeToX^ '" ^^""^ ^^'''^^' Bishoppe of Baious. The L. Octavian Fre-
goso, Duke of Genua. M. Bernarde Bibiena, Cardinal of
Santa Maria in Portico. M. Peter Bembo, Secretarye to
Pope Leo. The L. Julian was exalted to the Dukedome of
Nemours and to the great astate he is presentlye in. The
Lord Francescomaria della Rovere, Generall of Roome, he
was also made Duke of Urbin : although a muche more
praise may be given to the house where he was brought up,
that in it he hath proved so rare and excellent a Lorde in all
vertuous qualities (as a man may beehoulde) then that he
atteined unto the Dukedome of Urbin : and no smalle cause
thereof (I thinke) was the noble company where in daily
conversation he alwaies hearde and sawe commendable
nourtour. Therfore (me thinke) whether it be by happe,
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or throughe the favour of the sterres, the same cause that
so longe a time hath graunted unto Urbin verie good gov-
ernours, doth still continue and bringeth furth the like
effectes. And therefore it is to be hoped that prosperous
fortune will still encrease these so vertuous doinges, that
the happines of the house and of the State shall not only
not diminish, but rather daily encrease : and therof we see
alreadye manye evident tokens, emonge whiche (I recken)
the cheeff'est to be, that the heaven hath graunted suche a
Lady as is the Ladye Eleonor Gonzaga the newe Dutchesse. L. Eleonor
For if ever there were coopled in one bodye alone, know- Gonzaga
leage, witt, grace, beawtie, sober conversation, gentilnesse ^ ^^'
and every other honest qualitie, in her they are so lincked
together, that there is made therof a chaine, whiche frameth
and setteth furth everie gesture of herres with al these con-
dicions together. Let us therfore proceade in our reason-
inges upon the Courtyer, with hope that after us there shall
not want suche as shall take notable and woorthye examples
of vertue at the presente Court of Urbin, as we nowe do at
the former.
It was thought therefore (as the L. Gaspar Pallavicin
was wont to reherse) that the next daye after the reason-
inges conteined in the laste booke, the L. Octavian was not
muche seene : for manye deemed that he had gotten himself
out of companye to thinke well upon that he had to saye
without trouble. Therfore whan the companye was assembled
at the accustomed houre where the Dutchesse was, they made
the L. Octavian to be diligentlye sought for, whiche in a
good while appered not, so that manye of the Gentilmen
and Damselles of the Court fell to daunsynge and to minde
other pastymes, supposynge for that night they shoulde have
no more talke of the Courtyer.
And nowe were they all settled about one thinge or an
other, whan the L. Octavian came in (almost) no more
looked for : and beehouldinge the L. Cesar Gonzaga and the
L. Gaspar daunsinge, after he had made his reverence to the
Dutchesse, he saide smilinge : I had well hoped we shoulde
have hearde the L. Gaspar speake some ill of women this night
to, but sins I see him daunce with one, I imagin he is agreede
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THE FOURTH BOOKE
with all. And I am glad that the controversie, or (to terme
it better) the reasoninge of the Courtier is thus ended.
Not ended, I warrant you, answered the Dutchesse, for I
am not suche an ennemye to men, as you be to women, and
therfore I wil not have the Courtier bereved from his due
honour and the fournimentes whiche you youre selfe pro-
mised him yester night.
And whan she had thus spoken, she commaunded them
all after that daunse was ended to place themselves after the
wonted maner, the which was done.
And as they stoode all wyth heedful! expectation, the
L. OcTAviAN said : Madam, sins for that I wished manye
other good qualities in the Courtier, it foloweth by promise
that I muste entreate uppon them, I am well willinge to
uttre my minde : not with opinion that I can speake all
that may be said in the matter, but only so much as shall
suffice to roote that oute of your mind, which yester night
was objected to me : namely, that I spake it more to with-
drawe the prayses from the Gentilwoman of the Palaice, in
doinge you falselye to beleave that other excellent qualities
might be added to the Courtier, and with that pollicie pre-
farre him beefore her, then for that it is so in deede. Ther-
fore to frame my selfe also to the houre, which is later then
it was wont to be whan we beegane our reasoninges at other
times, I will be breef. Thus continuinge in the talke that
these Lordes have ministred, whiche I full and wholye alowe
Thinges good, and confirme, I say, that of thinges which we call good, some
there be that simply and of themselves are alwaies good,
as temperance, valiant courage, helth, and all vertues that
bring quietnesse to mens mindes. Other be good for
diverse respectes and for the ende they be applied unto, as
the lawes, liberality, riches and other like. I thinke therfore
that the Courtier (if he be of the perfection that Count
Lewis and Sir Friderick have described him) maye in deede
be a good thinge and woorthie praise, but for all that not
simplye, nor of himself, but for respect of the ende wherto
he may be applied. For doubtlesse if the Courtier with his
noblenesse of birth, comlie beehaviour, pleasantnesse and
practise in so many exercises, should bringe furth no other
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frute, but to be suche a one for himself, I woulde not thinke
to come by this perfect trade of Courtiership, that a man
shoulde of reason beestowe so much studye and peynes
about it, as who so will compase it must do. But I woulde
say rather that manie of the qualities appointed him, as
daunsing, singinge and sportinge, were lightnesse and
vanitie, and in a man of estimation rather to be dispraised
then commended : bicause those precise facions, the sett-
inge furth ones selfe, meerie talke and such other matters
belonginge to enterteinment of women and love (althoughe
perhappes manie other be of a contrary opinion) do many
times nothinge elles but womannish the mindes, corrupt
youth, and bring them to a most wanton trade of livinge :
wherupon afterwarde ensue these effectes, that the name of ;
Italy is brought into sclaunder, and few there be that have Dastardli-
the courage, I will not saye to jeoparde their lief, but to "esse,
entre once into a daunger. And without peradventure there
be infinite other thinges, that if a man beestow his labour
and studie about them, woulde bring furth muche more profit
both in peace and warr, then this trade of Courtiershipp
of it self alone. But in case the Courtiers doinges be directed
to the good ende they ought to be and whiche I meane : me
thinke then they should not onlye not be hurtfull or vaine,
but most profitable and deserve infinit praise. The ende
therfore of a perfect Courtier (wherof hitherto nothinge hath The ende of
bine spoken) I beleave is to purchase him, by the meane of fi Courtier,
the qualities whiche these Lordes have given him, in such-
wise the good will and favour of the Prince he is in service
withall, that he may breake his minde to him, and alwaies
enfourme hym francklye of the trueth of everie matter meete
for him to understande, without feare or perill to displease
him. And whan he knoweth his minde is bent to commit any
thinge unseemlie for him, to be bould to stande with him in
it, and to take courage after an honest sort at the favour
which he hath gotten him throughe his good qualities, to
disswade him from everie ill pourpose, and to set him in
the waye of vertue. And so shall the Courtier, if he have
the goodnesse in him that these Lordes have geven him ac-
companied with readinesse of witt, pleasantnesse, wisedome,
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THE FOURTH BOOKE
knowleage in letters and so many other thinges, understande
how to beehave himself readilye in all occurrentes to drive
into his Princis heade what honour and profit shall ensue
to him and to his by justice, liberalitie, valiauntnesse of
courage, meekenesse and by the other vertues that beelong to
a good Prince, and contrariwise what sclaunder and damage
commeth of the vices contrarie to them. And therfore in
mine opinion, as musike, sportes, pastimes, and other plea-
The floure of saunt facions, are (as a man woulde saye) the floure of
courtlines. Courtlines, even so is the traininge and the helping forward
The frute of the Prince to goodnesse and the fearinge him from y veil,
of it. the frute of it. And bicause the praise of weldoinge con-
Well doinge. sisteth cheeflye in two pointes, wherof the one is, in chous-
inge out an ende that our pourpose is directed unto, that is
good in deede : the other, the knowleage to find out apt
and meete meanes to bringe it to the appointed good ende :
sure it is that the mind of him which thinketh to worke so,
that his Prince shall not be deceived, nor lead with flaterers,
railers and lyers, but shall knowe both the good and the bad
and beare love to the one and hatred to the other, is directed
to a verye good ende. Me thinke again, that the qualities
which these Lordes have given the Courtier, may be a good
meanes to compasse it : and that, bicause emonge manye
vices that we see now a dayes in manye of our Princis, the
Lies engender greatest are ignoraunce and selfe leekinge : and the roote of
ignorance and these tv/o mischeeves is nothing elles but lyinge, which vice
self leekmg. ^^ worthelie abhorred of God and man, and more hurtful to
Princis then any other, bicause they have more scarsitye
then of any thinge elles, of that which they neede to have
more plenty of, then of any other thinge : namely, of suche
as shoulde tell them the truth and put them in minde of
Enemies. goodnesse: for enemies be not driven of love to do these
offices, but they delite rather to have them live wickedly
and never to amende : on the other side, they dare not
rebuke them openlye for feare they be punished. As for
Friendes. friendes few of them have free passage to them, and those
few have a respect to reprehende their vices so freelye as
they do private mens : and many times to coorie favour
and to purchase good will, they give themselves to nothinge
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elles but to feede them with matters that may delite, and Flattery,
content their minde, thoughe they be foule and dishonest.
So that of friendes they become flatterers, and to make a
hande by that streict familiaritie, they speake and woorke
alwaies to please, and for the most part open the way with
lyes, which in the Princis minde engender ignorance, not of
outwarde matters onlie, but also of his owne selfe. And
this may be said to be the greatest and fowlest lye of all
other, bicause the ignorant minde deceiveth himself and
inwardlie maketh lyes of himself. Of this it commeth, that
great men, beeside that they never understande the truth of Great men.
any thinge, dronken with the licentious libertye that rule
bringeth with it and with abundance of delicacies drowned
in pleasures, ar so far out of the way and their mind is so
corrupted in seeing themselves alwaies obeyed and (as it
were) woorshipped with so much reverence, and praise,
without not onlye anye reproof at all, but also gainsayinge,
that through this ignoraunce they wade to an extreeme selfe
leekinge, so that afterwarde they admitt no counsell nor
advise of others. And bicause they beleave that the under-
standinge howe to rule is a most easye matter, and to com-
passe it there needeth neyther arte nor learninge, but onlye
stoutenesse, they bende their minde and all their thoughtes
to the maintenance of that port they kepe, thinking it the
true happynesse to do what a man lusteth. Therfore do
some abhorr reason and justice, bicause they weene it a
bridle and a certeine meane to bringe them in bondage and
to minishe in them tlie contentation and hartes ease that
they have to beare rule, if they should observe it : and their
rule were not perfect nor whoU if they shoulde be compelled
to obey unto dutie and honestie, bicause they have an
opinion that Whoso obeyeth, is no right Lord in deede.
Therfore taking these principles for a president and suffer-
ing them selves to be lead with selfe leekinge, they wexe
loftie, and with a statlye countenance, with sharpe and cruell
condicions, with pompous garmentes, golde and jewelles, and
with comminge (in a maner) never abrode to be scene, they
thinke to gete estimation and authoritie emong men, and to
be counted (almost) Goddes: but thev are (in my judge-
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Images of
horrible
greatnesse.
Ignorance
of rules.
ment) like the Colosses that were made in Roome the last
yeere upon the feast day of the place of Agone, whiche out-
wardlye declared a likenesse of great men and horses of
triumph, and inwardly were full of towe and ragges. But
the Princis of this sort are so muche woorse, as the Colosses
by their owne waightye pese stande upright of them selves,
and they bicause they be yll counterpesed and without line
or levell placed upon unequall grounde, throughe their owne
waightinesse overthrowe them selves, and from one errour
renn into infinit. Bicause their ignoraunce beeinge annexed
with this false opinion that they can not eiT, and that the
port they kepe commeth of their knowleage, leadeth of
them every waye by right or by wronge to lay hande upon
possessions bouldly, so they maye come bye them. But in
case they woulde take advisemente to knowe and to woorke
that that they ought, they would aswell strive not to reigne
as they doe to reigne, bicause they shoulde perceyve what a
naughtye and daungerous matter it were for Subjectes that
ought to be governed, to be wyser then the Princis that
shoulde governe. You may see that ignorance in musike,
in daunsinge, in ridinge hurteth no man, yet he that is no
musitien is ashamed and aferde to singe in the presence
of others, or to daunse, he that can not, or he that sitteth
not wel a horse, to ride : but of the unskilfulnes to govern
people arrise so manie yvelles, deathes, destructions, mis-
cheefFes and confusions, that it may be called the deadliest
plagu upon the earth. And yet some princes most ignorant
in government, are not bashfull nor ashamed to take upon
them to govern I wil not say in the presence of foure or half
a dosen persons, but in the face of the world : for their
degree is sett so on loft, that all eyes beehould them, and
therfore not their great vices only, but their least faultes of
all are continuallie noted. As yt is written that Cimon was
yll spoken of bicause he loved wine, Scipio, sleepe, Lucullus,
bancketinges. But wolde God, the Princis of these oure
times wolde coople their vices wyth so manie vertues as did
they of olde time : which yf they were out of the way in any
point, yet refused they not the exhortations and lessons of
such as they deemed meete to correct those faultes : yea
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they saught with great instance to frame their lief by the Princis of
rule of notable personages : as Epaminondas by Lisias of olde time
Pythagoras sect : Agesilaus by Xenophon : Scipio by Panae- were refourm-
tius, and infinit others. But in case a grave Philosopher
shoulde come beefore enie of our Princes, or who ever beeside,
that wolde showe them plainlie and without enie circom-
stance the horrible face of true vertue and teache them
good maners and what the lief of a good Prince ought to
be, I ame assured they wolde abhorr him at the first sight,
as a most venimous serpent, or elles they wolde make him
a laughinge stocke, as a most vile matter. I saye ther- ^
fore that sins nowadayes Princis are so corrupt through yl /
usages, ignorance and false self leekinge, and that yt is so I
harde a matter to geve them the knoweleage of the truth
and to bende them to vertue, and men with lyes and flatterie
and such naughtye meanes seeke to coorie favour wyth them,
the Courtier by the meane of those honeste qualities that
Count Lewis and Sir Friderick have given hym, may soone,
and ought to go about so to purchase him the good will
and allure unto him the minde of his Prince, that he maye
make him a free and safe passage to commune with him in
every matter without troublinge him. And yf he be suche
a one as is said, he shall compase yt with smalle peine, and
so may he alwayes open unto him the truth of everie matter
at ease. Besyde this by litle and litle distille into his minde
goodnesse, and teache him continencie, stoutnesse of courage,
justice, temperance, makinge him to taste what sweetenesse , J^J^-
is hid under that litle bitternesse, which at the first sight
appeereth unto him that withstandeth vices : which are
aiwaies hurtfull, displeasant and accompanied wyth yl report
and shame, even as vertues are profitable, pleasant and
])raisable, and enflame him to them with the examples of
manie famous Capitanes, and of other notable personages,
unto whom they of old time used to make ymages of mettal Images in
and marble, and sometime of gold, and to set them up in the honour
commune haunted places, aswell for the honoure of them, ®^"^®'^-
as for an encouragynge of others, that with an honest envie
they might also endevour them selves to reach unto that
In this wise maye he leade him throughe the roughe
301
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THE FOURTH BOOKE
way of vertue (as it were) deckynge y t about with boowes to
shadowe yt and strawinge it over wyth sightlye flouers, to
ease the greefe of the peinfull journey in hym that is but of
a weake force. And sometyme with musike, somtime with
armes, and horses, sometyme with rymes and meeter, other-
whyle wyth communication of love, and wyth all those
wayes that these Lordes have spoken of, continually e keepe
that mynde of his occupyed in honest pleasure : imprintynge
notwythstandynge therin alwayes beesyde (as I have said) in
companie with these flickeringe provocations some vertuous
condicion, and beeguilinge him with a holsome craft, as the
warie phisitiens do, who manye times whan they minister to
yonge and tender children in ther sickenesse, a medicin of
a bitter taste, annoint the cupp about the brimm with some
sweete licour. The Courtier therfore applyinge to such a
pourpose this veile of pleasure, in everie time, in everie
place, and in exerye exercise he shall attaine to his ende,
and deserve muche more praise and recompence, then for
anie other good woorke that he can do in the worlde, bicause
there is no treasure that doeth so universallie profit, as
doeth a good Prince, nor anie mischeef so universallie hurt,
as an yll Prince. Therfore is there also in peine so bitter
and cruell that were a sufficient punishment for those
naughtie and wicked Courtiers, that make their honest and
pleasant maners and their good qualities a cloke for an ill
ende, and by meane of them seeke to come in favour with
their Princis for to corrupte them and to straye them from
the way of vertue and to lead them to vice. For a man
may say, that such as these be, do infect with deadlie poyson,
not one vessel wherof one man alone drinketh, but the com-
mune fountain that all the people resorteth to.
The L. Octavian helde his peace as though he would have
said no more, but the L. Gaspar : I can not see, my L. Octavian
(said he) that this goodnesse of minde and continincie, and
the other vertues whiche you will have the Courtier to showe
liis Lord, may be learned : but I suppose that they are given
the men that have them, by nature and of God. And that
it is so, you may see that there is no man so wicked and of
so ill condicions in the world, nor so untemperate and unjust,
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which if he be asked the question, \vill confesse him self such
a one. But everie man be he never so wicked, is glad to be
counted just, continent and good : which shoulde not be so,
in case these vertues might be learned, bicause it is no shame
not to know the thinge that a man hath not studied, but a
rebuke it is not to have that which we ought to be indowed
withal of nature. Therfore doeth ech man seeke to cover
the defaultes of nature, asvvell in the minde, as also in the
bodie : the which is to be seene in the blinde, lame, crooked
and other mayned and deformed creatures. For although
these imperfections may be layed to nature, yet doeth it
greeve ech man to have them in him self : bicause it seemeth
by the testimonie of the self same nature that a man hath
that default or blemishe (as it were) for a patent and token
of his ill inclination. The fable that is reported of Epime- Fable of
theus doeth also confirme myne opinion, whiche was so Epimetheus.
unskilfuU in dividinge the gvftes of nature unto men, that
he left them much more needie of everye thinge, then all
other livinge creatures. Wherupon Prometheus stole the
politike wysdome from Minerva and Vulcan that men have
to gete their livinge withall. Yet had they not for all that,
civill wisdome to gather them selves together into Cities,
and the knowleage to live with civility, bicause it was kept
in the Castle of Jupiter by most circumspect overseears,
whiche put Prometheus in suche feare, that he durst not
approch nygh them. Wherupon Jupiter takinge pitye upon
the miserye of men, that could not felowshipp together for
lacke of civill vertue, but were torne in peeces by wielde
beastes, he sent Mercury to the earth to carie justice and
shame, that these two thinges might fournish Cities and
gather Citizins together : and willed that they shoulde be
given them, not as other artes were, wherin one counning
man sufficeth for manie ignorant, as phisike, but that they
should be imprinted in everie man. And ordeyned a lawe,
that all such as were without justice and shame, should be
banished and put to death, as contagious to the Citie.
Beehoulde then (my L. Octavian) God hath graunted
these vertues to men, and are not to be learned, but be
naturall,
303
Vertues may
be learned.
A difference
beetwene that
a man hath
by nature and
by custome.
THE FOURTH BOOKE
Then the L. Octavian somwhat smiling : Will you then,
my L. Gaspar (quoth he) have men to be so unfortunate and
of so pevish a judgement, that with policie they have found
out an art to tame the natures of wield beastes, as beares,
wolves, Lions, and may with the same teach a prety bird to
fle as a man lust, and retourne back from the wood and from
his naturall libertye of his owne accord to snares and bond-
age, and with the same pollicy can not, or will not finde out
artes whereby they maye profit themselves, and with studie
and diligence make their mind more perfect? This (in
mine opinion) were like as if Phisitiens shoulde studie with
all diligence to have the art onlie to heale fellonies in fingers
and the read gumme in yonge children, and lay aside the
cure of fevers, pleurisie and other sore diseases, the which
how out of reason it were everie man may consider. I
beleave therfore that the morall vertues are not in us all
together by nature, bicause nothinge can at anye time be
accustomed unto it, that is naturallie his contrarie : as it is
scene in a stone, the whiche though it be cast upward ten
thousand times, yet will he never accustome to go up of
him selfe. Therfore in case vertues were as natural to us,
as heavinesse to the stone, we shoulde never accustome our
selves to vice. Nor yet are vices naturall in this sort, for
then shoulde we never be vertuous : and a great wickednesse
and folic it were, to punishe men for the faultes that came of
nature without oure offence : and this errour shoulde the
lawes committ, whiche appoint not punishment to the
offenders for the trespace that is past, bicause it can not
be brought to passe that the thinge that is done, maye not
be done, but they have a respect to the time to come, that
who so hath offended maye offende no more, or elles with
yll president give not a cause for others to offende. And thus
yet they are in opinion that vertues maye be learned, whiche
is most true, bicause we are borne apt to receive them, and
in like maner vices : and therfore there groweth a custome
in us of bothe the one and the other throughe longe use,
so that first we practise vertue or vice, after that, we are
vertuous or vitious. The contrarie is knowen in the thinges
that be geven us of nature, for firste we have the pour
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to practise them, after that, we do practise : as it is in
the senses, for first we can see, heere, feele, after that, we
do see, heere and feele : although notwithstandinge many of
these doinges be also sett oute more sightlye with teachinge.
Wherupon good Schoolmaisters do not only instruct their
children in letters, but also in good nourtour in eatinge,
drinkinge, talking, and goinge with certein gestures meete
for the poui-pose, Therfore even as in the other artes, so \
also in the vertues it is behoufFull to have a teacher, that 1
with lessons and good exhortations may stirr up and quicken /
in us these morall vertues, wherof we have the seede inclosed /
and buried in the soule, and like the good husbande man,[
till them and open the waye for them, weedinge from about
them the briers and darnell of appetites, Avhich many times
so shadow and choke our mindes, that they suffre them not
to budd nor to bringe furth the happie frutes, which alone
ought to be wished to grow in the hartes of men. In this
sort then is naturally in everie one of us justice and shame,
which (you save) Jupiter sent to the earth for all men.
But even as a bodye without eyes, how sturdie ever he be,
if he remove to anie certein place, often times faileth : so
the roote of these vertues that be potentiallie engendrcd
in our mindes, yf it be not aided with teaching, doth often
come to nought. Bicause if it shoulde be brought into
doinge and to his perfect custome, it is not satisfied (as is
said) with nature alone : but hath neede of a politike usage
and of reason, whiche maye dense and scoure that soule.
takinge away the dymm veile of ignorance, wherof arrise (in
a maner) all the erroures in men. For in case good and ill
were wel knowen and perceived, every man would alwaies
chouse the good and shonn the yl. Therfore may vertue Vertue.
be said to be (as it were) a wisdome and an understand-
ing to chouse the good : and vice, a lacke of foresight and Vice,
an ignorance that leadeth to judge falsely. Bicause men
never chouse the il with opinion that it is ill, but they are
deceived through a certein likenesse of good.
Then answered the L. Gaspar : Yet are there many that
know plainlie they do ill, and do it notwithstanding, and
that bicause thei more esteame the present pleasure which
QQ 305
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True
pleasure.
True sorow,
True know-
leage.
they feele, then the punishment that they doubt shall fall
upon them, as theeves, murtherers and such other.
The L. OcTAViAN said : True pleasure is alwaies good,
and true sorow, evell : therfore these be deceived in taking
false pleasure for true, and true sorowe for false : wherupon
manye times through false pleasures, they renn into true
displeasures. The art therfore that teacheth to discerne
this trueth from falshood, maye in like case be learned : and
the vertue by the which we chouse this good in deede, and
not that which falsely appeereth to be, may be called true
knowleage, and more available for mans lief, then anye
other, bicause it expelleth ignorance, of the which (as I
have said) springe all evelles.
Then M. Peter Bembo : I wot not, my L. Octavian
(quoth he) how the L. Gaspar should graunt you, that of
ignoraunce should springe all evelles, and that there be not
manye which in ofFendinge knowe for certeintie that they
do offende, neyther are they anye deale deceived in the true
pleasure nor vet in the true sorow : bicause it is sure that
such as be incontinent judge with reason and uprightly, and
. know it, wher unto they are provoked by lust contrary to
i due, to be ill, and therefore they make resistance and sett
I reason to matche greedy desire, wherupon arriseth the
battaile of pleasure and sorow against judgement. Finally
reason overcome by greedie desire far the mightier, is cleane
' without succour, like a shippe, that for a time defendeth
herself from the tempestuous Seastormes, at the end beaten
with the to raginge violence of windes, her gables and
tacklinges broken, yeldeth up to be driven at the will of
fortune, without occupiyng helme or any maner help of
Pilott for her safegard. Furthwith therefore commit they
the offences with a certein doubtfull remorse of conscience
and (in a maner) whether they will or no, the which they
would not do, onlesse they knew the thing that they do to
be ill, but without striving of reason would ren wholy head-
longe after greedy desire, and then shoulde they not be
incontinent, Isut untemperate, which is much woorse. Ther-
Incontinency. fore is incontinencie said to be a diminished vice, bicause it
Continency. hath in it a part of reason, and likewise continency an
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Reason.
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unperfect vertue, bicause it hath in it part of affection :
therfore (me thinke) that it can not be said that the offences
of the incontinent come of ignorance, or that they be
deceived and offende not, whan they know for a truth that
they do offende.
The L. OcTAViAN answered : Certesse (M. Peter) youre
argument is good, yet (in my minde) it is more apparant
then true. For althougli the incontinent offend with that
doubtfulnesse, and reason in their minde striveth againste
greedye desire, and that that is yll, seemeth unto them to
be ill in deede, yet have they no perfect knowleage of it,
nor understand it so throughly as nede requireth. Therfore
of this, it is rather a feeble opinion in them, then certeine
knowleage, wherby they agree to have reason overcome by
affection : but if they had in them true knowleage, there is
no doubt, but they would not offend : bicause evermore the
thinge wherby greedie desire overcometh reason, is ignorance^Jgnorance.
neyther can true knowleage be ever overcome by affection,
that proceadeth from the body and not from the mind, and
in case it be wel ruled and governed by reason it becommeth
a vertue : yf not it beecommeth a vice. But such force
reason hath, that she maketh the sense alwaies to obey and Reason,
by wonderous meanes and wayes perceth least ignorance
shoulde possesse that, which she ought to have : so that
althoughe the spirites and the sinewes, and the bones have
no reason in them, yet whan there springeth in us that,
motion of minde, that the imagination (as it were) pricketh|
forward and shaketh the bridle to the spirites, all the mem-*!
bers are in a readinesse, the feete to renn, the hands to take!
or to doe that whiche the minde thinketh upon, and this is
also manifestlye knowen in many, which unwittingly otheri
while eate some lothesome and abhorring meat, but so well
dressed that to their taste it appeereth moste delicate :
afterwarde understandinge what maner thynge it was, it
doeth not only greeve them and loth them in their minde,
but the bodie also agreeth with the judgement of the
minde, that of force they cast that meate up again.
The L. Octavian folowed on still in his talke, but the
L. Julian interruptinge him : My L. Octavian (quoth he)
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yf I have well understoode, you have said that continencie
is an imperfect vertue, bicause it hath in it part of affection :
and me seemeth that the vertue (where there is in oure
minde a variance beetwene reason and greedie desyre)
whiche fighteth and giveth the victorye to reason, ought to
be reckened more perfect, then that which overcommeth
havinge neyther greedie desire nor anie affection to with-
stand it : bicause (it seemeth) that that minde absteyneth
not from yll for vertues sake, but refrayneth the doing it,
bicause he hath no will to it.
Then the L. Octaviax : Which (quoth he) wolde you
esteame the valianter Capitain, eyther he that hasardeth him
selfe in open fight, and notwithstanding vanquisheth his
enemies, or lie that by his vertue and knowleage weakeneth
them in bringinge them in case not able to fight, and so
without battaile or anie jeopardie discomfetethe them?
He, quoth the L. Julian, that overcommeth with 4Q0st
suretie, is out of doubt most to be praised, so that this
assured victorie of his proceade not through the slackenesse
of the ennemies.
The L. Oci'AviAN answered : You have judged aright.
And therfore I say unto you, that continencie may be com-
pared to a Capitain that fighteth manlie, and though his
ennemies be stronge and well appointed, yet geveth he them
the overthrowe, but for al that not without much a do
Temperance, and daunger. But temperance free from all disquietinge, is
like the Capitain that without resistance overcommeth and
reigneth. And havinge in the mynde where she is, not onlie
assuaged, but cleane quenched the fire of gredie desire, even
as a good Prince in civill warr dispatcheth the sedicious
inward ennemies, and giveth the scepter and wholl rule to
reason, so in like case this vertue not enforcing the mind,
but powringe therinto through most quiet waies a vehement
persuasion that may incline him to honestie, maketh him
quiet and full of rest, in everie part equall and of good
proportion : and on everie side framed of a certein agree-
ment with him self, that filleth him with such a cleare
caulmenesse, that he is never out of pacience : and becom-
meth full and wholy most obedient to reason, and readie to
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tourn unto her all his motions, and folow her where she lust
to leade him, without anie resistance, like a tender lambe
that renneth, standeth and goith alwaies by the ewes side,
and moveth only as he seeth her do. This vertue therefore
is most perfect, and is cheeflie requisit in Princis, bicause of
it arrise manie other.
Then the L. Cesar Goxzaga : I wott not (quoth he) what
vertues requisit for Princis may arrise of this temperance,
yf it be she that riddeth the mind of affections (as you say)
which perhappes were meete for some Monke or Heremite :
but I can not see how it should be requisit for a Prince that
is couragious, freeharted and of prowesse in marciall feates,;
for whatsoever is done to him, never to have angre, hatred,
ffood will, disdeigne, lust, nor anv affeccion in him : nor i
how without this he can gete him authoritie emonge the |
people and souldiers.
Tiie L. OcTAViAN answered : I have not said that tem-
perance shoulde throughlye ridd and roote oute of mens
mindes, affections: neyther shoulde it be well so to do,
bicause there be yet in affections some partes good : but
that which in affections is corrupt and striving against
honestie, she bringeth to obey unto reason. Therfore it is
not meete, to ridd the troublesome disquietnesse of the^
mind, to roote up affections cleane, for this were as if toi
avoide dronkennesse, there shoulde be an act established,!
that no man shoulde drinke wine : or bicause otherwhile in |
renninge a man taketh a fall, everie man should be forbed
renning. IMarke them that breake horses, they breake
them not from their renninge and comminge on loft, but
they will have them to do it at the time and obedience of
the rider. The affections therfore that be clensed and tried
by temperance are assistant to vertue, as angre, that helpeth
manlinesse : hatred against the wicked, helpeth justice, and
likewise the other vertues are aided by affections, which in
case they were cleane taken away, they woulde leave reason
verie feeble and feint, so that it shoulde litle prevaile, like
a shipp maister that is without winde in a great caulme.
Marvaile ye not then (my L. Cesar) if I have said, that of
temperance arrise manie other vertues : for whan a minde
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THE FOURTH BOOKE
True manli-
nesse.
Justice.
Stoutnesse
of courage.
Wisdonie.
The way to
goveru well.
I
The reign e
of a good
prince.
is in tune with this harmonic, by the meane of reason he
easely receiveth afterward true manlinesse, which maketh
him boulde and safe from all daunger, and (in a maner)
above worldly passions. Likewise Justice, an undefiled
virgin, friend to sobermode and goodnesse, queene of all
other vertues, bicause she teacheth to do that, which a man
ought to do, and to shon that a man ought to shonn, and
therfore is she most perfect, bicause through her the
woorkes of the other vertues are brought to passe, and she
is a helpe to him that hath her both for him selfe and for
others : without the which (as it is commanlye said) Jupiter
him selfe coulde not well govern hys kingdome. Stoutnesse
of courage doeth also folowe after these, and maketh them
all the greater, but she can not stand alone, bicause whoso
hath not other vertues can not be of a stoute courage. Of
these then wisdome is guide, which consisteth in a certein
judgement to chouse well. And in this happie chayne are
also lincked liberalitie, sumptuousnesse, the desire to save
a mans estymation, meekenesse, pleasantnesse, courtesie in
talke, and manie other which is nowe no time to speake of.
But in case oure Courtier wyll do as we have saide, he
shall finde them all in his Princis minde : and daylie he
shall see springe suche beawtifull flourcs and frutes, as all
the delicious gardeins in the world have not the like: and
he shall feele verie great contentacion within him self, whan
he remembreth that he hath given him, not the thinges
whiche foolish persons give, whiche is, golde, or silver, plate,
garmentes, and such matters, wherof he that giveth them
hath him self verie great scarsitie, and he that receiveth
them exceading great store : but that vertue, which per-
happes among all the matters that belong unto man, is the
cheeffest and rarest, that is to say, the maner and way to
rule and to reigne in the riffht kinde. Which alone were
sufficient to make men happie, and to bring once agam mto
the worlde the golden age, whiche is written to have bine
whan Saturnus reigned in the olde time.
Here whan the L. Octavian paused a litle as though he
woulde have taken respite, the L. Gaspar said : Whiche
recken you (my L. Octavian) the happiest government and
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that were most to pourpose to bring into the world again
that golden age whych you have made mention of, eyther
the reigne of so good a Prince, or the governance of a good
Commune weale ?
The L. OcTAViAN answered : I woulde alwayes prefarr the
reigne of a good Prince, bicause it is a government more
agreeable to nature, and (if it be lawful! to compare small •-
matters with infinit) more like unto Goddes, whiche one |
and alone governeth the universall. But leavinge this, ye ^
see that in whatsoever is broughte to passe with the poUicie
of man, as armies, great saylinge vesselles, buildynges and
other lyke matters, the wholl is committed to one alone, to
dyspose therof at his will. Likewise in oure bodye all the
membres travaile and are occupied as the hart thinketh
good. Beeside this it seemeth meete that people shoulde
aswell be governed by one Prince, as manye other livinge
creatures be, whom nature teacheth this obedience, as a
moste soveraign matter. Marke ye whether deere, cranes
and manye other foules, whan thei take their flight do not
alwaies set a Prince beefore, whom they folowe and obey.
And bees (as it were) with discourse of reason and with
such reverence honour their kinge, as the most obedientest
people in the world can do. And therfore this is a verie
great argument that the soveraigntie of a Prince is more
accordinge to naturg, then a Commune weales. '
Then M. Peter Bembo : And me thinke (quoth he) that
sins God hath given us libertie for a soveraigne gifte, it is not Libertye.
reason that it should be taken from us : nor that one man
should be partner of it more then an other, which happeneth
under the rule of princis, who for the most part keepe their
people in most streict bondage. But in Commune weales
well in order this libertie is well kept. Beeside that, both in
judgementes and in advisementes it happeneth oftner that
the opinion of one alone is false, then the opinion of many, |
bicause troublous affection either through anger, or throughe 1
spite, or through lust, sooner entreth into the mind of one
alone then into the multitudes, whiche (in a maner) like a
greate quantitie of water, is lesse subject to corruption,
then a smalle deale. I saye again that the example of the
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THE FOURTH BOOKE
beastes and foules doth not make to pourpose, for both
Deere and Cranes and the rest doe not alwaies sett one and
the selfe formost for them to folowe and obey, but they still
chaunge and varie, givinge this prefarment somtime to one,
otherwhile to an other, and in this maner it beecommeth
rather the fourme of a Commune weale, then of a kingdome,
and this maye be called a true and equall libertie, whan
they that somtime commaunde, obey again an other while.
The example likewise of the bees (me thinke) is not alike,
bicause that kinge of theirs is not of their owne kinde : and
therefore he that will give unto men a worthie head in
deede, must be faine to finde him of an other kinde, and of
a more noble nature then mans, if menne (of reason) shoulde
obey him, as flockes and heardes of cattell that obey, not a
beast their like, but a sheppharde and a hardman, which is
a man and of a more woorthie kinde, then theirs. For these
respectes, I thynke (my L. Octavian) the government of a
Commune weale is more to be coveted, then of a kinge.
Then the L. Octavian: Against your opinion, M. Peter
(quoth he) I will alleage but one reason : whiche is, that of
Three kindes wayes to rule people well, there be onlye three kindes. The
of wayes to one a kingdome : the other, the rule of good men, whiche
^^^^- they of olde tyme called Optimates, the third, the gover-
nance of the people. And the transgressinge (to terme it
so) and contrarie vice that every one of these is chaunged
into beeinge apayred and corrupted, is whan the kingdome
beecommeth a Tyrannic : and whan the governance of good
men is chaunged into the handes of a few great men and
not o-ood : and whan the rule of the people is at the disposi-
tion of the communaltye, whiche making a meddlie of the
ordres, sufFreth the governance of the wholl at the wil of the
multitude. Of these three yll governmentes (it is sure) the
Tyrannic is the woorst of al, as it may be proved by many
reasons. It folovveth then, that of the three good, the king-
dome is the best, bicause it is contrarye to the woorste, for
(as you knowe) the effectes of contrarie causes, they be also
contrarye emong them selves.
Nowe as touchinge it, that you have spoken of libertye, I
answere, that true liberty ought not to he saide to live as a
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/ f
inanne will, but to lyve accordynge to good lawes. And to '
obey, is no lesse naturall, profitable and necessarye, then to
commaunde. And some thinges are borne and so appointed
and ordeyned by nature to commaunde, as some other to
obeysance. Truth it is, that there be two kyndes of bear- Tavo kindes
inge rule, the one Lordlye and forsyble, as maisters over "f ^^^7^^. to
slaves, and in this doeth the soule commaunde the bodye. ^^^'^^^i"?^*
The other more milde and tractable, as good Princis by
wave of the lawes over their Subjectes, and in this reason
commaundeth greedie desire. And ech of these two wayes
is profitable : bicause the bodye is created of nature apte to
obey the soule, and so is desire, reason. There be also manye
menne whose doinges be applied onlye about the use of the
body : and such as these be are so farr w ide from the vertuous,
as the soule from the bodye, and yet bicause they be reason- ,
able creatures, they be so much partners of reason, as they | /J ^. *
doe no more but know it, for they possesse it not, ne yet
have they the use of it. These therefore be naturallye
bondemen, and better it is for them and more profitable
to obeye, then to beare swey.
Then saide the L. Gaspar : In what maner wise be they How good
then to be commaunded that be discreete and vertuous and men be to ;
not by nature bonde ? "® ruled.
The L. 0( TAviAX answered : With that tractable com-
maundment kinglye and civill. And to such it is well
done otherwhile to committe the bearinge of suche offices
as be meete for them, that they maye likewise beare swey
and rule over others of lesse witt then they be, yet so
that the principal governement maye full and wholye de-
pende uppon the cheef Prince. And bicause you have said,
that it is an easier matter to corrupt the minde of
one, then of a great sort, I saye, that it is also an easier
matter to finde one good and wise, then a great sorte.
Both good and wise ought a man to suppose a kinge maye A kinge.
be, of a noble progenie, inclined to vertue of hys owne
naturall motion, and throughe the famous memorye of his
auncestoures, and brought up in good condicions. And
though he be not of an other kinde then man, as you
have saide is emonge the bees, yet yf he be helped forwarde
RR 313
THE FOURTH BOOKE
with the instructions, bringinge up, and art of the Courtier,
whom these Lordes have facioned so wise and good, he shall
be moste wise, moste continent, moste temperate, moste
manlye, and moste juste, full of liberalitie, majestic, holy-
j\ nesse, and mercye : finallye he shall be moste glorious and
I moste deerlye beloved both to God and manne : throughe
' whose grace he shall atteine unto that heroicall and noble
vertue, that shall make him passe the boundes of the nature
of manne, and shall rather be called a Demy God, then a
God the manne mortall. For God deliteth in and is the defendour
defendour of ^ot of those Princis that will folowe and counterfeit him in
good 1 nncis. g^owinge great poure, and make themselves to be woorshipped
of menne, but of such as beeside poure, whereby they are
mightye, endevour themselves to resemble him also in good-
nesse and wisdome, wherby they maye have a will and a
knowleage to doe well and to be his ministers, distributinge
for the beehouf of manne the benifittes and giftes that they
receive of him. Therfore even as in the firmamente the sonne
and the moone and the other sterres show to the world (as
A good it were) in a glasse a certeine likenesse of God : so uppon
Prince an ^ i\iq earth a muche more liker image of God are those good
Image ot j Princis that love and woorshippe him, and showe unto the
! people the cleere light of his justice, accompanied with a
' shadowe of the heavenly e reason and understand inge : and
suche as these be doeth God make partners of his true deal-
ing, rightuousnesse, justice and goodnesse, and of those other
happy benifittes which I can not name, that disclose unto
the worlde a much more evident proof of the Godhead, then
doeth the light of the sonne, or the continuall tourninge of
the firmamente with the sundrye course of the sterres. It is
\ God therfore that hath appointed the people under the cus-
todie of Princis, which ought to have a diligent care over
them, that they may make him accompt of it, as good
stewardes do their Lord, and love them and thinke their
owne, all the profit and losse that happeneth to them, and
principally above all thing provide for their good astate and
\ welfare. Therfore ought the prince not only to be good,
\ but also to make others good, like the Carpenters square,
that is not only straight and just it self, but also maketh
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straight and just whatsoever it is occupied about. And the
greatest proofe that the Prince is good, is whan the people
are good : bicause the lief of the Prince is a lawe and ring- The lief of
leader of the Citizins, and upon the condicions of him must the kinge a
needes al others depende : neyther is it meete for one that is ^^^e to the
ignorant, to teach : nor for him that is out of order, to give ?^^P ^'
order : nor for him that falleth, to help up an other. Ther-
fore if the Prince will execute these offices aright, it is
requisit that he apply all his studie and diligence to get
knowleage, afterward to facion within him selfe and observe
unchangeablye in everye thinge the lawe of reason, not
written in papers, or in mettall, but graven in his" owne
minde, that it maye be to him alwayes not onlie familier,
but inwarde, and live with him, as a percell of him : to
the intent it may night and day, in everye time and place
admonish him and speake to him within his hart, riddinge
him of those troublous affections that untemperate mindes
feele, whiche bycause on the one side they be (as it were)
cast into a moste deepe sleepe of ignorance, on the other
overwhelmed with the unquietnesse which they feele through
their weyward and blind desires, they are stirred with an
uncjuiet rage, as he that sleepeth otherwile with straunge
and horrible visions : heaping then a greater poure upon
their noughtie desire, there is heaped also a greater trouble
withall. And whan the Prince can do what he will, then is
it great jeopardie least he will the thing that he ought not.
Therfore said Bias well, that promotions declare what Bias sayinge.
men be : for even as vesselles while they are emptie, though
they have some chinke in them, it can ill be perceived, but
if they be filled with licour, they showe by and by on what
side the fault is, so corrupt and il disposed mindes syldome
discover their vices, but whan they be filled with authoritie. Authorities
For then they are not able to carie the heavie burdien of flisclose
poure, but forsake them selves and scatter on every side "^'^^^^s.
greedie desire, pride, wrath, solemnesse and such tirannicall
facions as they have within them. Wherupon without
regard they persecute the good and wise, and pi'omote the Tirannes.
wicked. And they can not abide to have frendshippes,
assemblies and conferences among Citizins in Cities. But
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maintein spies, promoters, murtherers and cutthrotes to put
men in feare and to make them become feintharted. And
they sowe debate and striefe to keepe them in division and
weake. And of these maners insue infinit damages and the
uttre undoinge of the poore people, and often times cruell
slauffhter or at the least continuall feare to the Tirannes
them selves. For good Princis feare not for them selves
but for their sakes whom they rule over : and Tyrannes feare
verie them whom they rule over. Therfore the more numbre
of people they rule over and the mightier they are, the more
is their feare and the more ennemies they have. How feare-
Clearus. full (think you) and of what an unquiet mind was Clearus
Tirann of Pontus every time he went into the market place,
or into the theatre, or to anie banket, or other haunted
place ? For (as it is written) he slept shutt into a chest.
Or Aristodemus of Argos ? which of his bed had made to
him self a prison (or litle better) for in his palaice he had a
litle roume hanginge in the aer, and so high that he should
clime to it with a ladder, and there slept he with a woman
of his, whose mother overnight tooke away the ladder, and
in the mornino; sett it to ag-ain. Cleane contrarie to this
therfore ought the lief of a good Prince to be, free and safe
and as deere to his subjectes as their owne : and so framed,
I that he may have a parte of both the doinge and beehold-
\inge lief, asmuche as shall be beehouffull for the benefit of
\hys people.
Then the L. Gaspar : And whiche of the two lives, my
L. Octavian (quoth he) do you thinke most meete for a
Prince ?
The L. Octavian answered smilinge : Ye thinke perhappes
that I stande in mine owne conceite to be the excellent
Courtier that ought to knowe so manye matters, and to
applye them to the good end I have spoken of. But
remembre your selfe, that these Lordes have facioned him
with manie qualityes that be not in me : therefore let us
firste doe our best to finde him out, for I remytt me to
him both in this and in al other thinges that belong to a
good Prince.
Then the L. Gaspar : I thinke (quoth he) that if anye of
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the qualities geven the Courtier want in you, it is rather
musike and daunsinge and the rest of smalle accompt, then
such as beelong to the instructing of a Prince and to this
ende of Courtlines.
The L. OcTAviAX answered : They are not of small accompt
all of them that help to purchase a man the favour of a
Prince, which is necessarie (as we have said) before the
Courtier aventure to teach him vertue, the which (I trowe)
I have showed you may be learned, and profiteth asmuch as
ignorance hurteth, whereof springe all vices, and speciallye
that false leekinge a man hath of him selfe. Therefore (in
mine opinion) I have sufficientlye said, and perhappes more
then my promise was.
Then the Dutchesse : We shal be so much the more
bounde (quoth she) to your gentilnesse, as ye shall satisfye
us more then promise. Therfore sticke not to speake your
fansye concerninge the L. Gaspars request. And of good
felowshippe showe us beside whatsoever you woulde teache
your Prince, if he had neede of instructions : and sett the
case that you have throughlye gotten his favour, so as it
maye be lawfull for you to tell him francklye what ever
commeth in your minde. ,
The L. OcTAviAX laughed and said : Yf I had the favourl
of some Prince that I knowe, and shoulde tell him franckly
mine opinion (I doubt me) I shoulde soone lose it: beesidel
that, to teach hym, I should neede firste to learne my selfe. \_
Notwithstandinge sins it is youre pleasure that I shall
answere the L. Gaspar in this point also, I say, that (in my
minde) Princis ought to give them selves both to the one
and the other of the two lyves, but yet somewhat more to
the beehouldinge : bicause this in them is divided into two T"?7a cou-
partes, whereof the one consisteth in knoweynge well and tf'fnpluHva.
judgeing: the other in commaundinge aryght, and in suche
wyse as it shoulde be done, and reasonable matters and suche
as they have authoritye in, commaunding them to hym, that
of reason ought to obeye, and in time and place accordingely.
And of thys spake Duke Friderick, whan he said. He that '
can commaunde, is alwayes obeyed. And to commaunde is
evermore the principall office of Princis, whicli notwithstand-
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THE FOURTH BOOKE
Vita activa.
How to trade
people.
A custome
among the
Scythes.
Create high
square stones
smaller and
smaller unto
the top.
Why Princis
should make
their people
warlike.
irge ought manje times also to see with their eyes and to
be present at the deede doynge, and accordinge to the time
and the busenesse otherwhile also be doynge them selves,
and yet hath all thys a part wyth action or practise. But
the ende of the actyve or doinge lief ought to be the bee-
houldinge, as of warr, peace, and of peynes, rest. Therfore
is it also the office of a good Prince so to trade his people
and with such lawes and statutes, that they maye lyve in rest
and in peace, without daunger and with encrease of welth,
and injoye praisablye this ende of their practises and actions,
which ought to be quietnesse. Bicause there have bine often
times manye Commune weales and Princis, that in warr
were alwayes most florishinge and mightie, and immediatlye
after they have had peace, fell in decaye and lost their puis-
sance and brightnesse, like yron unoccupied. And this
came of nothing elles, but bicause thev had no good trade of
lyving in peace, nor the knowleage to injoie the benifit of
ease. And it is not a matter lawfull to be alwayes in warr
without seekinge at the ende to come to a peace : although
some Princis suppose that their drift ought principally to
be, to bringe in subjection their borderers, and therfore
traine up their people in a warlyke wyldenesse of spoyle, and
murther, and suche matters : they wage them to exercise it,
and call it vertue. Wherupon in the olde tyme it was an
usage emonge the Scythes, that whoso hadde not slayne
some ennemie of his, could not drinke in solemne banckettes
of the gobblet that was caried about to his companions. In
other places the maner was to reare about ones sepulture so
manye Obeliskes, as he that laye there buryed had slain of
his ennemies. And all these thinges and many mo, were
invented to make men warlike, onlyc to bring others in sub-
jection, which was a matter (almost) unpossible, bicause it is
an infinite peece of woorke, untill all the worlde be brought
under obeysance : and not very reasonable, accordinge to the
lawe of nature which will not have, that in others the thinge
should please us, whiche in our selves is a greef to us.
,'Therfore ought Princis to make their people warlyke, not
for a greedie desire to rule, but to defende themselves the
better and their owne people, from whoso woulde attempt
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OF THE COURTYER
to bringe them in bondage, or to do them wrong in any
point. Or els to drive out Tirans, and to govern the people
well, that were yll handled. Or elles to bringe into bondage
them, that of nature were suche, that they deserved to be
made bondmen, with entent to govern them well, and to
give them ease, rest and peace. And to this ende also ought Trie ende of
to be applied the lawes, and al statutes of justice, in punish- the lawes.
ing the yll, not for malice, but bicause there should be no
yll, and least they shoulde be a hinderaunce to the quiet
livinge of the good : bicause in very deede it is an uncomelye
matter and woorthie blame, that in warr (which of it selfe is
nought) men shoulde showe themselves stout and wise, and
in peace and rest (which is good) ignoraunt, and so blockishe
that they wiste not howe to injoye a benifit. Even as ther-
fore in warr they ought to bende their people to the profit-
able and necessarye vertues to come by that ende (which is,
peace) so in peace, to come by the end therof also (which is,
quietnes) they ought to bend them to honest vertues, which
be the end of the profitable. And in this wise shal the
subjectes be good, and the Prince shall have manye mo to
commende and to rewarde, then to chastise. And the rule
both for the subjectes and for the Prince shall be most
happye, not Lordly, as the maister over his bondeman, but
softe and meeke, as a good father over his good childe.
Then the L. Gaspar : Gladly (quoth he) woulde I under-
stande what maner vertues these are, that be profitable and
necessarye in warr, and what honest in peace.
The L. OcTAviAN answered : All be good and helpe the
tourne, bicause they tende to a good ende. Yet cheeflye in
warr is much set by that true manlines, which maketh the JManlinesse.
minde voide from all passions, so that he not onlye feareth
not perilles, but passeth not upon them. Likewise stead- Steadfast-
fastnesse, and pacyence, abidinge with a quiet and untroubled nesse. -
minde all the strokes of fortune. It is beehoufFull likewise
in warr and at all other times to have all the vertues that
beelonge to honestye, as justice, staidnesse, sobermoode :
but muche more in peace and rest, bicause often times men
in prospiritie and rest, whan favourable fortune fauneth
upon them, wexe unrighteous, untemperate, and suffre them-
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THE FOURTH BOOKE
Rest
Hugious
great stones
steeplewise.
Reason.
Appetite.
' selves to be corrupted with pleasures. Therfore suche as be
in this state have verie greate neede of these vertues, bicause
rest bringeth yll condicyons to soone into mens mindes :
wherupon arrose a Proverbe in olde time, that Rest is not
to be given to bondmen. And it is thought that the Pira-
mides of ^gipt were made to kepe the people occupied,
bicause Unto everie manne, use to abide peynes is most
profitable. There be more over manie other vertues, all
helpfull, but it sufficeth for this time to have spoken this
muche : for if I could teach my Prince and traine him in
this maner and so vertuous a bringinge uppe (as we have
sett furthe) in doinge it without anye more (I woulde bee-
leave) that I had sufficientlye well compased the ende of a
good Courtier.
Then the L. Gaspar : My L. Octavian (quoth he) bicause
you have muche praysed good bringing up, and seemed (in a
maner) to beleave that it is the cheef cause to make a man
vertuous and good, I would knowe, whether the Courtiers
instructing of hys Prince, ought to beegine firste of use and
(as it were) daylye facions, that unawares to him may make
him to accustome himselfe to weldoinge : or elles whether
he ought to beegine it himself in opening unto him with
reason the proprety of good and yll, and in makinge him to
perceive, beefore he take the matter in hand, which is the
good waye and to be folowed, and which the yll, and to be
shonned : finallye whether into that minde of his, the vertues
ought to be driven and grounded with reason and under-
standing first, or with custome.
The L. Octavian said : You bringe me into overlonge a
discoui-se. Yet bicause you shall not thinke that I will
slacke for that I am not willing to make answere to your
requestes, I saye, that like as the soule and the bodye iiuus
are two thinges, so is the soule divided into two partes :
whereof the one hath in it reason, and the other appetite.
Even as therefore in generation the body goith beefore the
soule, so doeth the unreasonable part of the soule go before
the reasonable : the whiche is plainlye to be descerned in
yonge babes, who (jn a maner) immediatlye after their
birthe uttre angre and fervent appetite, but afterwarde in
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OF THE COURTYER
processe of time reason appeereth. Therfore first must the
bodye be cherished beefore the soule : after that, the appetite
beefore reason : but the cherishinge of the bodye for a
respect to the soule, and of the appetite for a respect to
reason. For as the vertue of the minde is made perfecte
with learninge, so is the civill wyth custome. Therefore
ought there to be a grounde made firste wyth custome,
whiche maye governe the appetites not yet apt to conceyve
reason : and wyth that good use leade them to goodnesse :
afterwarde settle them wyth understandynge, the whyche
althoughe she be laste to showe her light, yet doeth she the
more perfectlye make the vertues to be injoyed of whoso
hathe his mynde well instructed wyth maners, wherein (in
mine opinion) consisteth the wholl.
The L. Gaspar said : Beefore ye proceade anye farther, I ^^
woulde knowe howe the body should be cherished : bicause Cherishing
you have saide that we must cherishe it beefore the soule. of the bodye.
The L. OcTAviAX answered smiling : Know of these men
that make much of it and are faire and rounde, as for mine
(as you see) it is not half well cherished. Yet may there
also be much said in this beehalf : as, the time meete for
mariage, that children be neither to nigh nor to farr of
from the fathers age : exercises, and bringinge up soone
after there birth, and in the rest of their lief to make them
handsome, towardlie, and livelie.
The L. Gaspar answered : The thing that Avoulde best
please women to make their children handsome and wel-
favoured (in my minde) were the felowship that Plato will
have of them in his Commune weale, and in that wise.
Then the Lady Emilia smilinge : It is not in the cove-
naunt (quoth she) that ye shoulde a freshe fall to speake yll
of women.
I suppose, answered the L. Gaspar, that I give them a
great praise, in sainge that they shoulde desire to have a
custome brought up, which is alowed of so woorthye a man.
The L. Cesar Gonzaga said laughing : Let us see whether
amonge the L. Octavians lessons (yet I wott not whether he
have spoken al or no) this may take place : and whether it
were well done the Prince should establish it for a laAve or no.
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THE FOURTH BOOKE
The few that I have spoken, answered the L. Octavian,
may perhappes be inough to make a good Prince, as Princes
go nowadayes. Although if a man would go more nar-
rowly to woorke in the matter, there were muche more for
him yet to saye.
Then said the Dutchesse : Sins it costeth us nothinge
but woordes, show us of good felowshippe that, that woulde
come in youre mind to teach your Prince,
The L. Octavian answered : Manie other matters I woulde
; teache hym (madam) if I knew them my selfe : and amonge
A counsell of the rest, that he should pike out a certein numbre of Gentil-
noble men. ^^en emonge his subjectes, of the noblest and wisest, wyth
whom he shoulde debate all matters, and give them autho-
rity and free leave to uttre their minde francklye unto him
without respect : and take suche order wyth them that they
maye well perceive, that in everie thinge he woulde knowe
the truth and abhorr lyinge. And beeside this Counsell of
the nobilitie, I woulde perswade him to chouse out others
amonge the people of a baser degree, of whom he shoulde
A counsell of make an honest substanciall Counsell, that shoulde debate
the commons, ^ith the Counsell of the nobilitye the affaires of the Citye
beelonginge to the commune and private astate. And in
! this wise shoulde be made, of the Prince, as of the head, of
I the nobilite and communes, as of the inembres, one bodie
I alone knitt together, the governance wherof should cheeflie
j depende upon the Prince, yet shoulde the rest beare a stroke
also in it : and so shoulde this state have the fourme and
maner of the three good governmentes, which is, a king-
dome, men of the best sorte, and the people. Afterward I
Cares in a woulde showe him, that of cares beelonging to a Prince, the
Prince. cheeffest is of justice : for maintenance wherof wise and well
tryed men shoulde be chosen out for officers, whose wisdome
were verie wisdome in deede, accompanied with goodnesse,
for elles is it no wisdome, but craft. And where there is a
want of this goodnesse, alwayes the art and subtill practise
of lawyers is nothing elles, but the uttre decay and destruc-
tion of the lawes and judgementes: and the fault of every
offence of theirs is to be layed in him that put them in
office. I would tell him how that of justice also dependeth
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OF THE COURTYER
the zeale toward God, which beelongeth unto all men and Godly
especiallye to Princis, who ought to love him above all attections.
thinges, and to direct all their doinges unto him, as unto
the true ende ; and (as Xenophon saith) to honoure and
love him alwayes, but much more in prosspiritie, bicause
they maye afterwarde lefullye with a more confidence call to
him for assistance whan they bee in anye adversitye : for it
is not possible to govern either himself or others well, with-
out the help of God, who unto the good sendeth otherwhile
good fortune for his minister, to helpe them out of great
daungers, sometime adversitye leaste they shoulde slumber
so much in prospirity that they myght happen to forgete
him, or the wisdome of man, which manie times redresseth
ill fortune, as a good player the ill chaunces of the dice,
with counninge play at tables. I woulde not forgete also to
put the Prince in minde to be devoute indeede, not super-
stycious, nor given to the vanitie of nigromancy and pro-
phecies : for in case he have accompanied with the wisdome
of manne, a godlye zeale and true religion, he shall also
have good lucke, and God his defendour, who will alwayes
encrease his prospiritie both in peace and warr. Beeside, I\
woulde declare unto him how he shoulde love his Countrey (To love his
and his people, keaj^nge them not in tomuch bondage, for Pountry and
])eeing hated of them wherof arrise sedicions, conspiricies, p^**P^®-
and a thowsand mischeeves beeside : nor yet in to much
libertye, lest he be set at nought, wherof proceadeth the
licencious and riotus livinge of the people, theft, robberye
and murther withoute anye feare of lawes, often tymes the
decay and uttre destruction of cities and kingdoms. More-
over how he shoulde love them that be nighest to him from
one degree to an other, observinge among them all in certein
matters a like equalitie, as in justice and libertye, and in Equalitye.
some matters a reasonable partiality as in beeing liberal, in Partialitye.
recompensing, in bestowinge promotions and honours accord- ; .^"
ing to the unequalnesse of desertes, which ought not alwaies \
to exceade, but to be exceaded with recompences. And
that in thus doing he should not only be beloved, but (in a
maner) worshipped of his subjectes, neither should he neede
to commit the gaurde of his person to straungers for his
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THE FOURTH BOOKE
To much
welth.
How to ordre
his citizins.
Alteracion
of state.
Extortion of
the higher
powers.
own (for the better safegard and profit of them selves)
would guarde him with their own person : and ech man
woulde willinglye obey the lawes, whan they shoulde see him
to obey them him self, and bee (as it were) an uncorrupted
keaper and minister of them : and so shall he make all men
to conceive suche an assured confidence of him, that if he
shoulde happen otherwhile to go biyonde them in anye
point, everie one woulde know it were done for a good
entent : the self same respect and reverence they woulde
have to his will, as they have to the lawes. And thus
shoulde the Citizens mindes be tempered in suche sort, that
the good woulde not seeke for more then is requisit, and the
badd shoulde not perishe : bicause manie times abundance
of wealth is cause of great destruction, as in poore Italy,
which hath bine and still is, a prey and bootie in the teeth
of straunge nations, aswell for the ill government, as for
the abundaunce of riches that is in it. Therfore the best
way were, to have the greater part of the Citizins, neyther
verye wealthie, nor verye poore : bicause the over wealthy
many times were stiff necked and recklesse, the poore,
desperate and pikinge. But the meane sort lye not in
waite for others, and live with a quiet minde that none lye
in waite for them. And where this meane sort are the
greater number, they are withall the mightier. And ther-
fore neyther the poore nor riche can woorke anie conspiracie
against the Prince, or against others, nor move sedicion.
Wherfore to avoide this evyll, the most surest way is uni-
versally to maintein a meane. I would counsell him therfore
to use these and many other remedies for the pourpose, that
in the minde of the subjectes there springe not a longing
after newe matters and alteracion of state, whiche most
communly they do, either for gain, or elles for promotion
that they hope upon, or for losse, or elles for some toile that
they be a ferde of. And these sturres in their mindes be
engendred some time of hatred and despite that maketh
them desperate for the wronges and unshameful dealing
that they receive through the covetisenesse, pride, and
crueltye, or unlefull lust of the higher powers : otherwhile
of a contempt and litle regard that ariseth in them through
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OF THE COURTYER
the negligence and ill handlinge and lack of foresight in Lacke of
Princis. And these two faultes must be prevented with wisdome in
purchasing him the love of the people, and authoritye, I"""^^^^-
whiche is done in rewardinge and promotinge the good and
in finding wiselie a remedy, and sometime with rigour, that
the evil and sedicious wexe not great : the whiche thinge is That the
easier to be stopped beefore they come to it, then to plucke ^^^^^ wexe
theym downe againe after they are once on loft. And I °
would saye, to restraine the people from renninge into those
inconveniences, there is no better way, then to keepe them
from yll custommes, and speciallye suche as be put in use II customes.
and creepe in unawares by litle and litle, bycause they be
secrete infections that corrupte Cities beefore a manne can
not onlye remedye them, but spie them out. With suche
meanes I woulde counsell the Prince to do his best to pre-
serve his subjectes in quiet astate, and to give them the
gooddes of the mynde, and of the bodye and of fortune: Goodesofthe
but them of the bodye and of fortune, that they maye mnide, of t'^e
exercise them of the minde, whiche the greater and plentier f^-.Z^g'^ ^
they be, so much the more profitable be they : that hap-
peneth not in them of the bodye, nor of fortune : in case
therefore the subjectes bee good and of woorthynesse and
well bent to the ende of happynes, that Prince shall be a
verye great Lorde : for that is a true and a greate governe-
ment, under the whyche the subjectes be good, well ruled
and well commaunded.
Then the L. Gaspar : I suppose (quoth he) that he
shoulde be but a smalle Lorde, under whom the sub-
jectes were all good. For in everye place there be fewe
good.
The L. OcTAviAN answered : In case some certeine Circe
shoulde tourne into wilde beastes all the Frenche Kinges
subjectes, woulde not you thinke him a smalle Lorde for all
he reigned over so manye thousande beastes ? And con-
trarywyse yf onelye the Cattell that scattre abrode feadynge
aboute oure Mountaignes here, might become wise menne,
and valiaunt Gentilmen, woulde not you thinke that heard-
menne that shoulde governe them and have them obedi-
ent to them, of heardmen were become great Lordes ? you
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THE FOURTH BOOKE
Not the maye see then, that not the multytude of Subjectes, but the
multitude;, woorthynesse of them makes Princis greate,
but the rj^l^g Dutchesse, the L. Emilia, and all the rest gave verye
diligent ear to the L. Octavians talke for a good while
together, but after he had here made a litle stop, as though
he had made an end of his talk, the L. Cesar Gonzaga
saide : Certesse (my L. Octavian) it can not be saide, but
your lessons be good and profitable : yet shoulde I beleave
that if ye instructed your prince wyth them, ye deserved
rather the name of a good Schoolmaister then of a good
Courtier : and he of a good governoure rather then of a
good prince. Yet my meaninge is not, but that the care
of princis shoulde be to have their people well ruled with
justice and good usages, notwithstandinge it maye be suffi-
cient for theym (in my minde) to chouse out good ministers
to execute these kinde of matters, but the verie office of
them is farr higher. Therefore if I thought myself to be
the excellent Courtier that these Lordes have facioned, and
in my princis favour, without paraventure I woulde never
incline him to any vitious matter : but to atteine unto the
good ende (you speake of, and the which I confirme ought
to be the frute of the Courtiers travailes and doinges) I
woulde endevour to put into his head a certein greatnesse,
wyth that princelye sumptuousnesse, and readynes of courage,
and unconquered prowesse in armes, that shoulde make him
beloved and reverenced of all menne, in suche wise, that for
this in especiall he shoulde be famous and notable to the
worlde. I woulde showe him also, that he ought to accom-
panye with his greatnesse a familiar gentle beehaviour, with
a soft and lovely e kindenesse, and good caste to make muche
of his subjectes and straungers discreatlye more and lesse
accordinge to their desertes, observing alwaies notwith-
standinge the majestye/meete for his degre, that shoulde
not in anye point suffre him to diminish his authoritie
through overmuch abaysinge, nor yet purchase him hatred
throughe over soure rigorousnesse : that he ought to be
full of liberality and sumptuous, and give unto everye
manne without stint, for God (as they say) is the trea-
surer of freharted princis : make gorgious bankettes, feastes,
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OF THE COURTYER
games, people pleasinge showes, kepe a great number
of faire horses for profit in war, and for pleasure in
peace, Haukes, Houndes, and all other matters that bee-
long to the contentation of great Princis and the people.
As in our dayes we have seene the L. Francis Gonzaga Markq. of
marquesse of Mantua do, which in these thinges seemeth -^^antua.
rather kinge of all Italy, then Lorde over one Citie. I
would assay also to bring him to make great buildinges,
both for his honour in lief, and to give a memorie of him
to his posteritie, as did Duke Friderick in this noble Palaice,
and nowe doeth Pope July in the Temple of Saint Peter, S. Peters
and the waye that goith from the Palaice to his house of church,
pleasure Belvedere, and many other buildinges, as also the Belvedere,
olde auntient Romanes did, wherof so many remnantes are
to be seene about Roome, Naples, Pozzolo, Bale, Civita
Vecchia, Porto, and also out of Italy, and so manie other
places, which be a great witnes of the prowes of those
divine courages. So did Alexander the great in like maner, The great
whiche not satisfied with the fame that he got him worthelie Alexander.
for subduing the world with marcial prowesse, built Alex-
andria in ^gipt, Bucephalia in India, and other Cities in
other Countries : and entended to bringe the mountaigne Plutar.
Athos into the shape of a man, and in the left hande of Athos a hill
him to builde a verie large Citie, and in the right a greate ^^ fhracia of
boule, into the whiche should gather al the rivers that rann f ^^^^^^^
from it, and thens shoulde fall downe towarde the Sea, a
pourpose in verie deede princelye and meete for the great
Alexander. These thinges (thinke I) my L. Octavian,
beecome a noble and a right Prince, and shall make him
both in peace and warr most triumphant, and not put him
in the heade of such particuler and smalle matters, and
have a respect to take weapon in hande onelye to conquerr
and vanquishe suche as deserve to be conquered, or to profitt
his subjectes withall, or to dispossesse them that governe
not as they ought. For in case the Romanes, Alexander,
Hanniball, and the rest had had these respectes they should
never have reached to the toppe of the glorye they did.
The L. Octavian answered then smilinge : Such as had
not these respectes shoulde have done the better in case
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THE FOURTH BOOKE
Tirannes
monstres.
Alexander
profited the
vanquished.
Xerxes.
they had hadd them : althoughe if ye consider well, ye shall
finde that manie had them, and especiallye those auntientest
of olde time, as Theseus, and Hercules, And thinke not
that Procustes, Scyron, Caccus, Diomedes, Antheus and
Gerion were anye other then cruell and wicked Tirannes
againste whom these noble couraged Demigoddes kept con-
tinual and mortall war, and therfore, for ridding the world
of such intollerable monstres (for Tyrannes ought not to be
called by other name) unto Hercules were made Temples,
and sacrifices, and godlye honours given him, bicause the
benefit to roote up Tirannes is so profitable to the worlde,
that who so doeth it, deserveth a farre greater rewarde,
then whatsoever is meete for a mortall man. And of
them you have named, do you not thinke that Alexander
did profit with his victories the vanquished ? sins he so
traded those barbarous nations whiche he overcame, with
1 such good maner^, that of wylde beastes he made them
men ? He built manye beawtifuU Cities in Countreis ill
inhabited, plantinge therin civill kinde of living, and (as it
.were) coopled Asia and Europe together with the bonde of
amitie and holye lawes, so that the vanquished by him were
more happie then the rest, bicause emong some he brought
in matrimonie : emong other, husbandrie : emong other,
religion : emonge other, not to sley, but to make muche of
their parentes in their olde age : emong other, the refraining
from bedding with their mothers, and a thousand other
matters, that might be said for a witnesse of that profit
which his victories brought to the world. But leaving
aside them of olde time, what enterprise were more noble,
more glorious, and more profitable then if Christians would
bend their force to conquerr the infidelles. Would you not
thinke that this warr, prosperously acheved, and beeing the
cause of so manye a thousande to be brought from the false
sect of Mahumet to the light of the Christian truth, it
should be a profit aswel to the vanquished, as to the sub-
duers ? And undoubtedly, as Themistocles in times past,
being banished out of his Countrey, and imbraced of the
king of Persia, and much made of, and honoured with infinit
and moste rich giftes, said unto his traine : Oh sirs we had
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bine undone, had we not bine undone, even so might then
the Turkes and the Moores speake the very same with good
cause, for that in their losse should consist their welfare.
This happinesse therfore (I hope) we shall come to the sight
of, if God graunt so long lief to Monseigneur d'Angoulesme King Francis
that he may come to the Crowne of Fraunce, who showeth the first.
suche a hope of him selfe, as foure nightes ago the L. Julian
spake of. And to the Crowne of England the L. Henry Kinge Henry
Prince of Wales, who presentlye groweth under his most the VIII.
noble father, in all kinde of vertue, like a tender ympc
under the shadow of an excellent tree and laden with frute,
to renue him much more beawtiful and plentuous whan
time shal come, for as our Castillo writeth from thens, and
promiseth at hys retourn to tell us more at the full, a man
can judge no lesse, but that nature was willing in this
Prince to show her covmning, planting in one body alone
so many excellent vertues, as were sufficient to decke out
infinit.
Then said M. Bernard Bibiena : A very great hope of
him self promiseth also the L. Charles Prince of Spaine, The
who not yet fullye tenn yeeres of age, declareth now such a Emperour
wit, and so certein tokens of goodnes, wisdome, modesty, ^^^^ "
noble courage and of every vertue, that if the Empire of
Christendome (as it is thought) come to his handes, it is to
be reckened upon, that he will darken the name of many
Emperovu's of olde time, and in renowme be compared to
the most famous that ever were in the worlde.
The L. OcTAviAN proceaded : I beeleave therefore that
God hath sent suche and so heavenly Princis upon the earth,
and made them one like an other in youth, in mightines of
armes, in state, in handsomnes and disposition of person, that
they may also be minded alike in this good pourpose : and
in case anye maner envye or strife of matching others arrise Emulation
at any time emong them, it shall be, who shall be the first, emong
and most inclined and most couragious in so glorious an ^^^^g^*^-
enterprise. But let us leave this kinde of talke, and retoume
unto our owne. Unto you therfore (my L. Cesar) I say,
that such thinges as you would have the Prince to do, be
very great and worthye muche praise. But you must under-
TT 329
THE FOURTH BOOKE
Liberalitye.
Knowleage.
Vertue in
the middle.
Extremities,
vices.
stand that if he be not skilful! in that I have saide he
ouo;ht to have a knowleage in, and have not framed his
minde in that wise, and bent it to the waye of vertue, it
shall bee harde for him to have the knowleage to be noble
couraged, liberall, just, quicke-spirited, wise, or to have any
other of those qualities that beelong unto him : neither
would I have him to be suche a one for anye other thinge,
but to have the understanding to put in use these condicions
(for as they that build, be not all good woorkemen, so they
that give, be not all liberall) for vertue never hurteth anye
man : and manye there be, that laye hande on other mens
gooddes to give, and so are lavish of an other mans sub-
stance. Some give to them they ought not, and leave in
wretchednesse and miserie such as they be bound to. Other
give with a certein yll will and (as it were) with a dispite,
so that it is knowen they do it, bicause they can do none
other. Other do not onlye not kepe it secrete, but they
call witnesse of it, and (in a maner) cause their liberalities
to be cried. Other foolishlye at a sodeine emptye the foun-
tain of liberalitye, so that afterwarde they can use it no
more. Therfore in this point (as in all other matters) he
must have a knowleage, and govern him self with the wis-
dome that is a companion unto all the other vertues whiche
for that they are in the midle, be nygh unto the two
extremities, that be vices. Wherefore he that hath not
knoweleage renneth soone into them. For as it is a harde
matter in a circle to find out the pricke in the centre, whiche
is the middle, so is it harde to find out the pricke of vertue
placed in the middle beetwene two extreme vyces, the one
for the overmuch, and the other for the overlitle, and unto
these we are inclined sometime to the one, sometime to the
other, and this is knowen by the pleasure and greef that is
felt within us, for through the one we doe the thinge that
we ought not, and through the other we leave undone that,
which we ought to do : although pleasure be muche more
daungerous, bicause oure judgement is soone lead by it to
be corrupted. But bicause the perseverance how farr a man
is wide from the centre of vertue, is a hard matter, we ought
by litle and litle to drawe backe of oure selves to the
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OF THE COURTYER
contrarie part of this extremytye, whiche we know we be
inclined unto, as they do, that make straight crooked staves,
for by that meane we shall draw nighe unto vertue, which
is placed (as I have said) in that pricke of the meane :
wherby it commeth that by manye wayes we be wide, and
by one alone we do oure office and dutye : like as Archers
by one waye alone hitte the raarke, and by manye mysse
the pricke. Therefore oftentimes a Prince to be gentle and
lowelye, doeth manye thinges contrarie to comelinesse, and
so humbleth him selfe that he is nought sett by. Some other
to show a grave majestye Avith authoritye according, bee-
commeth cruell and untollerable. Some one, to be counted
eloquente, entreth into a thowsande straunge matters and
longe processes with curious woordes giving ear to hym
selfe, so that other men can not for lothsomenesse heare
him. Therfore (my L. Cesar) do you not call a smalle
matter anye thing that maye better a Prince how small so
ever it be. Nor thinke that I judge it to be in the reproofe
of my lessons where you say, that a good Governour were A good
rather instructed therewithal), then a good Prince: for per- Pi'i"ce a good
happes there can not be a greater praise nor more comlye "
for a Prince, then to call him a good Govemour. Therfore
if it shoulde fall to my lott to instrucFEnu, he should have
a care not only to govern the matters alreadye spoken of,
but also farre lesser, and understande in peecemeale whatso-
ever belongeth to his people, asmuch as were possible : and
never credite nor trust any officer so muche, as to give him
the bridle wholy into his handes, and the disposinge of the
wholl government. For no man is most apt to all thinges.
And much more hurt commeth of the light beeleaf of
Princis, then of mistrusting, whiche otherwhile doeth not Mistrustinge.
onlye not hurt, but oftentimes profiteth exceadingly. Yet
in this point a good judgement is verye necessarye in a
Prince to descern who deserveth to be put in trust, and
who not. I woulde he shoulde have a care to understande
the doinges and to be an overseear of his officers and
ministers. To breake and to ende controversies emonge his The Prince
subjectes. To take up matters beetwene them and to towarde hys
knitte them together in alliance by mariage. To provide subjectes.
331
THE FOURTH BOORE
Citye.
Marchaunt
men.
Hous-
keepinge.
Superfluous
thinges.
Excesse of
women.
Good Princes
verve scant.
so, that the Citye may be all joyned together and agreeinge
in amitye, lyke a private house, well peopled, not poore,
quiet, and full of good artificers. To show favour to
marchaunt men and to helpe them also with stokkes. To
be liberall and honourable in houskeepinge towarde straun-
gers and religious persons. To tempre all superfluous
matters, bicause throughe the offences committed in these
thinges, albeit they appeere but small, cities raanye times
fall in decay : therefore it is reason that the Prince set a
stint to the oversumptuous buildinges of private men,
bancquettinges, unmesurable doweries of women, their riot-
ous excesse, their pompe in jewelles and apparaile, whiche
is nothinge elles but a token of their foly : for (beeside that
throughe ambicion and malice that one of them beareth an
other, they many times lavish out their livelode and hus-
bandes substance, otherwhile for some pretye Jewell or other
matter of fansye) sometime they sell their honestie to him
that will buye it.
Then said M. Bernarde Bibiena smilinge : You beegine
(my L. Octavian) to take my L. Gaspars and Phrisios part.
Then the L. Octavian answered in like maner smilyng :
The controversye is ended, and I entende not nowe to renue
it. Therfore wil I speake no more of women, but retourn
to my prince.
Phrisio answered : You may now leave him hardely,
and be contented to have him suche a one as you have
instructed him. For doubtles it wer an easier matter
to find out a woman of the qualities the L. Julian hath
spoken of, then a prince of the qualities that you would
have in him. Therfore (I feare me) he is like the Commune
weale of Plato, and we shall never see suche a one, onlesse
it bee perhappes in heaven.
The L. Octavian answered : Thinges possible, though
they be hard, yet is it to be hoped that they maye be :
therefore maye we yet parhappes see him upon the earth in
oure time. For altlioughe the heavens be so scante in bring-
inge furth excellent Princis, that in so manye hundreth
yeeres we do scantlye see one, yet may this good lucke
happen to us.
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OF THE COURTYER
Then said Count Lewes : I have a good hope of it. For
beeside the three great ones that we have named, of whom
may be hoped it, that beelongeth to the high degree of a
perfect Prince, there be also nowadayes in Italy certein
Princes children, which although they be not like to have
such powre, may happe will supplye it with vertue : and he
that emonge them all declareth a more towardenesse and
promiseth of him selfe a greater hope then anye of the reste
(me think) is the L. Friderick Gonzaga, sonn and heyr to L. Friderick
the marquesse of Mantua, and nephewe to oure Dutchesse ^^"^^^^
here. For beeside the honest inclination to good nourtour j^^jj^y*^
and the discreation that he declareth in these tendre yeeres,
they that have the bringing upp of him, reporte suche
wonderous thinges as touchinge his beeing wittye, desirous
of glory, stouthearted, courteious, freeharted, frindlye to
justice, so that of so good a beeginning, there can not be
loked for but a verye good ende.
Then|PHRisio : Well, no more of this (quoth he) we will
pray unto God that we may se this your hope fulfilled.
Here the L. Octavian tourning him toward the dutches,
after a sort as though he had ended as much as he had to
saye : You have now heard, madam (quoth he) what I am
able to say of the ende of the Courtier, wherin though I
have not satisfied in all pointes, it shall suffice me yet, that
I have showed, that some other perfection may be given him
beside the matters whych these Lordes have spoken of, who
(I beleave) have lefte out both this and what so ever I am
able to saye, not bycause they knew it not better then I,
but bicause they were loth to take the peynes : therfore will
I give them leave to go forward, if they have anye thinge
elles lefte beehinde to be saide.
Then said the Dutchesse : Beeside that it is late (for
within a while it will be time for us to make an ende for
this night) me thinke, we ought not to mingle anye other
talke with this, wherin you have gathered together suche
sundrye and goodlye matters, that concerninge the ende of
Courtlinesse, it may be said, that you are not onlie the perfect
Courtier whom we seke for, and able to instruct j^qur Prince
well, but also (if fortune be so favourable on your side) ye
333
THE FOURTH BOOKE
maye be the good Prince your self, whiche shoulde not be
withoute great profit to your Countrey.
Then laughed the L. Octavian and said : Perhappes
(madam) were I in that astate, it woulde be with me as it is
with manye otiiers that can better saye well, then do well.
Here after a litle debatinge of the matter to and fro
emonge the company, with certein contentions tending to
the commendacion of that that had bine spoken, and agree-
inge on all handes not yet to be bed time, the L. Julian saide
smilinge : Madam, I am so verie an ennemye to crafte and
guile, that needes must I speake against the L. Octavian :
who for that he is (as I muche doubt him) a secrete con-
spiratour with the L. Gaspar againste women, hath over-
shott himselfe in committing of two errours (in mine opinion)
very great : wherof the one is, that meaninge to preferr
this Courtier beefore the Gentilwoman of the Palaice, and
to make him to passe those boundes that she is not able to
reache to, he hath also preferred him beefore the Prince,
whiche is most unseemlye. The other, that he hath given
him suche an ende, that it is evermore harde and otherwhile
unpossible for him to comebye it : and yet whan he doeth
come by it, he ought not to have the name of a Courtier.
I can not see, quoth the L, Emilia, howe it is harde or
unpossible for the Courtier to come bye this his ende, nor yet
howe the L. Octavian hath prefarred him beefore the Prince.
Graunt it him not, answered the L. Octavian : for I have
not preferred the Courtier beefore the Prince. And as
touchinge the ende of Courtlinesse, I dare undertake that
I am not overseene in any point.
Then answered the L. Julian : You can not say (ray L.
Octavian) that alwaies the cause, by the which the effect
is such as it is, is no more suche as the effect is. Therfore
needes must the Courtier, by whose instruction the prince
must be of such an excellencye, be more excellente then
the prince : and in this wise shall he be also of a more
woorthinesse then the prince himselfe, which is most un-
sittinge. Then concerninge the ende of Courtlinesse, that
which you have spoken may folowe whan there is litle
beetwene the age of the prince and the Courtiers : yet verye
334
OF THE COURTYER
hardlye, for where there is smalle difference of age, it is
likelye there is also smalle diff'erence of knowleage. But in
case the prince be olde and the Courtier yong : it is meete
that the olde prince knowe more then the yonge Courtier,
and where this foloweth not alwaies, it foloweth somtime,
and then is the ende which you have appointed to the
Courtier unpossible. In case againe the prince be yonge
and the Courtier aged, muche a doe shall the Courtier have
to Wynne him the good will of the prince with those qualities
that you have given him. For (to saye the truth) feates of
armes and the other exercises beelonge unto yonge menne
and be not comely e in age : and musike, damisinge, feast-
inges, sportinges, and love, be matters to be laughed at in
olde menne, and (me thinke) to an instructer of the lief and
maners of a prince, who ought to be a grave person and of
authoritie, ripe in yeeres and experience and (if it were
possible) a good Philosopher, a good Capitain and to have
the knowleage almost of every thinge, they are most un-
seemly. Wherfore he that instructeth a Prince (I beleve)
ought not to be called aCourtier, but deserveth a far greater
and a more honorable name. Therfore (my L. Octavian)
perdon me in case I have opened this your craftye convei-
ance, which I thinke m}' self bounde to do for the honour
of my woman, whom you would have to be of lesse worthi-
fles then this Courtier of yours, and I wil none of that.
The L. OcTAviAX laughed and saide : A more praise it
were for the Gentilwoman of the Palaice (my L. Julian)
to exalt her so muche tliat she maye be equall with the
Courtier, then so much to debase the Courtier that he
shoulde be equall with the Gentilwoman of the Palaice : for
it were not unfitt for the woman also to instruct her ladye,
and with her to drawe to the same ende of Courtlinesse, Tliis ende of
whiche I have said is meete for the Courtier with his prince, the Courtyer
But you seeke more to dispraise the Courtier, then to praise ^erveth also
the Gentilwoman of the Palaice, therfore shall it become ^^.^^^^ ■+-u
me also to take part with the Courtier. Now to make vou her Lady.
answere to youre objections, you shall understande that I
have not saide, that the instruction of the Courtier ought
to be the onelve cause why the Prynce shoulde be such a one,
335
THE FOURTH BOOKE
Virtus in
actione.
Tlie ende of
the Courtier
harde.
for in case he be not inclined of nature and apt to be suche
a one, all diligence and exhortacion of the Courtier were in
vaine. As in like maner every good husband man should
labour in vaine, that would take in hande to tyll and sowe
with good graine the barraine sande of the Sea, bicause this
barrainnesse in that place is naturall. But whan to the
good seede in a frutefull soile with the temperatnesse of aer
and rayne meete for the season of the yeere, there is also
applied the diligence of mans husbandinge the grounde,
alwaies great abundance of corne is scene to springe plen-
tuouslye : yet for all this, is it not to be saide, that the
husbande man alone is the cause of it, although without
him all the other thinges do litle or nothinge helpe the
pourpose. There be therfore manie Princis, that would be
good, in case their myndes were well tylled, and of theym
speake I, not of suche as be like the barraine Countrey, and
of nature so farr wide from good condicions that no teach-
ing; were able to frame their minde to a right trade. And
forsomuch as (as we have already said) such custommes
and properties be ingendrad in us, as oure doinges are, and
vertue consisteth in doing and practise, it is not unpossible
nor any marveile, that the Courtier should traine his Prince
in manye vertues, as justice, liberality, noble courage, the
practisinge wherof he, through his greatnesse, maye lightlve
put in use and make it custome, whiche the Courtier can not
do, bicause he hath no meanes to practise theym, and thus
the Prince inclined to vertue by the Courtyer, may beecome
more vertuous then the Courtier : beesyde that, you muste
conceyve that the whettstone which cutteth not a whitt,
doeth yet make a toole sharpe : therefore althoughe the
Courtier instructeth his Prince yet (me thinke) it is not to
be said that he is of a more woorthynes then his Prince.
That the ende of this Courtier is harde and somtime unpos-
sible, and that whan the Courtier doeth come bye it, he
ought not to be named a Courtier, but deserveth a greater
name, I tell you plainlye, that I denye not this hardenesse,
bicause it is no lesse harde to find out so excellent a
Courtier, then to come by such an ende. Yet by reason
(me thinke) the unpossiblenes of the matter lieth not in the
336
OF THE COURTYER
point that you have alleaged. For in case the Courtier be so
yong that he hath not understanding in the thinge, which
he ought to have a knowleage in, it is not to the pourpose
to speake of him, bicause he is not the Courtier that we
entreate upon, neyther is it possible for him that must have
a sight in so many thinges to be verye yonge. And if it
happen moi-eover the Prince to be so wise and good of him
selfe, that he needeth no exhortations or counsell of others
(although it be so harde a matter as everye man knoweth)
it sufficeth that the Courtier be such a one, as if his Prince
had neede, he coulde make him vertuous: and then may
he in effect fulfill the other part, not to suffre him to be
deceived, and to worke that evermore he may understande
the truth of everye thinge, and bolster him against flatterers
and raylers, and all suche as shoulde endevour to corrupt
his minde with unhonest delites. And in this wise shall
he yet comebye a part of his ende though he can not practise
the wholl, which can not be justlye layde to him for a fault,
sins he refrayneth the doinge of it upon so good a ground.
For were an excellent Phisitien in place where al were sound
and in helth, a man ought not therefore to saye, that the
Phisitien (althoughe he cured no diseased) wanted of his
end. Wherefore as the Phisitiens respect ought to be the
helthe of men, even so the Courtiers, the vertue of his The Courtiers
Prince : and it sufficeth them both to have this end in- respect, the
wardlye grafte in them, whan the want of uttringe it out- p^^^.g** ^®
wardelye in practise, is occasioned by the subjecte, to the
whiche thys ende is directed. But in case the Courtier were
so old, that it became him not to be doing in musike, Olde
feastinges, sportinges, marcialfeates, and the other slightes Courtiers.
of the bodye, yet can it not be saide not wythstandinge,
that it were unpossible for him to entre that way in favour
with his Prince : for where his age taketh awaye the practis-
inge of those thinges, it taketh not away the understandinge
of them, and if he have practised them in his youth, it
maketh him to have so muche the more perfect judgement in
them, and giveth a knoweleage to teach theim his Prince so
muche the more perfectlye, as yeares and experience bringe
knowleaffe of all thinges with them. And thus shal the
UU 337
THE FOURTH BOOKE
Instructer of
a Prince.
Achilles.
Ulisses.
Phoenix.
aged Courtier, although he exercise not the quahties that
he is indowed withal, comebye his ende at length, to in-
structe well hys Prince. 0 And in case you will not call
him a Courtier, it shall nothing ofFende me, for nature hath
not appointed suche narrowe boundes to the dignities of
men, that one maye not come up from one to an other :
therfore many times meane souldiers arrise to be Capitaines :
private men, kinges : priestes. Popes : and scolers, maisters :
and so with there degree or dignitie they take their name
accordinglye. Wherfore perhappes a man maye say that to
beecome the Instructer of a Prince were the ende of a
Courtier, althoughe I perceive not who should refuse this
name of a Perfect Courtier, whiche (in my minde) is woorthie
verye great praise. And I can not see but Homer, as he
facioned two most excellent personages for example of mans
lief, the one in practises (whiche was Achilles) the other in
passions and sufferances (which was Ulisses): even so in like
maner he minded to facion a perfect Courtier (whiche was
Phoenix) who after rehersall of his loves and manye other
matters of youth, declareth that he was sent to Achilles by
his father Peleus, to be in his companye and to teache him
to speake and to do : whiche is nothinge elles but the ende
that wee have appointed for oure Courtier. Neyther can I
Aristotell and thinke that Aristotel and Plato tooke scorne of the name of
Plato were ^ perfect Courtier, bicause it is plainlye to be scene that
they practised the deedes of Courtiershippe and gave them
selves to this ende, the one with the greate Alexander, the
other with the kynges of Sicilia. And bicause it is the
office of a good Courtier to knowe the nature and inclina-
tion of his Prince, and so accordynge to the busynesse and
as occasion serveth with slightenesse to entre in favour with
him (as we have saide) by those wayes that make him a
sure entrey, and afterward bend him to vertue, Aristotel so
well knew the nature of Alexander, and with slightnesse
framed him selfe so well thereafter, that he was beloved and
honoured of him more then a father. Wherfore emong
many other tokens that Alexander showed him, for a wit-
nesse of hys good will, he caused Stagira the citye where he
anders father, was borne once destroied, to be builded new again. And
338
Courtiers.
Both the
Dionysses.
The office
of a good
Courtier.
Aristotel
wayed the
nature of
Alexander.
Stagira
destroyed by
Philip Alex-
OF THE COURTYER
Aristotel, beeside the directinge him to that glorious end,
that was to make the worlde onelye a generall countrey, and
all men, as one people, that shoulde live in amitye and
agreement together, under one government and one lawe,
that (like the sonn) should generallye geve light to all, he
instructed hyni in the naturall sciences and in the vertues
of the minde full and wholy, that he made him most wise,
most manlie, moste continent, and a true morall Philosopher,
not in woordes onelye, but in deedes. For there can not be
imagined a more noble Philosophy, then to bringe to a civill
trade of living such wild people as were the inhabitauntes
of Bactria and Caucasus, India and Scithia, and to teache
them matrimonie, husbandrye, to honour their fathers, to
abstaine from robbinge and killinge and from other noughty
condicions, and to builde so many most noble Cities in
straunge Countries, so that infinit throughe those lawes
were brought from a wilde lief to live lyke men. And of
these thinges in Alexander the Author was Aristotel in
practisinge the wayes of a good Courtier. The which Calls- He rebuked
thenes coulde not do, for all Aristotel showed him the way Alexander
of it, who bicause he was a right philosopher and so sharpe ^Joj-shipped
a minister of the bare truth without mynglinge it with as a o-od, and
Courtlinesse, he lost his lief and profited not, but rather therfore died
gave a sclaunder to Alexander. With the very same way upontherack.
of Courtlinesse Plato framed Dion the Syracusan. But Q" ^'''''*- ^'^- ^•
whan he mett afterwarde with Dionysius the Tyrann, like a
booke all full of faultes and erroures, and rather needful to
be cleane blotted out, then altered or corrected, bicause it
was not possible to scrape out of him that blott of tiranny
wherwithall he was stained so long together, he would not
practise therein the wayes of Courtiership, for he thought
they shoulde be all in vaine : the whiche our Courtier ought
to do also, if his chaunce be to serve a Prince of so ill a
nature, that by longe custome is growen in use with vices,
as they that have the consumption of the lunges with their
desease. For in this case he ought to forsake his service, least The Courti
he beare the blame of his Lordes yll practises, or feele the oughte not to
hartgreefe that all good men have which serve the wicked, ^^ck^pj ^
Here whan the L. Octavian had made a stave, the L.
339
THE FOURTH BOOKE
Gaspar sayde : I had not thought oure Courtier hadd bene
so woorthy a personage. But sins Aristotel and Plato be
his mates, I judge no man ought to disdeigne this name
anye more. Yet wott I not whether I may beleave that
Aristotel and Plato ever daunsed or were musitiens in all
their lief time, or practised other feates of chivalrye.
The L. OcTAviAN answered : Almost it is not lawfull to
thinke that these two divine wittes were not skilfull in
everye thinge, and therfore it is to be presupposed that they
practised what ever beelongeth to Courtlynesse. For where
it commeth to pourpose they so penn the matter, that the
very craftes maisters them selves know by theyr writinges
that they understoode the whol even to the pith and inner-
most rootes. Wherefore to a Courtier or instructer of a
Prince (howe ever ye lust to terme him) that tendeth to the
good ende, which we have spoken of, it is not to be said but
that all the good qualities which these Lordes have given
him do beelonge, though he were never so grave a Philo-
sopher or holie in his maners : bicause they strive not against
goodnesse, discreation, knoweleage and will, in all age, and
in all time and place.
Then the L. Gaspar : I remembre (quoth he) that these
Lordes yesternight reasoninge of the Courtiers qualities.
The Courtier did alowe him to be a lover, and in makinge rehersall of as-
a lover. muche as hitherto hath bene spoken, a manne maye pike out
a conclusion, That the Courtier (whiche with his worthynesse
and credit must incline his Prince to vertue) must in maner
of necessitie be aged, for knoweleage commeth verye syldome
times beefore yeeres, and speciallye in matters that bee
learned wyth experyence : I can not see, whan hee is well
drawen in yeeres, howe it wyll stande well wyth hym to be a
lover, considerynge (as it hath bine said the other night)
Love frameth not with olde men, and the trickes that in
yonge men be galauntnesse, courtesie and precisenesse so
acceptable to women, in them are mcere folies and fondnesse
to be laughed at, and purchase him that useth them hatred
of women and mockes of others. Therfore in case this your
Aristotel an old Courtier Avere a lover, and practised the
feates that yong lovers do (as some that we have sene in our
340
OF THE COURTYER
dales) I feare me, he woulde forgete to teach his Prince : and
paraventure boyes would mocke him behinde his backe, and
women would have none other delite in him but to make
him a jesting stocke.
/■ Then said the L. Octavian : Sins all the other qualities
appointed to the Courtier are meete for him, althoughe he
be olde, me thinke we shoulde not then barr him from this
happinesse to love.
Nay rather, quoth the L. Gaspak, to take this love from
him, is a perfection over and above, and a makynge him to
ly ve happilie out of raiserie and wretchednesse.
' M. Peter Bkmbo said : Remember you not (my L. Gaspar)
that the L. Octavian declared the other nighte in his divise
of pastymes, although he be not skilfull in love, to knowe
vet that there be some lovers, which recken the disdeignes,
the angres, the debates and tourmentes whiche they receive
of their Ladies, sweete ? Wherupon he required to be
taught the cause of this sweetenesse. Therfore in case oure
Courtier (thoughe he be olde) were kendled with those loves
that be sweete without any bitter smacke, he should feele no
miserie nor wretchednesse at all. And beeing wise, as we
set case he is, he shoulde not be deceived in thinkinge to be
meete for him what so ever were meete for yong men, but in
lovinge shoulde perhappes love after a sorte, that might not
onlye not bringe him in sclaunder but to muche praise and
great happinesse, without any lothsomnes at all, the which
verie sildome or (in maner) never happeneth to yonge men :
and so should he neyther lay aside the teachinge of his
Prince, nor yet commit any thinge that should deserve the
mockinge of boyes.
Tiien spake the Dutchesse : I am glad (M. Peter) that
you have not bine muche troubled, in oure reasoninges this
night, for now we maye be the boulder to give you in
charge to speake, and to teache the Courtier this so happie
a love, which bringeth with it neither sclaunder, nor any
inconvenience : for perhappes it shall be one of the neces-
sariest and profitablest qualities that hitherto hath bine
given him, therefore speake of good felowship asmuch as
you know therin.
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THE FOURTH BOOKE
M. Peter laughed and saide : I would be loth (Madam)
where I say that it is lefull for olde men to love, it should
be an occasion for these Ladyes to thinke me olde : there-
fore hardely give ye this enterprise to an other.
The DuTCHEssE answered : You ought not to refuse to
be counted olde in knowleage, thoughe ye be yonge in
yeeres. Therfore saye on, and excuse your selfe no more.
M. Peter said : Surelye (madam) if I must entreate upon
this matter, I must first go aske counsell of my Heremite
Lavinello.
The L, Emilia said then halfe in angre : There is never
a one in al the company so disobedient as you be (M, Peter)
therfore shoulde the Dutchesse doe well to chastice you
somewhat for it.
M. Peter said smilinge : For love of God (madam) be not
angrye with me, for I will say what ever you will have me.
Goo to, saye on then, answered the L. Emilia.
Then M. Peteh after a whiles silence, somewhat settlinge
hymselfe as thoughe he shoulde entreat uppon a waightie
matter, said thus : My Lordes, to showe that olde menne
maye love not onlie without sclaunder, but otherwhile more
happilye then yonge menne, I must be enforced to make a
litle discourse to declare what love is, and wherein consisteth
the happinesse that lovers maye have. Therefore I beseche
ye give the hearynge wyth heedefulnesse, for I hope to make
you understand, that it were not unsitting for anye man
here to be a lover, in case he were xv. or xx. yeeres elder
then M. Morello.
And here after they had laughed a while, M. Peter pro-
What love is. ceaded : I saye therefore that accordinge as it is defined of the
wise menn of olde time, Love is nothinge elles but a certein
covetinge to enjoy beawtie : and forsomuch as covetinge
longeth for nothinge, but for thinges knowen, it is requisite
that knowleage go evermore before coveting, which of his
owne nature willeth the good, but of him self is blind, and
knoweth it not. Therfore hath nature so ordeined, that to
every vertue of knowleag ther is annexed a vertue of longing.
And bicause in oure soule there be three maner wayes to know,
namely e, by sense, reason, and understandinge : of sense, there
342
Olde men
may love
without
sclaunder.
\
Knowleage. !
Coveting. I
Sense.
OF THE COURT YER
arriseth appetite or longinge, which is commune to us with
brute beastes : of reason arriseth election or choise, which is Reason,
proper to man: of understanding, by the which man may be Understand-
partner with Aungelles, arriseth wall. Even as therfore the inge.
sense knoweth not but sensible matters and that which may
be felt, so the appetyte or covetinge onlye desireth the same:
and even as the understanding is bent but to beehoulde
thinges that may be understoode, so is that wil only fead
with spirituall gooddes. ] Man of nature indowed wath
reason, placed (as it were) in the middle beetwene these two
extremities, may through his choise inclinynge to sense, or
reachynge to understandynge, come nigh to the covetinge
sometime of the one somtime of the other part. In these
sortes therfore may beawtie be coveted, the general name Beawtie.
wherof may be applied to al thinges, eyther naturall or arti-
ficiall, that are framed in good proportion, and due tempre,
as their nature beareth. But speakynge of the beawtie
that we meane, which is onlie it, that appeereth in bodies,
and especially in the face of mann, and moveth thys fervent
covetinge which we call Love, we will terme it an influence
of the heavenlie bountifulness, the whiche for all it stretcheth
over all thynges that be created (like the light of the Sonn)
yet whan it findeth out a face well proportioned, and framed The face,
with a certein livelie agreement of severall colours, and
set furth with lightes and shadowes, and with an orderly
distaunce and limites of lines, therinto it distilleth it self
and appeereth most welfavoured, and decketh out and
lyghtneth the subject where it shyneth wyth a marveylous
grace and glistringe (like the Sonne beames that strike
against beawtifull plate of fine golde wrought and sett wyth
precyous jewelles) so that it draweth unto it mens eyes with
pleasure, and percing through them imprinteth him selfe in
the soule, and wyth an unwonted sweetenesse all to stirreth
her and delyteth, and settynge her on fire maketh her to
covett him./ Whan the soule then is taken wyth covetynge
to enjoy e thys beawtie as a good thynge, in case she sufFre
her selfe to be guyded with the judgement of sense, she
falleth into most deepe erroures, and judgeth the bodie in
whyche Beawtye is descerned, to be the principall cause
343
Ill possessing
the body
beawtie is
uot enjoied.
They
that love
sensuallye.
Properties
of lovers.
THE FOURTH BOOKE
thereof: wherupon to enjoye it, she reckeneth it necessarye
to joigne as inwardly e as she can wyth that bodye, whyche
is false : and therefore who so thynketh in possessynge the
bodye to injoye beawtie, he is farr deceived, and is moved to
it, not wyth true knowleage by the choise of reason, but
wyth false opinyon by the longinge of sense. Wherupon
the pleasure that foloweth it, is also false and of necessytye
full of erroures. And therefore into one of the two vyces
renn all those lovers that satisfye theyr unhonest lustes with
the women whom they love : for eyther assone as they be
come to the coveted ende, they not onely feele a fulnesse
and lothesomnesse, but also conceyve a hatred against the
wyght beloved, as thoughe longinge repented hym of hys
offence and acknowleaged the deceite wrought hym by the
false judgement of sense, that made hym beleave the yll to
be good : or elles they contynue in the verye same covetynge
and greedynesse, as thoughe they were not in deede come to
the ende, whyche they sought for. And albeit throughe the
blynde opynyon that hath made them dronken (to their
seeminge) in that instante they feele a contentation, as the
deseased otherwhile, that dreame they drinke of some cleare
spring, yet be they not satisfied, nor leave of so. And
bicause of possessing coveted goodnes there arriseth alwayes
quietnesse and satisfaction in the possessors minde, in case
this were the true and righte end of there covetinge, whan
they possesse it they would be at quietnesse and throughlye
satisfied, whiche they be not : but rather deceyved through
that likenesse, they furthwith retourn again to unbridled
covetinge, and with the very same trouble which they felt
at the first, they fall again into the raginge and most
burninge thirst of the thinge, that they hope in vaine to
possesse perfectlye. These kind of lovers therfore love most
unluckely, for eyther they never comebye their covetinges,
whiche is a great unluckinesse : or elles if they do comebye
them, they finde they comebye their hurt, and ende their
myseryes with other greater miseries, for both in the
beginnino-e and middle of this love, there is never other
thinge felt, but afflictions, tourmentes, greeftes, pinmg,
travaile, so that to be wann, vexed with continuall teares,
344
OF THE COURTYER
and sighes, to lyve with a discontented minde, to be alwaies
dumbe, or to lament, to covet death, in conclusion to be
most unlucky are the propreties which (they saye) beelonge
to lovers. The cause therfore of this wretchednesse in mens
mindes, is principally sense, whiche in youthful! age bereth
moste swey, bicause the lustinesse of the fleshe and of the
bloode, in that season addeth unto him even so much force,
as it withdraweth from reason : therfore doeth it easel3'e
traine the soule to folowe appetite or longinge, for when she
seeth her selfe drowned in the earthly prison, bicause she is
sett in the office to govern the body, she can not of her
self understand plainly at the first the truth of spirituall
behouldinge. Wherfore to compasse the understanding of
thinges, she must go begg the beginning at the senses, and
therfore she beleaveth them, and giveth ear to them, and is
contented to be lead by them, especiall3'e whan they have
so much courage, that (in a maner) they enforce her and
bicause they be deceitfuU they fyll her with errours and
false opinions. Wherupon most communlye it happeneth,
that yonge men be wrapped in this sensual love, which is
a vei'y rebell against reason, and therfore thei make them
selves unwoorthy to enjoy the favoures and benifites, which
love bestoweth upon his true subjectes, neither in love feele
they any other pleasures, then what beastes without reason
do, but much more grevous afflictions. Setting case ther-
fore this to be so, which is most true, I say, that the con-
trary chaunseth to them of a more ripe age. For in case
they, whan the soule is not nowe so much wayed downe
with the bodyly burdein, and whan the naturall burning
asswageth and draweth to a warmeth, if thei be inflamed
with beawty, and to it bend their coveting guided by
reasonable choise, they be not deceived, and possesse beawtye Beawtie.
perfectly, and therefor through the possessing of it, alwaies
goodnes ensueth to them : bicause beauty is good and con-
sequently the true love of it is most good and holy, and
evermore bringeth furth good frutes in the soules of them,
. ^ * -11...
that with the bridle of reason restraine the yll disposition
of sense, the which old men can much sooner do then yong.
Yt is not therfore out of reason to say, that olde men may
XX 345 '
THE FOURTH BOOKE
also love without sclaunder and more happily, then yong
men : taking notwithstanding this name Olde, not for the
age at the pittes brinke, nor when the canelles of the body
be so feble, that the soule can not through them worke her
feates, but when knowleage in us is in his right strength.
And I wil not also hide this from you : namely, that I sup-
pose, where sensuall love in every age is naught, yet in
vonge men it deserveth excuse, and perhappes in some case
iefull : for although it putteth them in afflictions, daungeres,
travailes, and the unfortunatenes that is said, yet are there
many that to winne them the good will of their Ladies
practise vertuous thinges, which for all they be not bent
to a good end, yet are they good of them selves, and so of
that much bitternesse they pike out a litle sweetnesse, and
through the adversities which they susteine, in the ende
they acknowleage their errour. As I judge therfore those
yong men that bridle their appetites, and love with reason,
I to be godlye : so do I houlde excused suche as yelde to
I sensuall love, wherunto they be so inclined through the
weakenesse and frailtie of man : so they showetherin meeke-
nesse, courtesie, and prowesse, and the other worthie con-
dicions that these Lordes have spoken of, and whan those
youthfull yeeres be gone and past, leave it of cleane, keapinge
alouf from this sensuall covetinge as from the lowermost
steppe of the stayers, by the whiche a man may ascende to
true love. But in case after they drawe in yeeres once they
reserve in their colde hart the fire of appetites, and brynge
stoute reason in subjection to feeble sense, it can not bee
said how much they are to be blamed : for lyke men with-
out sense they deserve with an everlasting shame to be put
in the numbre of unreasonable living creatures, bicause the
thoughtes and wayes of sensuall love be farr vmsittinge for
ripe age.
Here Bembo paused a while as though he woulde brethe
him, and whan all thinges were whist M. Morello of
Ortona saide : And in case there were some olde man more
freshe and lustye and of a better complexion then manye
yonge men, whie woulde you not have it lefuU for him to
love with the love that yonge men love ?
346
OF THE COURTYER
The DuTCHEssE laughed and said : Yf the love of yong
men be so unluckye, why would you (M. Morello) that old
men should also love with this unluckinesse ? But in case
you were old (as these men say you be) you woulde not thus
procure the hurt of olde men.
M. Morello answered : The hurt of olde men (me seemeth)
M. Peter Bembo procureth, who will have them to love
after a sort, that I for my part understande not : and (me
think) the possessing of this beawtye, whiche he prayseth so
muche, without the body, is a dreame.
Do you beeleave M. Morello, quoth then Count Lewis,
that beauty is alwaies so good a thing as M. Peter Bembo
speaketh of?
Not I in good sooth, answered M. Morello : but I
remembre rather that I have seene manie beautifuU women
of a most yll inclination, cruell, and spitefull, and it seemeth
that (in a maner) it happeneth alwaies so, for beawtie
maketh them proude : and pride, cruell.
Count Lewis said smilinge : To you perhappes they seeme
cruell, bicause they content you not with it, that you would
have. But cause M. Peter Bembo to teach you in what
sort old men ought to covet beawtye and what to seeke at
their Ladies handes, and what to content them selves withall :
and in not passinge out of these boundes, ye shal se that
they shal be neither proud nor cruell : and wil satisfy you
with what you shal require.
M. ]\1orello seemed then somwhat out of pacience, and
said : I will not knowe the thino;e that toucheth me not.
But cause you to be taught how the yonge men ought to
covet this beawty, that are not so fresh and lusty as olde
men be.
Here Sir Fridericke to pacific M. Morello and to breake
their talke, woulde not suffer Count Lewis to make answere,
but interrupting him said : Perhappes M. jNIorello is not
altogether out of the way in saing that beawty is not
alwayes good, for the beautye of women is manye times
cause of infinit evilles in the worlde, hatred, warr, mortal-
ity, and destruction, wherof the rasinge of Troye can be a
good witnesse : and beawtiful women for the most part be
347
THE FOURTH BOOKE
A notable
Poet whiche
lost his sight
for writing
against
Helena, and
recanting,
had his sight
restored him
again.
Judgment by
the face.
eyther proude and cruell (as is saide) or unchast, but M.
Morello woulde finde no faulte with that. There be also
manye wicked men that have the comehnesse of a beautiful!
countenance, and it senieth that nature hath so shaped
them, bicause they may be the redier to deceive, and that
this amiable looke were like a baite that covereth the
hooke.
Then M. Peter Bembo : Beleave not (quoth he) but
beautie is alwayes good.
Here Count Lewis bicause he woulde retourn again to
his former pourpose interrupted him and said : Sins M.
Morello passeth not to understand that, which is so neces-
sary for him, teache it me, and showe me howe olde men
may come bye this hapinesse of love, for I will not care to
be counted olde, so it may profit me.
M. Peter Bembo laughed and said : First will I take the
errour out of these gentilmens minde : and afterwarde will I
satisfie you also. So beeginning a fresh : My Lordes (quoth
he) I would not that with speakynge ill of beawtie, which is
a holy thinge, any of us as prophane and wicked shoulde
purchase him the wrath of God. Therfore to give M.
Morello and Sir Fridericke warninge, that they lose not
their sight, as Stesichorus did, a peine most meete for who
so dispraiseth beawtie, I saye, that beawtie commeth of
God, and is like a circle, the goodnesse wherof is the Centre.
And therefore, as there can be no circle without a centre,
no more can beawty be without goodnesse. Wherupon
doeth verie sildome an ill soule dwell in a beawtifull bodye.
And therefore is the outwarde beawtie a true signe of the
inwarde goodnes, and in bodies thys comelynesse is im-
prynted more and lesse (as it were) for a marke of the soule,
whereby she is outwardlye knowen : as in trees, in whiche
the beawtye of the buddes giveth a testimonie of the good-
nesse of the frute. And the verie same happeneth in bodies,
as it is scene, that Palmastrers by the visage knowe manye
tymes the condicions, and otherwhile the thoughtes of
menne. And which is more, in beastes also a manne may
descerne by the face the qualitie of the courage, whiche in
the bodye declareth it selfe as muche as it can. Judge you
348
OF THE COURT YER
howe plainlye in the face of a Lion, a horse and an Egle,
a manne shall descerne anger, fiersenesse and stoutenesse : in
Lambes and Doves simplenesse and verie innoceneye : the
craftye subtiltye in Foxes and Wolves, and the like (in
a maner) in all other livinge creatures. The foule there-
fore for the most part be also yvell and the beawtifull,
good. Therfore it maye be said that Beawtie is a face Beawtie.
pleasant, meerie, comelye, and to be desired for goodnesse :
and Foulness a face darke, uglesome, unpleasant and to be Fouluesse.
shonned for yll. And in case you will consider all thinges,
ye shall flnde, that what so ever is good and profitable
hath also evermore the comelinesse of Beawtie. Behoulde De Orat.
the state of this great Inginn of the world, which God hb. 8.
created for the helth and preservation of every thing that The worlde.
was made. The heaven rounde besett with so many heavenly The heaven,
lightes : and in the middle, the Earth invironed wyth the The earth.
Elementes, and uphelde wyth the verye waight of it selfe :
the sonn, that compassinge about giveth light to the wholl. The sonue.
and in winter season draweth to the lowermost signe, after-
ward by litle and litle climeth again to the other part : the
Moone, that of him taketh her light, accordinge as she The moone.
draweth nigh, or goith farther from him : and the other five
sterres, that diversly keepe the very same course. These The pianettes,
thinges emong them selves have such force by the knitting-
together of an order so necessarilye framed, that with alter-
ing them any one jott, they shoulde be all lewsed, and the
worlde would decaye. They have also suche beawtie and
comelinesse, that all the wittes men have, can not imagin a
more beawtifull matter. Thinke nowe of the shape of man, Man.
which may be callecLaJitle world : in whom every percell of Aristot.
his body is seene to be necessarily framed by art and not by ^- Phisic.
happ, and then the fourme all together most beawtifull, so
that it were a harde matter to judge, whether the members,
as the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the eares, the armes, the
breast and in like maner the other partes : give eyther more
profit to the countenance and the rest of the body, or come-
linesse. The like may be said of all other livinge creatures.
Beehoulde the fethers of foules, the leaves and bowes of trees, Foules.
which be given them of nature to keepe them in their Trees.
349
THE FOURTH BOOKE
Shippes.
Buildinges.
The rouffe
of houses.
beeinge, and yet have they withall a verye great sightlinesse.
Leave nature, and come to art. What thinge is so necessarie
in saylynge vesselles, as the forepart, the sides, the main-
yardes, the mast, the sayles, the sterne, owers, ankers, and
tacklino^es ? all these thinges notwithstanding are so wel-
favoured in the eye, that unto who so beehouldeth them they
seeme to have bine found out aswell for pleasure, as for
profit. Pillars and great beanies uphoulde high buildinges
and Palaices, and yet are they no lesse pleasurfull unto the
eyes of the beehoulders, then profitable to the buyldinges.
When men beegane first to build, in the middle of Temples
and houses they reared the ridge of the rouffe, not to make
the workes to have a better showe, but bicause the water
might the more commodiouslie avoide on both sides : yet
unto profit there was furthwith adjoined a faire sightlinesse,
so that if under the skye where there falleth neyther haile
nor rayne a mann should builde a temple, without a reared
ridge, it is to be thought, that it coulde have neyther a sightly
showe nor any beawtie. Beeside other thinges therfore, it
giveth a great praise to the world, in saiynge that it is beawti-
full. It is praised, in saiynge, the beawtifuU heaven, beawti-
full earth, beawtifuU sea,beawtifull rivers, beawtifull wooddes,
trees, gardeines, beawtifull Cities, beawtifull Churches, houses,
armies. In conclusion this comelye and holye beawtie is
a wonderous settinge out of everie thinge. And it may be
said that Good and beawtifull be after a sort one selfe
thinge, especiallie in the bodies of men : of the beawtie
wherof the nighest cause (I suppose) is the beawtie of the
soule : the which as a partner of the right and heavenlye
beawtie, maketh sightlye and beawtifull what ever she
toucheth, and most of all, if the bodye, where she dwelleth,
be not of so vile a matter, that she can not imprint in it her
propertye. Therfore Beawtie is the true monument and
spoile of the victory e of the soule, whan she with heavenlye
influence beareth rule over materiall and grosse nature, and
with her light overcommeth the darkeness of the bodye. It
is not then to be spoken that Beawtie maketh women proude
or cruel, although it seeme so to M. Morello. Neyther yet
ought beawtifull women to beare the blame of that hatred,
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mortalytie, and destruction, which the unbridled appetites
of men are the cause of. I will not nowe denye, but it is
possible also to finde in the worlde beawtifull women unchast,
yet not bicause beawtie inclineth them to unchast livinge,
for it rather plucketh them from it, and leadeth them into
the way of vertuous condicions, throughe the affinitie that
beawtie hath with goodnesse : but otherwhile yll bringinge
up, the continuall provocations of lovers, tokens, povertie,
hope, deceites, feare, and a thousande other matters over-
come the steadfastnesse, yea of beawtifull and good women :
and for these and like causes may also beawtifull menn bee-
come wicked.
Then said the L. Cesar : In case the L. Gaspars sayinge
be true of yesternight, there is no doubt but the faire women
be more chast then the foule.
And what Avas my sayinge ? quoth the L. Gaspar.
The L. Cesar answered : If I do well beare in minde,
your saiynge was, that the women that are suide to, alwaies
refuse to satisfie him that suith to them, but those that are
not suide to, sue to others. There is no doubt but the
beautiful women have alwaies more suyters, and be more
instantlye laide at in love, then the foule. Therefore the
beawtifull alwayes deny, and consequentlye be more chast,
then the foule, whiche not beeinge suied to, sue unto others.
M. Peter Bembo laughed and said : This argument can
not be answered to.
Afterwarde he proceaded : It chaunseth also oftentimes,
that as the other senses, so the sight is deceyved, and judgeth
a face beawtyfull, which in deede is not beawtifull. And
bicause in the eyes and in the whoU countenance of some
women, a man behouldeth otherwhile a certein lavish wan-
tonnes peincted with dishonest flickeringes, many, whom
that maner deliteth bicause it promiseth them an easines to
come by the thing, that they covet, cal it beawty : but in
deed it is a cloked unshamefastnes, unworthy of so honor-
able and holy a name.
M. Peter Bembo held his peace, and those Lordes
still were earnest upon him to speake somewhat more
of this love and of the waye to enjoy beauty e aright,
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and at the last : Me thinke (quoth he) I have showed
plainly inough, that olde men may love more happelye then
yonge, whiche was my drift, therfore it belongeth not me to
entre anye farther.
Count Lewes answered : You have better declared the
unluckinesse of yonge men, then the happynesse of olde
menn, whom you have not as yet taught, what waye they
must folow in this love of theirs : onelye you have saide,
that they must sufFre them selves to bee guided by reason,
and the opinion of many is, that it is unpossible for love to
stand with reason.
Bembo notwithstanding; saught to make an ende of rea-
soning, but the Dutchesse desired him to say on, and he
beegane thus afreshe : Too unluckie were the nature of man,
if oure soule (in the whiche this so fervent covetinge may
lightlie arrise) should be driven to nourish it with that
Sense. onelye, whiche is commune to her with beastes, and coulde
Reason." "^^ tourn it to the other noble parte, whiche is propre to
her. Therfore sins it is so your pleasure, I wil not refuse
to reason upon this noble matter. And bicause I know my
self unworthy to talke of the most holye misteries of love, I
beseche him to leade my thought and my tunge so, that I
may show this excelent Courtier how to love contrarye to
the wonted maner of the commune ignorant sort. And
even as from my childhode I have dedicated all my wholl
lief unto him, so also now that my wordes may be answer-
able to the same intent, and to the prayse of him : I say
therfore, that sins the nature of man in youthfull age is so
much inclined to sense, it may be graunted the Courtier,
while he is yong, to love sensuallye. But in case afterwarde
also in hys riper yeres, he chaunse to be set on fire with this
coveting of love, he ought to be good and circumspect, and
heedful that he beeguyle not him self, to be lead willfullye
into the wretchednesse, that in yonge men deserveth more
to be pitied then blamed : and contrarywise in olde men,
more to be blamed then pitied. Therfore whan an amiable
countenance of a beautiful woman commeth in his sight,
that is accompanied with noble condicions and honest
behaviours., so that as one practised in love, he wotteth
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well that his hewe hath an agreement with herres, assoone
as he is a ware that his eyes snatch that image and carie it
to the hart, and that the soule beeginneth to beehoulde it
with pleasure, and feeleth within her self the influence that
stirreth her and by Htle and litle setteth her in heate, and
that those livelye spirites, that twinkle out throughe the
eyes, put continually freshe nourishment to the fire: he
ought in this beginninge to seeke a speedye remedye and to
raise up reason, and with her, to fense the fortresse of his
hart, and to shutt in such wise the passages against sense
and appetites, that they maye entre neyther with force nor
subtill practise. Thus if the flame be quenched, the jeoper-
dye is also quenched. But in case it continue or encrease,
then must the Courtier determine (when he perceiveth he is
taken) to shonn throughlye all filthinesse of commune love,
and so entre into the holye way of love with the guide of
reason, and first consider that the body, where that beawtye
shvneth, is not the fountaine frome whens beauty springeth,
but rather bicause beautie is bodilesse and (as we have said)
an heavenlie shyning beame, she loseth much of her honours
whan she is coopled Avith that vile subject and full of
corruption, bicause the lesse she is partner therof, the more
j)erfect she is, and cleane sundred frome it, is most perfect. Beawtye
And as a mann heareth not with his mouth, nor smelleth severed from
with hys eares : no more can he also in anye maner wise body is
enjoye beawtye, nor satisfye the desyre that shee stirrith up
in oure myndes, with feelynge, but wyth the sense, unto
whom beawtye is the verye butt to levell at : namelye, the
vertue of seeinge. / Let him laye aside therefore the blinde
judgemente of the sense, and injoye Avyth his eyes the
bryghtnesse, the comelynesse, the lovynge sparkles, laughters,
gestures and all the other pleasant fournitours of beawty :
especially with hearinge the sweetenesse of her voice, the
tunablenesse of her woordes, the melodic of her singinge and
playinge on instrumentes (in case the woman beloved be a
musitien) and so shall he with most deintie foode feede the
soule through the meanes of these two senses, which have
litle bodelye substance in them, and be the ministers of
reason, without entringe farther towarde the bodye with
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covetinge unto anye longinge otherwise then honest. After-
ward let him obey, please, and honoure with all reverence
his woman, and recken her more deere to him then his owne
lief, and prefarr all her commodites and pleasures beefore
his owne, and love no lesse in her the beauty of the mind,
then of the bodye : therfore let him have a care not to suffer
her to renn into any errour, but with lessons and good
exhortations seeke alwaies to frame her to modestie, to
tempex'ance, to true honestye, and so to woorke that there
maye never take place in her other then pure thoughtes and
farr wide from all filthinesse of vices. And thus in sowinge
of vertue in the gardein of that mind, he shall also gather
the frutes of most beautiful! condicions, and savour them
with a marvellous good relise. And this shall be the right
engendringe and imprinting of beawtye in beawtie, the whiche
some houlde opinion to be the ende of love. In this maner
shall oure Courtier be most acceptable to his Lady, and she
will alwayes showe her self towarde him tractable, lowlye
and sweete in language, and as willinge to please him, as to
be beloved of him : and the willes of them both shall be
most honest and agreeable, and they consequently shall be
most happy.
Here M. Morello : The engendringe (quoth he) of
beawtye in beawtye aright, were the engendringe of a
beawtyfull chylde in a beautifull woman, and I woulde
thinke it a more manifest token a great deale that she loved
her lover, if she pleased him with this, then with the sweete-
nesse of language that you speake of.
M. Peter Bembo laughed and said : You must not (M.
Morello) passe your boundes. I may tell you, it is not a
small token that a woman loveth, whan she giveth unto her
lover her beawtye, which is so precious a matter : and by
the wayes that be a passage to the soule (that is to say, the
sight and the hearinge) sendeth the lookes of her eyes, the
image of her countenance, and the voice of her woordes, that
perce into the lovers hart, and give a witnes of her love.
M. Morello said : Lookes and woordes may be, and
oftentimes are, false witnesses. Therfore whoso hath not
a better pledge of love (in my judgement) he is in an yll
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assurance. And surelye I looked still that you would have
made this woman of yours somewhat more courteyous and
free towarde the Courtier, then my L. Julian hath made his :
but (me seemeth) ye be both of thepropretie of those judges,
that (to appeere wise) give sentence against their owne.
Bembo said : I am well pleased to have this woman muche
more courteyous towarde my Courtier not yonge, then the
L. Julians is to the yong : and that with good reason,
bicause mine coveteth but honest matters, and therfore may
the woman graunt him them all without blame. But my
L. Julians woman that is not so assured of the modestye of
the yonge man, ought to graunt him the honest matters
onlye, and denye him the dishonest. Therefore more
happye is mine, that hath graunted him whatsoever he
requireth, then the other, that hath parte graunted and parte
denyed. And bicause you may moreover the better under-
stande, that reasonable love is more happye then sensuall, I
saye unto you, that self same thinges in sensuall ought to
be denyed otherwhile, and in reasonable, graunted : bicause
in the one, they be honest, and in the other dishonest.
Therfore the woman to please her good lover, beside the
graunting him merie countenances, familiar and secret talke,
jesting, dalying, hand in hand, may also lawfullye and with-
out blame come to kissinge : whiche in sensuall love, ac-
cordinge to the L. Julians rules, is not lefull. For sins a
kisse is a knitting together both of body and soule, it is to A kisse.
be feared, least the sensuall lover will be more inclined to
the part of the bodye, then of the soule : but the reasonable ^-
lover woteth well, that although the mouthe be a percell of
the bodye, yet is it an issue for the wordes, that be the
enterpreters of the soule, and for the inwarde breth, whiche
is also called the soule : and therfore hath a delite to joigne
hvs mouth with the womans beloved with a kysse : not to
stirr him to anye unhonest desire, but bicause he feeleth
that, that bonde is the openynge of an entrey to the soules,
whiche drawen with a coveting the one of the other, power
them selves by tourn, the one into the others bodye, and be
so mingled together, that ech of them hath two soules, and
one alone so framed of them both ruleth (in a maner) two
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bodyes. Wherupon a kisse may be said to be rather a
cooplinge together of the soule, then of the bodye, bicause
it hath suche force in her, that it draweth her unto it, and
(as it were) seperateth her from the bodye. For this do all
chast lovers covett a kisse, as a cooplinge of soules together.
And therfore Plato the divine lover saith, that in kissing,
his soule came as farr as his lippes to depart out of the
body. And bicause the separatinge of the soule from the
matters of the sense and the through coopling her with
matters of understanding may be beetokened by a kisse,
Salomon saith in his heavenlve boke of Balattes, Oh that he
would kisse me with a kisse of his mouth, to expresse the
desire he had, that hys soule might be ravished thi'ough
heavenly love to the behouldinge of heavenly beawtie in such
maner, that cooplyng her self inwardly with it, she might
forsake the body.-^
They stoode all herkening heedfullie to Bembos reason-
inge, and after he had staide a while and sawe that none
spake, he saide : Sins you have made me to beegine to
showe oure not yonge Courtier this happye love, I will
leade him yet somewhat farther forwardes, bicause to stande
styll at this stay were somewhat perillous for him, consider-
inge (as we have often times said) the soule is most inclyned
to the senses, and for all reason with discourse chouseth
well, and knoweth that beawtie not to spring of the bodye,
and therfore setteth a bridle to the unhonest desires, yet to
beehould it alwaies in that body, doeth oftentimes corrupt
the right judgement. And where no other inconvenience
insueth upon it, ones absence from the wight beloved carieth
a great passion with it : bicause the influence of that beawtie
whan it is present, giveth a wonderous delite to the lover,
and settinge his hart on fire, quickeneth and melteth certein
vertues in a traunce and congeled in the soule, the which
nourished with the heat of love, floow about and go bub-
bling nigh the hart, and thrust out through the eyes those
spirites, whiche be most fyne vapoures made of the purest
and cleerest parte of the bloode, which receive the image of
beawtie, and decke it with a thousande sundrye fournitures.
AVherupon the soule taketh a delite, and with a certein
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wonder is agast, and yet enjoyeth she it, and (as it were)
astonied together with the pleasure, feeleth the feare and
reverence that men accustomably have towarde holy matters,
and thinketh her self to be in paradise. The lover ther-
fore that considereth only the beawtie in the bodye, loseth
this treasure and happinesse, assoone as the woman beloved
with her departure leaveth the eyes without their brightnes,
and consequently the soule, as a widowe without her joye.
For sins beawtie is farr of, that influence of love setteth not
the hart on fire, as it did in presence. Wherupon the pores
be dryed up and wythered, and yet doeth the remembraunce
of beawty somwhat stirr those vertues of the soule in such
wise, that they seeke to scattre abrode the spirites, and they
fyndinge the wayes closed up, have no yssue, and still they
seeke to gete out, and so with those shootinges inclosed
pricke the soule, and tourment her bitterlye, as yonge
chilldren, whan in their tender gummes they beegin to
breede teeth. And hens come the teares, sighes, vexations
and tourmentes of lovers : bicause the soule is alwayes in
affliction and travaile and (in a maner) wexeth woode, untill
the beloved beawtie commeth beefore her once again, and
then is she immediatlye pacified and taketh breth, and
throughlye bent to it, is nouryshed wyth most deintye foode,
and by her will, would never depart from so sweete a sight.
To avoide therfore the tourment of this absence, and to
enjoy beawtie without passion, the Courtier by the helpe of
reason muste full and wholy call backe again the coveting
of the body to beawtye alone, and (in what he can) bee-
houlde it in it self simple and pure, and frame it within in
his imagination sundred from all matter, and so make it
frindlye and lovinge to hys soule, and there enjoye it, and
have it with him daye and night, in every time and place,
without mystrust ever to lose it : keapinge alwayes fast in
minde, that the bodye is a most dyverse thynge from
beawtie, and not onlie not encreaseth, but diminisheth the
perfection of it. In this wise shall our not yonge Courtier
be out of all bitternesse and wretchednes that yong men
feele (in a maner) continuallye, as jelousies, suspicions,
disdeignes. angres, desperations and certcin rages full of
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madnesse, wherby manye times they be lead into so great
errour, that some doe not only beate the women whom they
love : but rid them selves out of their lief. He slial do no
wrong to the husband, father, brethren or kinsfolke of the
woman beloved. He shall not bringe her in sclaunder. He
shall not be in case with much a do otherwhile to refraine
hys eyes and tunge from discoverynge his desires to others.
He shall not take thought at departure or in absence,
bicause he shall ever more carye his precious treasure about
wyth him shut fast within his hert. And beeside, through
the vertue of imagination he shall facion within himself
that beawty muche more faire, then it is in deede. But
emong these commodities the lover shal finde an other yet
far greater, in case he will take this love for a stayer (as it
were) to clime up to an other farr higher then it. The
whiche he shall bringe to passe, if he will go and consider
with himself, what a streict bonde it is to be alwaies in the
trouble to beehoulde the beawtie of one bodye alone. And
therfore to come out of this so narrow a rowme, he shall
gather in his thought by litle and litle so manye ornamentes,
that meddlinge all beawties together, he shall make an
universall concept, and bringe the multitude of them to the
unitye of one alone, that is generally spred over all the
nature of man. And thus shall he beehoulde no more the
particuler beawtie of one woman, but an universall, that
decketh out all bodies, Wherupon beeing made dymm
with this greater light, he shall not passe upon the lesser,
and burnynge in a more excellent flame, he shall litle
esteame it, that he sett great store by at the first. This
stayer of love, though it be verye noble, and such as fewe
arrive" at it, yet is it not in this sort to be called perfect,
forsomuch as where the miagination is of force to make
conveiance and hath no knowleage, but through those
beeginninges that the senses helpe her wythall, she is not
cleane pourged from grosse darkenesse : and therefore
though she do consider that universall beawtie in sunder
and in it self alone, yet doeth she not well and cleerlye
descerne it, nor without some doubtfulness, by reason of the
agreement that the fansyes have with the bodye. Wherefore
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suche as come to thys love, are lyke yonge Birdes almost
flushe, whyche for all they flytter a litle their tender wynges,
yet dare they not stray farr from the neste, nor commytt
theym selves to the wynde and open weather. Whan oure
Courtier therfore shall be come to this point, although he
maye be called a good and happye lover, in respect of them
that be drowned in the miserye of sensuall love, yet wil I
not have him to set his hart at rest, but bouldlye proceade
farther, folowinge the high way after his guyde, that leadeth
him to the point of true happinesse. And thus in steade
of goinge out of his witt with thought, as he must do that
will consider the bodilye beawty, he may come into his
witt, to behoulde the beawty that is seene with the eyes of
the minde, which then beegin to be sharpe and thorough
seeinge, whan the eyes of the body lose the floure of their
sightlynesse. Therfore the soule rid of vices, purged with
the studyes of true Philosophic, occupied in spirituall, and
exercised in matters of understandinge, tourninge her to the
beehouldyng of her owne substance, as it were raysed out of
a most deepe sleepe, openeth the eyes that all men have,
and fewe occupy, and seeth in her self a shining beame of
that lyght, which is the true image of the aungelike beawtye
partened with her, whereof she also partneth with the bodye
a feeble shadowe : therfore wexed blinde about earthlye
matters, is made most quicke of sight about heavenlye.
And otherwhile whan the stirringe vertues of the body are
withdrawen alone through earnest behouldinge, eyther fast
bounde through sleepe, whan she is not hindred by them,
she feeleth a certein previe smell of the right aungelike
beawtie, and ravished with the shining of that light, beegin-
neth to be inflamed, and so greedilye foloweth after, that
(in a maner) she wexeth dronken and beeside her self, for
coveting to coople her self with it, havinge founde (to her
wening) the footesteppes of God, in the beehouldinge of
whom (as in her happy end) she seeketh to settle her self.
And therfore burninge in this most happye flame, she
arryseth to the noblest part of her (which is the under-
standing) and there no more shadowed with the darke night
of earthlye matters, seeth the heavenlye beawtye : but yet
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doeth she not for all that enjoye it altogether perfectlye,
bicause she beehouldeth it onlye in her perticular under-
standinge, which can not conceive the passing great universall
beautye : wherupon not throughlye satisfied with this benifit,
love giveth unto the soule a greater happines. For like as
throughe the perticular beawtye of one bodye he guydeth
her to the universall beawtye of all bodies : evenso in the
last degree of perfection throughe perticular understandinge
he guideth her to the universall understandinge. Thus the
soule kindled in the most holye fire of true heavenlye love,
fleeth to coople her selfe with the nature of Aungelles, and
not onlye cleane forsaketh sense, but hath no more neede of
the discourse of reason, for being chaunged into an Aungell,
she understandeth all thinges that may be understoode :
and without any veile or cloude, she seeth the meine sea of
the pure heavenlye beawtye and receiveth it into her, and
enjoy eth that soveraigne happinesse, that can not be com-
prehended of the senses. Sins therfore the beawties, which
we dayly see with these our dimm eyes in bodies subject to
corruption, that neverthelesse be nothinge elles but dreames
and most thinne shadowes of beauty, seme unto us so wel
favoured and comely, that oftentimes they ken die in us a
most burning fire, and with such delite, that we recken no
happinesse may be compared to it, that we feele otherwhile
through the only looke which the beloved countenance of
a woman casteth at us : what happy wonder, what blessed
abashement may we recken that to bee, that taketh the
soules, whiche come to have a sight of the heavenly beawty ?
what sweete flame ? What soote incense maye a mann
beleave that to bee, whiche arriseth of the fountaine of the
soveraigne and right beawtye ? Whiche is the origion of
all other beawtye, whiche never encreaseth nor diminisheth,
alwayes beawtyfull, and of it selfe, aswell on the one part as
on the other, most simple, onelye like it self, and partner
of none other, but in suche wise beawtifuU, that all other
beawtifuU thinges, be beawtifull, bicause they be partners
Heavenly of the beawtie of it. This is the beawtye unseperable from
beawtie. \\^q high bountye, whiche with her voyce calleth and
draweth to her all thynges : and not onlye to the indowed
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with understandinge giveth understandinge, to the reason-
able reason, to the sensuall sense and appetite to live, but
also partaketh with plarites and stones (as a print of her
self) stirring, and the natural provocation of their pro-
perties. So much therfore is this love greater and happier
then others, as the cause that stirreth it, is more excellent.
And therefore, as commune fire trieth golde and maketh it
fyne, so this most holye fire in soules destroyeth and con-
sumeth what so ever there is mortall in them, and relieveth
and maketh beawtyfuU the heavenlye part, whyche at the
first by reason of the sense was dead and buried in them.
This is the great fire in the whiche (the Poetes wryte) that
Hercules was burned on the topp of the mountaigne Oeta : A moimteign
and throughe that consumynge with fire, after hys death betweene
was holye and immortall. Thys is thefyrie bushe of Moses : ihessahaand
the divided tunges of fire : the inflamed Chariot of Helias : ^yhere is the
whych doobleth grace and happynesse in their soules that sepulchre of
be worthy to see it, whan they forsake thys earthly basenesse Hercules,
and flee up into heaven. Let us therefore bende all oure
force and thoughtes of soule to this most holye light, that
showeth us the waye which leadeth to heaven : and after it,
puttynge of the affections we were clad withall at our com-
minge downe, let us clime up the stayers, which at the
lowermost stepp have the shadowe of sensuall beawty, to
the high mansion place where the heavenlye, amiable and
right beawtye dwelleth, which lyeth hid in the innermost
secretes of God, least unhalowed eyes shoulde come to the
syght of it : and there shall we fynde a most happye ende
for our desires, true rest for oure travailes, certein remedye
for myseryes, a most healthfull medycin for sickenesse, a
most sure haven in the troublesome stormes of the tem-
pestuous sea of this life. What tunge mortall is there then
(O most holy love) that can sufficientlye prayse thy woorthy-
nesse.? Thou most beawtifull, most good, most wise, art
dirived of the unity of heavenly beautie, goodnesse and
wisedome, and therin doest thou abide, and unto it througli
it (as in a circle) tournest about. Thou the most sweete
bonde of the worlde, a meane beetwext heavenlye and
earthlye thynges, wyth a bountifull tempre bendest the
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high vertues to the government of the lower, and tourninge
backe the mindes of mortall men to their beeginning,
cooplest them with it. Thou with agreement bringest the
Elementes in one, stirrest nature to brynge furth, and that,
which arriseth and is borne for the succession of the lief.
Thou bringest severed matters into one, to the unperfect
givest perfectyon, to the unlyke likenesse, to enimitye
amitye, to the Earth frutes, to the Sea calmnesse, to the
heaven lyvelie light. Thou art the father of true pleasures,
of grace, peace, lowlynesse and good will, ennemye to rude
wildenesse and sluggishnesse, to be short, the beginninge
and ende of all goodnesse. And forsomuche as thou delitest
to dwell in the floure of beawtyfull bodyes and beawtyfull
soules, I suppose that thy abydynge place is nowe here
emonge us, and from above otherwhyle showest thy selfe a
litle to the eyes and mindes of them that be woorthye to
see thee. Therefore vouchesafe (Lorde) to harken to oure
prayers, power thy selfe into oure hartes, and wyth the
bryghtnesse of tliy most holye fire lyghten oure darkenesse,
and like a trustie guide in thys blynde mase, showe us the
right waye : refourme the falsehoode of the senses, and after
longe wandringe in vanitye gyve us the ryght and sounde
joye. Make us to smell those spirituall savoures that relieve
the vertues of the understandinge, and to heare the heavenlye
harmonic so tunable, that no discorde of passion take place
anye more in us. Make us dronken with the bottomelesse
fountain of contentation that alwaies doeth delite, and never
giveth fill, and that giveth a smacke of the right blisse unto
who so drinketh of the renning and cleere water therof.
Pourge wyth the shininge beames of thy light our eyes
from mysty ignoraunce, that they maye no more set by
mortall beawty, and wel perceive that the thinges which at
the first they thought themselves to see, be not in deede,
and those that they saw not, to be in effect. Accept oure
soules, that be offred unto thee for a sacrifice. Burn them
in the livelye flame that wasteth al grosse filthines, that
after they be cleane sundred from the body, thei may be
copied with an everlastinge and most sweet bonde to the
heavenly beawty. And we severed from oure selves, may
362
OF THE COURTYER
be chaunged like right lovers into the beloved, and after we
be drawen from the earth, admitted to the feast of the
aungelles, where fed with immortall ambrosia and nectar, The poetes
in the ende we maye dye a most happie and livelye death, feigne to be
as in times past died the fathers of olde time, whose soules ^^f^^g^J^^fJ^**
with most fervent zeale of beehouldinge thou diddest hale Ooddes. i
from the bodye and coopleddest them with God.
When Bembo had hitherto spoken with such vehemencye,
that a man woulde have thought him (as it were) ravished
and beeside himselfe, he stoode still without once mooving,
houldynge his eyes towarde heaven as astonied, whan the
Lady Emilia, whiche together with the rest gave most
diligent eare to this talke, tooke him by the plaite of hys
garment and pluckinge hym a litle, said : Take heede (M.
Peter) that these thoughtes make not your soule also to
forsake the bodye.
Madam, answered M. Peter, it shoulde not be the first
miracle that love hath wrought in me.
Then the Dutchesse and all the rest beegan a fresh to be
instant upon M. Bembo that he woulde proceade once more
in his talke, and every one thought he felt in his minde (as
it were) a certein sparkle of that godlye love that pricked
him, and they all coveted to heare farther : but M. Bembo :
My Lordes (quoth he) I have spoken what the holye furie
of love hath (unsaught for) indited to me : now that (it
seemeth) he inspireth me no more, I wot not what to say.
And I thinke verelie that love will not have his secretes dis-
covered any farther, nor that the Courtier shoulde passe the
degree that his pleasure is I shoulde show him, and therfore
it is not perhappes lefuU to speak anye more in this matter.
Surelye, quoth the Dutchesse, if the not yonge Courtier
be such a one that he can folowe this way which you have
showed him, of right he ought to be satisfied with so great
a happines, and not to envie the yonger.
Then the L. Cesar Goxzaga : The way (quoth he) that
leadeth to this happines is so stiepe (in my mind) that (I
beleave) it will be much a do to gete to it.
The L. Gaspar said : I beleave it be harde to gete up for \
men, but unpossible for women.
363
THE FOURTH BOOKE
The L. Emilia laughed and said : If ye fall so often to
ofFende us, I promise you, ye shall be no more forgiven.
The L. Gaspau answered : It is no offence to you, in
saiynge, that womens soules be not so pourged from passions
as mens be, nor accustomed in behouldinges, as M. Peter
hath said, is necessary for them to be, that will tast of the
heavenly love. Therefore it is not read that ever woman
hath had this grace : but manie men have had it, as Plato,
Socrates, Plotinus, and manie other : and a numbre of our
holye fathers, as Saint Francis, in whom a fervent spirite of
love imprinted the most holie scale of the five woundes.
And nothinge but the vertue of love coulde hale up Saint
Paul the Apostle to the sight of those secretes, which is
not lawfull for man to speake of: nor show Saint Stephan
the heavens open.
Here answered the L, Julian : In this point men shall
nothinge passe women, for Socrates him selfe doeth confesse
that all the misteries of love which he knew, were oped
unto him by a woman, which was Diotima. And the
Aungell that with the fire of love imprinted the five
woundes in Saint Francis, hath also made some women
woorthy of the same print in our age. You must remembre
moreover that S. Mari Magdalen had manye faultes for-
geven her, bicause she loved muche : and perhappes with no
lesse grace then Saint Paul, was she manye times through
Aungelyke love haled up to the thirde heaven. And manye
other (as I showed you yesterdaye more at large) that for
love of the name of Chryste have not passed upon lief, nor
feared tourmentes, nor any other kinde of death how ter-
rible and cruell ever it were. And they were not (as M.
Peter wyll have his Courtier to be) aged, but soft and tender
maidens, and in the age, when he saith that sensuall love
ought to be borne withal in men.
The L. Gaspar began to prepare himself to speake, but
the DuTCHEssE : Of this (quoth shee) let M. Peter be judge,
and the matter shal stand to his verdite, whether women
be not as meete for heavenlie love as men. But bicause the
pleade beetweene you may happen be to longe, it shall not
be amisse to deferr it untill to morow.
364
OF THE COURTYER
Nay, to nyght, quoth tlie L. Cesak Gonzaga.
And how can it be to night ? quoth the Dutchesse.
The L. Cesar answered : Bicause it is daye alreadye, and
showed her the light that beegane to entre in at the cliftes
of the windowes. Then everie man arrose upon his feete
with much wonder, bicause they had not thaught that the
reasoninges had lasted lenger then the accustomed wont,
savinge onelye that they were beegon much later, and witli
their pleasantnesse had deceived so the Lordes mindes, that
they wist not of the going away of the houres. And not one
of them felt any heavinesse of slepe in his eyes, the which
often happeneth whan a man is up after his accustomed
houre to go to bed. Whan the windowes then were opened
on the side of the Palaice that hath his prospect toward the
high top of Mount Catri, they saw alredie risen in the
East a faire morninge like unto the coulour of roses, and all
sterres voided, savinge onelye the sweete Governesse of the
heaven, Venus, whiche keapeth the boundes of the nyght
and the day, from whiche appeered to blowe a sweete blast,
that filling the aer with a bytinge cold, begane to quicken
the tunable notes of .the prety birdes, emong the hushing
woodes of the hilles at hande. Wherupon they all, takinge
their leave with reverence of the Dutchesse, departed toward
their lodginges without torche, the light of the day sufficing.
And as they were now passing out at the great chambre
doore, the L. Generall tourned hym to the Dutches, and
said : Madam, to take up the variance beetweene the L.
Gaspar and the L. Julian, we will assemble this night with
the judge sooner then we did yesterdaye.
The Lady Emilia answered : Upon condicion, that in
case my L. Gaspar wyll accuse women, and geve them
(as his wont is) some false reporte, he wil also put us
in suretye to stand to triall, for I recken
him a waveringe starter.
THE ENDE OF CASTILIOS BOOKES OF THE COURTYER.
365
THE COURTYER OF
A LETTER that the Author writt to the Lady
Victoria Columna Marquess of Pescara,
whom he mentioneth in the Epistle
before his booke.
OST honorable and my verie good Lady,
I am much behouldinge to M. Thomas
Tuke, bicause he was the occasion that
your Ladishipp hath vouchsafed to write
unto me : which is most acceptable to me,
and not without cause, consideringe I
have written so manye letters and coulde
never receive anye answere from you
again, albeit they conteined sundrye matters. Truth it is
indeede, that unmeete it were your L. shoulde write unto
me, onlesse therewithal! you used my service and com-
maunded me in what I am able to do for you. As touchinge
M. Tuke, I will do as much for him, as shall lie in me to
doe, both for your L. sake that may commaunde me, and
for the brotherlye love that I beare him. Where M.
Gutteriz hath wrytten unto you that I complayned of you,
I wonder nothinge at it, for (to saye the troth) I uttred
my greef a good while sins in a letter that I wrott unto you
your self, as I passed the mountaignes of Fraunce to come
into Spaine. And he that toulde me the matter that caused
it, was my L. Marquesse of Vasto, who showed me a letter
of yours, in the which you your self confessed the stelth of
the Courtyer. The whyche thynge I as then tooke in great
good part, doubtynge nothynge but that it shoulde remayne
in youre handes, and be well kept untyll I my self shoulde
come to demaunde it of you. At the last I was enfourmed
366
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
by a Gentilman Neapolitan, who continueth still here in
Spaine, that there were certein Fragmentes of the poore
Courtier in Naples, and he sawe them in the handes of
sundrye men, and he that scattered it thus abrode reported
that he had it of you. It was some greef to me, as a father
that seeth hys chylde so yll handled : yet afterward yeeldyng
to reason, I knewe he deserved not to have anye more store
made of him, but (like an untymelye birth) to be left in the
hygh waye for the benifit of nature. And so undoubtedly
was I determined to do, consideringe yf there were any
thinge in the Booke not yll, men woulde have the woorse
opinion of it, whan they shoulde see it so out of order.
And no diligence shoulde prevaile any more to poolish it
and to sett it furth, sins it had lost the thyng, which per-
happes at the first was onlye it, that made it esteamed :
that is to weete, the noveltye of the matter. And knowinge
your saiynge to be true, that the cause of my complaint was
verye triflynge, I resolved wyth my selfe, to leave at the least
my complaininge, though I coulde not my sorowynge. And
that whyche I brake wyth M. Gutteriz (in case it be well
wayed) was no complaint. In conclusion others, more bent
of a zeale then I was, have enforced me to write hym over
again, as the shortnesse of tyme hath served me, and to
sende hym to Venice to be put in print, and so have I done.
But if your L. shoulde suspect that the good will whiche I
beare you were any deale feinted for this, your judgement
shoulde deceyve you, whiche (I beleave) it did never in all
youre lief beefore : but rather I recken my selfe more bounde
to you, bicause the necessity that drove me to make hast
so spedilie to imprint it, hath saved me a great peece of
labour, where I was once mynded to have added manye
other matters, which coulde be but of small moment as the
rest are. And thus shall the reader have the lesse labour
and the Author lesse blame. Therefore it is nowe past
time eyther for you or me to repent or correct. And
thus I take my leave of you. In Burgos the
xxi. of Septembre, 1527.
367
THE COURTYER OF
A BREEF REHERSALL OF
THE CHIEFE CONDITIONS AND QUALITIES
IN A COURTIER
O be well borne and of a sood stocke.
To be of a meane stature, rather with the
least then to high, and well made to his
proportion.
To be portly and amiable in countenance
unto whoso beehouldeth him. .
Not to be womanish in his sayinges or
doinges.
Not to praise himself unshaniefully and out of reason.
Not to crake and boast of his actes and good qualities.
To shon Affectation or curiosity above al thing in al things.
To do his feates with a slight, as though they were rather
naturally in him, then learned with studye : and use a
Reckelesness to cover art, without minding greatly what
he hath in hand, to a mans seeminge.
Not to carie about tales and triflinge newis.
Not to be overseene in speaking wordes otherwhile that may
offend e where he ment it not.
. Not to be stubborne, wilfull nor full of contention : nor to
contrary and overthwart men after a spiteful sort.
Not to be a babbler, brauler or chatter, nor lavish of his
tunge.
,^Not to be given to vanitie and lightnesse, nor to have a
fantasticall head.
No Iyer.
No fonde flatterer.
To be well spoken and faire languaged.
368
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
To be wise and well seene in discourses upon states. The chiefe
To have a judgement to frame himself to the maners of the conditions
Countrey where ever he commeth. ^f^ Courtier.
To be able to alleage good, and probable reasons upon
everie matter.
To be seen in tunges, and specially in Italian, French and
Spanish.
To direct all thinges to a good ende.
To procure where ever he goeth that men may first conceive
a good opinion of him beefore he commeth there.
To felowship him self for the most part with men of the
best sort and of most estimation, and with his equalles,
so he be also beloved of his inferiours.
To play for his pastime at Dice and Gardes, not wholye for
moneis sake, nor fume and chafe in his losse.
To be meanly seene in the play at Chestes, and not over-
counninge.
To be pleasantlie disposed in commune matters and in good
companie.
To speake and write the language that is most in use emonge
the commune people, without inventing new woordes,
inckhorn tearmes or straunge phrases, and such as be
growen out of use by long time.
To be handcsome and clenly in his apparaile.
l^o make his garmentes after the facion of the most, and
those to be black, or of some darkish and sad coulour,
not garish.
To gete him an especiall and hartye friend to companye
withall.
Not to be ill tunged, especiallie against his betters.
Not to use any fonde saucinesse or presumption.
To be no envious or malitious person.
To be an honest, a faire condicioned man, and of an upright
conscience.
To have the vertues of the minde, as justice, manlinesse,
wisdome, temperance, staidenesse, noble courage, sober-
moode, etc.
To be more then indifferentlye well seene in learninge, in
the Latin and Greeke tunges.
AAA 369
The chiefe
conditions
and qualities
in a courtier.
THE COURTYER OF
Not to be rash, nor perswade hymselfe to knowe the thing
that he knoweth not.
To confesse his ignorance, whan he seeth time and place
therto, in suche qualities as he knoweth him selfe to have
no maner skill in.
To be brought to showe his feates and qualities at the
desire and request of others, and not rashlye presse to it
of himself.
To speake alwaies of matters likely, least he be counted a
Iyer in reporting of wonders and straunge miracles.
To have the feate of drawing and peincting.
To daunce well without over nimble footinges or to busie
trickes.
To singe well upon the booke.
To play upon the Lute, and singe to it with the ditty.
To play upon the Vyole, and all other instrumentes with
freates.
To delite and refresh the hearers mindes in being pleasant,
feat conceited, and a meerie talker, applyed to time and
place.
Not to use sluttish and Ruffianlike pranckes with anye man.
Not to beecome a jester or scoffer to put anye man out of
countenance.
To consider whom he doth taunt and where : for he ought
not to mocke poore seelie soules, nor men of authoritie,
nor commune ribaldes and persons given to mischeef,
which deserve punishment.
To be skilfull in all kynd of marciall feates both on hors-
backe and a foote, and well practised in them : whiche
is his cheef profession, though his understandinge be the
lesse in all other thinges.
To play well at fense upon all kinde of weapons.
To be nimble and quicke at the play at tenise.
To hunt and hauke.
To ride and manege wel his horse.
To be a good horsman for every saddle.
370
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
The chiefe
conditions
Sildome in open syght of the and qualities
people but privilye with in a courtier.
himselfe alone, or emonge
hys friendes and familiers.
These thinges in open
syght to delyte the
commune people with-
all.
To swimme well. .
To leape wel.
To renn well.
To vaute well.
To wrastle well.
To cast the stone well.
To cast the barr well.
To renn well at tilt, and at ring.
To tourney.
To fight at Barriers.
To kepe a passage or streict.
To play at Jogo di Canne.
To renn at Bull.
To fling a Speare or Dart.
Not to renn, wrastle, leape, nor cast the stone or barr with
men nf the Cnnntfey^ excppt^T^ the
victorie.
To sett out himself in feates of chivalrie in open showes
well provided of horse and harness, well trapped, and
armed, so that he may showe himselfe nymeble on hors-
backe.
Never to be of the last that appeere in the listes at justes,
or in any open showes.
To have in triumphes comelie armour, bases, scarfes, trap-
pinges, liveries, and such other thinges of sightlie and
meerie coulours, and rich to beehoulde, wyth wittie poesies
and pleasant divises, to allure unto him chefflie the eyes
of the people.
To disguise himself in maskerie eyther on horsbacke or a
foote, and to take the shape upon hym that shall be con-
trarie to the feate that he mindeth to worke.
To undertake his bould feates and couragious enterprises in
warr, out of companye and in the sight of the most noble
personages in the campe, and (if it be possible) beefore his
Princis eyes.
Not to hasarde himself in forraginge and spoiling or in
enterprises of great daunger and small estimation, though
he be sure to gaine by it.
371
THE COURTYER OF
The chiefe Not to waite upon or serve a vvycked and naughtye person,
conditions Not to seeke to come up by any iiaughtie or subtill practise,
and qualities/ jvJqI- ^^ committ any mischevous or wicked fact at the wil
in a courtieti , j . j? i • t t i~» •
and commaundement oi his Lorde or rnnce.
Not to folowe his owne fansie, or alter the expresse wordes
in any point of his commission from hys Prince or Lorde,
onlesse he be assured that the profit will be more, in
case it have good successe, then the damage, if it suc-
ceade yll.
/ To use evermore toward his Prince or L. the respect that
beecommeth the servaunt toward his niaister.
To endevour himself to love, please and obey his Prince in
honestye.
Not to covett to presse into the Chambre or other secrete
part where his Prince is withdrawen at any time.
Never to be sad, melanchonie or solenn beefore hys Prince.
Sildome or never to sue to hys Lorde for anye thing for
himself.
His suite to be honest and reasonable whan he suyth for
others.
To reason of pleasaunt and meerie matters whan he is
withdrawen with him into private and secrete places
alwayes doinge him to understande the truth without
dissimulation or flatterie.
Not to love promotions so, that a man shoulde thinke he
coulde not live without them, nor unshamefastlye to begg
any office.
To refuse them after such a comelye sort, that the Prince
offrynge hym them, maye have a cause to ofFre them with
a more instance.
Not to presse to his Prince where ever he be, to hould him
with a vaine tale, that others should thinke him in favour
with him.
To consyder well what it is that he doeth or speaketh,
where, in presence of whom, what time, why, his age, his
profession, the ende, and the meanes.
The final end of a Courtier, wher to al his good condicions
and honest qualities tende, is to beecome an Instructer
372
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
and Teacher of his Prince or Lorde, inclininge him to The chiefe
vertuous practises : and to be francke and free with him, conditions
after he is once in favour in matters touching his honour ^ qualities
and estimation, alwayes putting him in minde to folow
vertue and to flee vice, opening unto him the commodities
of the one and inconveniences of the other : and to shut
his eares against flatterers, whiche are the first beeginninge
of self leekinge and all ignorance.
His conversation with women to be alwayes gentle, sober,
meeke, lowlie, modest, serviceable, comelie, merie, not
bitinge or sclaundering with jestes, nippes, frumpes, or
railinges, the honesty of any.
His love towarde women, not to be sensuall or fleshlie, but
honest and godlye, and more ruled with reason, then
appetyte : and to love better the beawtye of the minde,
then of the bodie.
Not to withdrawe his maistresse good will from his
felowlover with revilinge or railinge at him, but with
vertuous deedes, and honest condicions, and with
deserving more then he, at her handes for
honest affections sake.
373
THE COURTYER OF
OF THE CHIEF CONDITIONS AND QUALITYES
IN A WAYTYNG GENTYLWOMAN
O be well born and of a good house.
To flee affectation or curiositie.
To have a good grace in all her doinges.
To be of good condicions and wel brought
To be wittie and foreseing, not heady and
of a renning witt.
Not to be haughtie, envious, yltunged,
lyght, contentious nor untowardlye.
To win and keepe her in her Ladies favour and all others.
To do. the exercises meete for women, comlye and with a
good grace.
To take hede that she give none accasion to bee yll re-
ported of.
To commit no vice, nor yet to be had in suspition of any
vice.
To have the vertues of the minde, as wisdome, justice,
noblenesse of courage, temperance, strength of the minde,
continency, sobermoode, etc.
To be good and discreete.
To have the understandinge beinge maried, how to ordre
her husbandes substance, her house and children, and to
play the good huswyef.
To have a sweetenesse in language and a good uttrance to
entertein all kinde of men with communication woorth
the hearing, honest, applyed to time and place and to the
degree and disposition of the person whiche is her prin-
cipal! profession.
374
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
To accompany sober and quiet nianers and honesty with a Tlie chief
livelie quicknesse of wit. conditions
To be esteamed no lesse chast, wise and courteious, then ^^^ quahtyes
pleasant, feat conceited and sober. gentylwoman.
Not to make wise to abhorr companie and talke, though
somewhat of the wantonnest, to arrise and forsake them
for it.
To geve the hearing of such kinde of talke with blushing
and bashfulnesse.
Not to speake woordes of dishonestye and baudrye to showe
her self pleasant, free and a good felowe.
Not to use over much familyaritie without measure and
bridle.
Not willinglie to give eare to suche as report ill of other
women.
To be heedefull in her talke that she offend not where she
ment it not.
To beeware of praysinge her self undiscreatlye, and of beeing
to tedious and noysome in her talke.
Not to mingle with grave and sad matters, meerie jestes
and laughinge matters : nor with mirth, matters of
gravitie.
To be circumspect that she offend no man in her jesting and
tauntynge, to appeere therby of a readye witt.
Not to make wise to knowe the thing that she knoweth
not, but with sobernesse gete her estimation with that she
knoweth.
Not to come on loft nor use to swift measures in her dauns-
inge.
Not to use in singinge or playinge upon instruraentes to
muche devision and busy pointes, that declare more cun-
ning then sweetenesse.
To come to daunce, or to showe her musicke with suffr-
inge her self to be first prayed somewhat and drawen to
it.
To apparaile her self so, that she seeme not fonde and
fantasticall.
To sett out her beawtye and disposition of person with
meete garmentes that shall best beecome her, but as
375
THE COURTYER OF
rhe chief feininglye as she can, makyng semblant to bestowe no
conditions labour about it, nor yet to minde it.
and qualityes rp^ have an understandinge in all thinges belonginffe to the
III ft Wfl.VrVllti'* •
'^entylwoman. Courtier, that she maye gyve her judgemente to commend
and to make of gentilmen according to their worthinesse
and desertes.
To be learned.
To be scene in the most necessarie languages.
To drawe and peinct.
To daunse.
_. To devise sportes and pastimes.
Not to be lyghte of creditt that she is beloved, thoughe a
man commune familierlye with her of love.
' To shape him that is oversaucie wyth her, or that hath
small respecte in hys talke, suche an answere, that he maye
well understande she is offended wyth hym.
To take the lovynge communication of a sober Gentylman
in an other signifycatyon, seeking to straye from that
pourpose.
To acknoweleage the prayses whyche he giveth her at the
Gentylmans courtesye, in case she can not dissemble the
understandinge of them : debasynge her owne desertes.
X To be heedefull and remembre that men may with lesse
jeopardy show to be in love, then women.
To geve her lover nothing but her minde, whan eyther the
hatred of her husband, or the love that he beareth to
others inclineth her to love.
— ^To love one that she may marye withall, beeinge a mayden
and mindinge to love.
To showe suche a one all signes and tokens of love, savynge
suche as maye put hym in anye dyshonest hope.
vTo use a somewhat more famylyar conversation wyth men
well growen in yeeres, then with yonge men.
To make her self beloved for her desertes, amiablenesse,
and good grace, not with anie uncomelie or dishonest
behaviour, or flickeringe enticement with wanton lookes,
but with vertue and honest condicions.
The final ende whereto the Courtier applieth all his good
376
BALDESSAR CASTILIO
condicions, properties, feates and qualities, serveth also for a The chief
waiting Gentil woman to grow in favour with her Lady, conditions
and by that meanes so to instruct her and traine her to ^^^ qualityes
vertue, that she may both refraine from vice and from com- Lentylwoman.
mitting anye dishonest matter, and also abhorr flatterers,
and give her self to understand the full troth in every
thyng, without entring into self leeking and ignor-
ance, either of other outward thinges, or
yet of her owne self.
BBB 377
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EDINBURGH
T. &> A. CONSTABLE
Printers to Her Majesty
1899
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