A renaissance courtesy-book. Galateo of manners & behaviours

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THE HUMANIST'S LIBRARY

Edited by Lewis Einstein

VIII

GALATEO

OF MANNERS AND

BEHAVIOURS

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Copyright, 1914, by D. B. Updike

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A TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introducftion ix

The Dedication 3

Commendatory Verses 6

The Treatise of Master jhon Delia Casa 13

Bibliographical Note 121

INTRODUCTION

INTRODUCTION

ONE day, in Rome, about the middle of the
sixteenth century, the Bishop of Sessa sug-
gested to the Archbishop of Benevento
that he write a treatise on good manners. Many
books had touched the subjecft on one or more
of its sides, but no single book had attempted
to formulate the whole code of refined conducfl
for their time and indeed for all time. And who
could deal with the subjecft more exquisitely
than the Archbishop of Benevento? As a scion
of two distinguished Florentine families (his mo-
ther was a Tornabuoni), as an eminent prelate
and diplomatist, an accomplished poet and orator,
a master of Tuscan prose, a frequenter of all the
fashionable circles of his day, the author of licen-
tious capitoli, and more especially as one whose
morals were distincflly not above reproach, he
seemed eminently fitted for the office of arbiter
elegantiarum.

So it was that some years later, in disfavour with
the new Pope, and in the retirement of his town
house in Venice and his villa in the Marca Tri-
vigiana, with a gallant company of gentlemen
and ladies to share his enforced but charming
leisure, the Archbishop composed the little book

ix

Intro- that had been suggested by the Bishop of Sessa,
ducflion and that, as a compliment to its "only begetter,'*
bears as a title his poetic or academic name.

There have been modern scholars who have
wondered that so eminent a prelate, and so aus-
tere and passionate a lyric poet (for the licen-
tious capitoli were best forgotten), "should have
thought it worthy of his pains to formulate so
many rules of simple decency," descending even
to such trifles as the use of the napkin, the avoid-
ance of immodest topics, and the details of per-
sonal apparel. It might, however, be pointed out
that it is just because such distinguished men as
our Archbishop formulated these details for us in
the Renaissance that they have become part and
parcel of our social code; that to quarrel with the
Archbishop on this score were not unlike quar-
relling with Euclid because he formulated laws
of geometry which mathematicians nowadays
leave to schoolboys ; and that the serious preoc-
cupation with manners, characfteristic of the Mid-
dle Ages and the Renaissance, made it possible
for modern European society to form an organic
social whole, with a model of the finished gen-
tleman, more or less the same in all countries and
all periods.

But the facfl is that it is the didacftic form and
tone, and not the content, of the Archbishop's
treatise with which our modern taste has its quar-
rel. If books on etiquette are no longer in fashion,

X

it is not because preoccupation with the details Intro-

of social conducft has ceased, but because we no ducftion

longer express it in the form of rules or codes.

Our plays, our novels, our essays, are mosaics

of reflections on the very things that interested

the courts and coteries of the Renaissance. When

a modern writer wishes to enforce the idea that

such apparent trifles are of real concern, he no

longer says: "It is important that every young

man should pay careful heed to the little tricks

of manners," but he puts into the mouth of one

of his characters, as Mr. Galsworthy does, such a

speech as this : " For people brought up as we are,

to have different manners is worse than to have

different souls. . . . How are you going to stand

it; with a woman who ? It 's the little things."

The Archbishop of Benevento, if permitted to
read passages like this in modern plays and es-
says, would recognize his own ideas in all of
them; he could point to dialogues and discourses
of his own time in which dogmatic precepts were
in like manner disguised as witty and elegant
conversation; but because he was the producft of
an age of formal treatises, exquisitely written,
he would have insisted on his right to state pre-
cepts as precepts, and to sum them up in such a
rounded code as he has given us in the*'Galateo."
The " Galateo," then, is a summary of the re-
fined manners of the later Renaissance. For cen-
turies such books had been written, but out of

xi

Intro- them, and from the pracflices of his own age,
ducflion Delia Casa attempted to selecfl the essential de-
tails, and to develop, for the first time, a norm of
social conducft, — in a book, above all, that should
be a work of art, and should conform to all the
graces and elegancies of Tuscan speech. The de-
tails are subordinated to a philosophy of man-
ners, which is lightly sketched, on the assump-
tion that subtle reasoning would be unintelligible
to the youthful auditor to whom the precepts
are theoretically addressed, but which has an im-
portance of its own, as characfteristic of the atti-
tude of a whole epochs When Delia Casa calls good
manners "a virtue, or something closely akin to
virtue," he is making a mere concession to the
ideals of his day. The moralists of the later Re-
naissance, or Catholic Reacftion, felt it necessary
to defend every social pracftice on the ground
of its real or imaginary relation to virtue, as the
only thing which can ever justify anything to
a moralist. So the sixteenth century theorists of
"honour" called honour a form of virtue; those
who argued about the nature of true nobility
made it to consist of virtue (a theory, indeed, as
old as Menander and Juvenal) ; just as the mor-
alists of the Middle Ages had justified " love" by
calling it a virtue, too.

For Delia Casa, however, the real foundation
of good manners is to be found in the desire to
please. This desire is the aim or end of all man-
xii

ners, teaching us alike to follow what pleases Intro-
others and to avoid what displeases them. This is ducftion
a far cry from virtue, which in its very essence
would seem to be divorced from the idea of con-
ciliating the moods or whims of those about us;
unless we assume that perhaps the slight per-
sonal sacrifice involved in yielding to such whims
was the only form of virtue which a fashion-
able prelate might care to recognize. In order to
give pleasure, we are told, it is essential to pay
heed to the way a thing is done as well as to what
is done; it is not enough to do a good deed, but
it must be done with a good grace. That is to
say, good manners are concerned with the form
which acflions take, as morals are concerned with
their content; and from the social standpoint, the
manner as well as the content of an acfl must be
passed upon in any judgement of it. And, finally,
if the desire to please is the aim of good man-
ners, the guide, or test, or norm is common usage
or custom, which no less than reason furnishes the
laws of courtesy, and which in a sense may be
said to be the equivalent in manners of what
duty is in morals.

It will be seen that Delia Casa does not concern
himself with that conception of manners which
relates it to a sense of personal dignity, and which
is summed up in Locke's dicftum that the foun-
dation of good breeding is "not to think meanly
of ourselves and not to think meanly of others."

xiii

Intro- This side of the social ideal was summed up for
ducftion the later Renaissance in the term "honour," which
formed the theme of many separate treatises
in the sixteenth century. The "Galateo" deals
solely with those little concessions to the tastes
and whims of those around us which are neces-
sitated by the fadt that cultivated gentlemen
are not hermits, and must consider the customs
and habits of others if they wish to form part of
a smoothly organized and polished society. We
may prefer to call this "considerateness for the
feelings of others," but, essentially, most justifi-
cations of good manners depend on the same
idea of conciliating the accidental and immedi-
ate circle in which we happen to move, at the
expense of wider interests or larger groups; and
both " considerateness " and " the desire to please "
fail as justifications, or at least as incitements, as
soon as the idea of success within a definite circle
is eliminated or submerged.

It is unnecessary, however, to break so fragile
a butterfly as Delia Casa's philosophy on any
wheel of serious argument. He is interested solely
in the superficial aspecfls of life, and an intricate
or consistent philosophy would have served no
other purpose than to alienate or confuse minds
concerned, like his own, solely with life on its su-
perficial side. On the basis of such ideas, — to please
others; to win their good graces and one's own
ultimate success ; to be sweetly reasonable in con-
xiv

forming to custom ; to perform every adt with an Intro-
eye to its effecft on those about us, --on the basis ducflion
of ideas as elementary yet appealing as these,
he formulates in detail the precepts of conducft
for daily human intercourse in a refined society.
In the first place, there are the things that are
to be avoided because they offend the senses.
Coughing, sneezing, or yawning in someone's
face, greediness or carelessness in eating, and
various sides of our physical life fall within this
category. We are not only to avoid indiscretion
in such matters, but we are to refrain from men-
tioning in conversation whatever might be in-
delicate as a physical acft. In the second place,
there are other indiscretions that have no such
basis in the mere senses, and refer solely to the
mental attitude or to the mere personal pride of
our neighbours. To read a letter or to fall asleep
in company, to turn your back to your neighbour,
to be careless about one's way of standing or sit-
ting, to be absent-minded or touchy about trifles,
are social sins of this second kind. The art of con-
versation was the mainstay of social life in the
Italian Renaissance, and to it Delia Casa natu-
rally, at this point, devotes most of his attention.
To be obscene, or blasphemous, or too subtle; to
dwell on inappropriate things (as when repeat-
ing a friar's sermon to a young lady); to brag or
lie; to be too ceremonious or too servile; to tell
a story awkwardly or to mention indelicate mat-

XV

Intro- ters without some polite periphrasis;— these are
ducflion some of the chief sins against this art of arts.
There is very much that is modern in the diatribe
against the ceremoniousness that was then creep-
ing into Italy from Spain, for sixteenth century
Venice was not unlike nineteenth century Eng-
land in its preference for ease and simplicity, and
a grave and reasonable charm of manner. Finally,
there are the details of individual conducft dic-
tated essentially by custom, without apparent
regard to the physical comfort or personal pride
of those about us ; and under this third heading,
Delia Casa summarizes the various problems of
personal apparel, table manners, and the like.

Delia Casa invents no new laws for conducft,
deduces no new theories of courtesy or manners;
even the details are to be found in many of his
mediaeval and Renaissance predecessors. What
he adds, in precept or didlum or anecdote, is the
fruit both of his own social experience and of
his classical studies. His book is, like Castiglione's
" Cortegiano" and Sannazzaro's " Arcadia,"almost
a mosaic of Greek and Latin borrowings. Aris-
totle's "Nicomachean Ethics," Plutarch's moral
treatises, the ** Characfters" of Theophrastus, and
the moral and rhetorical works of Cicero are the
chief sources, although none of these books is de-
voted solely, like his, to the superficial conducft of
men among their equals and superiors. But even
to these he adds something that was born out of
xvi

those refinements of life which in Renaissance Intro-
Italy had been developed more highly than else- ducftion
where, and had made the fashions of Urbino,
Mantua, and Ferrara the models of all courts and
coteries, wherever the Renaissance gained afoot-
hold beyond the Alps. In the courts and cities
of Italy, combining alike the atmosphere of the
mediaeval court and the ancient city, — combin-
ing, that is to say, "courtoisie" and **civilitas"
(urbanitas),— the modern "gentleman," as distin-
guished from his classical or romantic forbears,
may be said to have been born.

"Courtesy," as its very name indicates, is the
flowering of that spirit which first shone in the
little courts of mediaeval Provence and France,
but which did not, perhaps, find its most com-
plete expression, as a philosophy of life, until
Castiglione wrote the "Cortegiano" at the be-
ginning of the sixteenth century. By that time
the small court was already beginning to give
way to the larger court or the cultivated coterie
as the overwhelming centre of social influence in
Europe, although the glory of Ferrara and Man-
tua and Urbino did not wane for two or three
generations. But even before Castiglione's day
the more humane and graceful of courtly man-
ners had spread beyond the confines of courts ;
and almost before he was dead, the name "cour-
tesy," in so far as it still suggested a definite locus,
no longer expressed the new wide range of pol-

xvii

Intro- ished manners. Other words crept into cultivated
dudlion speech, so that, by the first half of the seven-
teenth century, we find in a little French treatise
on manners, the " Loix de la Galanterie," four dis-
tincft terms for man regarded simplyas a creature
of social manners, --courtisain, honnete homme,
galant, and homme du monde. The first of these,
as described by Castiglione, seemed to this author
Italianate and obsolete, and the second, which
had just furnished the title to a treatise on " L' Hon-
nete Homme, ou I'Art de Plaire a la Cour," still
retained something of its original moral signifi-
cance, so that " gallant " and "man of the world "
summed up, best of all, the social qualities of the
life of the day. It is no longer the court but the
** monde" about which social life centres, not that
other men do not belong to the world (as this
author naively explains) , but because we are con-
cerned solely with that great world which is the
home of fashion. This was the age of precieux
and precieuses, and their code was no longer that
of the court of Urbino, as it flourished in Castigli-
one's day; it was the over-refined manners of the
academies and coteries of Siena and Ferrara dur-
ing the later sixteenth century that furnished all
that was essential in French preciosite. For the mo-
ment "gallantry" sufficed to express good man-
ners ; but gradually it too became obsolete, and
the Latin term "civility," with its inclusion of all
civil society rather than any group or class, super-
xviii

seded both" gallantry " and " courtesy." " Courtois Intro-
is scarcely any longer used in cultivated con- ducftion
versation," Callieres, a French wit of the end of
the seventeenth century, tells us, '* just as civilite
has replaced courtoisie." Indeed, the word "cour-
toisie" no longer finds a place in any but ele-
vated or poetic language in France to-day; and
English speech, which has retained it after its ori-
ginal meaning has been lost, now finds it neces-
sary to distinguish between the courtly and the
courteous, by the former suggesting the content
of what once, at least in part, belonged to the
latter.

It is the "civilitas" of ancient Rome no less than
the "civilite" of seventeenth century France that
is summed up in the "Galateo." As Castiglione
expresses the courtly ideals of the Middle Ages
and the Renaissance, so Delia Casa expresses the
ideals of manners no longer restridled to courts
and courtiers, but common to all cultivated ci-
vilians, the manners that were to form the basis
of the European code from that time to this.
A long line of Italian predecessors had prepared
the way for its coming. Indeed, every encyclo-
paedia, every romance of chivalry of the Middle
Ages, contains precepts which find a place in its
pages. In the late thirteenth and early fourteenth
centuries, Provence and Italy had already begun
to furnish books on such subjecfls. The "Breviari
d'Amor" of Matfre Ermengaud includes instruc-

xix

Intro- tion in social conducft; the Italian, Bonvesin da
ducftion Riva, had written a treatise on ** Fifty Courtesies
of the Table;" Francesco da Barberino had dealt
at length with " The Manners and Behaviour of
Women; "still later, Sulpizio Verulano had writ-
ten a treatise on the table manners of children,
which had found currency beyond the Alps; and
most influential of all, the great Erasmus, in 1^26,
had dealt at length with children's manners in his
*'De Civilitate Morum Puerilium Libellus." Delia
Casa follows tradition, or is moved by the exam-
ple of Erasmus, to the extent of representing his
book as the discourse of an old man to a young
one; but this is a mere subterfuge, and neither
youth nor age figures in the precepts that follow.
Unlike his predecessors, he is concerned not
merely with children, or with women, or with
the ideals of a narrow class like the courtier, or
with the general moral life of which manners are
only an ornament or a garment. He has written
a book that touches on the essentials of good man-
ners as they affedl all classes and groups which
aim at individual perfecftion,--not merely the
young, but the mature; not merely men or wo-
men, but both sexes; not merely the courtier,
but all cultivated classes. In this sense, it is the
first of its kind. It is a trifling and perhaps neg-
ligible kind, but at least this much distincftion
belongs to the book.

The " Galateo " is a producft of the Catholic Re-

XX

acflion. It is one of the results of the casuistry and Intro-
the scholastic spirit which in every field of in- ducftion
tellecftual acftivity were applied to the life and
art that had found creative expression in the age
of the Renaissance. What the Renaissance did
or wrote, the Catholic Reacflion reasoned about,
codified, and stereotyped. The creative poetry
of the Renaissance was reduced to formulae in
the treatises on the art of poetry of the later six-
teenth century; politics and history found rea-
soned expression in treatises on political theory
and historical method; and in similar fashion, the
social life of earlier Italy resulted in this age in
treatises on the pracftice and theory of society.
It would be idle to catalogue the various exam-
ples of this curious intellecftual acflivity, for the
works of the sixteenth century dealing with this
subjecft may be numbered by hundreds, indeed
by thousands. There were of course treatises on
court life and the ideals of the courtier, from the
"Cortegiano" of Castiglione to the discourses of
Domenichi and Tasso; treatises on honour and
the duel, of which Possevino's "Dell'Onore'* is
the type; treatises on the gentleman, his nature,
his education, and his occupations, like "II Gen-
tiluomo" of Muzio Justinipolitano, the quality of
which may be tasted in English in Peacham's
" Compleat Gentleman ; " treatises on love and the
relations of the sexes, all summed up in Equi-
cola's encyclopaedic " Libro di Natura d' Amore ; "

xxi

Intro- treatises on social amusements, parlor games, and
ducflion the like, such as Scipione Bargagli's "I Tratteni-
menti" and Ringhieri's "Cento Giuochi Liber-
ali e d'Ingegno;" treatises on conversation, like
Guazzo*s "Civil Conversatione;" and finally, a
large number of treatises on the education of
women and children.

Among all these the "Cortegiano," one of the
earliest, stands out preeminently, just because it
is the spontaneous producfl of the age of which
it is also a reasoned expression; that is to say,
because it is a work of art of the Renaissance
rather than a mere scholastic treatise of the Cath-
olic Reacftion. It is in no sense a courtesy-book;
it is concerned with principles of social conducft
rather than with details of etiquette. But of all the
mere courtesy-books, the "Galateo" alone sur-
vives; its name is current coin in Italian speech
to-day; and in the eighteenth century Dr. Johnson
coupled it with the "Cortegiano" as "two books
yet celebrated in Italy for purity and elegance."
A French scholar of our own day has said that
for modern culture "antiquity" means ancient
Greece and Rome, but that for modern manners
"antiquity" means mediaeval France. Yet this is
only in part true, and these sixteenth century
books sum up that combination of "courtoisie"
and "civilitas" which gives its special note to
Renaissance manners, and which distinguishes
such books from their predecessors of the twelfth
xxii

^

to the fifteenth centuries. We have but to exam- Intro-
ine any typical discussion of manners in medi- ducflion
aeval literature, such as the famous description
of the exquisite table manners of the Prioress in
the Prologue to the "Canterbury Tales," or the
passage in the "Roman de la Rose" from which
Chaucer borrowed his own details, to note a
characfteristic distinction. Both of these passages
are concerned with women; in the Middle Ages it
was only a woman who was supposed to exhibit
such refined delicacy in the details of conducft.
Liberality, magnanimity, courage, loyalty, chiv-
alrousness to women, and courtesy in its larger
sense,— these and other social virtues the mediae-
val man was supposed to possess ; but even in the
courtly circles of Provence, it may be doubted
whether the delicacy and rSfinement of every
movement which Chaucer ascribes to his Pri-
oress would have been expecfled of the court-
liest knight. Moderation and discretion —called
"measure" or "manner "—were the nearest me-
diaeval approach to these requirements for men.
Moderation may be said to be implicit in the
ideal of the gentleman in every age (indeed, it
may be said to express the limitations of the
ideal, for moderation is as often a vice as a virtue) ;
but it was never more insisted on than in those
ages when it was heeded least. For the Middle
Ages, measure and good manners were almost
synonymous terms. "Courtesy and measure are

xxiii

Intro- the same thing,"— we are told in the fourteenth
dudtion century French romance of "Perceforest/' — ^for
manner and measure must be added to all your
deeds if you would have great virtue." This may
seem to be closely akin to Delia Casa's statement
that polished behaviour consists in adding a good
grace to a good deed; but to the hero of "Perce-
forest," it would have argued lack of "measure,"
or discretion, for any man to adopt graces and
refinements so essentially feminine and unmanly
as the table manners of Chaucer's Prioress.

It was in the Renaissance, and in the courts and
cities of Italy, that the larger virtues of measure
and magnanimity and liberality were first felt to
be inadequate, in men no less than in women
and children, without the minor nuances of good
manners. It was first felt there that in such mat-
ters as yawning or coughing in another's face,
carelessness and greediness in eating, and other
annoying traits, there could be only one standard
for both sexes and for all ages. If the mediaeval
ideal of "courtoisie" was based essentially on the
relation of the sexes, without regard to individual
instincfl or social agreement in the wider sense,
the ** Galateo," in basing good manners on the
desire to please others, wholly regardless of sex,
represents a real advance, or at least a widen-
ing of social interest. On a basis of mediaeval
manners, then, the Renaissance superimposed
the classical ideal of " urbanitas " or "civilitas."
xxiv

In keeping with the spirit of his time, Delia Casa Intro-
rounded all this pracflice and precept into a code; ducftion
and because to codify is to stereotype, he is in
part responsible for the facfl that the pattern he
formulated has scarcely been altered from his
day to ours.

There is one side of persona! manners, however,
in which there has been much change. When
Bacon says that "cleanness of body was ever
deemed to proceed from a due reverence to
God," he can hardly be said to summarize theo-
logical opinion on the subjecft of cleanliness in the
preceding fifteen hundred years. The rules of St.
Benedicft permit bathing only to invalids and the
very old, except on rare occasions; although an
eighteenth century French ecclesiastic insists that
the church never objecfted to bathing, "provided
one indulges in it because of necessity and not
for the sake of pleasure." But our concern is only
with secular society, and there we find that clean-
liness was considered only in so far as it was a
social necessity, if indeed then; as an individual
necessity or habit it scarcely appears at all. Delia
Casa's standard of social manners applies here,
too: cleanliness was dicftatedbythe need of pleas-
ing others, and not because of any inner demand
of individual instincfl. But even in this Italy was
in advance of her neighbours, if personal cleanli-
ness represents social advance. In France, odorous
greatness was the rule, and contemporary chron-

XXV

Intro- ides record the filthy personal habits of Henry
ducftion of Navarre, the great Conde,and Louis XIII. The
*'Loix de la Galanterie," nearly a century after
the "Galateo," advises the gallant to wash his
hands everyday — and "his face almost as often."
All this has changed. Personal cleanliness, be-
cause of its complete acceptance as an individual
necessity, has virtually ceased to touch the prob-
lem of social manners at any point; and culti-
vated society simply acffcs from time to time by
formulating new delicacies of neatness and clean-
liness, makes them the habit of life, and, forget-
ting them completely, passes on to new trifles
of perfecflion. Perhaps we can judge this modern
change without too great an exaggeration of its
importance, if we bear in mind the paradox of
the modern wit, that "dirt is evil chiefly as evi-
dence of sloth, but the facft remains that the classes
that wash most are those that work least."

I have already pointed out that one of the lim-
itations of that code of good breeding which we
have inherited from the Renaissance and which
it is almost the mission of modern life to destroy,
is that it looks merely to the comfort of those
around us at any accidental point of time or
place, often if not always at the expense of other
groups, other classes, and wider interests. Those
who inveigh against democracy as destrudtive
of the "finer graces" of life have hit upon what
is, for good or evil, the very essence of its re-
xxvi

formative programme. A modern idealist sums Intro-
up this newer attitude when he says of the old ducftion
code that it asks us "rather to let a million pine
than hurt the feelings of a single man." But
wholly apart from this, codes and rules have no
more justification in the art of life than in the
arts of poetry and painting. Each individual soul
must express its past and its present, its inherit-
ance and its aspiration, in its own way ; and it is
as futile and vulgar to apply "rules " in the esti-
mate of a life as it is in the criticism of a poem
or a pidlure. Children and novices and immature
societies may obtain pracftical guidance from the
empirical observations of those who have had
experience, but in order to create a real life of
their own, a real social atmosphere, they must
reach the point where the very rules that nur-
tured them no longer apply. To disregard every
rule of good breeding is the symbol of real at-
tainment in the creative art of living.

But this is no place to wage a battle for old
codes or new ones. The " Galateo " describes habits
and impulses that for centuries have moved the
souls of men, dicftated their condudt, given them
pleasure and pain, and that probably for cen-
turies will continue to do so. Nothing that has so
stirred men and women, however trifling it may
seem, can fail to hold a little human interest for
those who call themselves Humanists.

J. E. S.
New York, February, 19 14.

A Galateo of Maister John Delia Casa, Arche- The Title
bishop of Benevento.

A Or rather, A Treatise of the Manners and Be-
haviours, it behoveth a Man to use and eschewe,
in his Familiar Conversation. AWorke very neces-
sary & profitable for all Gentlemen, or Other.

A First written in the Italian Tongue, and now
done into English by Robert Peterson, of Lin-
colnes Inne Gentleman. Satis, si sapienter.

A Imprinted at London for Raufe Newbery
dwelling in Fleetestreate litle above the Con-
duit. An. Do. 1^76.

J. To the Right Honorablemy singular good Lord, The Dedi
the Lord Robert Dudley, Earle of Leicester, Baron cation
of Denbigh, Knight of the Honorable order of the
Garter, Maister of the Queenes Majesties Horses,
and one of herHighnesse privie Counsel! : Robert
Peterson wisheth perfecft felicitie.

LIGHTING of late (Right Honorable) upon this
treatise of courtesie, penned by an experi-
-^ enced Italian, & drawn for the profit therof,
in to so many languages: I thought his lessons
fit for our store, & sought to make him speake
Englishe.

Wise was that Cato, that ended bothe his learn-
ing, and living day together. And truly, Courte-
sie and Courtiership,be like Hippocrates twinnes,
that laughe together, and grow together: and
are so one affecfted, that who so divorceth them,
destroyeth them. But yet, seeing moe redie to
condemne the least trip then commend the best
meaning, and knowing that the Scarre sticketh
thogh good desert do hele the wound : & perceiv-
ing that Naevus in articulo pueri delecftat Al-
caeum, & Roscii oculi perversissimi catulum. That
is, many dote on their fansie: I durst not send this,
mine Heirefic firs tefruites of my toile,to the view
of the world, without the guarde of your Patron-
age, wherin there is no presumption to teach them
that are perfected, but may serve either as Si-
monides Charac5lers,to stablish memory, or as an

The Dedi- Index, to point them to other behaviours enrolled
cation whersoever. Spread therefore (I beseeche your

honour) the winges of wel liking over this worke,
which presseth to you, as not only the patrone to
protecfl,but the patterne to expresse any courte-
sie therin conteined. Mine Authour reporteth one
Maestro Chiarissimo a perfecft Mason, when he
had described the finest precepts of his art, to have
made his Regolo a piller so exadlly, as would
bearethe proofeof every demonstration, thinking
it learned speedely, where the mind and the eye,
precept and experience joined hands together :
whose steps I tread (though with better successe
then mine Author, who could not findea Regolo)
hoping, when others shall come to trie these pre-
ceptes, not by showe or sound, as fooles do their
Golde: but, by your behaviour, as by the touch-
stone: when they shal come, not to ken aloofe,
but at hand, to view your so singular demeanour,
so civil, so courteous, as maketh you renoumed
abrode, and honored at home: coveted of the
Noblest, & wonderful of the learnedst: when
they shall in the glasse of your courtesie, see
the blots that blemishe the dignitie of their es-
tate: when they compare these lessons with the
Regolo, they shal herein see no lesse commod-
itie, then was in Alcibiades Sileni (whereunto
Socrates was compared) whiche though they
bare not, in the front, any shewe of singularitie:
yet within, bare they pidlures of excellent wit
4

/

6c delight. This worke, if it please' your honour The Dedi-
to vouchsafe as a companion of ease to trace the cation
pathes, which you have already so well beaten,
(which presumeth not to be guide for conduc-
tion) or if your honour daine at highe leasure to
peruse it (whiche is not cunningly but faithfully
translated) I doubt not, but your countenance
will so credit the Author, as wil embolden him
to presse amongst the thickest throng of Cour-
tiers: And herewithall beseeche your honour, to
accept the humble and dutifull meaning minde
of him: who, not satisfied, till he might by some
meanes give shewe of his thankefull minde, for
your honorable favours shewed unto him, hathe
offered this small, though as faithfull a gifte as
Sinaetes did to Cyrus : hoping, that your honour
will take it as well in worth, as Artaxerxes did
his poore Persians handfull of water. Thus with
hartie prayer, for the advauncement of your es-
tate, increase of honor, & attainement of perfecfl
and perpetual felicitie: I commend your Lord-
ship, to the patronage and protecftion of the Al-
mightie. Your Lordships mdste humHle to dis-
pose and commaunde.

Robert Peterson

Com- Jt Al Signer Ruberto Peterson, esortandolo A
menda- tradurre in Inghilese il Galateo

^^^y R J. .

Verses ^^^ posson dirsi avventurate carte

Quelle ch' el dotto, e gentil Casa spese:
Quand' in breve discors' a insegnar prese
Del honesta creanza la prima arte.

Poi che tanto si apprezz' in ogni parte

Quel ch' ei ne scrisse, e ch' ei si ben intese
E ch' ogn' un con maniere piu cortese
Dal bel trattato suo tosto si parte.

Esso a Donn' e donzelle, & cavallieri

Non sol d' Italia: ma di Francia, e Spagna
Di gentilezza mostr' i modi veri.

Venga per voi felice anco in Brettagna
E parli Inglese ne Palazzi alteri
Del regn' invitto che '1 Tamigi bagna.

Francesco Pucci

Le creanze,^e i costumi,
Tanto splendenti lumi,
Ch'a gli huomini fan 1' huom superiore,
Eccoli tratti fore
De ritalico seno
E piantati ne I'Anglico terreno.
Or se li goda ogniun, che porta amore
A i suo decoro, e a 1 suo compiuto onore.

Alessandro Citolini

Edouardus Cradoccus, S. Theologiae Dodlor & Com-
Professor menda-

iVioribus quisquis rudis est ineptis, Verses

Nescit is vitam placidam tueri:
Nemini gratus, sociusque nulli

Charus habetur.

Quisquis at pulchre simul & decore
Se gerit, mentis studio repellens
Rusticos mores, popularis ille

Jure videtur.

Hoc Petersoni liber hie venustus
Praestat, ostendens habitu decoro
Possit ut quisque probitate splendens

Utilis esse.

Idque dum magno satagit labore,

Italum fecit patria loquela

Hunc perornatas meus hie amicus

Fundere voces.

Com- Thomas Drant, Archedeacon in praise of this

menda- Booke

tory A

Verses ^^ happy turne that Casa once did hatche,

Of haviours choice this booke in Ital' phrase:

An Archebishop, and writer without matche

In this he was, and peereles pight with praise.

Such he his lore so well and wise doth lend:

It heare ne reade we can, but must amend.

This booke by Tiber, and by Po hath past,
Through all Italia Townes and Country lands.
Iberus, throughe thy Spanishe coasts as fast
It after yoade: and Gauls it held in hands,
Throughe Rhenus realmes it spred in prosper-
ous speede,
To Lordes and Ladies reaching comly reede.

It Peterson, to Britain eyes doth bring
Translated true and trimme: and fit to frame
Faire maners fine for men. This prety Ring
Bedecketh feate our life: discourse and game
It ordereth apt with grace. The booke is grave.
Eke wise and good, for civil folke to have.

To his friend Maister Robert Peterson Gent. Com-

1 hy Galateo (Peterson) doth shrowd him selfe

^° 'o"g- VeLs

What? shall it sleepe Endymions yeares? thou

dost thy countrie wrong.
She hath a childs parte, Plato saies, and with the

Author cries,
That both thy toile,and this her gaine,may reare

his skill to skies.
What thoughe thou thinke thy present small, for

view of gallant ones
This litle Diamond, shall out prize, a quarry full

of stones.
And Noble Cyrus (Man) will daine cold water

in Sinaetaes hand:
Then fray not, if thy booke, in pure, unfiled

termes doe stand.
Translatours can not mount: for though, their

armes with wings be spread.
In vaine they toile to take the flight, their feete

are clogd with lead.
This faith, that makes the Authour, speake his

owne in language new:
Renoumes the more, then if thou blazdst it out,

in painted hew.
For, serpents lurke in greenest grasse, and with

a gar i she gloze,
The Strumpet pounts in pride, where matrones

marche in comelie clothes.

Com- Go publishe it, and dreade not scowling Momus
menda- poisond spite.

tory And though Archilochus lambes fly, or Theons
Verses taunts doe bite:

Thinke, winds doe haunt the gallauntst trees, and

Envy things of state.
And lightning checks, Cerauniaes tops, whome

no hils els do mate.
The best have borne the bob, and Zoiles brutes

durst geve the charge:
But Zoile hangs, and Callisthen keepes in cage

for talking large.
And yet,wordes they be winde: but as erst Plin-

ies Draconite
No toole could pierce or carve: or as the gemme

Chalazias hight,
Keepes cold, though it in Aetna frie, or Adian-

tons flowers
Drawes not a drop, though skies distill downe

everlasting showers:
So good desert, doth chalenge good reporte by

reasons rate,
Though oft they beare the checkes and taunts,

they cannot take the mate.
Yet seeke Mecaenas wings to shroude thy toile:

Virgilio
Found his Augustus: Ennie thou maist fmde thy

Scipio.
This trump shall sound thy praise. Sir Phoebus

golden rayes shall turne

ID

To foggie mistes, and seas that beare their ysie Com-

crust, shall burne: menda-

And lumpishe lowte, with country shares shall tory

sake Sea fome divide, Verses

And sowe his graine in Afrik Syrtes that wallow

every tide,
Before this worke shall die: which neither Joves

thundering threate.
Nor fierie flames shall waste, nor rustie, cankred
age shall freate.

Nolo Persium nolo Laelium.

Your friend. I. Stoughton
Student

II

Com- 1 he vine is praisde, that daintie grape doth give

menda- Although the fruite more please then holsome be,

tory Each fertil tree, is favord for the fruite.

Verses Sq is the hearb that gallant is to see.

If this be trueth, he needes must merit well,
That gives us groundes to guide our erring wayes,
And trades us truely in the golden maze.
Where vertue growes, and courtlike manner
stayes.

Galateo first did frame this golden booke
In Ital land. From thence it went to Spaine.
And after came into the coasts of Fraunce.
And nowe at last in England doth remaine.

The Authour sure deserveth more renoume.
That so could spend his time for our behoofe,
Then my poore wit or cunning can recite.
As thou thy selfe by reading shalt finde proofe.

And as the Authour merits passing well.
So doth my friend deserve as greate a meede:
That makes a worke so hard to understand.
So easie that each simple may it reede.

I say no more: for (lo) it were in vaine
To praise good wine by hanging up a bushe.
The best will give (I hope) my friende his due.
As for the bad, I way them not a rushe.

Thomas Browne of L. I. Gent.

12

THE TREATISE OF
MASTER JHON DELLA CASA

Wherin under the person of an old unlearned
itian, instrucfling a youthe of his, he hath talke
of the maners and fashions, it behoves a man
to use or eschewe, in his familiar conversation:
intituled Galateo, of fashions and maners.

FOR as muche as thou doste now enter the
journy, wherof I have allredy ronne forth
the better parte (as thou seest) I meane the
transitorie waye of this mortall life: I have
determined (such is the Love I beare thee) to
shewe all the daungerous straights thou must
passe: For my experience maketh me feare, y*
walking that way thou mayst easily either fall,
or by some meanes or other go astray. To the
ende thou maist once, taughte both by my in-
strudlions and experience, be able to keepe the
right waye, as well for the helthe of thy Soule,
as the commendation and praise of the Hon-
ourable and Noble house thou doest come of.
And bycause thy tender Age, is unfit (as yet)
to receave more principall and higher precepts,
reserving them for fitter time, I will beginn to
discourse of such things as many men will
deeme, perchaunce, but trifles: I meane what
manner of Countenance and grace, behoveth a
man to use, that hee may be able in Commu-

13

Galateo nication and familiar acquaintance with men, to
shewe him selfe plesant, courteous, and gentle:
which neverthelesse is either a vertue, or the
thing that comes very nere to vertue. And al-
beit Liberalise, or magnanimitie, of themselves
beare a greater praise, then, to be a well taught
or manored man: yet perchaunce, the courte-
ous behaviour and entertainement with good
maners and words, helpe no lesse, him that hath
them: then the high minde and courage, ad-
vaunceth him in whome they be. For these be
such things as a man shall neede alwayes at all
hands to use, because a man must necessarily
be familiar with men at all times, & ever have
talk 6c communication with them: But justice,
fortitude, and the other greater, and more noble
vertues, are seldome put in uze. Neither is y®
liberall and noble minded man, caused every
hower to doe bountifull things: for to use it
often, cannot any man beare the charge, by any
meanes. And these valiant men y^ be so full of
highe minde and courage: are very seldome
driven to trye their valour & vertue by their
deeds. Then as muche as these last, doe passe
those first, in greatnes (as it were) & in weight:
so much do the other surmount these in num-
ber, & often occasion to use them. And, if I could
wel intend it, I could name you many, whoe,
(being otherwise of litle account) have ben & be
still, muche estemed & made of, for their chere-
14

full & plesaunt behaviour alone: which hath bin Of Man-
suche a heipe & advauncement unto them, that ners and
they have gotten greate preferments, leaving Behav-
farre behinde them, such men as have bin en- lours
dowed with those other noble and better vertues,
spoken of before. And as these plesaunt & gentle
behaviours, have power to draw their harts &
minds unto us, with whome we live: so contrari-
wise, grosse and rude maners, procure men to
hate and despise us. Wherby albeit the lawes,
have injoined no paine for unmanerly & grose
behaviours, as the fault that is thought but light
(& to saye a trueth, it is not greate) yet we see
notwithstanding, y^ nature herselfe punisheth
them w^ sharpe 6c shrewde correcftion, putting
them by this meanes, besydes y^ companie & fa-
vour of men. And truly even as greate & foule
faults, doe muche harme : so doe these light, much
hurt, or hurte at least more often. For, as men
doe commonly fere y® beasts y^ be cruell 6c wild,
& have no maner of feare of som litle ones, as y®
gnats and the flies, & yet by y® continual noi-
aunce they find by them,complaine them selves
more of thes then of y^ other: so it chaunceth
y^ most men do hate in maner asmuche, y® un-
manerly & untaught, as y® wicked, 6c more. So y*
there is no doubte, but who so disposeth him-
selfe to live, not in solitarie and deserte places,
as Heremites, but in fellowship with men, and in
populous Cities, will think it a very necessarie

Galateo thing, to have skill to put himselfe forth comely
and seemely, in his fashions, gestures and man-
ers: the lacke of which parts doth make those
other vertues lame, and litle or nothing can they
work to good effecft, without other helpes: wheare
this civilitieand courtesie, without other releefe or
patrimonie, is riche of it selfe, 6c hath substance
enough, as a thing y^standeth inspeache and ges-
tures alone.

And that y" mayst now more easily learne the
way unto it, thou must understand, it behoves
thee, to frame and order thy maners and doings,
not according to thine owne minde and fashion:
but to please those, with whome thou livest, and
after that sort direcft thy doings : And this must
be done by Discretion and Measure. For who so
applieth himself to much, to feede other mens
humors, in his familiar conversation, and behav-
iour with men, is rather to be thought a Jester, a
Jugler or flatterer, then a gentleman wel taught
and nourtured: As contrariwise, whoe so hath
no care or mind to please, or displese, is a rude,
untaught, and uncourteous fellowe. For asmuche
then, as our maners, have some pleasure in them
when we respecft other men, and not our owne
pleasure: if we diligently searche forthe what
those things be, that most men do generally like
or dislike: we shall in suche sorte wisely and eas-
ily finde out, the meanes & wayes, to choose and
eschewe, those fashions and maners, we are to
i6

leave or take, to live amongest men. We say Of Man-
then, that every adl that ofFendeth any the com- ners and
mon senses, or overthwarteth a mans will and Behav-
desire, or els presenteth to the Imagination and lours
conceite, matters unpleasaunt, & that likewise,
which y® minde doth abhorre, such things I say
bee naught, and must not be used: for we must
not only refraine from such thinges as be fowle,
filthy, lothsome and nastie: but we must not so
muche as name them. And it is not only a fault
to dooe such things, but against good maner,
by any acfl or signe to put a man in minde of
them. And therefore, it is an ilfavoured fashion,
that some men use, openly to thrust their hands
in what parte of their bodye they list.

Likwise, I like it as ill to see a Gentleman set-
tle him selfe, to do the needes of Nature, in pres-
ence of men: And after he hath doone, to trusse
him selfe againe before them. Neither would I
have him (if I may geve him councell) when he
comes from suche an occupation, so much as washe
his hands, in the sight of honest company: for y*
the cause of his washing, puts them in minde of
some filthy matter that hath bene done aparte.
And by the same reason, it is no good maner,
when a man chaunceth to see, as he passeth the
waye (as many times it happeneth) a lothesome
thing, y^ wil make a man to cast his stomacke, to
tourne unto the company, & shewe it them. And
much worse I like it, to reache some stinking

17

Galateo thing unto a man to smell unto it: as it is many
a mans fashion to do, w^ importunate meanes,
yea, thrusting it unto their nose, saying: "Foh,
feele I pray you, how this doth stink: "where they
should rather say, "smell not unto it: for it hath
an ill sent." And as these and like fashions offend
the senses, to which they appertaine: so to grinde
the teethe, to whistle, to make pitifull cries, to
rubb sharpe stones together, and to file uppon
Iron, do muche offend the Eares and would be
lefte in any case. Neither must wee refraine those
things alone, but we must also beware we do not
sing, and specialy alone, if we have an untune-
able voice, which is a common fault with moste
men: And yet, hee that is of nature least apt
unto it, doth use it moste. So there be some kinde
of men, that in coffing or neesing, make suche
noise, that they make a man deafe to here them:
other some use in like things, so little discretion,
that they spit in mens faces that stand about
them: besides these there be some, that in yaun-
ing, braye and crye out like Asses. And yet such,
with open mouth wil ever say and do what they
list, and make such noise, or rather such roaring,
as the dumme man doth, when he striveth with
him selfe to speake. All these yllfavoured fash-
ions, a man must leave, as lothsome to the eare
and the eye. And a man must leave to yawne
muche, not only for the respedt of the matter
I have saide alreadye, as that it seemes to pro-
i8

ceede, of a certaine werines, that shewes that he Of Man-
that yawneth, could better like to be els where, ners and
then there in that place : as wearied with the com- Behav-
panie, their talke, and their doings. And sure, al- lours
beit a man be many times disposed to yawne,
yet if he be occupied with any delight, or earnest
matter to think uppon: he shall have no minde to
doe it. But if he be lumpishe & idle: it is an easy
matter to fall in to it. And therefore, When a man
yawneth, in place where there bee slouthfull and
Idle folkes, that have nothing to doe, the rest, as
you may see many times, yawne againe for com-
panie by 6c by: as if he that yawned, had put
them in minde to doe it, which of them selves
they would have done first, if hee had not be-
goone unto them. And I have many times heard
learned and wise men say, that A yawner mean-
eth as much in Latin as a careles and Idle bodie.
Let us then flye these condicions, that loathe (as
I said) the eyes, the Eares, & the Stomacke. For in
using these fashions, we doe not only shewe that
we take litle pleasure in the company, but we
geve them occasion withall, to judge amis of us:
I meane y^ we have a drowsye & hevie nowle,
which makes us ill wellcom, to all companies
we come unto. And when thou hast blowne thy
nose, use not to open thy handkercheif, to glare
uppon thy snot, as if y" hadst pearles and Ru-
bies fallen from thy braynes: for these be slov-
enly parts, ynough to cause men, not so much

19

Galateo not to love us, as if they did love us, to unlove
us againe. As the Sprite of Labirintho doth tes-
tifie (who soever he were that made it) who (to
quenche y® heate wherwith Master John Boccase
burned in desire and Love of his Lady unknowne)
tells, come ella covaua la cenere, sedendosi insu le
calcagna; &: tossiua, & isputaua farfalloni.

It is also an unmanerly parte, for a man to
lay his nose uppon the cup where another must
drinke: or uppon the meatey^ another must eate,
to the end to smell unto it: But rather, I would
wish he should not smell at all, no not to that
which he himselfe should eate and drinke: be-
cause it may chaunce there might fall some
droppe from his nose, that would make a man
to loath it: although there fall nothing at all in
deede. Neither, by mine advise, shalt thou reache
to any man, that cup of wine wherof thy selfe
hast first dronke and tasted: w^out he be more
then a familiar friend unto thee. And much lesse
must thou give any parte of the peare or the
fruite, which thou hast bitten in thy mouth be-
fore. And esteeme not light of my talke, for that
these things be of little account: For even light
stripes (their number may be such) be able to
slaye fast ynoughe.

Now you shall understand, there was in Verona,

a bishop a wise man, a learned & of a singular good

wit by nature, whose name was Giovanni Matheo

Giberti : Amongst many good parts y^ were in him,

20

he was very courtious & liberall, to all gentlemen Of Man-
& noble men that came unto him, doing them all ners and
y^ honor he could in his house, not with overmuch Behav-
pompe and cost, but with convenient entertaine- iours
ment and measure, such as besemed well a man i

of the Clergie. It chaunced in his time, a noble gen-
tleman called Count Richard, passed that way,
to spend a fewe dayes with the Bishop and his
householde together: which was thoroughly fur-
nished w^honestgentlemenand very well learned.
And bycause they found him a Noble gentleman,
courteous and well beseene in all good behav-
iour, they praised him muche, and made muche of
him, save that one unmanerly fashion they muche
misliked in him. When the Bishop was advertised
of it, consulting with some of his familiars about
it (as he was a wise man in all his doings) straite
they concluded, it should be necessary to let y®
Count have knowledge of it: albeit they feared,
theyshouldoffendhim. Upon this, y® Count taking
his leave, and redy to ride away the next morn-
ing, the Bishop called one of his servants unto
him, (a man of good discretion) and gave him in
charge to take his horse, to beare the Count com-
pany, some parte of his waye: And when hesawe
his time, after an honest sorte, to tell him, that
which they had determined betwene them selves.
The same gentleman that had this charge, was
a man well strooken in yeares, very lerned, and
mervailous pleasaunt, welspoken, comely, and

21

Galateo had muche frequented in his time, y^ Courtes of
greate Princes: who was (perhaps) and is, called
Galateo: at whose request and councell, I first
tooke in hand to set forth this present treatise.
Riding with the Count, he found him plesaunt
talke ynoughe, and passing from one matter to
another, when he thought it time to returne to
Verona, in taking leave at parting, with a gentle
& cherefull countenaunce, he used this speache
unto him. "Sir Count, my Lorde yealdeth you
many thanks for the honour you have done him,
^. in that it hath pleased you to vouchesafe his
poore house: and that he may not beunthank-
full, for this your greate courtesie shewed unto
him, he hath geven me in charge, that I must
leave a present with you in his behalfe: and he
sends it unto you with earnest request, that you
please to take it in good worthe: and this is the
gift. You are a goodly gentleman, and the best
manered man my Lorde hath ever seene: So that
very heedefully beholding your behaviours, and
particularly considering them all, hee findeth no
one that is not very comely and comendable, only
one unsemely tricke alone excepted, which you
make with your lippes and your mouth together,
feeding at your meate with a certaine straunge
noyes, unpleasaunt to all men that heare it. This
my Lord willed me to tell you, and prayes you
to endevour your selfe to leave it, and withall to
accept in lewe of a beter present, this loving ad-

22

monition and councell of his : for he is sure, there Of Man-
is none in the worlde, would make you the like ners and
present." The Count (that never wist of his fault Behav-
till now) hearing himselfe reproved, chaunged lours
his countenance a little, blit (as a man full of stom-
acke ynough) taking hart at grasse, he said : " Tell
your Lorde, that if all the gifts that men wont to
geve eche other, were such as his, men should be
muche more riche then they are. And for his greate
courtesie and liberalitie to mee, geve him many
thanks I pray you, and let him be sure, I will not
faile from henceforthe to mend my fault, and
God be with you." ^

Now what shal we thinke this Bishop, his mod-
est and honest company about him would say,
if they sawe these whome wee see other while,
(like swine w* their snouts in the washe, all be-
groined) never lift up their heads nor lookeup,and
muche lesse keepe their hands from the meate,and
w* both their cheeks blowne (as if they should
sound a trumpet, or blowe the fier) not eate but
ravon: whoe, besmearing their hands, almost up
to their elbowes, so bedawbe y® napkins, that y®
cloathes in the places of easement, be other while
cleaner. And to mend these slovenly maners, be
not ashamed, many times with these filthy nap-
kins, to wipe awaye the sweat that trickleth and
falleth downe their browes, their face and their
necke (they be such greedy guts in their feeding)
and otherwhile to, (when it comes uppon them)

23

Galateo spare not to snot their sniveld nose uppon them.
Truly these beastly behaviours and fashions, de-
serve not alone, to be thrust out of this noble
bishops house, that was so pure and cleane: but
to be throughly banished all places, where any
honest men should com. Let a man then take hede,
hee doe not begrease his fingers so deepe, y^ he
befyle the napkins to much: for it is an ill sight
to see it: neither is it good maner, to rubbe your
gresie fingers uppon y^ bread you must eate.

The servaunts that bee appointed to waite
uppon the table, must not (in any wise) scratche
and rubbe their heades, nor any parte els in the
sight of their Lorde & Master: nor thrust their
hands in any those partes of their body that be
covered, no not so muche as make any prof-
fer: as some careles fellowes doo, holding their
hands in their bosome, or cast under the flappes
of their coates behind them. But they must beare
them abroade without any suspicion and keepe
them (in any case) washt & cleane without any
spot of durt uppon them. And they that cary the
dishes, or reache the cup, must beware at that
time, they doe not spit, coughe or neese : for in such
doings, Suspicion is as greate, and ofFendeth as-
muche, as the very deede it selfe: and therefore,
servants must forsee, they geve no cause to Mais-
ters to suspecft: For that which might chaunce,
anoyeth asmuche, as if it had chaunced indeede.

And if thou do roaste any fruite, or make a toaste
24

at the fier, thou must not blowe of the ashes, (if Of Man-
there be any) for it is an old saying, that, winde ners and
was never without water. But y" must lightly Behav-
strike it uppon the plate, or after some suche lours
sorte or other beate of y^ ashes. Thou shalt not
offer thy handkerchiefe to any man to use it, al-
beit, it be very cleane washed : for he to whome
thou doest offer it, can not (perhaps) awaye w*
it, and may be to curious to take it.

When a man talketh with one, it is no good
maner to come so neere, that he must needes
breathe in his face : for there be many that can not
abide to feele the ayer of another mans breathe,
albeit there come no ill savour from him. These
and like fashions, be very unsemely, and would be
eschewed, because their senses, w^ whome we ac-
quaint our selves, cannot brooke nor bearethem.

Now, let us speake of those things which (with-
out any hurt or anoyaunce to the senses) offende
the minds of most men, before whome they be
doone. You shall understand, that The appetites
of men, (throughe a naturall instincft and inclina-
tion) be verie strange and divers: Some be chol-
erike & hasty, & may not be satisfied with out
revenge: other doe give them selves cleane over,
to pamper the belly: this man sets his delighte
in lust and sensualitie: that man is carried away
with his covetous desires: and many suche appe-
tites more there are, to which mans minde is too
subjecft : but you shall not in any company, easily

2j?

Galateo judge or discerne betweene them, where and in
what, they bee moste afFecfted. For, these matters
doe not consist in the maners, the fashions and
speache of men: but rest in some other point.
They seeke to purchase y^ which the benefit of
mutuall conferrence may yeald them, 6c that
doe (as I weene) good will, honour, comforte and
pleasure, or some other thing like unto these: &
therfore we must neither say or doe the thing,
that may give anysigne of litle loving or estem-
ing them, we live withall.

So that, it is a rude fashion, (in my conceipte)
y^ som men use, to lie lolling a sleepe in that
place, where honest men be met together, of pur-
pose to talke. For his so doing, shewes that he doth
not esteeme the company, and little rekoneth of
them or their talke. And more then that, he that
sleepeth (and specially lying at litle ease, as he
must) wonts (for the moste parte) to doe some
fowle thing, to beholde, or heare: and many times
they awake sweating and driveling at the mouth.
And in like maner, to rise up where other men
doe sit and talke, and to walke up and downe the
chamber, it is no point of good maner. Also there
be some that so buskell them selves, reache,
streatch and yawne, writhing now one side, and
then another, that a man would weene, they had
some fever uppon them: A manifest signe, that
the company they keepe, doth weary them.

Likewise doe they very ill, y* now & then pull
26

out a letter out of their pocket, to reade it: as if Of Man-
they had greate matters of charge, and affaires ners and
of the common weale committed unto them. But Behav-
they are much more to bee blamed, that pull out ^ours
their knives or their scisers, and doe nothing els
but pare their nailes, as if they made no account at
all of the company, and would seeke some other
solace to passe the time awaye. Theis fashions to,
must be left, y^ some men use, to sing betwene
the teeth, or playe the dromme with their fin-
gers, or shoofle their feete: For these demeanours
shewe that a body is carelesse of any man ells.

Besides, let not a man so sit that he turne his
taile to him that sitteth next to him: nor lie tot-
tering with one legg so high above the other, that
a man may see all bare that his cloathes would
cover. For such parts be never p lay de, but amongst
those to whome a man needs use no reverence. It
is very true, that if a gentleman should use these
fashions before his servants, or in the presence
of some friende of meaner condition then him
selfe: it would betoken no pride, but a love and
familiaritie.

Let a man stand uppright of him selfe, and not
leane or loll uppon another mans shoulder: and
when he talketh, let him not pounche his fellow
with his elbowe, (as many be wont to doe) at
every worde they speake, saying: "Did I not say
true Sirra. Master. N. It is Master. H." And still
they be jotting with their elbowe.

27

Galateo I would have every man well appareled, meete
for his age and calling: for otherwise, they seeme
to have men in contempt that be better attired
then themselves.

And therefore the Citizens of Padua, were woont
to take it done of spighte unto them, when any
gentleman of Venice walked up & downe their
citie in his coate, as though he thought him selfe
in the countrey. And a mans apparell, would not
be made of fine cloathe alone: but he must frame
it, all that he may, to the fashions that other men
weare, and suffer him selfe to bee lead by com-
mon use: although (perchaunce) it be, and seeme
to be lesse commodious, lesse gallant, and lesse
faire in shewe, then his oulde.

And if all men els, doe weare their heads powled:
it shalbe an ill sight for thee alone, to weare a
longe bushe of haire. And where other men, make
muche of their beardes and weare them longe:
thou shalt not doe well to cut thine of, or shave
it. For that weare to be overthwarte in every-
thing: which thou must (in any case) beware of,
except necessitie require it, as thou shalt heare
hereafter. For this singularitie, beyond all other ill
customes, makes us generally spited of all men.
Thou must not then go against common custome
in these things, but use them measureably : that
thou maist not bee an odd man alone in a coun-
trey: that shall weare a long Gowne downe to
the foote, where other men weare them very
28

shorte, litle beneath the waste. For as it hapens Of Man-
to him, that hath a very crabbed ilfavoured face, ners and
(I meane suche, as is more harde and sower then Behav-
most mennes be, for nature doth mostly shape ^o^^s
them well in moste men) that men will wonder
and (with a kinde of admiration) gape most up-
pon him: So fares it with them that attire them
selves, not as most men doe: but as they are egged
by their owne fantasticall heads, with long heare
spred downe to their shoulders, their beardes
short and shaven, and weare quaiues or greate
cappes after y^ Flaundres fashion: that all men
doe gaze uppon them, as wondering at suche,
whome they weene have taken uppon them, to
conquer all countries wheresoever they come.
Let your apparell then, be very well made, and
fit for your body: for they that weare rich and
coastly garments, but so illfavouredly shaped,
that a man would weene the measure had bin
taken by another: geve us to judge one of these
twaine, that either they have no regarde or con-
sideration how to please or displease: or els have
no skill to judge of measure or grace, or what doth
become them.

Such maner of people, with their rude behav-
iours and fashions, make men with whome they
live, suspecft, they doe esteeme them but light.
And that causeth them worse welcome wherso-
ever they com and ill beloved amongest men.

But there be some besides these, that deserve

29

Galateo more then bare suspicion: their deeds and their
doings be so intollerable, that a man cannot abide
to live amongest them by any meanes. For they
be ever a let, a hurt and a trouble to all the com-
panie, they benever redie: ever a trimming: never
well dressed to their mindes. But when men be
readie to sit downe to the table, the meate at the
boorde, and their handes washed : then they must
write or make water, or have their exercise to doe :
saying, "It is too early: we might have taried
a while: what haste is this, this morning?" And
thus they disquiet all the company, as men, car-
ing for them selves alone & their owne matters,
without consideration in the worlde of other men.
Besides this, they will in all things be preferred
above others : they must have the best bed, and
best chamber: they must take uppon them the
highest place at the table, and be first set and
served of all men. And they be so deintie and
nice, that nothing pleaseth them, but what they
them selves devise: they make a sower face at any
thingells. And they besoproudeminded, that they
looke that men should waite uppon them when
they dine, ride, sporte, or solace them selves.

There be other so furious, testie & waywarde,
that nothing you doe can please them: and what
soever is said they aunswer in choler, and never
leave brauling w^ their servants, and rayling at
them, and continually disturbe the company with
their unquietnes:usingsuchspeeches:"ThoucauI-
30

edst me well up this morning. Looke heere how Of Man-
cleane thou hast made these pynsons. Thou ners and
beaste, thou diddest waite well uppon me to Behav-
Churche. It were a good deede to breake thy iours
head." These be unsemely and very fowle fash-
ions: suche as every honest man will hate to
death. For, albeit a mans minde were full fraught
with all humilitie, and would use these maners, not
uppon pride or disdaine, but uppon a rechelesse
care, not heeding his doings, or elles by meanes
of ill custome: yet notwithstanding, because his
outward doings, woulde make men thinke him
proude: it cannot be chosen, but all men woulde
hate him for it. For, Pride is none other thinge,
then to despise and disdaine another. And as I
have saide from the beginning: Eache man de-
sireth to bee well thought of. Albeit there bee no
valoure or goodnes in him.

It is not long, since there was in Rome a worthy
gentleman, of singular good witt and profound
learning, whose name was Ubaldino Bandinelli.
This gentleman was woont to say, that as ofte
as hee went or came from the Courte, although
the stretes weare ever full of gallant Courtiers, of
Prelates and Noble men, and likewise of poore
men, and people of meane and base condition:
yet he thought he never encountred any, that
was either better or worse then himselfe. And
without doubte hee could meete with fewe, that
might bee compared in goodnes to him : respecft-

31

Galateo ing his vertues, that did excel beyond measure.
But we must not alwayes in these things mea-
sure men by y^ Elne: We must rather waye them
in the millers scoles, then in the goldsmythes
balaunce. And it is a courtious parte, redily to
receave them in to favour: not by cause they bee
woorthe it: but as men doe with coines, by cause
they be currant.

To go further, wee must doe nothing in their
sight whome wee desire to please, that may
shewe wee covet, rather to rule and to reigne, then
to live in a familiar equalitie amongest them.. For
hautines of harte and ambitious disposition, as
it kindleth an ill opinion: so it ministreth muche
cause of contempte, which in conclusion will so
woorke against thee, y* thou shalt bee cleane
castout of honest company. But our dooings must
rather beare a signe and shewe of reverence,
meekenes, & respecfl to y^ company, in which
wee fellowship ourselves. So that, what so ever is
doone inmeeteand convenient time, may hapely
deserve no blame: but yet in respecft of the place
and the persone, it may be reproved well: al-
thoughe for it self, y^ matter deserve no rebuke.
As to brawle and to raile at your servaunts (which
we have talked of before) but muche more to
beate them. Because these partes, are asmuche
as to reigne and to rule: which no honest and civil
gentleman will use, in presence of them he doth
respedt with any reverence or courtesie. Besides
32

this, the company is muche offended with it, and Of Man-
their meetinges are broken, and especially, if it be ners and
done at the table, which is a place of solace and Behav-
mirthe, and not of brawle and scolding. So that lours
I must nedes commend Currado Gianfigliazzi for
his civil behaviour in y^ he multiplied no words
with Chichibio to trouble his guests: albeit he
deserved to be sharply punished for it, when
he would sooner displease his master then Bru-
netta. And yet if Currado had made lesse adoe
about it then he did: it had ben more his praise.
For then he should never have neded, to call
uppon God, to witnes his threatnings so muche
as he did.

But to returne to our matter: it is not good for
a man to chide at the table for any cause. And
if thou be angrie, shew it not, nor make no signe
of thy greefe, for the reason I have tolde thee,
and specially if thou have straungers with thee:
because thou haste called them to be merry, and
this wil make them sad. For, as the sharpe and
tarte things y* other men doe feede uppon in thy
sight, doe set thy teeth likewise on edge : so to see
other men vexed and out of quiet, it maketh us
unquiet too. I call them Fromward people, which
will in allthings be overtwhart to other men : as
the very worde it selfe doth shewe. For, Frome-
warde, signifieth asmuche, as Shorne against the
wooll. Now, how fit a thinge this frowardnes is,
to win the good will of men, and cause men to

3^^

Galateo wishe well unto them: that you your self may
easily Judge, in that it consisteth in overtwharting
other mens desiers: which qualitie never main-
teineth friendship, but maketh friends become
foes. And therfor let them that desire to be well
thought of and welcome amongst men, endev-
our them selves to shunne this fault: For it breedes
no good liking nor love, but hatred and hurt. I
would councell you rather to measure your plea-
sures by other mens willes : where there shal come
no hurt nor shame of it: and therin alwayes to
doe & to saye, more to please other mens mindes
and fansies, then your owne.

Againe, you must be neither clownishe nor
lumpishe: but pleasaunt and familiar. For there
should bee no oddes,betweene the My stell and the
Pungitopo: but that the one is wilde: the other
growes in gardens. And you must understand,
that he is pleasaunt and courteous : whose man-
ners bee suche in his common behaviour, as prac-
tise to keepe, and maintaine him friendeship
amongst them: where hee that is solleyne and
way warde, makes him selfe a straunger wherso-
ever hee comes: a straunger, I meane, asmuch as
a forreigne or alienborne: where contrariwise, he
that is familiar & gentle, in what place so ever he
comes: is taken for a familiar and friend with all
men. So that it shalbe necessarie for a man, to
use him selfe to salute, to speake, and to answer
after a gentle sorte, and to behave him selfe w^all
34

men so: as if hee were their countryman borne. Of Man-
& of their olde acquaintance. Which some can ill ners and
skill to doe, that never give a man a goodcounte- Behav-
naunce : easily say, No, to all things : never take in iours
good worthe, the honour and courtesie that men
doe unto them (like to the people I spake of be-
fore, rude and barbarous) : never take delight in
any pleasaunt conceites or other pleasures: but
ever refuse it all, what soever is presented or of-
fered unto them. If a man say: "Sir, suche a one
willed me to commend him unto you:" They
aunswere straite: "what have I too doe with his
greetings?" And if a man say: "Sir, suche a one
your friend, asked me how you did." They aun-
swer againe in choler: "Let him come feele my
pulse." These carterlike and clownishe aunswers
and maners, and the men them selves that doe
use them : would bee chased and hunted away,
out of all good and honest company.

It ill becomes a man when hee is in company,
to bee sad, musing, and full of contemplation. And
albeit, it may bee suffered perchaunce in them
that have long beaten their braines in these
Mathematicall studies : which are called (as I take
it) the Liberall Artes: yet without doubte it may
not be borne in other men. For, even these stu-
dious fellowes, at suche time, when they be so
ful of their Muses : should be much wiser to get
them selves alone.

Againe, to bee to nice or to deintie: it may not

55

Galateo be abiden, and specially in men. For, to live with
suche kinde of people: is rather a slaverie then
pleasure. And sure there bee som such, so softe &
tender: y^ to live and deale with such people, it is
as daungerous : as to medle with the finest and
brittelest glasse that may be: So muche they are
affraide of every light touche. And they wilbe as
testy and frowarde, if you doe not quickly and
readily salute them, visite them, worship them,
and make them answer: as some other body
would be, for the greatest injurie y^can be donne
unto them. And if you doe not give them all
the due reverence that may be: they will pres-
ently take a thousand occasions to quarell and fall
out with you. If you chaunce to Master him, and
leave out his title of Honour or worship: he takes
that in dougeon, and thinkes you doe mock him.
And if you set him beneath as good a man as him
self at the table: that is against his honour. If you
doe not visite him at home at his house: then you
knowe not your dutie. Theis maner of fashions and
behaviours, bring men to such scorne and disdainie
of their doings : that there is no man, almost, can
abide to beholde them : for they love them selves
to farre beyonde measure, and busie them selves
so much in that, that they fmde litle leisure to
bethinke them selves to love any other: which
(as I have saide from the beginning) men seeke to
fmde in the conditions and maners of those with
whome they must live : I meane, that they should

36

apply them selves to the fansies & mindes of their Of Man-
friendes. But to live w* suche people, so hard to ners and
please: whose love and friendship once wonne,is Behav-
as easily lost, as a fine scarfe is lightly caried away iours
with the winde: that is no life but a service: and,
besides that ityealdeth no pleasure, it geves a man
greate disdaine and horror. Let us therefore leave
these softe and wanton behaviours to women.

In speach a man may fault many wayes. And
first in the matter it selfe that is in talke, which
may not be vaine or filthye. For, they that doe
heare it, will not abide it: as y^ talk they take no
pleasure to heare: but rather scorne the speache
and the speaker both. Againe, a man must not
move any question of matters that be to deepe
& to subtile: because it is hardly understoode of
the moste. And a man must warely foresee, that
the matter bee suche, as none of the company may
blushe to heare it, or receave any shame by the
tale. Neither must he talke of any filthy matter,
albeit a man would take a pleasure to heare it:
for, it ill becomes an honest gentleman, to seeke
to please, but in things that be honest.

Neither in sporte nor in earnest, must a man
speake any thing against God or his Saintes,
how witty or pleasaunt so ever the matter be.
Wherein, the company that Giovan Boccaccio
hathe brought to speake in his Novelles and tales,
hath faulted so muche: that me thinkes every
good body , may justly blame them for it. And you

3>7

Galateo must thinke It is not only a token of great detesta-
tion & Impietie in a man, to talke in jestinge wise
of God : but hee is a wicked & sinfull man, that will
abide to heare it. But you shall finde some suche
good men, as will flie asmuche as the plague, the
company of such as talke so unreverently, and
without respecft, of the incomprehensible Majes-
tie of God. And wee must not alone speake reli-
giously of him: but in all our talkes wee must
avoide what wee may, that our wordes may not
witnes against our life and our workes. For men
doe hate their owne faultes otherwhile, when they
see them in another.

Likewise it is unsavourie, to talke of things out
of time, not fitting the place and company: al-
though the matter it selfe, and spoken in time,
were otherwise both good and godly. We must
not then reherse Friers sermones to young gentle-
women, when they are disposed to sporte them
selves: as y* good man did, that dwelles not farr
hence, nere to S. Brancatio. And in feastes & at ta-
ble, wee must beware wee doe not rehearse any
sorowfull tales, nor put them in minde of woundes,
of sicknes, of deathes, of Plagues, or of other dole-
full matters. But if another man chaunce to move
suche matter: it shalbe good, after an honest and
gentell sorte, to exchaunge that talke, and thrust
in some other, y^ may give them more delighte
and pleasure to heare it. Albeit, not long since I
heard it said to a worthy gentleman our neigh-

38

hour, that Men have many times more neede Of Man-
to weepe then to laugh. And for that cause hee ners and
said, these dolefull tales, which weecall Tragedies, Behav-
were devised at first, that when they were playd lotirs
in the Theatres (as at that time they were wont)
they might draw fourth teares out of their eyes,
that had neede to spend them. And so they were
by their weeping, healed of their infirmitie. But al-
beit it bee good to doe so: yet it will il become us
to drive men into their dumpes: especially where
they bee mett to feaste and to solace themselves,
& not to mourne. For if there be any, y^ hath suche
weeping disease: it will bee an easie matter to cure
it, w^ stronge Mustard or a smoaky house. So that,
in no wise, I can excuse our friend Philostrato, for
his worke that hee made full of duleand of death,
to suche a company as desired nothing more then
mirthe. Wee must the rather use silence, then dis-
course of suche sorrowfull matters.

And they doe asmuche amisse too, that never
have other thing in their mouthe, then their chil-
dren, their wife, and their nourse. '*My litle boy,
made mee so laughe yesterday : heare you : you
never sawe a sweeter babe in your life: my wife is
such a one, Cecchina told mee : of troth you would
not beleeve whata wit shee hath:" There is none
so idle a body, that will either intend to answer,
or abide to heare suche foolishe prittle prattle. For
it ircks a mans eares to harken unto it.

There be some againe, so curious in telling their

39

Galateo dreames from point to point, using such wonder
and admiration withall, y* it makes a mans hart
ake to heare them : & specially because (for y®
most parte) they be such kinde of people: as it is
but labour lost to heare, even the very best ex-
ploits they doe, when they be most awake, and la-
bour most to shew their best. Wherfore we must
not trouble men with so base and absurde matter
as dreames bee: especially suche foolishe things,
as most times men have. Albeit I have heard say
many times, that wisemen in times past, have leaft
in their bookes many sortes of dreames, contein-
ing matters of deepe knowledge and understand-
ing: it followeth not yet, that wee, the unlearned
and common sorte of people, should use it in our
familiar and common talke. And sure of all the
dreames that ever I heard (albeit I hardly listen
to any) in my conceit, I never heard any, that
was worth the hearing but one alone, which the
good Master Flaminio Tomarozzo a gentleman of
Rome did see, a man not unlearned and grosse:
but full of knowledge and singular witte. And thus
was his dreame,This gentleman Master Flaminio
Tomarozzo, thought he was sitting in a very riche
Apothecaries shop, a neere neighbour of his. And
after he had bin there a while (what soever the
occasion was) the people were up in a rore one a
sodaine, and fell to spoiling of all that was in the
shoppe. One tooke an Elecftuarie, another a Con-
fection, some one thing, some another, and pres-
40

ently eate it upp all: So that within a while, there Of Man-
was neither virell glasse, ertherne pot, wodden ners and
boxe,noranypotelsofdrugges,thatwasnotemp- Behav-
tied broken, or overthrowne. But amongest them loci's
all, ther was one verye small glasse,full to the toppe
of verie cleare water, which many did smell to, but
no man would taste. He stoode not there long, but
there came in a tall man, an aged and very grave
man, to look unto. This Aged father beholding this
unfortunate Apothecaries boxes and pottes, and
finding some emptied, some overthrowne, and the
better parte broken: At lenght casting his eye
aside, he chaunced to see the smal glasse I spake
of before, and setting the same to his mouthe,hee
dranke it up so cleane: that he leaft not one droppe.
And this doone, he went* from thence as the rest
did before. Master Flaminio was abashed and mar-
veled muche at this matter. And therefore turning
to the Apothecarie he saied unto him: Sir, whoe
is this that came laste? and why did he drinke up
so savourly , all the water in that litle glasse, which
all the reast refused. To whome the Apothecarie
seemed to make this auns wer. My sonne, this is the
Lord God. And the water, that hee alone dranke,
and all the reast refused and would not taste as
you saw: was discretion: which, you know wel
ynough men will not taste of, by any meanes.
Such kind of dreames, I hould well a man may re-
hearse, and heare with much pleasure and profit.
Bycause they doe more resemble, the Cogitations

41

Galateo & thoughts of an awakened minde: or better, I
shoulde say, the vertue sensitive: then the vis-
ions and sights of a drowsie head. But those other
dreames, without shape, fashion or sense: (which
the moste parte of suche men as we are, bee
wont to have) would be forgotten cleane, and lost
with our sleepe. Howbeit, I doe not deny but the
dreames of good men and learned, be better and
wiser than theires of the wicked and more un-
learned sorte.

And albeit a man would weene, there can bee
nothing in the worlde more vaine then Dreames:
yet there is one thing more light then they, and
that are Lies. For there is yet some shadowe, and,
as it were, a certaine feeling of that which a man
hath seene in his dreame. But there is neither shad-
owe norbodyeof atruethin a lie. And therforewe
should lesse busie mens eares, and their mindes
to harken to lies, then to dreames, because they
bee otherwhile received for truethes. But time, in
the ende, discovers suche pelfe: that Hers, not only
doe gaine no credite, but no man vouchesafes to
harken unto them, in otherwise (as the men tliat
carry no substaunce in their woordes) then if they
had saide nothing or blowne a litle winde. And
you shal understand, ther be many y* use to lie,
not minding any ill purpose in it, or to make their
owne peculiar profFit by it, to hurt other men or
shame their neighbour: onely they doe it, for a
pleasure they take to tell a lie: as men that drinke
42

not, all for thirst: but for a pleasure they take, to Of Man-
taste of the wine. Other some doe tell lies, to make ners and
a vaine glorious boasting of them selves: vaunt- Behav-
ing and telling in a bravery, what wonderfull ex- ^o^^s
ploits they have doone, or bearing men in hand,
they be greate docftours and learned men.

In Silence too, after a sorte, without speache, a
man may tell a lesinge: I meane with his gestures
and grace: as some you shall see, that being of
meane, or rather base condition and calling, use
suche a solemnitie in all their doings, and marche
so stately, and speake with suche a prerogative,
or rather discourse like Parleament men, setteling
them selves, as it were, in a place of Judgement,
proudly prying about them like Peacockes: that
it is a very death to behold them.

And some suche you shall finde, that allthough
they bee combered with no more wealthe then
easily serves their turne: yet will they never ap-
peare unles their neckes be laden with chaines,
their fingers full of rings, their cappes beset with
agletts, and every other parte bespangled, as
though they would defie y® K^ing of Castiglio.
Whose behaviours be full of follies and vaine glo-
rie, which cometh of pride, growing of vanitie it
selfe. So that wee must eschew these faults, as
foule and unseemely things. You shall understand,
in many Cities, and those of the best, the lawes doe
not suffer, that riche men should go muche more
gorgeously attired, then the poore. For poore men

43

Galateo thinke they have a wrong: when men seeme,but
in countenaunce alone, as it were Imperiously
to reigne over them. So that we must carefully
beware we fall not into these follies.

Neither must a man boaste of his Nobilitie, his
Honour or riches: muche lesse vaunt of his witt,
or gloriously reherse to much of his deedes 6c val-
iant Acftes, or what his Auncestors have done, nor
uppon every occasion, fall in rehersall of suche
thinges, as many men doe. For in suche case, a
man would weene, they seeke, either to contend
with the Company, (if they be, or will take uppon
them to bee, as good Gentlemen, & of as muche
wealthe and worthines, as they bee:) or elles to
overcrowe them, (if they live in meaner condi-
tion and calling, then they doe) And as it were to
upbraide them, their poore and base condition of
life.

A man must neither embase, nor exalte him selfe
to muche out of measure: but rather bury in si-
lence some parte of his merits, then arrogate to
muche unto him.Bycause Goodnes it selfe, when
it excedeth muche, is ever envide of some. And
you may be sure, they that embase them selves
thus beyond measure, refusing that worship and
honour that is but duely their owne of very right:
shewe more pride in this contempte, then they
that usurpe those things, that are not so due unto
them. So y^ a man perchaunce, might saye, Giotto
hath not deserved those Commendations y* some
44

beleve, in y* he refused to be called Master: be- Of Man-
ing not only a master but without doubt a singu- ners and
lar and cunning master in his art in those dayes. Behav-
But be it blame, or praise y^ he deserved: it is loci's
most sure, he that refuseth that which every man
els doth hunt for: sheweththerin,he reproveth or
contemneth the common opinion of men. And,
to contemne the honour & renowne, which other
men gape for so much, is but to glorie and mag-
nifie him selfe above other. For asmuche as there
is no man (without he be mad) will refuse and
rejecft things that be deare and of price: unles
hee be suche, as hathe plenty and store of those
deare and deintie things.

Wee must not boast of those good things that
be in us, nor set them to light: for in y^ one, wee
doe upbraide men their faults : In the other, wee
scorne to muche their vertues. But it behoveth
every man to speake his owne praise, as litle as
hee may. And if occasion drive him unto it: it
shalbe good, modestly to speake the truethe, as
I have told you before.

And therefore, they that desire to doe men a
pleasure: must needes leave one faulte, y^ is
to common with all men: they must not shewe
them selves so afraide and fearefull to speake
their mindes, when a man dothe aske their advise.
For, it is a deadly paine to here them, & specialy
ff they be men, in y^ judge ment of y® world, of
good understanding and wisedome. What a fetch-

4^

Galateo ing about is this, ere they come to y® mater? Sir I
beseche you pardon mee, if I doe not say well. I
will speake like a gros man as I am: & grosly ac-
cording to my pore skil. And Sir, I am sure you will
but mocke me for it. But yet, to obey you: & they
drawe their words forth so long, & put them selves
to suche paine: y\ while these ceremonies be a
doing, y^ hardest question y* is, might have bin
determined with fewer words and shorter time:
bycause they cannot get out of these protesta-
tions, when they bee in.

They bee also very tedious to men, and their
conversation & maners are very troublesome:
whoe shewe too base and abjecft a minde in
their doings. And where the chefest and highest
place, is apparantly due unto them: they will ever
creepe downe to the lowest. And it is a spitefull
buisines to thrust them up: For they will straite
jogge backe againe, like a resty jade, or a Nagge
that startleth a side at his shadowe. So that, there
is muche a dooe w* them, when wee meete at a
doore. For they will not (for all you can dooe) in
any case enter before you, but so traverse their
ground, go backe, and so fray and defend with
their armes and their handes: that at every thirde
steppe, a man must be ready to wage battel!
with them: and thus they breake of, all solace and
pleasure,andotherwhile, the buisines they meete
aboute.

And therfore, Ceremonies, which wee name, as
46

you heare, by a straunge terme, as lacking a worde Of Man-
of our owne,bycause our elders, having no know- ners and
ledge of those superstitious fashions, coulde not Behav-
well give them a proper name. Ceremonies, I ^^^^^
saye, (in my Judgement,) differ not much from
lies 6c dreames, for their own very vainesse it
selfe. So that wee may couple and joine them to-
gether in this our treatise, sithe occasion serves so
fitt to speake of them here. As a good man hath
often shewed me: those solemnities that church
men doe use at their Altars, and in their divine ser-
vice bothe to God and his holy things, are prop-
erly called Ceremonies : but after, men did begin,
to reverence eche other with curious entertaine-
ments,more then were convenient, and would be
called masters and Lords, amongest them selves,
yealding bending, and bowing their bodies, in to-
ken of reverence one to another, uncovering their
heads, using highe titles and Styles of honour, and
kissing their hands as if they were hollye things:
some body, by like considering all these things
well, and finding these newe founde curious fol-
lies without any name: thought good to Christen
and call them Ceremonies, but sure in a jest as I
take it: as to be mery and make good cheare, we
terme it in sport, a triumph: which custome, no
doubt, tooke not his being at us, but elles where,
as barbarous & straunge: and not long since, from
whence I knowe not, transported into Italie: whose
deedes being wretched, and eifecfts base and vile.

47

Galateo hath gotten encrease and honor, in vaine woords
alone, and superfluous titles.

Ceremonies then, if we consider well their in-
tents that use them: are but vaine shewes of hon-
our and reverence, towardes him to whome they
be doone: framed of semblance and wordes touch-
ing their titles and courtious offers. I say vaine: In
that we honour men to their face, whome we rev-
erence not in deede, but otherwhile contemne.
And nevertheles, because we may not go against
custome, wee give them these titles : The most
honorable Lord suche a one : the Noble Lord suche
a one. And so otherwhile wee offer them our hum-
ble service: whome wee could better unserve then
serve, & commaund then doe them any duety.

Then not Lesinges alone, but also Treacheries
and Treasons, shalbe called Ceremonies. But be-
cause these wordes and these titles above re-
hersed, have lost their strength: and waste, (as a
man may say of Iron) their temper, w^ such con-
tinuall occupying of it as it we doe use: we must
not so precisely way them as other words, nor so
strictly construe the meaning of them. And, that
this is true, that which allwayes happens to all
men, dothe shewe it plaine inoughe. For if wee
meete with a man, we never sawe before: with
whome, uppon some occasion, it behoves us to
talke: without examining wel his worthines, most
commonly, that wee may not offend in to litle, we
give him to much, and call him Gentleman, and
48

otherwhile Sir, althoughe he be but some Souter Of Man-
or Barbar, or other suchestufFe: and all bycause he ners and
is appareled neate, somewhat gentleman like. Behav-

And as men in times past, were wont to have lo^rs
under the Privilege of the Pope & Emperour, pe-
culiar & distincft titles of honour, which might not
be untouched, without doing wrong to the privi-
leged men : nor againe attributed & geven without
a scorne, to them that were no such privileged per-
sones : So at this daye, wee must more freely use
those titles, and the other significations of honour,
like to those titles: bycause Custome the mightiest
Lorde, hathe largely therewith, privileged men
of our time.

This use and custome, then so faire and gallant
without, is altogether vaine within, and consisteth
in semblance without effecft, & in wordes without
meaning. But this notwithstanding, it is not law-
ful for us to chaunge it : but rather, bycause it is not
our fault, but the fault of our time, wee are bounde
to followe it: but yet wee must discretely doe it.

So that wee are to noate, that Ceremonies are
used, either for a Profit, or for a Vanitie, or for a
Duetie. And every lie that is told for a mans pri-
vate profit: is a deceite, a sinne, and a dishonest
parte: for, in what so ever it bee, A man can
never honestly lie. ,

And this is a common fault with flatterers, that
counterfet them selves to be our friendes, and
apply them selves ever to our desiers, what so-

49

Galateo ever they be: not by cause wee would have it so,
but to the ende wee should doe them some plea-
sure, for it. And this is not to please us, but to
deceive us. And albeit this kind of fault be, per-
ad venture, by reason of custome sufferable: yet
notwithstanding bycause of it selfe,it is fowleand
hurtefull,it ill becomes a gentle man to doe it. For
it is no honestie to seeke a pleasure by the hurt
of another. And if lies and false flatteries, may bee
termed Ceremonies (as I have saide before:) so oft,
as we use them for respecft of our gain & profit:
so oft wee doe hazard our good name and cred-
ite: so that this consideration alone, might move
us well to leave all Ceremonies, and use them no
more.

It resteth now that I speake of those y* bee done
of Dutie, and of those that be done of a Vainesse.
As touching y® first, We must not leave them un-
done in any wise. For he that faileth to doe them,
dothe not onely displease, but doth a wrong to
him, to whome they be due. And many times it
chauncethy* men come to daggers drawing, even
for this occasion alone, that one man hath not
done the other, that worship and honour uppon the
way, that he ought. For to saye a trueth The power
of custome is great & of much force, (as I said) and
would be taken for a lawe, in these cases. And that
is the cause we say: You: to every one, that is not
a man of very base calling, and in suche kinde of
speach wee yealde such a one, no maner of cour-
30

tesie of our owne. But if wee say : Thou : to suche Of Man-
a one, then wee disgrace him and offer him out- ners and
rage and wronger and by suche speach, seeme to Behav-
make no better reconing of him, then of a knave lo^^s
and a clowne.

And although the times past, and other coun-
tries, have used other maners: let us yet, keepe
ourselves to our owne: And let not us dispute the
matter, which is thebetter of twaine. For wee must
observe, not those, that we Judge in our owne con-
ceits to be good: but suche, as be currant by cus-
tome, & used in our owne time: as lawes, which
we be bound to keepe, thoughe they be not all
of the best, till suche time, as the magistrates, the
Prince, or they that have power to amend them,
have chaunged them to better.

So that It behoves us, hedefully to marke the
doings and speache, wherewith daily pracftise and
custome, wonteth to receave, salute, & name in
our owne country, all sortes and kinds of people,
and in all our familiar communication with men,
let us use the same. And notwithstanding the Ad-
merall (as perad venture the maner of his time was
suche) in his talke with Peter the King of Ara-
gon, did many times : Thou him : Let us yet saye
to our King: Your majestie: and your highnes:
aswell in speache as in writing. And if they have
followed the use of their time: then let not us
breake the fashions of ours. And these doe I call
Duetifull Ceremonies, bycause they proceede

Galateo not, as we would, or of our owne free willes : but
are laide uppon us by the Lawes: I meane. Com-
mon custome.

And in suche things, as carry no evill rheaning
in them, but rather some face of courtesie: reason
would and commaundeth, we shoulde rather ob-
serve common Custome, then dispute and lay the
lawe for them.

And albeit, to kisse in shewe of reverence, of
very right appertaineth to the reliques of Saints
and there holy matters : yet if it bee the maner
of your country, at parting, to say: Signori, lo vi
bascio la mano. Or: lo son vostro servidore: Or
els: vostro schiavo in catena: you must not dis-
daine it, more then other. But, In farewelles and
writings, you must salute and take leave, not as
reason, but as custome will have you: and not as
men wont in times past, or should doe: but as men
use at this day: for it is a chorlishe maner to say:
What greate gentleman is he I pray you, that I
must master him: Or: is he becom master parson,
that I must kisse his hands? for he that is wont to
be (Sird) and likewise (Sirreth) other: may thinke
you disdaine him, and use some outrage unto him,
when you call him to his face, by his bare name,
and give him no addition.

And these termes of Seignory , service, & duetye,

and such other like unto these, as I have saide:

have lost a greate parte of their harshnes,and (as

hearbes long steepte in the water) are sweetened,

51

and made softe and tender, by reason of muche Of Man-
speache in mens mouthes, and continuall use to ners and
speake them. So that we must not abhorre them, Behav-
as some rude and rusticall fellowes, full of foolishe iours
simplicitie, doe: that would faine beginnethe let-
ters we write to Kinges and Emperours after this
sort, vz. If thou and thy children be in healthe it is
well: I am also in healthe: saying, that suche was
the beginning of the letters, the Latins did write
to the magistrates of Rome. If men should live
by their measure, and go backe to those fashions
and maners, our first fathers did use: the worlde
then by litle and litle, would come so about, that
we should feede uppon acornes againe.

And in these Duetifull Ceremonies, there be
also certain rules and precepts, we must observe:
that wee may not bee touched w^ Vainesse and
Pride. And firstof all, wee must consider the coun-
try where wee doe live. For all customes be not
currant a like in all countreys. And peradventure
that which they use in Naples, which is a Citye
replenished with gentlemen, of good houses, and
Lordes of greate power, were not so fitte for Flor-
ens and Luke: Which are inhabited, for the most
part, with Merchants and plaine gentlemen, with-
out any Prince, Marques, or Barone amongest
them. So that the brave and Lordelike manners
of the gentlemen of Naples transported to Flor-
ence: should be but waste, and more thenneedes:
like a tall mans gowne cast over a dwarfe: as also

^3

Galateo the manners of Florence shoulde be to pinchinge
and straite, for the Npble natures and mindes of
the gentlemen of Naples. And although the gen-
tlemen of Venice use great embracings and en-
tertainementes amongst themselves, and fawne
without measure the one on the other, by reason
of their offices, degrees and favours they looke to
finde when they meete and assemble to choose
their officers: yet for all this, it is not convenient,
that the good men of Rouigo, or the Citizens of
Asolo, should use the like solemnities, embrace-
ings and entertainements one to another, have-
ing no such kinde of cause amongst them: Albeit
all that same countrie (if I bee not deceived) is
falne a litle, into these kinde of follies, as over care-
lesseand apt inough by nature, or rather learning
those maners of Venice their Lady and Mistris:
because Everie man gladly seeketh to tread the
steps of his better: although there be no reason
for it.

Moreover we must have a regarde to the time, to
the age, and the condition of him, to whom we use
these ceremonies, and likewise respecfl our owne
calling: and with men of credite maintaine them:
but w^ men of small account cut them of cleane,
or at least, abridge them as muche as wee may, &
rather give them a becke then a due garde : Which
the courtiers in Rome can very well skill to doe.

But in some cases these Ceremonies be very
combersome to a mans busines, and very tedious :

as "Cover your head,"sayes the judge, yMs busied Of Man-
w^ causes, and is scanted of time to dispatche ners and
them. And this fellow so full of these Ceremo- Behav-
nies, after a number of legges and shuflinge cur- ^otirs
tesis, aunswers againe: "Sir I am very well thus."
But sayes the Judge againe, "Cover your head I
say." Yet this good fellow tourning twise or thrise
to&fro, making lowecongesdowne to thegrounde
w* muche reverence and humilitie, aunswers him,
still: " I beseache your worship, let me doe my due-
tie." This busines and trouble lastethso long, & so
muche time is trifled : that the Judge might very
nere have dispatched all his busines within that
space. Then, although it be every honest mans
parte, and the duety of every meaner body, to
honour the Judges, and men y* be called to wor-
ship & honour: yet, where time will not beare it:
it is a very troublesome thing to use it, and it must
be eschewed, or measured with reason.

Neither be y® self same Ceremonies semely for "
young men, respecfling their Age: y^ ould men
doe use together. Nor yet can it becom men of
meane and base condition, to use the very same,
y* gentlemen & greate men may use one to an-
other. And if wee marke it wellt we shall find, y*
the greatest, y^ best men, & men of most valour,
doe not alwayes use y® most Ceremonies them
selves, nor yet love nor looke a man should make
many goodly curtsies unto them, as men that can
ill spend* their thoughts one matters so vaine.

55

Galateo Neither must handy crafts men, nor men of base
condition, buisie them selves to much, in over sol-
emne Ceremonies togreatemen,and Lordes: it is
not lookt for in suche. For they disdaine them,more
then allowe them: because it seemes that in such,
they seeke, 6c looke, rather for obedience and due-
tie, then honour. And therefore it is a foule faulte
in a servaunt, to offer his master his service: for he
counts it his shame, 6c he thinks the servant doth
make a doubt, whether he is master or no; as if
it were not in him to imploy him, 6c commaund
him too. These kinde of Ceremonies would be
used frankely. For, What a man dothe of duetie,
is taken for a debte, and hee finds him selfe litle
beholding to him that doth it. But he that dothe
more then he is bound to: it seems he parteth
with somewhat, and that makes men to love him,
and to commende him for a liberall man. And I
remember mee well, I have hearde it saide, that
a worthy Graecian a greate versifier, was ever
wont to saye: that He that could skill to enter-
taine men with a small adventure, made a greate
gaine.

You shall then use youre Ceremonies, as the
tailer shapes his garments, rather to large then to
litle: but yet not so, that hee cutteth one hose
large inoughto make a cloke. And if thou doe use
in this point, some litle gentle behaviour, to suche
as be meaner then thy selfe: thou shalt be counted
lowly. And if thou doe asmuche to thy betters:
J6

thou shalt bee saide a Gentleman well taught,and Of Man-
courtious. But hee that dothe herin to muche, and ners and
is over lavishe, shalbe blamed as vaine and light: Behav-
and perhaps worse thought oftoo: counted a busie loui's
body, a fidging fellowe, and in wise mens sight, a
flatterer: which vice, our elders have called, (if I
doe not forget me) dowble diligence. And there is
no faulte in the worlde, more to bee abhorred, or y*
worsse beseemes a gentleman, then this. And this
is the thirde maner of Ceremonies, which simply
procedeth of our owne will, and not of custome.

Let us then remember, that Ceremonies, (as I
have alwayes said) were not so necessarie by na-
ture, but a man might doe well inough without
them: As for example, our countrie lived (it is not
long since) in maner cleane without any. But other
mens diseases have infecfted us, with these infirm-
ities and many mo. So that, custome and use ob-
served: the rest that is more, is but waste: and such
a sufFerable leesing, as if it be more in deede then
is in use, it is not only unsufFerable, but forbidden:
and so uppon, the matter, a cold and unsavourie
thing to noble mindes, that cannot brouse uppon
shrubbes and shewes.

And you shall understand , that trusting my owne
skill but little, in writing this present treatise: I
thought good to consult with many, and to take
the Judgement of better learned men then my
selfe. And this in my reading I fmde. There was
a King, they call him Oedipus: being banished

57

Galateo and driven out of his countrie (uppon what oc-
casion I know not) he fled to King Theseus at
Athens, the better to save him selfe and his life,
from his enemies, that mainely pursued him. This
Oedipus now comming before the presence of
Theseus, by good chaunce hearing his daughter
speake, (whome he knew by her voice, for he was
blind and could not beholde her with his eyes) he
was so presently striken with joy, that, not tary-
ing to doe his allegeaunce and duetie to the King,
he did presently embrace, & make much of his
daughter before him: his fatherly afFecftion so led
him, and rulde him so. But in the end finding his
fault, and better advising himselfe of his doings :
he would needs excuse it to Theseus, & humbly
prayd his grace to pardon his folly. The good and
wise King, cut of his talke, and bad him leave his
excuses, and thus saide unto him: Comfort thy
selfe, Oedipus, and bee not dismayd at that thou
hast done. For I will not have my life honoured
with other mens woordes, but with my owne
deedes. Which sentence a man should have al-
wayes in mind.

And albeit men be well pleased, that men doe
give them worship & honour: yet when they
find them selves cuningly courted, they be soone
weary of it, and also disdaine it. For these glaver-
ings, or flatteries I should say, to amend their knav-
eries & falsehoodes, have this fault withall: that
these glavering fellowes doe plainly shewe, they
J8

count him, whome they court in this sorte, but a Of Man-
vaine,and arrogant bodie, an asse of grose capa- ners and
citie, and so simple, y^ it should be an easie matter Behav-
to baite him and take him too. And these V^ine lours
and Curious Ceremonies, besides that they be
superfluous : they beare with all a shape of flat-
tery, so slenderly covered, that every man doth
openly see them, and know themplaine: insuche
sorte, that they that doe them, to the end to make
a gaine, besides that ill that is in them, wherof
I spake before: shewe them selves also, gentle-
men ill taught, without good maner or any honest
fashion.

But there is another sorte of Ceremonious peo-
ple, who make it an arte and merchandise, and
keepe a booke and a reconing of it. One these
men (they say) they must smile, on such men they
must laughe: and y® better man shall sit in the
chair, and the other uppon a lowe stoole : which
superstitious Ceremonies, I beleve, were trans-
ported out of Spaine into Italie. But our country,
hath geven them but colde entertainement, and
as yet they have taken but slender roote here:
for this precise difference of worship, and gentry,
is not liked of, with us. And therefore it is but ill
maner, for a man to make him selfe Judge, which
is the better man.

But it is much worse for a man to make a sale
of his Ceremonies and entertainments, (after y®
maner of harlots) as I have seene many gentle- -

^9

Galateo men doe in the court, geving good wordes and
faire countenaunces for a rewarde and recom-
pence, of the goods and the time, their servaunts
have spent in their service.

And sure they that take a pleasure to use over
^ many Ceremonies, more then neede: shewe they
doe it uppon a lustines and bravery, as men that
have nothing elles in them of any valour.

And bycause these follies are learned w^ ease
inough, and carry withall a litle faire glose in
shewe: they bestowe all their whole mindes none
other waye.But grave matters they can not abide
to weelde, as things to farre above their reache:
and coulde finde in their harts to dwell in these
toyes and trifles, as men whose capacitieconceiv-
eth nought of Importaunce: like tender milkesops
that can beare no brunt: or that, beside a glorious
outside, have not mettall inough in them to abide
aflea biting. And therfore, they could wishe it were
so: that these entertainments and acquaintance
with men, should go no further then the first sight.
And of these there bee an infinite number.

And some againe be to full of words, and abound
to muche in curtious gestures to cover and hide the
defecfts and faults of their treacheries, and their vile
& base natures: For they see, if they should be as
baren & rude in their woords, as they be in their
deeds & their doings, men would in no case abide
them. And to saye a trueth, yow shall finde y* one
of these two causes, drawe most men one, to use
60

these wast and needles Ceremonies, and nothing Of Man-
els: which lightly most men cannot away with- ners and
all, bycause they be hindered by them, & their Behav-
meanes, to live as they would, and lose their lib- loci's
ertie: whiche a man dothe preferre above any-
thing ells.

Wee must not speake ill of other men, nor of their
doings: althoughe it plainely appere, that men
do willingly lend good eare to heare it, as easily
moved therto, by y^ nature of malice and envy,
that pines at our Neighbours prosperity and ris-
ing to worship & honour : for at length men will es-
chewe the acquaintaunce of Slaunderous people,
as much as they shunne the Oxe, y^ goreth with his
horns, or strikes w* his feete: making their recon-
ing, that what they tell them of us, asmuche they
will tell us, of them.

And some ther be, that so quarel at every word,
question, and wrangle, that they shew they have
litle skill in other mens natures : for. Every man de-
sireth the vicftory should go one his side: and hates
it asmuche, to be mastered in words, as to be van-
quished in any other acfte that he dothe. Soy*, will-
fully to overthwart a man, it workethe no Love
and good will: but rather displeasure, rancoure
and malice. And therfore, he that sekes to be well
thought of, and would be taken for a pleasaunt and
good Companion, must not so redily use these
speaches: It was not so : And, Nay: it is as I tell you.
I wil lay a wager with you: But he must rather take

6i

Galateo pains, to apply himself to other mens minds con-
cerning such things, as have matter of small im-
portaunce: By cause the vicflorye,in such cases, is
daungerous: for, the gaininge the cause, in trifling
*questions,dooth often loosetheLoveof afaithfull
friend. And men are so farre out of love & liking,
of such hot fellowes: that they will by no meanes
growe acquainted with suche, least they be driven
every hower to bralle,to chide, and to fighte with
them for it. And suche kinde of people doe pur-
chase these names: Maister Uniciguerra: Or, Sir
Contraponi: Or, Sir Tuttesalle: And sometime: il
Dottor suttile.

And if you chaunce otherwhile, to be intreated
ofthecompanytospeake your mind: I would have
you doe it after a gentle sort, without shewing your
selfe so greedie to carry the bucklers away, as if
you would eate them up for haste. But you must
Leave to every man his parte: And bee it right or
wronge, consent to the minds of the most, or the
most importunate: and so leave the fielde unto
them : that some other, and not your selfe, may
beate and sweat, and chace in the winning of the
cause. For these quarelous contentions, bee foule
and ill favoured fashions for gentlemen to use:
and they get them ill will and displeasure of all
men for it: and they bee uncomely for their owne
unseemelines, which of it selfe offendeth every
good honest minde, as it may chaunce you shall
heare hereafter.
61

But the common fault of men is such, and eche Of Man-
man is so infedled with this selfe love and liking ners and
of him selfe: that he hath no respecft or care to Behav-
please any man ells. lours

And to shewe them selves fine headed, of muche
understanding, and wise: they counsell, reprove,
dispute,and braIle,to daggers drawing,and allowe
nothing els but that they say them selves.

To offer advise, unrequested : what is it els but to
vaunt youre selfe wiser then he is, whom you do
counsell : nay rather it is a plaine checke to him,
for his Ignoraunce and folly. And therfore, you
must not do so, with all your acquaintance gen-
erally: but only with your very friendes, or suche
whom you are to governe & rule: or els, when
a man hapely standes in daunger & perill, how
muche a straunger so ever he be. But in our com-
mon Acquaintance and conversation, Let us not
busy our selves, and medle to muche with other
mens doings. In which fault many doe fall: but
most of all, the men of least understanding. For,
Men of grose capacities consider but litle: And they
take no longe time to debate with them selves,
as men that have litle busines to doe.

But how so ever it be,hee that offereth and gev-
ethhis counsell : geves us to thinke, hee hathe this
conceite of him selfe: that all the witt is in him,
and other poore men have none at all.

And sure there bee some, that stand so muche in
conceite of their wit: that they will be in maner,

63

Galateo at warres, with him, that wil not follow the coun-
sell they give them. And thus they will say. "Very
well: a poore mans counsell will not be taken:
suche a one will doe as he list: suche a one geves
no heede to my wordes." As though there were
not more Arrogancie in thee, that sekest to bring
a man to followe thy Counsell: then there is in
him, that followes his owne advise.

And they doe also make the like fault, y* take
uppon them to reprove and correcft mens faults,
and to geve a definite sentence in all things, and
lay the lawe to all men. "Suche a thing would not
be done: You spake suche woordes : Doe not so: say
not so: The wine that you drinke is not good for
you: it would be red wine. You should use suche
an Elecftuarie, and suche pilles:" And they never
leave to reprove and correcft. And let us passe
that over, that otherwhile, they busy them selves
so much, to purge other mens grounds : that their
owne is overgrowen, and full of thornes and net-
tles. For it is a mervailous paine unto them, to
heare one that side.

And as there be few or none, whose minds can
frame, to spend their life with a Physition, a Con-
fessour, and muche lesse a Judge that hath juris-
dicftion and power to controwle and correcft all
criminall faultes : so is ther not one, that can take
any pleasure to live, or make himself familiar with
suche Censors : so hard, and severe. For, every man
loveth liberty e : and they woulde robbe us of it, and
64

get to be our masters. So that it is no good manner
to be so redie to corecft and give rules unto men:
we must geve Scholemasters and Fathers leave
to do that. And yet that notwithstanding, experi-
ence doth shewe, the childeren and scholers both,
do often hide them selves from them, you see.

I doe not allow, that a man should scorne or scoffe
at any man, what so ever he be: no not his very
enimy, what displeasure so ever he beare him: for,
it is a greater signe of contempt and disdaine, to
scorne a man,then to do him an open wrong: for-
asmuch as wrongs may be done, either of choler,
or of som covetous minde or other. Andther is no
man will take a displeasure with that, or for that,
he doth not set by: nor yet covet that thing, he
doth altogether contemne. So that, a man doth
make some accompt of him he dothe wronge: but
of him that he scoffes and scornes, he makes no
reconing at all, or as litle as may be.

And the Nature and effecfl of a scorne, is prop-
erly to take a contentation and pleasure to do an-
other man shame and villany: thoughe it do our
selves no good in the world. So that, good maner
& honesty, would us beware we scorne no man in
any case: wherin they be much to be blamed, that
reprove men those blemishes they have in their
person, either in woords, as Master Forese da Ra-
batta did, laughing at the countenaunce of Master
Giotta: or in deeds, as many doe, counterfeting
those that stutter, haulte, or be crookte shoulderd.

65

Of Man-
ners and
Behav-

iours

Galateo And likewise, they that scofFe at any man, that is
deformed, ill shapen, leane, litle, or a dwarfe, ar
much to be blamed for it: or, that make a gibing
and jesting at such follies as another man speak-
eth, or the woordes that escape him by chaunce:
and with all, have a sporte and a pleasure to make
a man blush: all these spitefull behaviours and
fashions, worthely deserve to be hated, and make
them that use them, unworthy to beare the name
of an honest gentleman.

And such as use to jest at a man,be very like unto
these: I meane them that have a good sport to
mocke and beguile men, notin spite or scorne, but
on a meriment alone. And you shall understand.
There is no difference betweene a scorne and a
mocke : but the purpose alone and intent a man
hath, in the meaning the one or the other. For a
man mockes and laughes otherwhile, in a sport
and a pastime: but his scorne is ever in a rage and
disdaine. Although in common speache and writ-
ing, wee take the one woorde sometime for the
other. But He that doth scorne a man : feeleth a
contentation in the shame he hath done him: And
hee that dothe mocke, or but laughe: taketh no
contentation in that he hath done: but a sport, to
be merry & passe the time away: where it would
be, both a greefe and a sorrow, perchaunce, unto
him, to see that man receave any shame, by any
thing he said or did unto him.

And althoughe I profited litle, in my Grammar
6G

in my youthe; yet I remember that Mitio, who
loved Aeschines so muche, that he him selfe had
wonder at it; yet other while, toke a sporte 6c a
pleasure to mocke him : as when he said to him
selfe: I will go to give him a mocke: so that, I must
inferre,that the selfe same thing, done to the very
selfe same body: according to the intent of him
that doth it, may be either a mocke or scorne.

And bycause our purpose, cannot be plainely
knowne unto other men: it shall not be good for
us to use such parts, as bring men in doubt and
suspicion, what our intent and meaning is in them:
but rather let us eschewe them, then seeke to be
counted Jesters. For, It many times chaunceth, in
boording and Jesting, one tackes in sporte, the
other strikes againe in earnest: & thus from play-
ing, they come to fraying. So, he that is familiarly
mockteinpastime,reconsit,otherwhile,tobedone
to his shame & dishonour, and therat he takes a
disdaine. Besides this, A mocke is no better, then
adeceite. And naturally, it greveth every man to
erre and be deceived. So that, many Reasons ther
be to prove. That He that seekes to purchase good-
will, and be well thought of: must not make him
selfe to cunning in mockes and Jestes.

It is very true, we are not able, in no wise, to
leade this paineful life, altogether without some
pleasure and solace: And bycause Jestes do geve
us some sporte, and make us merry, and so con-
sequently refreash our spirits: we love them that

67

Of Man-
ners and
Behav-
iours

Galateo be pleasaunt, merry conceited, and full of solace.
So that a body would thinke, I should rather per-
suade the contrarie: I meane, I shoulde say: It is
convenient and meete in company, to use prety
mockes, and otherwhile some Jestes and taunts.
And without doubt, they that can stint after a
friendly and gentle sort, be muche more made
of, and better beloved then they that cannot skill
or have no wit to doe it. Howbeit, it is needeful in
this, to have a respedl to many things.

And forasmuche as it is the intent of him that
doth Jest: to make a sport and pastime at his
faulte, whome he doth love and esteeme, and of
whom he doth make more then a common ac-
count: it must be well lookte to, that the fault,
wherin his friend hath fallen, be suche,as he may
sustaine no slaunder or shame, or any harme by
any talke or Jeste he makes uppon it: otherwise,
his skil doth ill serve him, to make a good dif-
ference betweene a pleasaunt Jest, and a very
plaine wronge.

And there be some men, so short & so testy,
that you must, in no wise, be merry, nor use any
jesting with them. And that can Biondello well
tell, by Maister Philippo Argenti in the gallery of
Caviccioli.

And moreover, It cannot be good to jeaste in

matters of weite, and muche lesse in matters of

shame. For,men will weene that wee have a good

sporte (as the common saying is) to bragge and

68

boast in our evill: as it is said, the Lady Philippe Of Man-
of Prato, took a singular pleasure and contenta- ners and
tion in the pleasaunt & prety aunswer she made, Behav-
to excuse her loose and wanton life. And there- lours
fore, I cannot thinke that Lupo of Uberti did any
thing extenuat or lessen his shame: but rather in-
creaste it greater, by the Jeste that hee made to
excuse his faulte,and qualifye the opinion of his
cowardly minde. For, where he might have kept
him selfe safe without daunger in the castle of
Laterin, wherein he was besieged round about,
and shutte up : hee thought hee had plaide the
man good inoughe, in that hee could say at the
yealding it up: that "A wolfe doth not love to
be besieged and shutte up." For, where it is out of
time for to laughe, there to use any Jestes or dali-
aunce, it hath a very colde Grace.

And further,you shall understand, there be some
Jestes y* bite, & some y* bite not at all. For the first
sorte: let y^ wise counsell that Lauretta gave for
that point, suffice to teach you: That jestes must
bite the hearer like a sheepe,butnotlikea dogge.
For if it pinche, as the bite of a dogge: it shalbe no
more a jeste but a wronge. And the lawes almost
in all countries, will, that who saith any villanie
unto a man,shalbe grevously punished for it. And,
perchaunce,it were not amisse,to provide with all,
some sharp correcftion for him, that should bite in
way of jesting, beyond all honest measure. But
gentlemen should make account, that the lawe

69

Galateo that punisheth wronges, extendeth as farre to
jestes, and that they should seldome or very easily
nip or taunt any man.

And besides all this, you must understand, that
a jest, whether it bite, or bite not, if it be not fine
& full of wit, men take no pleasure at al to heare it,
but rather are wearied with it: or at least wise, if
they doe laughe, they laughe not at the jest, but at
the jester him selfe, that brings it forthe so colde.

And bycause, Jestes be no other thing but de-
ceites: and deceite (as a thing that is framed of sub-
tilenes & craft) cannot be wrought but of men,
that have fine and redy wittes, and very present:
therefore they have no grace in men that be rude,
and of grose understanding: not yet in them al-
wayes, that have the best and floweing wittes:
as, peradventure, they did not altogether become
Master John Boccaccio.

But tauntes and Jestes be a special redines and
aptnes of wit, and quicken the motions of the
minde: wherefore they that have discretion, doe
not in this point, consider their will, but their dis-
position of nature: and after they have once or
twise tried their wittes, and finde them unfit for
suche purpose: they leave to labour them selves
any further in that kind of exercise: that it may
not chaunce unto them, that hapt to the knight of
the lady Horetta. And if you looke in to the maners
of many, you shall easily see, this that I tell you is
true: I say, that To Jest or to taunt, is not currant
70

with every man that wiII,butonely with them that Of Man-
can. And there be many that for every purpose, ners and
have in their mouth redy,many of these wordes, Behav-
which wee call Bicfticcichi: that have no maner of ^o^^s
sense or meaning in them. And some, that use very
foolishly and fondly to chaunge Sillables into
woords. And some you shall heare speake and
make answer, otherwise then a man would lightly
looke for, without any wit or pleasure in the world
in their talke. And if you doe aske them, "Doue
e il signore?" they answer againe. "Doue egli ha
i piedi:"and likewise "Et gli fece unguer le mani
con le grascia di signore Giovan Boccadoro. Doue
mi manda egli? Ad Arno. lo mi voglio radere,
Sarebbe meglio rodere. Wa. chiama il Barbieri. Et
perrhe non il Barbadomani." Al which be to grose,
to rude and to stale: and such were almost, all the
pleasaunt purposes and jestes of Dioneo.

But I will not take uppon me at this time, to dis-
course of the best and the worst kinde of jestes,
what they be : as wel for that other men have writ-
ten treatises thereof much more lernedly and bet-
ter then I can: as also, by cause jestes and tauntes,
have at first sight, a large and sure proofe of their
grace or disgrace: such, as thou canst not do much
amisse in this point, w^out thou stand to much in
thy owne conceite, and think to well of thy selfe:
for where the jest is prety and pleasaunt, there a
man straite is rnerry , and shewes a liking by laugh-
ing, and makes a kinde of admiration of it. So that,

71

Galateo where the company geves foorth no liking of thy
sportes and conceites, by their mirthes and their
laughing: hould thy selfe still then, and jest no
more. For it is thy owne faulte thou must think,
and not theirs that do heare the: forasmuch as the
hearers, as it were allured, with the redie, pleas-
aunt, and subtile aunswers or questions (do what
they can, will they or nill they) cannot forbeare
their laughing, but laughe in spite of their teeth.
From whom as from our right & lawfull Judges,
wee must not appeale to our selves.

Neither must a man, to make other men merie,
speake foule and filthie wordes, nor make ilfa-
voured gestures, distorting his countenaunce, &
disfiguring his bodie: For, No man should, for other
mens pleasures, dishonest & dishonour him self.
It is an arte for a Juggler & jester to use: it doth not
become a gentleman to do so. We must not then,
imitate y^ common and rude behaviours of Dioneo.
Madonna Aldruda Alzate La coda.

Nor we must not counterfet our selves to be
fooles & unsavorie doltes: but as time & occasion
serveth, tell some pretie tale or some news, never
heard of before, he y* can: & he y^ cannot, let him
hold his peace. For, these be y® partes of y® wit:
which, if they be sodain & prety , give a proofe & a
shew of y® quicknes of y^ wit,& thegoodnesof y®
maners of him y* speakes them: which thing doth
verie much please men & makes them our lovers
& friends. But if they be otherwise, they woorke
7^

them a contrary efFecft. For, a man would weene Of Man-
the asse would play his parte: or y* some hody ners and
dody & louberly lout would friske and daunce in Behav-
his doublet. There is another pleasaunte kind of lotirs
communication, & y^ is when y® pleasure & grace
doth not consist in one merrie conceite alone, but
in long & continued talke: which would be well
disposed, wel uttered, & very wel set forth, to
shewy^ maners,y^ fashions, y^ gestures & behav-
iours of them we speke, of so properly & lively,
as y ® hearer should think that he heareth them not
rehearsed, but seeth them with his eyes do those
very things he heares them to speak of: which be
very well observed by the gentlemen and gentle-
women both, inBoccace: although yet otherwhile
(if I be not deceived) they do affecft and counter-
fet,more then is sightly for a gentleman or gentle-
woman to doe, like to these Comedie Players. And
to doe this well, you must have the matter, the tale,
or the story, you take uppon you to tell,perfedt in
your minde : and woordes so redy and fit, that you
neede not say in the end: "That thing, and tother
thing: This man, what doe you call him : That mat-
ter, helpe me to terme it: "And," remember what
his name is." For this is just the trot of the knight
of the Lady Horetta. And if you doe reherse any
chaunce, in which there be many speakers: you
must not say, "He said and he aunswered:" by-
cause this worde (He) serveth for all men. So that
the hearer that harkens unto it, is easily deceived,

7?>

Galateo and forgets whome you meane. Then, it behoves
them that discourse matters at length, to use
proper names, & not to chaunge them after.

And more over, a man must beware that he say,
not those things, which unsaide in silence would
make y^ tale pleasaunt inoughe and peradven-
ture, geve it a better grace to leave them out. As to
say thus. "Such a one, that was the sonne of such a
one, that dwelt in Cocomer streete: do you knowe
him? he maried the daughter of Gianfigliazzi,
the leane scragge, that went so much to Saint La-
raunce. No ? do not you know him ? why ? do you
not remember the goodly straight old man that
ware long haire downe to his shoulders?" For if
it were nothing materiall to the tale, whether this
chaunce befell him, or him: all this long babble,
and fond and folishe questions, were but a tale of a
Tubbe: to no purpose, more then to weary mens
eares that harken to it, and long to understand the
end. As peradventure our Dant hath made this
fault otherwhile, where he sayeth:

"And borne my parents were of yoare
in Lumbardie,
And eke of Mantuaes soile they both
by country be."

For, it was to no purpose, whether his mother
were borne at Gazuolo, or ells at Cremona.

But I lerned once of a straunger, a Rethorician
very lerned, a necessarie lesson concerning this

74

poindl: that Men must dispose and order their Of Man-
tale, first with bynames, and then rehearse them ners and
(as neede is) that be proper. For, the bynames Behav-
alwayes beare the respecft of the persones qual- lours
itie: but the other are to be used at the Fathers
discretion, or his whome they concerne.

And therfore,that bodie whome in your thought
and imagination to your selfe,you doe conceive,
might be Lady Covetousnes her selfe: in speache
you shall call Maister Erminio Grimaldi: if suche
be the common opinion, the countrie hathe of him.
And, if there be no man in place where you dwell,
so notoriously knowne as might serve the turne fit
for your purpose: you must then imagine the case
further of, and set him a name at your pleasure.
It is very true, that With muche greater pleasure
we harken and better beholde (as it were with
our eyes) what soever is told us of men of our ac-
quaintance, if the matter be suche as toucheth
their maners: then what we doe heare of straun-
gersandmenunknowneuntous. And the reason is
this: when wee doe knowe, that suche a man is
woont to doe so: we doe easily beleeve, he hathe
doone so indeede: and wee take asmuche knowe-
ledge of him, as if wee were present: where it
chaunceth not so with us, in the case of a straunger.

Our wordes (be it in longe discourses or other
communication) Must be so plaine, that all the
companie may easily understand them : and with-
all, for sounde and sense they must be apt and

75

Galateo sweete. For if you be to use, one of these two
wordes : you shall rather say, II ventre : then L Epa.
And where your country speache will beare it,
you shall rather say : La Pancia, then il Ventre : Or,
il Corpo. For, by these meanes you shalbe under-
stoode, and not misse understoode, as we Floren-
tines say, nor be darke and obscure to the hearers.
The which thing our Poet, meaning to eschewe:
in this very woorde it selfe (I beleve) sought to
finde out another,not thinking muche of his paines
(by cause it liked him wel) to seeke farre to borrow
it els where. And said:

Remember how the Lorde a man was faine to be,
For mans offence and sinne in Cloister of virginitie.

And albeit Dant the learned Poet, did litlesetby
suche kinde of rules: I doe not think yet, a man
should allow well of him in doing so. And sure, I
would not councell you to make him your Maister
in this point, to learne A Grace: forasmuche as he
him selfe had none. For, this I finde in a Chronicle
of him.

"This Dant, was somewhat proude for his know-
ledge, scornefull and disdainfull, and muche (as
Philosophers be) without any grace or courtesie:
having no skill to behave him selfe in company."

But to come to our purpose againe: I say, our
speache must be plaine: which will be easie
inough to doe: if you have wit to choose those
wordes that be naturally bred in our soile : and
7^

y

with all not so olde w^ Age, that they are be- Of Man-
come rotten and withered: and as overworneap- ners and
parell, leaft of and cast a side. As, Spaldo, and Epa, Behav-
and Vopo, and Sezzaio, & Primaio. And more- lours
over, the wordes you shall use, must have no dou-
ble understanding, but simple. For by coupling
suche wordes together: wee frame that speache
that is called Aenigma. And to speake it plainer
in our owne language, we call it Gergo. As in this
verse:

lo vidi un che da sette passatoi
Fu da un canto all' altro trapassato.

Againe, our wordes would be, (as nere as they
might be) aptly and properly applied to that thing
we go about to deliver, & as litle as may be, com-
mon to other matters: for, in so doing, a man shall
weene, the matter it selfe is openly laide before
him: & that it is not expressed with wordes, but
pointed foorthe with the finger. And therefore we
may more properly say: A man is knowen by his
countenaunce, then by his figure or counterfet.
And Dant did better expresse the matter, when
he saide,

"The weightes
That peize the weight doe make the
balance creeke,"

Then if he had saide

"Crie out and make a noise."

77

Galateo And it is a more proper and peculiar speache to
say, The shivering of an ague, then to call it The
Colde. And flesh that is Tidie, to terme it rather,
Fatte: then Fulsome.

Ther be some woordes more in this place to like
effecfl, which I meane not to stande uppon now:
bycause our Englishe tounge cannot hansomely
deliver their perfecft meaning. For the Italians
have (as we have, and all other Countreis ells as
well as wee) certaine peculiar wordes and termes,
so naturally and properly their owne, as it is not
possible to expresse them aptly and perfecftly
in any other Language. And therefore the Au-
thor him selfe, fearing, or knowing asmuche in
the sense of these wordes, which he hath inferred
in this place (as it were preventing a blame) in
maner excuseth and speaketh asmuch as I say,
as the matter it selfe that insueth doth shewe. For,
the Author him selfe following his purpose saithe
thus.

" I am well assured, if some straunger should, un-
happely for my credite,hit uppon this treatise of
mine: he would laughe mee to scorne, and say that
I taught to speake in riddles, or els in Ciphers. For
as muche as these wordes, be almost so properly
our owne, that other countries have no acquaint-
ance with them : or, if they woulde use them, yet
they cannot tell how to understand them. For, who
is it that knowes what Dant ment in this verse.

78

Behav-
iours

Gia veggia per Mezzul perdere o Lulla. Of Man-

" Sure, I beleeve no man ells but we that are Flor-
entines can understand it. Notwithstanding, for
any thing that I have saide, if there be any fault
in this text of Dant: it is not in the wordes. But, if
he have faulted, it is rather in this: that (as a man
somewhat wilfull) he would take uppon him, a
matter harde to be uttered in wordes, and per-
adventure unplesaunt to heare: then that he hath
exprest it ill."

It is not then for a man to use any talke, with
him that understandeth not that language you
talke unto him. Nor yet, bycause a Douche man
understandes not the Italian tounge,must wee (for
that cause) breake of our talke,toholde talke with
him, to make our selves counterfets, as Maister
Brusaldo did, and as some other be woont, that
fondly and coldly, without any grace, thrust them
selves in to Chat in their language with whome
they talke, what so ever it be, and chop it out every
worde preposterously. And many times it chaun-
ceth, the Spaniard talkes Italian with the Italian,
and the Italian babbles againe in a bravevery and
gallantnes, the Spanishe toung with the Spaniard.
And yet, it is an easier thing to know, y* they both
talke like strangers : then to forbeare to laugh at
the folish follies that scape them both in speache.
Let us not therfore use our forreigne language,
but when it is needefull for us to be understoode,

7^

Galateo for some necessitie or other, that appertaineth un
to us : And in common use, use our owne tounge,
thoughe not altogether so good: rather then a
forreigne language, better then our owne that is
naturall unto us. For a Lumbarde shall speake his
owne tounge more aptly (which is, notwithstand-
ing, but base and barbarous) then he shall speake
the Tuscane, or other language: even by cause he
hath not so redily,so proper and peculiar wordes,
althoughe he studie much for them, as wee our
selves that be Tuscanes.

But yet, if a man have a respecfl to them with
whome he talkes : and for that cause forbeare 6c
leave out those singular wordes, (which I have
spoken of) and in stede of them use the generall
and common: his talke, by suche meanes, shall
have the lesse pleasure & delight.

Besides this, it becometh everie honest gentle-
man, to eschewe those wordes that have no
honest meaning. And, The goodnes of wordes
consisteth either in their sound, or pronouncing:
or, in their sense and meaning. For as much as
som wordes speake an honest matter, and yet,
perchaunce, there is a certaine unhonest sense
perceaved to stand in the pronouncinge of the
worde it selfe: as Rinculare: which, notwith-
standing, is daily used of all men. But if a man or
woman should speake after this sorte, & at that
verie warning doe it in sight of any (che si dice
il farsi indietro) then would the grosenesse of the
80

worde plainlie appeare unto them. But our Pal- Of Man-
ate, throughe Custome and Use, happilie tasteth ners and
y® wine (as it were) and the bestnes of the sense Behav-
of the worde, and not y® Dregges or Leeze. lours

She gave the Spanish figge with both
her thumbes at once.

Saith Dant.

But our women, would be much ashamed to
speake so: yea to shunne this ambiguous woord,
y* signifieth a worse matter, they rather say Le
castagne. Albeit yet some of them at unwares,
many times, name that unadvisedly, which if an-
other man had spoken to trie them, would have
made them blushe to heare that remembred in
way of blasphemie, which makes them women.
And therefore, suche as be, or would be better
mannered or taught, take good heede they doe
eschewe, not only things uncleane and unhonest,
but woordes also: and not somuche those that
be evill indeede, but those that may be, or doe
but seeme to be unhonest, foule & filthie: as some
men say these are of Dant.

She blewe large blastes of winde
Both in my face and under.

Or els these.

I pray thee tell mee where about the
hole doth stand. "

And one of the Spirits said.

8i

Galateo Then come behinde and where the hole is,
it may be scand.

And you must knowe, that albeit two, or moe
wordes,other while chaunce to tell one selfe thinge,
yet the one is more cleanly then the other. As for
example, to say: Con lui giacque, & Delia sua per-
sona gli sodisfece. For this self same speach, if it
were in other termes, would be to broad before &
to filthie to heare it. And speaking of Endymion,
you may more aptly say: II Vago della Luna: then
you can say II Drudo, althoughe both these wordes
doe import and signifie A lover, and a Friend. And
a much honester speache is it, if you talke of
Aurora, to call, her. Tritons prety gerle and lover,
then Concubine. And it better becomes a mans
and womans mouth, to call Harlots, women of the
worlde (as Belcolore did, who was more ashamed
to speake it then to doe it) then to use their com-
mon name: Thaide e la Puttana. And as Boccace
declared y^ power of Meretrici and Ragazzi. For,
se cosi hauesse nominato dall' arte loro i maschi,
come nomino le femine; his talke would have
byn foule & shamefull. And withall, A man must
not alone beware of unhonest and filthie talke:
but also of that whiche is base and vile, and es-
pecially where a man talketh & discourseth of
greate and highe matters. And for this Cause,
perchaunce, woorthely some blame our Beatrice,
sayeing:

82

To passe throughe Lethes floud, the highest Of Man-
Fates would blott, ners and

If man mighte taste the Viandes suche, as Behav-

there dooe fall by Lott, io^^s

And not pay firste a due repentaunce
for his scott.

For, in my conceite, these base wordes that come
outof theTavernes,bee verie uncomely for suche
a worthy discourse. And when a man hathe like
occasion to speake of y® Sunne, it shall not be
good to call it The Candell or the Lampe of the
world: by cause such woordes do put us in minde
of y® Oyle, & the stufFe of the kitchin. Neither
should a man that is well advised, say that Saincfte
Dominicke was II DrudodellaTheologia: Nor yet
talke,that the glorious Saincfles have spoken suche
base and vile woordes : As for Example to say.

And leave to scratche whereas the scabs of
sinne breake out.

For they savour of y® dregges, & y^ filth of y®
common people, as every man may easily see.

Againe, in your long and large discourses, you
must have y^ like considerations & cares, & some
more: y® which you may more commodiously
learne of your Maisters y^ teache you y* arte, that
is commonly called Rhetorike.

And amongest other things. You must accus-
tome your selfe,to use suche gentle and courtious
speache to men, and so sweete, that it may have

83

Galateo no maner of bitter taste. And you shall rather say,
I cannot tell how to say it: Then say: you ar de-
ceived: Or, it is not true: Or, you know it not. For, it
is a courteous and friendly parte to excuse a mans
faulte,even in that very thing, wherein you know
how to blame him. And withall, it doth well, to
make the proper and peculiar fault of your friend,
indifferent and common to you both: and first,
to take one piece to your selfe, and then after, to
blame and reprove him for it. Wee were deceived
and failed muche: we forgot our selves yesterday
to doe so. Althoughe suche negligence 6c errour, or
what soever it be: be altogether his fault and not
yours. And Restagnone forgat him selfe muche,
when he saide to his companions: If your wordes
doe not lie. For, A man should not bring another
mannesfaitheandhonestieinquestionanddoubte.
But, if a man promise you any thing, and doe
not performe it: it shall not doe well, for you
to say unto him. You have lost your credite with
mee: without some necessarie cause doe drive
you to say so, as to save your owne credite and
honestie. But, you shall rather say: You could not
do it: Or, you did not remember to doe it: Then,
you have cleane forgotten mee. For, these kinde
of speaches, have some prickles & stinges of Com-
plaint, Anger and Choler. So that, suche as use
them selves to speake suche churlishe and fum-
ishe woordes,are taken for sharpe and sower fel-
lowes : & men doe asmuche shunne their acquaint-
84

ance: as to thrust them selves uppon thornes and Of Man-
thistles, ners and

And by cause I knowesom,of thisnaughtiecon- Behav-
dition & qualitie : I meane some y^ be so hastie and lo^rs
greedy to speake,y4hey take not the sense with
them, but over passe it and runne before it, as the
grehound, that doth not pinche by overshooting
his game: ther fore I will not spare to tell you that,
which may be thought needeles to touche, as a
thing to well knowen: and that is, that You shall
never speake, before you have first considered &
laide the plot in your minde what it is you have
to saie. For in so doing, your talke shalbe well
delivered and not borne before the time. I trust,
straungers will easily beare with this worde: if at
least they vouchsafe to read these trifles of mine.
And if you doe not skorne my preceptes : it shall
never chaunce you to say: "welcome Maister
Agostino," to such a one, whose name is Agnolo,
or Bernardo. And you shal never need to say,
"Tell me your name:" Nor say againe, "I saide
not well:" Nor, " Lorde what doe I call him:" Nor
to hack and to stutter long together, to finde out
a worde, " Maister Arrigo : " no " Master Arabico : "
Tushe, what doe I call him I should say, "Maister
Agabito." These fonde & foolish behaviours &
fashions, paine a man as much to heare them, as
to be drawne and haled with cordes.

The voice would be neither hoarse nor shrill.
And, when you laugh and sporte in any sorte: you

8^

Galateo must not crye out and criche like the Pullye of a
well : nor yet s peake in your yawning. I kno we well
it is not in us, to geve our selves a ready tongue
or perfecft voice at our owne will and pleasure.
Hee y^ doth stutter, or is hoarse: let him not al-
wayes bableand gabbe,andkeepeacourtealone:
let him rather amend the defecfl of his tounge with
silence,and hearinge: and withall (if hee can) with
studie diminishe the fault of Nature. It is an ill
noise to heare a man raise his voice highe, like to
a common Crier. And yet I would not have him
speake so lowe and softly, that he that barkens,
shall not heare him. And if he be not heard at y^
first time he speaketh, he must speake, the next
time, somewhat plainer: but yet, not yoape out
aloude, that he make not men thinke he is woode
and angry with them: for hee shall doe but well,
to rehearse that againe he hath spoken, y* men
may understand what he said.

Your wordes would be disposed, even as the
common use of speache doth require and not
unsorted, disordered and scattered confusedly: as
many be woont to doe uppon a bravery, whose
maner of talke is more like a Scrivener (me
thinke) that readeth in his mother tounge, the In-
denture he hath written before in latine : then a
man that reasoneth or talketh in his Naturall lan-
guage: as this for example.

They drawe by sent of false and fained
steps of truth.
86

Behav-
iours

Or if a man should preposterously place his Of Man-
wordes thus. ners and

Those times did blossomes geve before their
time of soothe.

Which maner of speache, may be otherwhile
allowed in versifiers : but it is utterly forbidden
in common talke.

And, it behoves a man, not onely to shunne this
versifying maner of speache, in his familiar and
common discourse, or talke: but likewise eschewe
y® pomp, bravery, & affecftation, that may be suf-
fered and allowed to inriche an Oration, spoken
in a publike place. Otherwise, men that doe heare
it, will but spite it, and laughe him to scorne for it.

Albeit perchaunce, a Sermon may shewe a
greater cunning and arte, then common talke.
But,Everie thingmust have his timeandplace.For,
he that walkes by the way must not daunce, but
goe. For, every man hath not the skill to daunce,
yet every man can skill to goe. But, Dauncing is
meete for feastes & weddings: it is not to use in
the stretes. You must then take good heede you
speake not with a majestie.

It is thought by many Philosophers.

And suche is all Filocolo, and the other trea-
tises of Maister John Boccace, except his greater
woorke, and litle more perchaunce Corbaccio.

I would not for al this, that you should use so
base a speache, as y® scum, as it were, and the

87

Galateo froth of the meanest and vilest sorte of people,
Launderers & Hucksters: butsucheas gentlemen
should speake & talke, which I have partly told
you before, in what sort it may be done: that is,
if you talke of matters that be neither vile, vaine,
fowle, nor lothesome. And if you have skill to
choose amongest the woords of your owne coun-
trie speache, the purest and most proper, suche as
have the best sounde, and best sense, touching nor
remembring, in no case, no matter that is foule,
vile and base: & if you can place your woords in
good order, and not shoofle them together at ran-
don, nor yet, with over muche Curious studie,
file them (as it were) one your beades. Moreover,
if you do dispose such things as you have to say
with discretion. And take good hede that you
couple not unfit & unlikely matters together: as
for Example.

As sure as God is in Heaven:

So stands the staffe in the chimny corner.

And if you speake not so slowe, as if you were
unlustie: nor so hasty, as if you wer hungrie: but
as a wise and a temperate man should doe. Like-
wise, if you pronounce y oure woords and your sil-
lables with a certaine grace 6c sweetnes : not as a
Scholemaister y* teacheth young Children to read
& to spell. Neither must you mumble them nor
supp them up, as if they were glued & pasted to-
gether one to another. If you remember these and

88

such other rules and precepts: youre talke will be Of Man-
liked, and heard with pleasure enoughe: and you ners and
shall well maintaine the state and countenaunce, Behav-
that well besemeth a gentleman well taught and lo^rs
honest.

Besids these, there be some, that never hould
their tounge. And as the shippe that sailes, doth
not presently stand still, by taking downe the
sailes: So doe they runne forward, as caried away
with a certaine braide: and loosing the matter
of their talke, yet leave not to babble, but either
repeate that againe that is said, or els speake still
they cannot tell what.

And there be other so full of babble, that they
will not suffer another to speake. And as wee doe
see otherwhile, uppon the flowers in the countrie
where they thresh corne, one Pullet pull the corne
out of the others beake : so doe they catche the
tale out of his mouth y- beganne it, and tell it them
selves. And sure, suche maner of people, induce
men to quarell and fight with them for it.For, if you
doe marke it wel: Nothing moves a man sooner to
anger: then when he is soudainely cut short of his
will and his pleasure, be it of never so little and
small importaunce.As when you gape wide with
yawning: another should thrust his hand in your
mouth: or when you doe lift your arme redy to
hurle a stone: it is soudainly staide by one that
stands behinde you. Even then, as these doings,
and many moe like unto these, which tend tohin-

89

Galateo der the will and desire of another (albeit but in way
of sporte & of play) are unseemely, and would be
eschewed: So in talke and communication with
men, wee should rather pull one, and further their
desiers, by what meanes we can, then stop them
and hinder them in it.

And therefore, If any man be in a redines to tell
his tale: it is no good maner to interrupte him:
nor to say that you doe knowe it well. Or, if hee
besprinckle his tale here and there, with some
prety lie: you must not reprove him for it, neither
in wordes nor in gesture, as shaking your hed, or
scowlingupponhim,asmanybewont: gloriously
vaunting them selves, that they can, by no meanes,
abide the taste of a Lie. . . . But, this is not the
reason of this, it is the sharpenes and sowernes of
their owne rusticall 6c eager Natures, which makes
themsovenemous & bitter in all companies they
come: that no man cares for their acquaintance.

Likewise, It is an illfavoured condition to stop an-
other mans tale in his mouth: and it spites himas-
muche, as if a man should take him by the sleeve
& hould him backe, even when he is redie to runne
his course. And when another man is in a tale, it is
no good maner for you, by telling the company
some newes,& drawing their mindes to other mat-
ters, to make them forsake him cleane, and leave
him alone. For, it is an uncourtious parte for you
to leade and carry away the company: which the
other (not you) hath brought together.
90

And, when a man tells his tale, you must geve Of Man-
good eare unto him: that you may not say other- ners and
while, O what?: Or, how?: which is many a mans Behav-
fashion to doe. And this is asmuch trouble and iours
paine to him that speaketh: as to shoofle against
y® stones, to him that goeth. All these fashions,
and generally, that which may stoppe, and that
which may traverse the course of another mans
talke, must be shunned.

And, if a man tell his tale slowe like a drawe-
latche: you must not yet hasten him forwarde,
nor lende him woordes, although you be quicker
in speache then hee. For, many doe take that ill,
and specially suche, as persuade themselves they
have a Joly grace in telling a tale. For, they doe
imagine you thinke not so well of them, as they
themselves doe: And that you would geve them
instructions in their owne Arte: as Merchaunts that
live in greate wealth & plentie, would count it a
greate reproche unto them, that a man should
proffer them money, as if they lived in lacke, &
were poore and stoode in neede of releefe. And
you must understand, that, Every man in his
owne conceite, thinkes he can tell his tale well :
althoughe for modestie sake he deny it. And I
cannot gesse how it cometh to passe, that the veri-
est foole doth babble most: which over muche
prattle, I would not have a gentleman to use, and
specially, if his skill be but scant in the matter
in talke: Not onely, by cause it is a hard matter:

91

Galateo but, He must run in many faults that talkes
muche: but also, by cause a man weenes, that, He
that talkes all the talke to him selfe, woulde (after
a sorte) preferre him self above them all that heare
him, as a Maister would be above his scholers. And
therfore, It is no good maner for a man to take
uppon him a greater state, then doth become
him. And in this fault, not men alone, but many
countries fall into, so cackling and prattling: that,
woe be their eares that geve them hearing.

But, as over muche babble makes a man weary:
'^ so doth over muche Silence procure as greate dis-
liking. For,To use silence in place where other men
talke to and fro : is in maner, asmuche a fault, as
not to pay your share and scot as other men doe.
And as speache is a meane to shewe men your
minde, to whome you speake: so, doth Silence
againe make men wene,y ou seke to be unknowne.
So y^ as those people which use to drinke muche
atfeastes,and make them selves drunke,are wont
to thrust them out of their companie, that will not
take their drinke as they doe : So be these kinde
of mute & still fellowes, coldly welcome to pleas-
aunt and mery companie, that meete to passe the
time away in pleasure and talke. So that. It is good
maner for a man to speake, and likewise to hold
his peace, as it comes to his turne, and occasion
requires.

As an old Chronicle maketh mention. There was
in the parts of Morea, a very good workman in
92

stone: Who for y^ singular good skill he had in his Of Man-
Art, was called (as I take it) Maestro Chiarissimo. ners and
This man (now well strooken in yeares) made Behav-
a certaine treatise, & therin gathered together al lo^^s
y^ precepts & rules of his arte : as the man y^ had
very good skill to doe it: shewing inwhatsortethe
proportions and lineaments of the body, should
be duely measured, as well everyone a parte by
it selfe, as one respecfting another: y* they fnight
justly & duely be answerable y^ one to the other:
which treatise of his, he named Regolo. Meaning
to shewe, that according to that, all the Images
and pidlures,that from thensforth any workeman
should make, should be squared & lined forth: as
y® beames,and y^ stones, and the walles, are mea-
sured by y^ rules & precepts of that booke. But, for
that it is a muche easier matter to speake it, then to
worke it, or doe it: and besides that, The greatest
number of men, especially of us that be prophane
and not learned, have our senses much quicker
then our understanding, and consequently, better
conceive particular things and Examples, then
the generall propositions and Syllogismes (which I
might terme in plainer speache, Reasons) for this
cause this worthy man I speake of, having regard
to the Nature of workemen: whose capacities are
unfit and unable to weeld the weigh te of generall
Precepts and rules : and to declare more plainely ,
with all his cunning and skill: having found out
for his purpose, a fine marble stone, with muche

93

Galateo labour and paine, he fashioned and shaped an
Image of it, as perfecftly proportioned in every
parte and member: as the precepts and rules of
his treatise had befgre devised. And as he named
the booke, so did he name that Image, and called
it by name of Regolo.

Now, (and it pleased god) I would I could but
one parte of those twoe points, which that noble
Ingraver 6c worckeman I speake of, had perfedl
skill and knowledge to doe: I meane, that I could
gather together in this treatise, after a sorte, the
due measures of this Art I take uppon me to
treate of. For, to perfourme the other, to make
the second Regolo: I meane, to use and observe
in my maners, the measures I speake of, framing
and forming, as it were, A Visible Example, and a
material Image ofthem: it were now, to muchefor
me to doe. For asmuch as. It is not inough to have
knowledge and Art, in matters concerning man-
ers & fashions of men: But it is needefull withall,
to worke them to a perfecft effecft, to pracftise and
use them muche: which cannot be had uppon the
soudaine, nor learned by & by: but it is number
of yeares that must winne it: & y® beste parte
of mine be runne fourth alredy, you see.

But for all this,you must not make y^ lesse recon-
ing of these precepts. For, A man may well teache
another the way : although he have gone out of the
way himself. And, peradventure, they that have
lost their wayes, do better remember the hard
94

wayes to find : then they that never went a misse. Of Man-
And, if in mine infancie, when minds be tender ners and
and pliable, like a young twigge, they that had y^ Behav-
charge & governement of me, had had the skill to ^otirs
smoothe my manners, (perhaps of Nature som-
what hard and rude) and would have polished and
wrought them fine: perad venture I should have
beene such A one, as I travaile to make thee Nowe,
whome I love no lesse then if thou were my sonne.
For albeit,the power of Nature be greate :yet is she
many times Maistered and correcfted by custome:
But, we must in time begin to encounter and beate
her downe, before she get to muche strength and
hardines.But most men will not doe so: but rather
yealdingto their appetite withoutanystriving,fol-
lowing it where so ever it leades them, thinke they
must submitte themselves to Nature: As though
Reason were not anaturall thing in man. But, Rea-
son hath (as a Lady and Mistris) power to chaunge
olde customes, and to helpe & hold up Nature,
when she doth at any time decay and fall. But very
seldome we harken unto her. And y^ for y^ moste
parte, maketh us like unto them whome god hath
not endued w* Reason: I mean brute beastes, in
whome notwithstanding, something yet work-
eth : not their owne Reasons (for they have none of
them selves) but ours : as in horses you see it : which
by nature would be ever wilde, but y* their rider
makes them tame, and withal, after a sorte, redy &
very well paced. For many of them would have a

^5

Galateo hard trot, but that the rider makes them have an
easier pace. And some he doth teache to stand still,
to galopp, to treade the ringe,and passe the car-
reere: And they learne to doe it all well you see.
Then, if the horse, the dog, y^ hauke, & many other
beastes besides, more wilde then these, be guided
and ruled by Reason, and learne that which their
owne Nature cannot attaine, but rather repugn-
eth: and become after a sorte cunning and skil-
full,so farre as their kinde doth beare it,not by Na-
ture, but by cus tome & use: how muchethen may
» we thinke wee should excell them, by the pre-

cepts and rules of our Reason, if wee tooke any
heede unto it.But,The Senses desire 6c covet pres-
ent delightes,what soever they be: and can abide
no paines, but puts them of. And by this meanes,
they also shake of Reason, and thinke her un-
pleasant, forasmuche as she sets before them, not
pleasure, many times, hurtfull: but goodnes and
vertue, ever painfull, sower and unsavoury in
taste. For, while we live according to the Sense, wee
are like to the selly sickman, to whom al cates
never so deinty & sweete, seeme untoothsome:
and he chideth still with his Cater and Cooke, in
whomethereisnofaultatallfor it. For, it is the Na-
ture of his disease, and the Extremitie of his sick-
nes,and not the fault of his meate, that he doth not
savourly taste what he eates. So Reason, which of
it selfe is sweete and savourie: seemes bitter in
taste unto us, though it have no ill taste in dede.
96

And therfore as nice & deintie felowes,we refuse
to make any taste of her : 6c cover our grosnes, w*
saying that Nature hath no spurres nor raines y*
can prick her forth, or hold her backe. Where sure,
if an Oxe or an Asse, or a Hogge, could speake : I
beleeve, they could not lightly tell a more fowle
& shamefull tale then this. We should be children
still all the time of our riper yeares, & in our ex-
treame age: and waxe as very fooles with gray
hoary heads, as when we were very babes : if it
were not that reason, which increaseth in Us with
our yeares, subdueth affecftions in us and growen
to perfecftion, transformeth us from beastes in to
men. So that it is well seene,shee ruleth our senses
and bridleth our willes.And it is our ownelmper-
fecftion and not her faulte, if we doe s warve from
vertue, goodnes, and good order in life.

It is not then true, that there is not a bridell and
Master for Nature, Nay, she is guided and ruled by
twaine: Custome I meane, and Reason. But, as I
have tould you a li tie before : Reason without Cus-
tome and use, cannot make an uncivile bodie, well
taught and courtious: Which custome and use, is
as it were, bred and borne of time. And therefore
they shall doe well, to harken betime unto her, not
only for that, by this meanes, a man shall have
more time and leasure to. learne to be such as she
teacheth, and to become as it were a houshould
servaunt of hers, and one of her traine: but also
by cause The tender age, as pure and cleane, doth

97

Of Man-
ners and
Behav-

iours

Galateo easily receave all Impressions, and reteineth more
lively, the colours wherewith she is dyed: then
when a man comes to riper yeares: And also, by-
causeThe things wherein wee ha vebyn nourished
and trained from our youth, doe ordinarily please
us, above all other things. And for this cause, it is
said that Diodato, a man that had a singular good
gift & grace of utterance, would evermore bee the
first that came fourth uppon the stage to shewe
his Comedie: allthoughe they were all but coun-
terfets unto him, whosoever they were that should
havespokenbeforehim.Buthewould not his voice
should occupie other mens eares, after they heard
another man speake. Although, in respecft of his
doings, it were a greate deale Inferiour tohis. Seing
then, I cannot agree my workes and my wordes to-
gether, for those causes I have shewed you before,
as Maestro Chiarissimo did: whoe had as good a
skil to do it,as he had knowledge to teache it: let it
suffice that I have tould in some part what must
be done, by cause I am not by any meanes able
to doe it in dede. He that liveth in darkenes, may
very well Judge what comfort it is to enjoy the
benefit of light. And by an over long silence, we
knowe what pleasure it is to speake: so when you
beholde my grose and rude maners: you shall
better Judge, what goodnes and vertue there is in
courtious behaviours and fashions.

To come againe then to this treatise, which
growes now to some end : wee say that Those be

98

good maners and fashions, which bring a delight. Of Man-
or at least, offend not their senses, their minds, and ners and
conceits, with whom we live. And of these, wee Behav-
have hitherto spoken inoughe. iours

But you must understand with all this, that, Men
be very desirous of bewtifull things, well propor-
tioned and comely. And of counterfet things fowle
and ill shapen,they beas squemish againe,on the
other side. And this is a speciall privilege geven to
us: that other creatures have no capacitie,to skill
what bewtie or measure meaneth. And, therefore,
as things not common w^ beastes but proper to our
selves: we must embrace them for them selves:
and holde them dere: & yet those, much more, y*
drawe nerest to y® knowledge of man: as which
are most apt and inclined to understand the per-
fecftion which Nature hath lefte in men.

And albeit, it be a hard matter, to shewe pre-
cisely, Bewtie, what maner of thing it is: yet y*
you may have some marke, to know her by: you
must understand, y^ Where jointly & severally,
every parte & the whole hath his due proportion
and measure, there is Bewtie. And that thing
may justly be called faier, in which the saide pro-
portion and measure is found. And by that I did
once learne of a wise & a learned man : Bewtie he
said, would consist but of one, at the moste. And
Deformitie contrarywise, measured her selfe, by
Many. As you may see by the faces of faier and
goodly women. For, the even lineaments and due

99

Galateo proportions of every of them : seeme to have byn
created & framed by the judgement and sight of
one face alone. Which cannot be thought in them
that be foule & deformed. For, when you beholde
a woman, that hath, peradventure, bigge and
bowle eyes, a little nose, blubbe cheekes, a flat
mouth, an put chinne, & a browne skinne : you
thinke straite that that face is not one womans
alone : but is moulded of many faces, and made of
many peeces. And yet, you shall finde amongest
them, some such, whose partes considered alone
by them selves, be very perfecft to see to : but all
set together, be foule and ill favoured: not for
any other cause, but that they be y® lineaments
of many faier women, and not of one: So that a
man would weene, shee had borrowed her partes,
of this and that woman. And it may be, that
Painter that had all the faier maides of Calabria,
naked before him: had none other intent therein,
then to judge & discerne in many, y® partes y*
they have, as it were, borrowed heere one, & there
another, of one, alone: to whome restoring from
eache y^ was her right: imagining y* Venus bewty
should be such, and so proportioned: he set him
selfe to paint her.

And, you must not think, y* this is to be seene
in the faces, the partes, and the bodies of women
alone: but it happenethmore or lesse, in speache,
in gestures & doings. For, if you should chaunce to
see a Noble woman gorgius and gallant, washing
loo

of cloutes in a River by y^ highe waye side: AI- Of Man-
thoughe if this were not, you might hapely passe ners and
away by her, w* little heede to her person or state : Beha v-
yet this would not brook you nor like you,y^ her lours
servile doings doe shewe her more then one. For
her state should answer her honourable condition
and calling. But her woorke is suche,as is meete for
women of base and servile life : & although you
shall feele, neither ill savour nor sent come from
her, nor heare any noise that should offend you,
nor any thing els to trouble your minde: yet the
foule and filthy maner of doing it, and the un-
seemely acfl it selfe : will makey ou muche to loathe
it. You must then beware of these fowle and un-
comely behaviours, asmuche, nay, more then of
those other, I have spoken all this while. For, it is
a harder matter a greate deale, to knowe when
a man faulteth in these, then when he faulteth in
them. Bycause, It is easier much, we see, to feele
then to understande. But yet, it may chaunce
otherwhile, that even that which ofFendeth the
senses, may also offend the minde: thoughe not
altogether after one sorte, as I have told you be-
fore: shewing you that A man must apparell him
selfe, according to the fashions that other men use :
that it may not be thought he doth reprove and
corredl their doings: The which thing offendeth
most men that seeke to be commended : And the
wisest men that be, mislike it too. For, the gar-
ments of the olde world, have lost their date, for

lOI

Galateo men of this age and this season to weare. And it is
suche an ill shapen sight, to see a man clad with
other mens cloathes: that a man would weene
there would be a fray betwene the doublet &
y^ hose: their cloathes doe sit, uppon them so
untowardly.

So that, many of those matters I have spoken
of allredy, or peradventure all, might be aptly
rehersed here again: forasmuch as this measure
I speake of here, is not observed in these things :
nor the time, nor y® place, nor the worke, nor the
worker, accorded & fitted together, so well as it
should be. For mens minds and fansies doe like it, &
take a pleasure and delight in those things. But I
thought it good to apply & speake these matters,
rather under y® badge, as it were, of the Senses and
desires : then properly assigne them to the minde :
that a man may the more easily perceive them:
bycause It is a naturall thinge, for everie man to
feele and desire: but every man cannot so gener-
ally understand, and especially that, whiche we
call bewtie, gallantnes or entertainement.

It is not inoughe for a man, to doe things that be
good : but hee must also have a care, hee doe them
with a good grace. And a good grace is nothing
els, but suche a maner of light (as I may call it) as
shineth in the aptnes of things set in good order
and wel disposed, one with another : and perfecftly
knit and united together. Without which propor-
tion and measure, even that which is good is not

I02

faire: & the fairenes it self, is not plesaunt. And Of Man-
as meates, though they be good & savourie will ners and
give men no minde to eate them, if they have no Behav-
pleasaunt relish and taste: So fares it with the lours
maners of men other while (althoughe in them
selves in no respecfl they be ill, but foolishe a little, •
and fond) if a man doe not season them with a
certaine sweetenes, which you call (as I take it)
Grace, and Comlines.

So that, every vice of it selfe, without any fur-
ther matter to helpe it (it cannot be chosen) must
needes offend a man. For, Vices be things so foule
and filthie: that honest and modest mindes, will
greeve to see their shamefull effecfts. And there-
fore, it shall behove them that seeke to be well
thought of, with their familiar acquaintance, above
all things els to eschewe vices, and especially those,
that be foulest and worst: as Leachery,Covetous-
nes, Crueltie, and other. Of which, somebe beastly,
as Drunkennes, and Gluttonie: some uncleane, as
Leacherie: other some horrible, as Murther, and
such other: all which for them selves, and for the
very naughtines, that is properly in them al, all
men eschewe more, or lesse: But, as earst I said,
generally al, as things of greate disorder, make a
man misliked muche of all men.

But, by cause I have not taken uppon me to shew
unto you, mens sinnes, but their Errors : it shalbe
no parte of my charge at this time to entreate of y®
Nature of vices & vertues : but onely of the seemely

103

Galateo & unseemely fashions and maners wee use one
with another. One of the which unseemely fash-
ions was, that Count Richard did use: of which I
tould you before. Which, as unseemely and unfit-
ting with those other his good and faire maners hee
• had besides : that same worthie Bishop (as a skilfull
and cunning Maister in musicke will easily here
a note out of Tune) had quickly founde out.

It shalbe then, necessarie for gentlemen and men
of good behaviour, to have a regard to this mea-
sure I speake of: in going, in standing, in sitting, in
gesture, in porte, in apparell, in talke,in silence, in
rest and in acflion. For, a man must not apparell
him selfe like a woman: that the Attire may not
be of one sorte,and the person of another: as I doe
see it in some that weare their heads & their beards
curled with bodkins, and have their face,anc3 their
necks, & their hands, so starchte and painted, that
it were to muche for a girle, nay, harlot, that makes
a merchandize of it, and sets her selfe to the sale.

You must smell, neither of sweete nor of sower:
for a gentleman would not savour nastily like
a begger: ne del maschio venga odore di femina

0 di meretrice. I doe not by this forbid, but you
may very well use some sweete smelles of sweete
waters.

Your apparell must be shaped according to the
fashion of the time, and your calling, for the causes

1 have shewed you before. For, We must not take
uppon us to alter customes at our will. For time

104

doth beget them, and time doth also weare them Of Man-
out, ners and

Every man may applie those fashions, that be in Behav-
common use, y^ moste to his owne advantage that ^ours
hecan.For,ifperchaunceyourIegges be very long,
and men use but short garments: you may use a
meane, not to long, nor to short. And if your legges
be to small, to greate, or crooked : make not your
hosen of to light and garishe a colour, that it may
not call men to looke and to gawre uppon your
deformitie. Thou must weare no garment that
shall be to light, or overmuche daubdewith gard-
ing ; that men may not say, thou hast Gany medes
hosen, or wearest Cupides doublet. But, whatso-
ever it be thou wearest, let it be fit and well made
for thy bodie: least thou seme to brave it, in an-
other mans cloathes.

But with all, thou must in any case respecft thy "^
condition or estate. For, A man of the Clergie,
must not be attired like a Souldier: nor a Souldier
goe like a Player. When Castruccio was in Rome
with Lodovico Baveroata greate Pompe,and tri-
umphe: who was both Duke of Lucca and Pistoia,
and Count of Palazzo, and Senatour of Rome:
this Castruccio, being Lorde greate Maister of the
saide Lodovico Bavero his househoulde: for his
bravery, made him a coate of crimsin, uppon
the brest wherof, there was this devise, in letters
ofGolde

It is even as God will.

lOjJ

Galateo And uppon the backe behinde.

And it shallbe as God will.

I beleeve, you thinke this garment, would have
become Castruccio his Trumpeter better, then it
could become him.

And although Kings be free from checke, and
may doe what they list: Yet, I could never com-
mend King Manfrede, Whoe ever more used, to
suite him selfe in greene. Wee must then have
a care, that our apparell be not onely wel made
for the bodie: but that it be meete for our calling.
And withall, it be suche, as the countrie doth use,
where wee live. For, As in divers places be divers
measures, and yet bying and selling every where
used: So in sundry landes be sundrie customes,
and yet every where a man may behave him,
and apparell him selfe, soberly and comely.

These same feathers, which the Neapolitanes
and Spaniardes be wont to weare, and braveries
and Embroderies: have but ill place amongest
grave gowned men, & the attires that Citizens doe
weare. But their Armour and weapons become
suche place a greate deal worse. So that, looke
what hapely might be allowed in Verona, would
not, perchaunce, be suffered in Venice. For as
muche as these gallants, all begarded, and huffing
infethers, 6c warlike fellowes, would not doe well,
in this Noble Citie so peacefull & Civil. Suche
kinde of people be rather, in maner, like nettles

io6

and burres, amongest good and sweete garden
flowers. And therefore, they come out of season
to men that medlewith graver matters then they
doe.

I would not have a gentleman to runne in the
streate, nor go to fast: for that is for lackies, and
not for gentlemen to doe. Besides that, it makes
a man weary, sweate, and puffe: which be very
unsightly things for suche men to doe. I would
not yet have a man go so softe and demurely, as
a maide or a wife. And when a man walkes, it is
no good sight to see a man shake his bodie to
muche, nor to hold his handes bare and emptie:
nor yet cast 6c fling his armes up 6c downe, in such
sort as a man would weene, hee were soweing of
Corne in the field: nor Stare in a mans face, as if
he had spied a mares nest.

"Ther be some again, in their gate pul up their
fete as high as a horse y^ hath y® spaven : y* a man
would think they did pluck their fete forth of a
bushell. Other againe stampe their feete so harde
on the ground : that they make allmoste asmuche
noise as a carte. Another goes as if he were splay
footed. And suche a one quivers with his legges,
as he stands. Some other againe, at every foote,
stoope to stroke up their hose as they goe. And
some set their handes to their sides, and jet up 6c
downe like a Pecocke : which fashions doe muche
offend men: notas well,butas ill beseeminga man
to use them." For, if your horse, perchaunce, doe

107

Of Man-
ners and
Behav-
iours

Galateo champe and play on the bit, and gape or lill out
his tounge, albeit this geve little proofe of his
goodnes: yet it commends him well to the sale:
and you shoulde fmde a misse of it, if it were
otherwise: not by cause y^ horse should be ther
fore the worse: but by cause he should shew the
lesse courage and pleasure. Now, if it stand so,
that Comelines and Grace, be so much made of
in beasts, and also in things without life or sense,
as experience doth shewe, that, Two things of
equall goodnes & comodities, beare not for all
that, a like price, if a man doe beholde a finer pro-
portion & bewtie, more in the one then he sees
in the other: How muche then more, should it
be estemed and commended in men, capable of
Reason.

" It is a rude fashion for a man to clawe or scratche
him selfe, when he sitteth at the table. And a man
should at such time have a very greate care y^ he
spit not at all. But, if neede inforce him, then let
him doe it, after an honest sorte." I have heard tell,
many times, of suche countries that be so sober:
that they doe never spitt. And what should then
let us, but we may well forbeare it for suche a little
while. We must also beware we doe not eate so
greedily, that wee get the hicket,or belche withall :
as some that feede so fast, that they noy the com-
pany with it : they blowe and puffe so loud. Like-
wise, you must not rubbe your teeth with your
napkin, & much lesse with your fingers. For these
io8

be trickes for a sloven. Neither must you openly Of Man-
rince your mouth w* the wine, and then spit it ners and
fourthe. Neither is it gentleman like, to carry a Behav-
sticke in your mouth from the table when you lours
rise, like y^ birde that builds her a nest : or put it in
your eare, for that is a Barbars tricke.

And to weare a toothpicke, about your necke:
of all fashions that is y® worst. For, besides that it is
a bauld Jewell for a gentleman to pull forth of his
bosome,and putteth men in mind of thoseTooth-
drawers, that sit one their benche in the stretes :
it makes "men also to thinke, that the man loves
his belly full well, and is provided for it. And I
see no reason, why they should not aswell carry
a spoone, about their neckes, as a toothepicke."

It is a rude fashion besides, to leane over the ta-
ble, or to fill your mouth so ful of meate, that your
cheekes be blowne up w^all : neither must you by -^-
any maner of meanes, give another man to know
what pleasure you take, in the meate or the wine.
For yt it is for Taverners and Bousers,to use suche
fashions. And to entertaine men y^ sit at your
table, with these words: "You eate nothing this
morning. There is nothing that likes you." Or,
"tast you of this or of that:" I doe not allowe of
these fashions, although they be commonly re-
ceived and used of all men. For, albeit by these
meanes, they she we they make much of those
they have invited unto them: yet, many times,
they make men to leave to eate wher they would.

109

Galateo "For, it geves them to thinke, they have their
eyes,allwayes uppon them, and that makes them
ashamed to feede."

Againe, I doe not like it, that a man shall take up-
pon him to be a carver of any meate that stands be-
fore him : if he be not muche the better man, that
is the carver: that he to whome he carves, may
thinke he receiveth some credite & honour by it.
For, Amongest men that be of like condition and
calling,it makes a hart burning : that he that playes
the carver, should take more uppon him then an-
other. And otherwhile,y* which hee carveth,doth
not like him to whom it is geven. And more then
this, by this meanes he sheweth, that the feaste is
not sufficiently furnished, or at least not well dis-
posed in order, when some have muche, & other
none at all. And y^ Maister of the house, may
chaunce to take displesure at that, as if it were
done to doe him shame. Neverthelesse in these
matters, a man must demeasne him self, as com-
mon use and custome will allowe,and not as Rea-
son & duetie would have it. And I would wishe
a man rather to erre in these points with many,
then to be singular in doing well. But whatsoever
good maner there be in this case, thou must not
refuse it, whatsoever is carved unto thee. For it
may be thought thou doest disdaine it, or grunt
at thy carver.

Now, to drink all out to every man: which is a
fashion as litle in use amongst us, as y® terme it
no

selfe is barbarous & straunge: I meane, Ick bring Of Man-
you, is sure a foule thing of it selfe, & in our coun- ners and
trie socoldly accepted yef.y^wemustnot go about Behav-
to bring it in for a fashion. If aman doe quaffe or lours
carrouse unto you, you may honestly say nay to
pledge him, 6c geveing him thankes, confesse your
weakenesse, that you are not able to beare it: or
else, to doe him a pleasure, you may for curtesie
taste it: and then set downe the cup to them that
will, and charge your selfe no further. And al-
though this, Ick bring you, as I have heard many
learned men say, hath beeneanauncient custome
in Greece, and that the Graecians doe muche com-
mend a goodman of that time, Socrates, by name,
for that hee sat out one whole night long, drinking
a vie with another good man, Aristophanes : and
yet y® next morning in the breake of the daye,
without any rest uppon his drinking, made suche
a cunning Geometricall Instrument, that there was
no maner of faulte to be found in the same : And al-
beit they say besides this, that Even as it makes a
man bould and hardy, to thrust him selfe venter-
ouslyotherwhile,in todaungerous perilsof life: so
likewise it brings a man in to good temper and
fashion, to enure him selfe otherwhile, with the
daungers of things not ever chauncing : And by-
cause the drinking of wine after this sorte, in a vie,
in such excesse and waste, is a shrewde assault
to trie the strength of him that quaffes so lustily:
these Graecians, would have us to use it for a cer-

III

Galateo taine proofe of our strength and constancie: and to
enure us the better, to resist and master all maner
of strong temptations.

All this notwithstanding, I am of a contrary
mind: and I doe thinke all their reasons to fond,
and to foolishe. But, we see that Learned men have
suche art and cunning to persuade, and such filed
wordes to serve their turne : that wrong doth carry
the cause away, and Reason cannot prevaile. And
therefore let us give them no credite in this point.
And what can I tell, if they have a secret drift
herein, to excuse and cover the fault of their coun-
trey, that is corrupt with this vice. But it is daun-
gerous, perchaunce, for a man to reprove them for
it : least asmuch happen to him, as chaunced to So-
crates him selfe, for his over lavish controulingand
checking of every mans fault. For, hewas so spited
of all men for it: that many articles of heresies &
other foule faultes were put up against him, and he
condemned to die in the end: allthough they were
false. For in truthe, he was a very good man, &
aChatholike:respe(5ling y® Religion of their false
Idolatrie. But suer, in that he drunke so muche
wine that same night: he deserved no praise in the
worlde. For, the hoggshead was able to holde & re-
ceive a great deale more, then his companion and
hee were able to take: if y^ may get any praise.
And though it did him no harme, that was more,
the goodnes of his strong braine : then the conti-
nencieof a sober man. And let the Chronicles talke

112

what they list of this matter, I give God thankes,
that amongest many the Plagues that have
creapt over the Alpes, to infedt us: hitherto this
worst of all the rest, is not come over: that we
should take a pleasure and praise, to be drunke.
Neither shall I ever beleve,that a man can learne
to be temperate, of suche a Maister as wine and
drounkennes.

The Stewarde of a Noble mans house, may not
be so bolde to invite straungers,uppon his owne
head, and set them downe at his Lorde 6c Maisters
table. And there is none that is wise, will be in-
treated to it, at his request alone. But otherwhile,
the servaunts of the house, be so malepert and
saucie, that they will take uppon them, more
then their Maister: of which things wee speake
in this place, more by chaunce, then that the
order we have taken from the beginning, doth so
require it.

A man must not uncase him selfe, in the presence
ofanyassembly.**Foritisaslovenlysight,inplace
where honest men be met together of good con-
dition and calling. And it may chaunce he doth
uncover those parts of his bodie, which work him
shame & rebuke to shewe them : besides y*, it
maketh other men abashed to looke upon them.
Againe, I wold have no man to combe his head,
nor washe his hands before men. For such things
would be done alone in your chamber, and not
abrode: without it be, I say, to washe your hands

113

Of Man-
ners and
Behav-

iours

Galateo when you sit downe to the table. For, there it shall
doe well, to washe them in sight, although you
have no neede: that they with whome you feede,
may assure them selves you have done it. A man
must not come forthe with his kercheif, or quaife
one his head, nor yet stroke up his hosen uppon
his legges in company.

** Some men there be, that have a pride or a use to
drawe their mouthes a little awry, or twinckle up
their eye, & to blow up their cheekes, and to pufFe,
and to make, with their countenaunce, sundrie such
like foolishe and ilfavoured faces and gestures." I
councell men to leave them cleane. For, Pallas her
selfe, the Goddesse (as I have hearde some wise
men say) tooke once a greate pleasure to sound
the flute & the cornet: &therin she was verie cun-
ning. It chaunst her, on day, sounding her Cornet
for her plesure over a fontain, she spide her selfe
in the water: and when she beheld those strange
gestures she must nedes make with her mouth as
she plaid : she was so much ashamed of it that she
brake the cornet in peces & cast it away.

And truely she did but well, for it is no instrument
for a woman to use. And it becomes men as ill, " if
they be not of y^ base condition and calling, that
they must make it a gaine, & an art to live uppon
it. And looke what I speake, concerning the un-
seemely gestures of the countenance and face:
concerneth likewise, all the partes and members
of man. For it is an ill sight, to lill out y^ tounge,
114

to stroke your bearde much up and downe (as Of Man-
many doe use to doe) to rubbe your hands to- ners and
gether: tosighe,&to sorrowe: to tremble or strike Behav-
your selfe, which is also a fashion w* some: to lours
reatche and stretche your selfe, & so retching,
to cry out after a nice maner, Alas, Alas: like a
country cloune, y^ should rouse him selfe in his
couche."

And he that makes a noise w* his mouth in a
token of wonder, and other while, of contempte
and disdaine: "counterfetethan ilfavoured grace.
And Counterfet things, differ not muche from
truethes."

A man must leave those foolishe maner of laugh-
ings, groase and uncomely. "And let men laughe
uppon occasion, and not uppon custome. But a
man must beware he doe not laughe at his owne
gestes,and his doings. For that makes menweene
hee woulde faine praise him selfe. It is for other
men to laughe that heare, and not for him that
telles the tale."

Now, you must not beare your selfe in hand,
that bycause eache of these matters considered
a parte, is but a small fault, y^ hole therefore to-
gether should be as light: but you must rather
persuade your selfe y^ Many a litle doth make
a mickle, as I tould you from the beginning. And
how muche lesse they be, so much the more neede
a man hathe to looke well in to them : bycause
they be not easily perceived a far of, but creepe

11 J

Galateo in to us by custom, before we be a ware. And,
As light expences often used, in Continuance of
time, doe covertly waste and consume a greate
masse of wealth and riches: So doe these light
faultes with the multitude and number of them,
in secret overthrow all honest and good civilitie
and maner. So y* we must not make a light recon-
ing of them.

Moreover, it is a nedefull observation to bethinke
your selfe, how you doe move your bodie, and
specially in talke."For,it many times chaunceth,
a man is so ernest in his tale, that hee hath no
minde of any thing els. One wagges his head. An-
other lookes bigg and scowles with his browes.
That man pulls his mouth awry. And tother spittes
in and uppon their faces with whome he talkes.
And som suche there be that move their hands
in suche a sorte, as if they should chase y® flies
as they go: which be very unhansome & un-
seemely maners to use." And I have heard it saide
(for youknowe I have byn familiarly acquainted
with learned men in my time) that Pindarus that
worthy man was wont to saye: that "Whatsoever
it were that had a good & savourie taste: was sea-
soned by the hands of the Graces. Now, what shall
I speake of them y* come forthe of their studies
with their penne in their eare: and nibble their
hankercheifs in their mouthe,or ly lolling w* their
leggeover the table,orspitone their fingers, and of
a number of other blockishe gestures and fashions
ii6

more then these, which cannot be all rehearsed Of Man-
well : nor shal not, I meane, put me to further ners and
paines to tel them al if I could. For, there be manie Behav-
perchaunce will say this is to muche, that I have lours
said allredie."

FINIS

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

Giovanni della Casa,the author of the"GaIateo,'*
was born near Florence in 1503, and died at Rome
in i^j6. He took orders before 1^38, and became
successively Apostolic Clerk, Apostolic Commis-
sary, Archbishop of Benevento, Papal Nuncio at
Venice, and Secretary of State under Paul IV.
He was distinguished as a poet, as a diplomatist,
and as an orator.

The "Galateo" was written between ij^i and
IJ5J, ^t the suggestion of Galeazzo Florimonte,
Bishop of Sessa, whose "poetic" name it bears
in consequence. It was published posthumously
at Venice, in i^^8, in a volume entitled " Rime e
Prose di M. Giov. della Casa," and was repub-
lished separately at Milan in 1559, at Florence in
ij6o, and often thereafter. A complete edition of
the works of Della Casa, in three volumes, was
edited by Casotti at Florence in 1707.

The "Galateo" was translated into French by
Jean du Peyrat in 1^62, and again, anonymously,
with the original and the translation on opposite
pages, in 1573. ^ Spanish version by Domingo
Becerra was published in 1^8^, and this was fol-
lowed in 1^99 by a loose imitation by Gracian
Dantisco, entitled "El Galateo Espanol," which

121

Biblio- in its turn was translated into English in 1640 by
graphi- William Styles as "Galateo Espagnol, or the Span-
cal ish Gallant." In 1598 an edition of the"Galateo"in

Note fQUj. languages, Italian, French, Latin, and Span-
ish, was published at Lyons; and a German ver-
sion was added in the editions of 1609 and 1615.
The first English translation, by Robert Peter-
son of Lincoln's Inn, appeared in 1^76, as **Gala-
teo of Maister lohn Delia Casa, Archebishop of
Beneventa, or rather a Treatise of the Manners
and Behaviours it behoveth a Man to use in his
familiar Conversation;" and an edition of it, lim-
ited to one hundred copies, was privately printed
by H. ]. Reid in 1892. Peterson's rendering is
based almost entirely on the anonymous French
translation of ijj 73, although he occasionally re-
fers to the Italian original on the opposite pages.
Two proofs of his indebtedness will suffice:
Where the Frenchman renders the single Ital-
ian word " mezzanamente " by the phrase " avec
discretion et mediocrite," Peterson follows him
with "by Discretion and Measure;" and again,
the single word "questa" in Delia Casa becomes
"cette gracieusete et courtoisie" in the French
and "this civilitie and courtesie" in the English
version.

At least five other English translations have
been published. In 1616, Thomas Gainsford ap-
pended to his "Rich Cabinet" an "Epitome of
Good Manners extracfted from Archbp. J. de la
122

Casa;" the treatise was paraphrased by N. W. as Biblio-
"The Refin'd Courtier" in 1663; in 1701, an Eng- graphi-
lish translation (from the Latin version of N. Chy- cal
traeus) was published " by several young Gen- Note
tlemen educated at a private Grammar School
near Hackney," under the title of "]. Casa his
Galateus, or a Treatise of Manners;" a version
entitled "Galateo of Manners" appeared in 1703;
and still another version, entitled "Galateo, or a
Treatise on Politeness and Delicacy of Manners,"
appeared in 1774. Delia Casa was also the author
of another treatise on conducft, " Trattato degli
UfFici communi tragli Amici superiori e inferiori,"
which was translated into English by Henry
Stubbe in 166^, as "The Arts of Grandeur and
Submission."

Peterson's version is reproduced in the present
work. The proofs have been collated with the
British Museum copy of the original 1^76 edition
by Mr. W. B. Owen, formerly scholar of St. Cath-
arine's College, Cambridge. In deference to the
insistence of the publisher and the general editor,
a few passages "perfume our pages only in their
native Italian." j p o

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