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Castiglione's Courtier



SOURCE:  Baldassare Castiglione. "The Courtier." In Three Renaissance Classics. Translated by Thomas Hoby. Edited by by Burton A. Milligan. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1953, 242-624. Permission to mount electronic version applied for.  [1507: date of dialogue. 1528: date of first edition. 1561: date of Hoby's translation.] Before using any portion of this text in any theme, essay,research paper, thesis, dissertation, or publication, please read the disclaimer

Transcription conventions: Page numbers in angle brackets refer to the edition cited as the source. Words or phrases singled out for indexing are marked by plus signs. In the index, numbers in parentheses indicate how many times the item appears. A slash followed by a number indicates a note at the end of the book.
 
 


INDEX: Achilles+(2) | action+(2) |active+(2) | active_or_doing_life+(1) |Adam's_to_blame+(1) | affability+(1) |affable+(2) | Affectation+(1) |affections+(1) | affetazione+(1) |Agesilaus+(1) | Alcibiades+(1) |Alexander+(6) | amateur+(6) |amicitia+(3) | amitie+(2) |ancients+(1) | anger+(2) | Antonio+(5) | Antonius+(1) |appetite+(2) | appetites+(1) |applied+(1) | Aragon+(6) |Aristippus+(1) | Aristotle+(8) |armes+(1) | arte+(1) | auncestors+(1) | auntient+(1) |babler+(1) | baited+(1) |Barbarians+(1) | Barbary+(1) |Bassanio+(3) | Beatrice_Benedict+(1) |Bees+(2) | Belmont+(1) |benefit+(1) | benefits+(2) |benevolent+(1) | binde+(1) |boaster+(1) | Boccacio+(2) |body_members+(1) | bond+(1) |bondage+(1) | Borgia+(1) |bounde+(1) | brag+(1) |bragge+(2) | bragging+(1) |braverie+(3) | Brutus+(2) |burden+(6) | Caligula+(1) |calmenesse+(1) | Carbo+(1) | Cardinallof_Pavia+(1) | cart+(1) |Catilina+(1) | Cato+(5) |Catoes_gravitie+(1) | Catullus+(1) |Cesar+(2) | Chaucer's_knight+(1) |cheer+(2) | Cheer+(1) |chivalry+(1) | Cicero+(6) |civilitie+(1) | Civilitie+(1) |Claudius+(1) | clemency+(1) |Clemency+(1) | common+(1) |common_weales+(1) | condescension+(1) |continencie+(1) | continent+(1) |coquette+(3) | Cordelia+(5) |Cornelia+(1) | Cornwall's_servant+(1) |Cotta+(1) | courage+(7) |courtesie+(1) | Courtesie+(1) |Courtesy+(1) | Courtier+(1) |courtisie+(1) | covetous+(1) |Crassus+(2) | curiositie+(4) |Curiositie+(1) | curiousnesse+(1) |custome+(1) | Cyrus+(1) |deadly_sins+(1) | death+(1) |debt+(1) | deede+(1) |deedes+(4) | deeds+(2) |Demetrius+(1) | Demosthenes+(1) |deserts+(1) | deserve+(1) |Diaceto+(1) | disinvoltura+(1) |divine_right+(1) | dog_obeyed_in_ofice+(1) |doinges+(1) | Donne+(1) |double_standard+(1) | drawing+(1) |Duessa+(1) | duetie+(3) |dulce_utile+(1) | effemininate+(1) |ende+(1) | Ennius+(3) |Epaminondas+(2) | Eschines+(2) |Esope+(1) | Este+(1) |ex_tempore+(1) | example+(1) | expectation+(1) | Fabii+(1) |familiaritie+(1) | father+(1) |fellowship+(2) | felowship+(1) |Ferdinande+(1) | Ferrara+(3) |fidelitie+(1) | flaterer+(1) |flatterer+(2) | flatterers+(3) |flatterie+(1) | flea_in_their_eare+(1) |fortune+(8) | Friend+(1) |friende+(1) | friendship+(2) |Friers+(1) | Galba+(1) |garments+(2) | generallitie+(1) |gentleman+(1) | gift+(1) |gift_of_nature+(1) | give+(1) |glorie+(1) | glory+(3) |Gloucrsster+(1) | Gobbo+(1) |golden_age+(1) | Gonzaga+(2) |good+(2) | good_name+(1) | good_turne+(1) | Graccus+(1) |grace+(3) | grave+(1) |Greek+(1) | habite+(1) |Hamlet+(1) | hand_in_hand+(1) |handicraft+(1) | Hannibal+(1) |happe+(1) | happinesse+(1) |harmony+(1) | hazard+(1) |Henry+(1) | Henry4+(2) | Hesiodus+(1) | Historiographers+(1) |Homer+(4) | honest+(1) |honest_man+(1) | honestie+(2) |honour+(2) | Horace+(1) |Hortensius+(1) | Humanitie+(1) |Idea+(1) | ignorance+(1) |imagination+(1) | impudencie+(1) |infidels+(1) | ingratitude+(1) |Isabel+(2) | Isocrates+(1) |Jessica+(3) | jesting+(1) |judgement+(1) | justice+(5) |Kent+(2) | know_him_selfe+(1) |knowledge+(2) | Latin+(1) |Laurence_de_Medicis+(1) | Lawier+(1) |Lawiers+(2) | Lear+(3) |Lenard-Vincio+(1) | letters+(2) |liberalitie+(1) | liberall_artes+(1) |liberallitie+(1) | libertie+(2) |Livius+(1) | Loelius+(1) |love_and_feare+(1) | Luca+(1) |lucke+(1) | Lucullus+(1) |lust+(1) | Lycurgus+(1) |lying+(1) | Lysias+(1) |Magdalen+(1) | Mahumet+(1) |malapertnesse+(1) | Malvolio+(3) |manliness+(1) | Mantegna+(1) |Mantua+(4) | marchant+(1) |Marcus_Antonius+(1) | Marmaidens+(1) |maskers+(1) | meane+(2) |Measure_for_Measure+(1) | Medicis+(1) |memorye+(1) | mercie+(1) |mercy+(1) | merie_conceites+(1) |merry+(2) | Michael_Angelo+(1) |Michaelangelo+(1) | miles_gloriosus+(1) |Miranda+(1) | mirth+(1) |modest+(1) | Modest+(1) |modestie+(3) | Monarchy+(1) |Montefeltro+(1) | morall_Philosopher+(1) |Musicke+(1) | name+(1) |natural_virtue+(1) | nboblesse-unnecessary+(1) |nette+(1) | noblenesse+(1) |noblesse-oblige+(1) | Octavia+(1) |office+(1) | Officiis+(4) |Oratours+(1) | othes+(1) | Ovid+(1) | Panetius+(1) |Paris+(1) | Parliament+(1) |passion+(1) | passions+(2) |patience+(1) | Paul+(1) |Paule+(1) | Paulus+(1) |peace_corrupts+(1) | pearce+(1) |pedantry+(1) | perfect_commune_weale+(1) |perfect_Courtier+(1) | perfect_king+(1) |perfect_Oratour+(1) | Petrarca+(1) |Petrarch+(1) | Philip+(1) |Philosophers_schooles+(1) |Phisitions+(1) | Pigmalion+(1) |Pilot+(1) | PlainDealer+(10) |plaine+(1) | Plato+(11) |Platonic_love+(4) | Plautus+(1) |Plotinus+(1) | Plutarch+(1) |Poets+(1) | Politian+(1) |Polonius+(3) | Pompeius+(1) |Porcia+(1) | Portia+(1) |posteritie+(1) | posterity+(1) |practise+(1) | Prelates+(1) |profit+(1) | profitable+(1) |Prometheus+(1) | Prospero+(2) |Pylades_and_Orestes+(1) | quiet+(1) | quietnesse+(1) | Raphael+(2) |Raphaelles+(1) | reason+(1) |Rechlesnesse+(1) | recklessnesse+(1) |Recklessnesse+(1) | rewarde+(1) |rewarding+(1) | Richard3+(1) |ring+(4) | ripenesse+(1) |Romolatry+(1) | rovers+(1) | Saint_Francis+(1) | Salomon+(1) |Salust+(1) | Scipio+(2) |Scipio_Africanus+(1) | self_criticism+(1) |Seneca+(2) | servant+(1) |shame+(1) | Shylock+(4) |Silius+(1) | simplicitie+(2) |simply+(1) | slavery+(1) |Socrates+(7) | solace+(1) |Spaine+(1) | spies+(1) |sprezzatura+(3) | Stagira+(1) | staiednesse+(1) | stedfastnesse+(2) |Stoikes+(1) | Strozzi+(1) |Sulpitius+(1) | superstitious+(1) |Sylla+(1) | Tacitus+(2) |temperance+(2) | temperate+(1) |Themistocles+(1) | Themistoeles+(1) |Theophrastus+(1) | Theseus_and_Perithous+(1) |Tirant+(1) | trade+(1) |troth+(1) | Troy+(1) |trust+(1) | truth+(3) |Tullius+(1) | Tully+(1) |tyrannicall+(1) | tyrannicide+(1) |Tyranny+(1) | tyrant+(1) |tyrants+(1) | Tyrants+(2) |Ulisses+(1) | unity_of_virtues+(1) |untemperate+(1) | Varro+(1) |vertue+(5) | vertues+(1) |Virgill+(4) | virtue_education+(1) |virtue_learned+(1) | virtue_teaching+(1) |virtues_list+(11) | wavering+(1) |wisdom+(1) | wisedom+(4) |wit+(1) | wit_and_judgement+(1) |womanish+(2) | wordes+(2) |worthy+(1) | Wyf+(1) |Xenophon+(3)



 
 

THE COURTIER

CHIEF SPEAKERS IN THE DIALOGUES OF THE COURTIER

ELISABETTA GONZAGA, wife of Guidobaldi di Montefeltro,Duke of Urbino
LADY EMILIA PIA, friend and companion of the Duchess, and widow of the Duke's half-brother
MAIRGARITA GONZAGA, young niece and companion of the Duchess
COSTANZA FREGOSO, young half-niece of the Duke

FRANCESCO MARIA DELLA ROVERE ("THE LORD   GENERALL"), young nephew and adopted heir of the Duke
FIREDERICO FRECOSO (SIR FIREDERICK), half-nephew of the Duke, afterwards made a cardinal
OTTAVIANO FRECOSO (LORD OCTAVIAN), elder brother of Costanza and Federico, afterwards a Doge of Genoa
COUNT LUDOVICO DA CANOSSA (COUNT LEWIS), a kinsman of Castiglione, afterwards Bishop of Bayeux GIULIANO DE' MEDICI  [Lord Julian] ("MY LORD MAGNIFICO"), Son Of Lorenzo the Magnificent; close friend of Casstiglione; afterwards Duke of Nemours
BERNARDO Dovizi (BIBBIENA), an adherent of the Medici, afterwards a cardinal
CESARE GONZAGA, kinsman of the Duchess, cousin and close friend of Castigl BERNAltDo AcCOLTI better known as UNICO ARETINO, "the unique Aretine," a courtier-poet
LURD GASPAR PALLAVICINO, the young man who is the Benedick to Lady Emilia Pia's Beatrice ,
PIETRO BEMBO, Venetian scholar and poet, afterwards a cardinal
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Epistle of the Author

UNTO THE REVEREND AND HONOURABLE LORDE MYCHAELL DE SYLVA BISHOP OF VISEO:

     AFTER the Lorde Guidubaldo of Montefeltro Duke of Urbin was departed out of this life, certein other Gentilmen and I that had bine servauntes to him, continued in servyce wyth Duke Francescomaria Della Rover6 hys heire and successor in the state: and whyle the savour of the vertues of Duke Guidubaldo was fresh in my mynde, and the great delite I took in those yeeres in the loving companie of so excellent Personages as then were in the Court of Urbin: I was provoked by the memorie therof to write these bookes of the Courtier. The which I accomplished in a fewe dayes,/1 myndinge in time to amende those faultes that spronge of the desire that I had speedilie to paye this debt. But fortune now manie yeeres hath alwayes kept me under in suche continuall travayles, that I coulde never gete leyser to bringe it to the passe that my feeble judgement might be throughlie satisfied withall. At such time therfore as I was in Spayne, being advertised out of Italy how the Lady Vittoria Colonna Marquesse of Pescara, unto whom in foretime I had graunted a Copie of this booke, contrarie to her promise, had made a qreat part of it to be copied out: it greeved me somwhat whether I would or no, standinge in doubt of the sundrie inconveniences that in the like cases may happen. Yet had I a hope that the witt and wis-
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CASTIGLIONE
dome of that Lady (whose troth I have alwaies had in reverence, as a matter from above) was sufficient to provide, not to be harmfull unto me my beeinge obedient to her commaundement. At last I hard an ynckinge that part of the booke was rief in Naples in many mens handes: and as men are alwayes desirous of noveltie, it was thought that they attempted to imprint it. Wherfore I, amased at this mischaunce, determined wyth my self to overlooke by and by that litle in the booke that time served me therto, with entent to set it abrode, thinking it lesse hurtful to have it somwhat corrected with mine owne hande, then much mangled with an other mannes. Therfore to have this my pourpose take effect, I tooke in hande to reade it over afresh, and sodeinlie at the flrst blush by reason of the title, I tooke no litle grief, which in proceadinge forward encreased much more, remembringe that the greater part of them that are brought in to reason, are now dead. For beside those that are mentioned in the Proheme of the last booke, M. Alphonsus Ariosto him self is dead, unto whom the booke was dedicated, a noble yonge Gentilman, discreete, full of good condicions, and apt unto every thing meete for one livinge in court. Likewise Duke Julian de Medicis, whose goodnesse and noble Courtesy+ deserved to have bene a longer time enjoyed of the world. Also M. Bernard, Cardinall of S,. Maria in Portico, who for his livelie and pleasant promptnes of witt, was most acceptable unto as manie as knew him, and dead he is. The Lord Octavian Fregoso is also dead, a man in oure tymes verie rare, of a most noble courage, of a pure lief, full of goodnesse, witt, wisdome and Courtesie+, and a verie frende unto  honour+ and vertue+, {virtues_list+} and so worthy+ prayse, that his verie ennemies could say none other of hym, then what sounded to his renoume: and the inishappes he hath borne out with great steadinesse, were sufficient inoughe to geve evidence, that fortune+, as she hath alwayes bene, so is she in these dayes also an enemie to vertue+. There are dead in like manet manie other that are named in this boke, unto whom a man wold have
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THE COURTIER
thought that nature had promised a verie longe lief. But the thinge that should not be rehersed wythout teares is, that the Dutchesse she is also dead. And if my minde be troubled with the losse of so manye frindes and good Lordes of myne, that have left me in this lief, as it were in a wildernes full of sorow, reason would it should with much more grief beare the heavinesse of the Dutchesse death, then of al the rest, bicause she was more woorth then all the rest, and I was much more bounde+ unto her then unto all the rest. Therfore for leesinge time to bestowe that of dutye I ought upon the memorye of so excellent a Ladye, and of the rest that are no more in lief, provoked also by the jeopardye of the booke, I have made him to be imprinted, and set forth in such sort, as the shortnes of time hath served me. And bicause you had no acqueintance, neither with the Dutches, nor with any of the rest that are dead, saving only with Duke Julian, and with the Cardinal of S.Maria in Portico, while they lived, therfore to the entent, in what I can do, you may have acqueintance with them after their death, I send unto you this booke, as a purtraict in peinctinge of the Court of Urbin: not of the handiwoorke of  Raphael+, or Michael_Angelo+, but of an unknowen pemeter, and that can do no more but draw the principall lines, without settingfurth the truth with beawtifull coulours, or makinge it appeere by the art of Prospective that it is not. And wher I have enforced my self to setfurth together with the communication the propreties and condicions of such as are named in it, I confess I have not only not fully expressed, but not somuch as touched the vertues of the Dutchesse. Bicause not onlye my stile is unsunsufficient to express them, but also mine understanding to conceive them. And if in this behalf, or in anie other matter woorthy reprehention (as I know well there want not manie in the booke) fault be found in me, I will not speake against the truth. But bicause men somtime take such delite in finding fault, that they find fault also in that deserveth not reproof, unto some that blame me bicause I
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CASTIGLIONE
have not folowed  Boccacio+, nor bound my self to the maner of the Tuscane speach used nowadayes, I will not let to say, for all Boccaccio was of a fine.witt, according to those times, and in some part writt with great advisement and diligence: yet did he write much better whan he lett him self be guided with witt and his naturall inclination without the him home in I of unknown to oven to the AAA AAA to have a what one of the anile other maner studie or regarde to polish his writings than when with al travaile and bent studye he enforced him self to be most fine and eloquent. {PlainDealer+} For his verie favourers affirme that in his own matters he was far deceived in judgement, litle regarding such thinges as have gotten him a name, and greatlye esteaminge that is noth ing to woorth. Had I then folowed that trade of writing which is blamed in him by such as praise him in the rest, I could not have eschewed the verye same reprooffes that are laied to Boccaccio himself as touching this. And I had deserved somuch the more, for that his errour was then, in beleavyng he did well, and mine should be nowe, in knowinge I do amisse. Again if I had folowed that trade which is reckoned of many to be good, and was litle regarded of him, I should appeere in folowing it to disagree from the judgement of him whom I folowed: the which thing (in mine opinion) were an inconvenience. And beeside yf this respect had not moved me, I could not folowe him in the matter, forsomuch as he never wrott any thing in treatise like unto these bookes of the Courtier: and in the tunge, I ought not in mine advise, bicause the force or rule of speach doeth consist more in use, then in anye thinge els, and it is alwayes a vice to use woordes that are not in commune speach. {PlainDealer+} Therfore it was not meete I should have used many that are in Boccaccio, which in his time were used, and now are out of use emonge the Tuseanes them selves.
     Neyther would I binde my self to the maner of the Tuseane tunge in use nowe a dayes, bicause the practising emonge sundrye Nations, hath alwayes bene of force to transport from one to an other (in a maner) as merchaundise, so also new woordes, which afterward remaine or decaye,
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THE COURTIER
according as they are admitted by custome or refused. And this beside the record of auntient writers, is to be evidently seene in Boccaccio, in whom there are so manie woordes French, Spanish, and provincial, and some perhappes not well understood of the Tuseanes in these dayes, that whoso woulde pick them out, should make the booke much the lesser. And bicause (in mine opinion) the kinde of speach of the other noble Cities of Italy, where there resorte men of wisdome, understandinge and eloquence, which practise great matters of government of states, of letters, armes, and diverse affayres, ought not altogether to be neglected for the woordes whiche in these places are used in commune speach: I suppose that they maye be used wel inough, writing such as have a grace and comlynesse in the pronuntiation, and communly counted good and of propre signification, though they be not Tuseane, and have also their origion out of Italy. Beeside this in Tuseane they use many woordes cleane corrupte from the Latin, the which in Lumbardye and in the other partes of Italy remaine wholl and without any chaunge at al, and they are so universallye used of everye man, that of the best sorte they are allowed for good, and of the commune people understood with out difficulty. Therfore I thinke I have committed no errour at all, yf in writing I have used any of these, and rather taken the wholl and pure woord of mine owne Countrey, then the corrupt and mangled of an other. Neyther doeth that rule seeme good unto me, where many say the vulgar tung, the lesse it is like unto the Latin, the more beawtiful it is: and I can not perceive why more authoritie should consist in one custome of speach, then in an other. For if Tuseane be sufficient to authorise corrupt and mangled Latin woordes, and to geve them so greate a grace, that mangled in such sort everye man may use them for good (the which no man denieth) should not Lumbardy or any other countrey have the authoritye to allow the very Latin woordes that be pure, sounde, propre and not broken in any part so, but they may be well borne: and assuredly as it may be
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CASTIGLIONE
called a rash presumption to take in hand to forge new wordes, or to set up the olde in spite of custome: so is it no lesse, to take in hande against the force of the same custome to bring to naught, and (as it were) to burye alive such as have rasted nowe many yeeres, and have ben defended from the malice of the time with the shield of use, and have preserved their estimation and dignitye, whan in the warres and turmoiles of Italy, alterations were brought up both of the tunge, buildinges, garmentes and maners.
     And beeside the hardnesse of the matter, it seemeth to be (as it were) a certein wickednesse. Therfore where I have not thought good in my writing to use the wordes of Boccaccio which are used no more in Tuscane, nor to binde my self to their law that think it not lawful to use them that the Tuseanes use not nowadayes, me thynke I ought to be held excused. But I suppose both in the matter of the booke and in the tunge, forsomuch as one tung may help an other, I have folowed Authores asmuch woorthie praise, as Boceaccio. And I beleave it ought not to be imputed unto me for an errour, that I have chosen to make my self rather knowen for a Lumbard, in speaking of Lumbard, then for no Tusean, in speaking of tomuch Tusean. Bicause I wil not do as Theophrastus+ did, which for speaking tomuch the meere Athenian tunge, was of a simple olde woman knowen not to be of Athens. But byeause in thys point there is sufficyent talke in the first booke, I will make no more a do. And to avoid al contention I confesse to my fault-finders, that I have no knowleage in this their Tusean tunge so hard and secrete: and I say that I have written it in mine owne, and as I speak, and unto such as speake as I speake: and so I trust I have offended no man. For I beleave it is forbed no man that is, to wryte and speake in his owne tunge, neyther is anye man bound to reade or heare that contenteth hym not. Therfore if they will not reade my Courtier, they shall offende me nothing at all.
     Other say, bicause it is so hard a matter and (in a maner) unpossible to finde out a man of such perfection, as I would
<248> 
THE COURTIER
have the Courtier+ to be, it is but superfluous to write it: for it is a vaine thing to teach that can not be learned. To these men I answere, I am content, to err with  Plato+Xenophon+, and M. Tullius+, leaving apart the disputing of the intelligible world and of the Ideas or imagined fourmes: in which number, as (according to that opinion) the Idea+ or figure conceyved in imagination of a perfect_commune_weale+, and of a perfect_king+, and of a perfect_Oratour+ are conteined: so is it also of a perfect_Courtier+. To the image wherof if my power could not draw nigh in stile, so much the lesse peynes shall Courtiers have to drawe nigh in effect to the ende and marke that I in writing have set beefore them. And if with all this they can not compasse that perfection, such as it is, which I have endevoured to expresse, he that cummeth nighest shall be the most perfect: as emonge many Archers that shute at one marke, where none of them hitteth the pinn, he that is nighest is out of doubt better then the rest. Some again say that my meaning was to facion my self, perswading my self that all suche qualities as I appoint to the Courtier are in me. Unto these men I will not cleane deny that I have attempted all that my mynde is the Courtier shoulde have knowleage in. And I thinke who so hath not the knowleage of the thinges intreated upon in this booke, how learned so ever he be, he can full il write them. But I am not of so selender a judgment in knowing my self, that I wil take upon me to know what soever I can wish. The defence therfore of these accusations and peraventure of many mo, I leave for this once, to the judgement of the commune opinion: bicause for the most part the multytude, though they have no perfect knowleage, yet do they feele by the instinct of nature {natural_virtue+} a certein savour of good and ill, and can geve none other reason for it: one tasteth and taketh delite, an other refuseth and is against his stomake.
     Therfore if the book shall generallv please, I wil count him good, and think that he ought to live: but if he shall displease, I will count him naught, and beleave that the
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CASTIGLIONE
memorye+ of him shall soone perish. And if for all this mine accusers will not be satisfied with this commune judge- mente, let them content them selves with the judgement of time, which at length discovereth the privie faultes of every thing: and bicause it is father to truth and a judge without passion+, it accustometh evermore to pronounce true sentence of the life or death of writynges.

THE COURTIER FIRST BOOK

The First Booke of The Courtier
of Counte Baldesser Castilion,
unto Maister Alfonsus Ariosto

I HAvE a long time douted with my self (moste loving M. Alphonsus) whiche of the two were harder for me, either to denie you the thing that you have with such instance many times required of me, or to take it in hand: because on the one side mee thought it a verie hard matter to denie any thing, especially the request being honest+, { Antonio+} to the person whom I love dearely, and of whom I perceive my selfe dearly beloved. {Friend+} Againe, on the other side, to undertake an enterprise which I doe not know my selfe able to bring to an ende, I judged it uncomly for him that weyeth due reproofes so much as they ought to bee weyed.
     At length, after much debating, I have determined to proove in this behalfe, what ayde that affection and great desire to please can bring unto my diligence, which in other things is woont to encrease the labour of men.
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THE COURTIER
    You then require me to write, (what is to my thinking) the trade and maner of courtiers, which is most convenient for a gentleman that liveth in the Court of Princes, by the which he may have the knowledge how to serve them perfitely in every reasonable { Cordelia+} matter, and obtaine therby favour of them, and praise of other men.
     Fnally of what sort hee ought to bee that deserveth to be called so perfit a Courtier, that there be no want in him: Wherefore I considering this kinde of request (say) that in case it shoulde not appeare to my selfe a greater blame, to have you esteeme me to be of small friendship, than all other men of little wisdom, I would have ridde my hands of this labour, for feare least I should be counted rash of al such as knowe, what a hard matter it is, among such diversitie of maners, that are used in the Courts of Christendome, to picke out the perfectest trade and way, and (as it were) the floure of this Courtiership. Bicause use maketh us many times to delite in, and to set little by the selfe same things: whereby sometime it proceedeth that maners, garments, customes, and fashions, which at somtime have ben in price, become not regarded, and contrariwise, the not regarded, become of price.
     Therefore it is manifestly to be discerned, that use hath greater force than reason, to bring up new inventions among us, and to abolish the olde, of the which who so goeth about to judge the perfection, is oftentimes deceived.
     For which consideration, perceiving this and many other lettes, in the matter propounded for me to write upon, I am constreined to make a peece of an excuse, and to open plainely that this error (if it may be termed an errour) is common to us both, that if any blame happen to me about it, it may be partned with you. For it ought to bee reckned a no lesse offence in you, to lay upon me a burthen that passeth my strength, than in me to take it upon me.
     Let us therefore at length settle our selves to beginne that that is our purpose and drift, and (if be it possible) let us fashion such a Courtier, as the Prince that shall be
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worthie to have him in his service, although his state be but small, may notwithstanding be called a mighty Lord.
     We wil not in these books follow any certaine order or rule of appointed preceptes, the which for the most part is woont to bee observed in teaching of any thing whatsoever it bee: But after the manner of men of olde time, renuing a gratefull memorie: we will repeate certaine reasonings that were debated in times past, betweene men very excellent for that purpose. And although I was not there present/2 but at the time when they were debated, it was my chaunce to be in Englande, yet soone after my returne, I heard them of a person that faithfully reported them unto me. And I will endevour my selfe, for so much as my memory will serve me, to call them particularly to remembrance, that you may see, what men worthy great commendation, and unto whose judgement a man may in every point give an undoubted credite, have judged and beleeved in this matter.
     Neither shall we swarve from the purpose to arrive in good order at the ende, unto the which all our communication is directed, if we disclose the cause of the reasonings that hereafter follow.
     As every man knoweth, the little Citie of Urbin is situated upon the side of the Appennine (in a manner) in the middes of Italy, towards the Goulfe of Venice. The which for all it is placed among hilles, and those not so pleasant as perhappes some other that we behold in many places, yet in this point the Element hath beene favourable unto it, that all about, the Countrey is verie plentifull and full of fruites: so that beside the holesomnes of ayre, it is verie aboundant and stored with all thinges necessarie for the life of man. But among the greatest felicities that man can reckon to have, I count this the chiefe, that now a long time it hath alwaies bene governed with very good princes, in the common calamities of the wars of Italie it remained also a season without any at all.
     But without searching further of this, we may make a
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good proofe with the famous memorie of Duke Fridericke/3 who in his daies was the light of Italy. Neither do wee want true and very large testimonies yet remaning of his wisedome, courtesie, justice, liberalitie, of his invincible courage and policy of warre. And of this doe his so manye victories make proofe, chiefly his conquering of places impugnable, so sodaine readines in setting forward to give battaile, his putting to flight sundrie times with a small number, very great and puissant armies, and never sustained losse in anye conflict, So that we may, not without cause, compare him to many famous men of olde time.
     This man among his other deedes praise-worthie, in the hard and sharpe situation of Urbin buylt a Palace, to the opinion of many men, the fairest that was to bee found in all Italie, and so furnished it with all necessarie implementes belonging thereto, that it appeared not a Palace, but a Citie in forme of a Palace, and that not onelye with ordinarye matters, as Silver plate, hangings for Chambers of very rich cloth of Golde, of Silke and other like, but also for sightlines: and to decke it out withall, placed there a wondrous number of auncient Images of Marble and Mettall, very excellent paintings and Instruments of Musicke of all sortes, and nothing wjuld he have there but what was most rare and excellent.
     To this with verie great charges hee gathered together a great number of most excellent rare bookes, in Greeke, Latin, and Hebrue, the which all hee garnished with gold and silver, esteeming this to be the chiefest ornament of his great Palace.
     This Duke then following the course of nature, when he was threescore and five yeares of age, as he had lived, so did he end his lyfe with glorie. And left Duke after him a child of ten yeres having no more male, and without mother, who hight Guidubaido.
     This childe, as of the state, so did it appeare also that he was heire of all his fathers vertues: and sodainly with a marveilous towardnes, began to promise so much or him-
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selfe, as a man would not have thought possible to bee hoped of a man mortall. So that the opinion of men was, that of all Duke Frederickes notable deedes, there was none greater than that he begat such a sonn. But fortune envying this so great vertue, with all her miqht gainstood this so glorious a beginning, in such wise that berore Duke Guidubaldo was xx, yeares of age, he fell sicke of the goute, the which encreasing upon him with most bitter paines, in a short time so nummed him of all his members, that hee coulde neither stand on foote, nor move himselfe. And in this manner was one of the best favoured, and towardliest personages in the world, deformed and marred in his greene age. And beside, not satisfied with this,  fortune+ was so contrarie to him in al his purposes, that verye seldome he brought to passe any thing to his mind. And for all bee had in him most wise counsaile, and an invincible courage, yet it seemed that whatsoever he tooke in hand, both in teats of armes, and in everye other thing small or great, it came alwaies to ill successe.
     And of this make proofe his manye and diverse calamities, which hee alwaies bare out with such stoutnesse of courage, that vertue never yeelded to fortune. But with a bold stomacke despising her stormes, lived with great dignitie and estimation among all men: in sicknesse, as one that was soundle, and in adversitie, as one that was most fortunate. So that for all hee was thus diseased in his bodie he served in time of warre with most honourable entertainement under the most famous kings of Naples, Alphonsus and Ferdinande the yonger. Afterward with Pope Alexander the sixt, with the Lordes of Venice and Florence.
     And when Julius the second was created Pope, hee was then made General Capitaine of the Church: at which time proceeding in his accustomed usage, hee set his delight above all thinges to have his house furnished with most noble and valiant Gentlemen, with whom hee lived verie familiarly, enjoying their conversation.
     Wherein the pleasure which hee gave unto other men
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was no lesse, than that he received of other, because hee was verie well seene in both toongs, and togither with a loving behaviour and pleasantnesse hee had also accompanied the knowledge of infinite things. And beside this, the greatnesse of his courage so quickned him, that where hee was not in case with his person to practise the feates of Chivalrie, as he had done long before, yet did he take vene great delight to beholde them in other men, and with his wordes sometime correcting, and otherwhile praising every man according to his deserts, he declared evidently how great a judgement hee had in those matters.
     And upon this at Tilt, at Tourney, in playing at all sorts of weapon, also in inventing devices in pastimes, in Musicke, finally in all exercises meete for noble Gentlemen, every man strived to shew himselfe such a one, as might deserve to bee judged worthie of so noble assembly.
     Therefore were all the houres of the day divided into honourable and pleasant exercises, as well of the bodie, as of the minde. But because the Duke used continually, by reason of his infirmitie, soone after Supper to goe,to his rest, everie man ordinarily, at that houre drew where the Dutchesse was, the Ladie Elizabeth Gonzaga, where also continually was the Ladie Emilia Pia, who for that shee was indued with so lively awit_and_judgement+, as you know, seemed the maistresse and ringleader of all the company, and that everie man at her received understanding and courage.
     There was then to bee heard pleasant communications and merie_conceites+, and in everie mans countenance a man might perceive painted a loving jocundnesse. So that this house truely might wel be called the very Mansion place of mirth+ and joy. And I beleeve it was never so tasted in other place, what manner a thing the sweete conversation that is occasioned of an amiable and loving company, as it was once there.
     For leaving apart what honour it was to all us to serve such a Lorde, as hee whom I declared unto you right now,
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everye man conceived in his minde an high contentation every time we came into the Dutchessi sight. And it appeared that this was a chaine { ring+} that kept all linked together in love, in such wise that there was never agreement of wil or hartie love greater betweene brethren, than there was betweene us all.
     The like was betweene the woman with whom we had such free and honest conversation that everye man miqht commune, sitte, dallye, and laugh with whom hee had lusted.
     But such was the respect which we bore to the Dutchesse will, that the selfe same libertie was a very great bridle.
     Neither was there any that thought it not the greatest pleasure he could have in the world, to please her, and the greatest griefe to offende her.
     For this respect were there most honest conditions coupled with wondrous great libertie, and devises of pastimes, and laughing matters tempred in her sight, beside most witty jestes, with so comely and grave a Majestie, that the verye sober moode and greatnes that did knit together all the actes, woordes and gestures of the Dutchesse in jesting and laughing, made them all that had never seene her in their lyfe before, to count her a verie great Ladie.
     And all that came in her presence, having this respect fixed in their breast, it seemed shee had made them to her becke.
     So that everie man enforced himselfe to followe this trade, taking (as it were) a rule and ensample of faire conditions at the presence of so great and so vertuous a Ladie. Whose most excellent qualities I entend not now to expresse, for it is neither my purpose, and againe they are well, ynough knowne to the world, and much better than I am able either with tonque, or with pen to indite.
     And such as would perhaps have lien hid a space, fortune, as shee that wondreth at so rare vertues, hath thought good, with manye adversities and temptations of miseries to disclose them, to make triall thereby that in the tender
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breast of a woman, in companie with singular beautie there can dwel wisedome and stoutnes of courage and all other vertues that in grave man themselves are most seldome.
     But leaving this apart, I say that the maner of the gentlemen in the house was immediately after supper to assemble together where the Dutchesse was. Where among other recreations, musicke and dauncing, which they used continually, sometime they propounded feate questions, otherwhile they invented certayne wittye sportes and pastimes at the device sometime of one sometime of another, in the which under sundry coverts oftentimes the standers by opened subtilly their immaginations unto whome they thought best.
     At other times there arose other disputations of divers matters, or else jeastings with prompt inventions. Many times they fell into purposes, (as we now a daies terme them) where in this kinde of talke and debating of matters, there was wonderous great pleasure on al sides: Because (as I have said) the house was replenished with most noble wittes. Among which (as you know) were most famous the Lord Octavian Fregoso, Sir Friderick his brother, the Lord Julian de Medicis, M. Peter Bembo, the Lord Cesar Gonzaga, Counte Lewis of Canossa, the Lord Gasper Pallavicin, the Lorde Lodovicus Pins, Maister Morello of Ortona, Peter of Naples, Maister Robert of Bari, and infinite of other most worthy knights and gentlemen.
     Beside these, there were many that for all ordinarilye they dwelled not there, yet spent they most of all their time there, as Maister Bernard Bibiena, Unico Aretino, John Christopher Romano, Peter Mount, Therpander, Maister Nicholas Phrisio, so that thither ran continually Poets, Musitions, and all kind of men of skill, and the excellentest in every faculty that were in all Italy.
     After Pope julius the second had with his owne presence by the ayde of the Frenchmen brought Bolonia to the obedience of the Apostolique sea againe, in the yeare a
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thousand five hundred and sixe, in his returne toward Rome he took Urbin in his way, where hee was received as honorably as was possible, and with as sumptuous and costly preparation, as could have bene in any other City of Italie whatsoever it be. So that beside the Pope, all the Cardinals and other Courtiers thought themselves thorowly satisfied.
     And some there were that provoked with the sweetnes of this company, after that the Pope and the Court was departed, continued many daies tocether in Urbin. At which time they did not onely projeede in their accustomed trade of disporting and ordinarye recreations, but also every man set to his helpinii hande to augment them somewhat, and especially in pastimes, which they had up almost every night.
     And the order thereof was such, that as soone as they were assembled where the Dutchesse was, every man sat him downe at his will, or as it fell to his lot, in a circle together, and in sitting were devyded a man and a woman, as long as there was women, for alwaies lightly, the number of men was far the greater.
     Then were they governed as the dutchesse thought best, which many times gave this charge unto the Ladye Emilia.
     So the day after the Pope was departed, the companye being gathered to the accustomed place, after much pleasant talke the Dutchesse pleasure was that the Ladye Emilia shoulde begin these pastimes.
     And she after a little refusing of that charge, said in this manner: Sith it is your pleasure [Madame] I shall be she that must give the onset in our pastimes this night, because I ought not of reason disobey you, I thinke meete to propound a pastime, whereof I suppose shall ensue little blame, and Iesse travaile.
     And that shall be to have every man, as nigh as he can, propound a device not yet heard of, then shal we choose out such a one as shall be thought meete to be taken in hand in this company.
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And after she had thus spoken, she turned her to the Lord Gaspar Pallavicin, willing him to propound his: who immediately made answere.
     But first (Madame) you must begin to propound yours.
     Then said the Ladye Emilia: I have already done. But your Crace must commande him (Madame) to be obedient.
     Then the dutchesse laughing, to the intent (quoth she) every man shall obey you, I make you my Deputie, and give unto you all mine authority.
     It is surely a great matter, answered the Lord Gaspar, that it is alwaies lawful for women to have this priviledge, to be exempt and free from paines taking.
     And truely reason woulde we should in any wise know why. But because I will not be he that shall give example to disobey, I shall leave this untill an other time, and will speake of that I am now charged withall, and thus I begin.
     Mine opinion is, that our mindes, as in other thinges, so also in loving are diverse in judgement, and therefore it chauneeth often times, that the thing which is most acceptable unto one, is most abhorred of an other. Yet for all that they alwaies agree in that everye man counteth most deare the wight beloved. So that many times the overmuch affection in lovers doth deceive their judgment, that they weene the person whom they love, to be so garnished with al excellent vertues and without fault, that he hath no peere in the world.
     But because the nature of man doth not admit such full perfections, and there is no man that hath not some default or want in him, it can not be said that such as these be, are not deceyved, and that the lover doth not become blind as touching the beloved.
     I would therefore our pastimes should be this night to have everye man open what vertues he would principally the person he loved should be indued withall . And seeing it is so necessarily that we al have some sport, what vice he would also have in him: to see who can find out most
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praise-worthy and manly vertues, and most tollerable vices, that should be least hurtfull both to him that loveth, and to the wight beloved.
     After the L. Gaspar had thus spoken, the L. Emilia made a signe unto the Lady Constaunce Fregosa, because she was next in order, to follow: who was now about to speake when the Dutchesse solemnly saide.
     Seeing the L. Emilia will not take the paines to finde out some pastime, reason willeth that the other Ladies should be partakers of the same privilege, and bee also free from this burden for this nicht especially seeing there are so many men in place, for assure your selfe wee shall want no pastime.
     So shall we doo, answered the L. Emilia, and putting the L. Constance to silence, turned her to the L. Cesar Gonzago that sat next her, commaunding him to speake, and thus began.
     Who so will diligently consider all our dooing, hee shall finde alwaies in them sundry imperfections. And that happeneth, because nature doth vary, as well in this, as in all other things, Unto one she hath given the light of reason in one thing, and unto an other, in an other thing.
     Therefore it commeth to passe, where one man knoweth that an other knoweth not, and is ignorant in the thing that the other hath understanding in, eche man doth easily perceive the errour of his fellow, and not his owne, and wee all thinke our selves to be verie wise, and paradventure in that point most, wherin we are most foolish.
     So that we have seenenœr by experience in this house many men which at the beginning were counted most wise, in processe of time were knowne to bee most foolish, which hath proceeded of no other thing but of our owne diligence.
     Like as it is said to be in Pulia, of them that are bitten with a Tarrantula, about whom men occupy many instruments of musicke, and with sundry sounds go searching out, untill the humour that maketh this disease, by a certain concordance it hath with some of those.soundes, feeling it,
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do sodenly moove, and so stirreth the pacient, that by that -stirring he recovereth his health againe. In like maner wee, when wee have felt some privie operation of folly, we provoke it so subtilly, and with such sundry persuasions, and so divers waies, that at length wee understand whether it tended.
     Afterward the humour knowne, we so stir it, that alwaies it is brought to the perfection of open folly. And some is wexed foolish in verses, some in musicke, some in love, some in dauncing, some in making antiques,/4 some in riding, some in playing at fence, everie man according to the mine of his mettall: wherby hath ensued (as you know) marvellous great pastime.
     I hold therfore for certaine, that in every one of us there is some seede of folly, the which beeing stirred may multiply (in a maner) infinite.
     Therefore I would this night our pastime were to dispute upon this matter: and that everie man might say his mind, seeing: I must be openly foolish, in what sort of folly I am foolish, and over what matter, judging it the issue for the sparkles of folly that are daily seene to proceede from mee.
     And let the like be said of all the rest, keeping the order of our devises.
     And let every man doe his best to grounde his opinion upon some sure signe and argument, and so by this our pastime shall everie one of us get profite, in that we shall know our defaults, and then shall we the better take heede.
     And in case the vaine of folly which wee shall discover, be so ranke that it shall appeare to us past remedie, we shall set thereto our helping hand, and according to the doctrine of Frier Marian, wee shall gaine a soule, which shall be no smal gain. At this devise there was much laughing, and none could refraine from speaking.
     One saide, I should bee found foolish in imagining. An other, in viewing. An other said, he was already become foolish for love: and such like matters.
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Then Frier Seraphin, after his manner, laughing. This (quoth he) should bee too tedious a matter. But if you will have a pretie pastime, let everie man tell his opinion, how it commeth that (in a maner) all women abhorre rattes, and love serpents, and you shall see that none will hit upon it, but I, that know this misterie by a straunge meane. And now began hee to enter into his trifling tales, but the L. Emilia commanded him to silence, and overskipping the Ladie that sat there, made a signe to Unico Aretino that was next in order, and hee went without looking for anie more bidding.
     I (quoth he) would gladly bee a judge of authoritie, that I might with all kinde of torment boult out the truth of offenders and that, to discover the deceits of an ingrate woman, who with the eyes of an angell, and heart of a Serpent, never agreeth her toong with her minde, and with a fained deceivable compassion, purposeth nothing els but to make Anatomie of hearts.
     Neither is there in all the sandie country of Libia to be found so venimous a serpent that is so desirous of mans bloud, as is this false creature. Which not onely for the sweetenesse of voice and pleasant sound of words, but also for her eyes, for her laughing, for her countenance, and for all her gestures is a most perfect Marmaide.
     Therefore seeing it is not lawfull for me, as I would, to use chaines, ropes, or fire, to understand a matter of trueth, my desire is to compasse the knowledge of it with a merry pastime, which is this: That everie man should expresse his fansie what the S, doth signifie that the Dutchesse carieth in her forehead.
     For although this be also an artificiall covert, the better to beguile, perhaps there may bee an interpretation which she never thought upon. And who knoweth whether fortune, with pitie beholding ye torments of men, hath stirred her with his small token, to discover against her will the inwarde desire she hath to slea and bury alive in calamitie him that honoureth and serveth her.
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The Dutchesse laughed, and Unico perceiving shee would have excused her selfe of this interpretation, no (quoth hee) speake you not, madam, for it is not your turne to speake now.
     The L. Emilia then turned her and said: M. Unico there is none of us all here that giveth not place to you in everie thing, and especially in knowing the disposition of the Dutchesse. And as you by your divine wit know her better than all the rest, so doe you love her better than all the rest, which like birds of feeble sight, that cannot looke stedfastly into the circle of the Sun, cannot so well perceive the perfection of it.
     Therefore all labour were in vaine in clearing of this doubt, saving your judgement alone.
     This enterprise then is reserved onely to you, as unto him that alone can bring it to an end, and none other.
     Unico, after he had pawsed a while, being still called upon to say his fansie, at length rehearsed a rime upon the foresaid matter, expounding what signified the letter S, the which manie judged to be made at the first sight. But because it was more wittie and better knit than a man would have believed the shortnes of time required, it was thought he had prepared it before.
     So after mens favourable voice given in the prayse of this rime, and after sufficient talke, the L. Octavian Fregoso, whose turne was then next, began in this sorte smyling, my Lordes, if I shoulde say unto you that I never felt passion of love in my dayes, I am sure the Dutchesse and the L. Emilia, although they believe it not in deede, yet would they make semblance to believe it, and would say that it proceeded because I mistrusted I should never frame any woman to love me.
     The which truely I have not hetherto proved with such instance, that of reason I should dispaire to obtaine it once.
     Neither have I forborne the doing of it, because I set so much by my selfe, and so litle by women that I thinke none worthie to bestow my love and service upon. But
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rather amased at the continuall bewailing of some lovers, that with their palenesse, sorrow, and silence, it appeareth they have evermore their owne discomfort painted in their eyes. And if they speake accompanying every worde with certaine treblefolde sighes, they reason of nothing else but of teares, of torments, of desperations, and of longing for death. So that whensoever any sparke of love hath begonne to kindle in my brest, I have by and by enforced my selfe with all diligence to quench it: not for any hatred that I have conceived against women (as these Ladies suppose) but for mine owne health.
     On the other side, I have knowne some other cleane contrarie to these sorrowful, which do not nely advance and content them selves, with the chearefull lookes, loving wordes, and sweete countenances of their Ladies, but also sauce their sorrowes with sweetnes, so that they count debates, the angers, and the disdaines of them, most sweete.
     Therefore these men seeme unto mee to bee much more than happie: for whereas they finde so much sweetnesse in the amorous disdaines, which some men recken much more bitter than death, I believe in loving gestures they should feele that woonderfull blisse, which we seeke for in vaine in this world.
     Therefore I would our pastime were this night, to have every man shew, where there must bee a disdaine against him in the person beloved, what the cause should be that should make the person conceive this disdeine. For if there be any here that have proved those sweet disdaines, I am sure they will desire for courtesie one of these causes that make them so sweete. And perhaps I shall with a better will proceede somewhat farther in love, in hope that I shall also finde this sweetnesse, where as some finde bitternesse.
     And so shall not these Ladies give me any more this slanderous report, that I am not in love.
     This pastime was much praised, and therfore did every man settle hfmselfe to reason upon this matter. But ye L.
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Emilia holding her peace, M. Peter Bembo that sat next in order, spake in this maner: My Lords, this pastime that the L. Octavian hath propounded, hath raised no smal doubt in my minde, where he hath reasoned of the disdaines of love, the which though they be sundry, yet unto me have they alwaies beene most bitter.
     Neither do I believe, that I can learne any sauce that shall bee sufficient to sweeten them.
     But peradventure they are the more and the lesse bitter, according to the cause whereof they arise. For I have in my daies (I remember) seene the woman whom I served, stirred against me, either upon a vaine suspition that shee conceived her selfe of my trustinesse, or els upon some other false opinion that had been put into her head by some mens report to my hinderance, so that I beleeved no griefe might be compared to mine.
     And me thought that the greatest sorrow I felt, was to suffer without deserving, and to susteine this affliction, not for any offence of mine, but for the small love that was in her.
     At other times I saw her disdainful for some oversight of mine, and knew that her anger proceeded of mine offence, and at that instant I judged the former vexation to be very light, in comparison to that which I felt then. And me thought to be in displeasure, and that for mine owne trespasse, with the person whom onely I coveted, and with such diligence sought to please, was the greatest torment of all other.
     Therefore would I our pastime were to have everie man declare his opinion, where there must be a disdaine against him in the person beloved, of whom hee would the cause of this disdaine should have his beginning, whether of her, or of himselfe to know which is greater griefe, either to displease the wight beloved, or to receive displeasure of the wight beloved.
     Every man looked what the L. Emilia wouldle make
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answere to this, but without any word speaking to Bembo, she turned her, and made a signe to sir Fridericke Frigoso to shew his devise. And hee incontinentlv beganne thus.
     Madame, I woulde it were lawfull for me, as the maner is many times, to remit me to the judgement of an other, for I for my part would with all my heart allow some of the pastimes that have been alreadie propounded by these Lords, because indeed mee thinke they would be worth the hearing. Yet least I should breake the order, this I say: who so would take in hand to praise our Court, leaving apart the deserts of the Dutchesse, which ghostly spirit with hir influence is sufficient to draw from the earth up into heaven the simplest wits in the world, he might well doe it without suspition of flatterie. For peradventure in all Italy a man shall have much a do to findout so many Gentlemen and noble personages that are so worthie, and beside the principall profession of Chivalrie so excellent in sundrie things, as are presently here.
     Therefore if in any place men may bee found that deserve ye name of good Courtiers, and can judge what belongeth to the perfection of Courtiership, by reason a man may believe them to be here.
     To disgrace therfore many untowardly Asseheades, that through malapartnesse thinke to purchase the name of a good courtier, I would have such a pastime for this night that one of the Company might bee picked out, who should take in hand to shape in wordes, a good Courtier, specifying all such conditions and particiilar qualities, as of necessitie must bee in him that deserveth this name.
     And in such thinges as shall not appeare necessarie, that it may bee lawfull for everie man to reply against them, as the maner of Philosophers_schooles+ is against him that keepeth disputations.
     Sir Fredericke proceeded still forwarde in his talke, when the L. Emilia interrupting him, said: If it be my Ladie the Dutchesse pleasure, this shall be our pastime for this, once.
     The dutchesse answered: I am well pleased.
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Then (in maner) all the company began to say both to the Dutchesse and among themselves, that this was the trimmest pastime they could have.
     And without looking for answere the one of the other, they craved upon the L. Emilia, to appoint who should first begin. Who turning toward the Dutchesse said.
     Command you, madame, whom shall please you to take this enterprise in hand, for I will not by choosing more one than another, declare my selfe to judge in this behalfe, whom I thinke to be better skilled than the rest, and so do wrong to some.
     The Dutchesse answered: make you this choise your selfe, and take heede that in disobeying, you be not a president to the rest to bee disobedient.
     Then the L. Emilia saide laughing unto Lewis Count of Canosse: therfore for leesinge any more time, you (Counte) shalbe he that shal take this enterprise upon him in forme and manner as sir Fredericke hath declared. Not for that wee know ye are so good a Courtier, that ye have at your fingers ends that belongs therto: but because in repeating everie thing arsiversie, as we hope ye wil, we shal have so much the more pastime, and everie one shall be able to answere you.
     Where if an other more skilfull than you should take it in hand, there should bee nothing said against him for telling the truth, and so should we have but a cold pastime.
     The Counte answered by and by: we need not feare (Madame) that wee shall want contrarying in words against him that telleth the truth, as long as you be here.
     And after they had laughed a while at this answere, he proceeded on: but truely I would with all my heart be rid of this burthen, for it is too hard for mee. And I know that to be most true in me, which you have spoken in jeast: namely, that I have no understanding in that belongeth to a good Courtier. And this doe I not seeke to prove with any other triall: for seeing I do not ye deedes,
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a man may judge I understand it not, and I believe I am the lesse to bee blamed. For out of doubt, it is a worse matter not to do wel, than not to understand how to do it.
     Yet seeing your pleasure is, that I shall take the charge upon me, I cannot, nor will refuse it, for withstanding your order and judgement, the which I know is much better than mine.
     Then the L. Cesar Gonzaga. Because it is now (quoth bee) well forward in night, and we have here readie for us other sortes of pastimes, peradventure it shuld not be amisse to deferre this reasoning untill to morrow, and the Counte shall have leisure to thinke better upon that ]he hath to say: for in verie deed, to entreat upon such a matter at the first sight, it is a hard thing.
     Then answered the Counte: I will not do as he did, that stripped himselfe into his doublet, and leaped lesse ground than he did before in his Coate. And me thinke my lucke is good that it is late, because the shortnesse of time shall make me use fewe words, and the sodainesse of the matter shall so excuse me, that it shall be lawfull for me to speake withotit blame, whatsoever commeth first to minde.
     Because I will not therfore carry this burthen of duetie anv longer upon my shoulders, this I say in everie thing it is so hard a matter to know the true prtfection; that it is almost impossible, and that by reason of the varietie of judgements.
     Therfore many there are, that delight in a man of much talke aod him they call a pieasant fellow. Some wfl delight more in  modestie+, some other will fancie a man that is active+ and alwaies dooing: other, one that sheweth a quietnesse and a respect in everie thing. And thus doth everie man praise or dispraise according to his fancie, alwaies covering a vice,with the name of the next vertue to it, and a vertue with the name of the next vice: as in calling him that is sawcie, bold: him that is sober, dry: him that is seelie, good: him that is unhappie, wittie: and likewise in the rest.
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Yet doe I thinke that eche thing hath his perfection, although it be hid, and with reasonable discourses, might be judged of him that hath knowledge in that matter.
     And for as much as the truth (as I have said) is oftentimes hid, and I take not upon me to have this knowledge, I can not praise, but that kinde of Courtiers which I set most by, and allow that which seemeth unto me most nigh the truth, in my small judgement. The which you shall follow if ye thinke it good, or els sticke to your owne, if it shall varie from mine. Neither will I (for all that) stand stiffe that mine is better than yours, for not onely one thing may seeme unto you, and an other to me.
     But also unto my selfe it may appeare sometime one thing, sometime an other.
     I wil have this our Courtier therefore to be a gentleman+ borne and out of a good house. For it is a great daeale lesse dispraise for him that is not borne a gentlgeman to faile in the actes of vertue, then for a getleman. {noblesse-oblige+} If he swerve from the steps of his ancestors, hee staineth the name of his familie.
     And doth not onely not get, but looseth that is alreadie gotten. For noblenesse+ of birth, is as it were a cleare lampe that sheweth forth and bringeth into light, workes both good and bad, and inflameth and provoketh unto vertue, as well with the feare of slaunder, as also with the hope of praise.
     And whereas this brightnesse of noblenesse doth not discover theworkes of the unnoble, they have a want of provocation, and of feare of slaunder, and they reckon not them selves bound to wade any further than their ancestors did before them, whereas the noble of,birth counte it a shame not to arrive at the least at the boundsof their pre- decessors, set forth,unto them.
     Therefore it chahceth alwaies in a manner both in armes and in all other vertuous acts, that the most famous men are Gentlemen. B6cause nature in every thiing hath deepely sowed that privie seed, which givdth a certaine force and
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propertie of her beginning, unto whatsoever springeth of it, and maketh it like unto her self e.
     As we see by example, not onely in the race of horses and other beastes, but also in trees, whose slippes and graftes alwaies for the most part are like unto the stocke of the tree they came from: and if at any time they grow out of kinde, the fault is in the husbandman. And the like is in men, if they be trained up in good nurture, most commonly they resemble them from whom they come, and often times passe them, but if they have not one that can well traine them up, they growe (as it were) wilde, and never corne to their ripenesse+.
     Truth it is, whether it be through the favor of the Starres or of nature, some there are borne indued with such graces, that they seeme not to have beene borne, but rather fashioned with the verie hand of some God, and abound in all goodnes both of bodie and minde. As againe we see some so unapt and dull, that a man will not believe, but nature hath brought them into the world for a spite and mockerie.
     And like as these with continuall diligence and good bringing up for the most part can bring small fruit: even so the other with litle attendance climbe to the full perfection of all excellencie.
     And to give you an example, marke me the Lord Hyppolitus da Este Cardinall of  Ferrara+, he hath had so happie a birth, that his person, his countenance, his words, and all his gestures are so fashioned and compact with this grace, that among the most ancient prelates (for all he is but young) he doth represent so grave an authoritie, that a man would weene he were more meete to teach, than needful to learne.
     Likewise in companie with men and women of al degrees, in sporting, in laughing, and in jesting+, he hath in him certaine sweetnes, and so comely demeanours, that who so speaketh with him, or yet beholdeth him, must needes beare him an affection for ever
.
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But returning to our purpose, I say, that betwene this excellent grace, and that fond foolishnes, there is yet a meane, and they that are not by nature so perfectly furnished, with studie and diligence may polish and correct a great part of the defaults of nature.
     The Courtier therefore, beside noblenesse of birth, I will have him to bee fortunate in this behalfe, and by nature to have not onely a wit, and a comely shape of person and countenance, but also a certaine grace, and (as they say) a hewe, that shall make him at the first sight acceptable and loving unto who so beholdeth him.
     And let this bee an ornament to frame and accompany all his acts, and to assure men in his looke, such a one to be worthie the companie and favour of everie great man.
     Here without any longer tarrying the L. Gasper Pallavicin said: that our pastime may have the forme and maner agreed upon, and least it should appeare, that we litle esteeme the authoritie given us to contrary you, I say (in mine advise) that this noblesse of him is not so necessarie for the courtier. {nboblesse-unnecessary+} And if I wist that any of you know what it a strange or a new matter, I would alledge unto you sundry, who for all they were borne of most noble bloud, yet have they been heaped full of vices: and contrariwise many unnoble that have made famous their posteritie.
     And if it be true that you said before, that the privie force of the first seede is in everie thing, we should all bee in one maner condition, for that we had all one selfe beginning, and one should not be more noble than an other.
     But beside the diversities and degrees in us of high and low, I believe there be many other matters, wherein I judge  fortune+ to bee the chiefe, because we see her beare a stroke in all worldly things, and (as it were) take a pastime to exalte manie times whom pleaseth her without any desert at al, and bury in the bottomles depth the most worthie to be exalted.
     I confirme your saying as touching the happinesse of
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them that are borne abounding in all goodnesse both of minde and bodie: but this is seene as well in the unnoble, as in the noble of birth, for nature hath not these so subtile distinctions: yea (as I have said) we see many times in persons of most base degree, most hie gifts of nature.
     Therefore seeing this noblenes is gotten neither with wit, force, nor art, but is rather a praise of our ancestors than our owne, me thinke it a strange opinion that the parents of our Courtier being unnoble, his good qualities should be defaced, and those other good conditions which you have named shuld not be sufficient to bring him to the top of all perfection: that is to say, wit, beautie of phisnomy, dis- position of person, and the grace which at the first sight shall make him most acceptable unto al men.
     Then answered Counte Lewis, I denie not, but men of base degree of many raign the very same vertues, ttat are Gentlemen. But to avoide rehearsall of that wee have alreadie said, with many other reasons that might be alleaged in commendation of noblenes, the which is evermore honored of all men, because it standeth with reason, that good should spring of good: for so much as our intent is to fashion a Courtier without any maner default or lack in him, and heaped with all praise, me thinke it a necessary matter to make him a Gentleman, as well for many other respects, as also for the common opinion, which by and by doeth leane to noblenes.
     For where there are two in a noble mans house, which at the first have given no proofe of themselves with workes good or bad, as soone as it is knowne that the one is a Gentleman borne, and the other not, the unnoble shall be much lesse esteemed with everie man, than the Gentleman, and he must with much travell and long time imprmt in mennes heades a good opinion of himselfe, which the other shall get in a moment, and onely for that he is a Gentleman: and how waightie these imprintings are, everie man may easilie judge.
     For to speak of our selves, we have seene men come to
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this house, which for al they were fooles and dulwitted, yet had they a report through al Italy of great Courtiers, and though at length they were discovered and knowne, yet many daies did they beguile us, and maintained in our mindes that opinion of themselves, which at the first they found there imprinted, although they wrought according to their small skill.
     Wee have seene other at the first in verie small estimation, and afterward in the ende, have acquitted themselves marvellous well. And of these errors there are divers causes, and among other the obstinateness of Princes, which to prove maistries, oftentimes bend themselves to favour him, mat to their seeming, deserveth no favor at all.
     And many times in deede they are deceived: but because they have alwaies many that counterfaite them, a verie great report dependeth upon their favor, the which most commonly the judges follow. And if they finde any thing that seemeth contrary to the common opinion, they are in doubt for deceiving them selves, and alwaies looke for some matter secretly, because it seemeth, that these generall opinions ought to bee founded upon a troth, and arise of reasonable causes.
     And forasmuch as our mindes are verie apte to love and to hate: as in the sights of combates and games, and in all other kinde of contention, where the lookers on are affectionate without manifest cause unto one of the two parties, with a greedy desire to have him get the victorie, and the other the losse.
     Also as touching the opinion of mens qualities, the good or ill report at the first brunt moveth our minde to one of these two passions.
     Therefore it commeth to passe, that for the most part we judge with love, or els with hatred.
     You see then of what importance this first imprinting is, and how he ought to endevour him selfe to get it good at first, if hee entend to be set by, and to purchase him the name of a good.Courtier.
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But to come to some particularitie, I judge the principall and true profession of a Courtier ought to be in feates of armes, the which above all I will have him to practise lively, and to bee knowne among other of his hardines, for his atchieving of enterprises, and for his fidelitie+ towarde him whom he serveth. And hee shall purchase himselfe a name+ with these good conditions, in doing the deedes in every time and place, for it is not'for him to fainte at any tim_e in this behalfe without a wondrous reproch.
     And even as in women honestie once stained doth never returne againe to the former estate: so the fame of a gentleman that carrieth weapon, if it once take a soyle in anye litle point through dastardlinesse or any other reproch, doth evermore continue shamefull in the world and full of ignorance. Therefore the more excellent our Courtier shall be in this arte, the more shall he be worthie praise: albeit I judge not necessarie in him so perfect a knowledge of things and other qualities that is requisite in a Captaine.
     But because this is overlarge a scope of matters, we wil holde our selves contented, as wee have saide, with the uprightnesse of a well meaning mind, and with an invincible  courage+, and that he alwaies shew himself such a one.
     For many times men of courage are sooner knowne in small matters than in great. Often times in dangers that stand them upon, and where many eyes be, ye shal see some that for all their hart is dead in their bodie, yet pricked with shame or with the company, goe forwarde, as it were blindfield and doe their ductie. And God knoweth both in matters that litle touch them, and also where they suppose that without missing they may convey them selves from danger, how they are willing inough to sleepe in a whole skinne.
     But such as thinke them selves neither marked, scene, nor knowne, and yet declare a stoute courage, and suffer not the least thing in the world to passe that may burthen
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them, they have that courage of spirite which we seek, to have in our Courtier. Yet will wee not have him for all that so lustie to make  braverie+ in wordes+ and to bragge+ he hath wedded his harnes for a wife, and to threaten with such grimme lookes, as wee have seene Berto/5 doe often times.
     For unto such may well be said, that a worthie gentle woman in a noble assemblie spake pleasantly unto one, that shall bee namelesse for this time, whom she to shew him a good countenance, desired to daunce with her, and hee refusing it, and to heare musicke, and many other entertainements offered him, alwaies affirming such trifles not to be his profession, at last the gentlewoman demaunding him, what is then your profession? he answered with a frowning looke, to fight.
     Then saide the Gentlewoman: seeing you are not now at the warre nor in place to fight, I would think it best for you to bee well besmered and set up in an armory with other implements of warre till time were that you should be occupied, least you waxe more rustier than you are. Thus with much laugfhing of the standers by, she left him with a mocke in his fooish presumption.
     He therefore that we seeke for, where the enimies are, shall shew him selfe most fierce, bitter, and evermore with the first. In every place beside, lawly, sober, a circumspect, fleeing above all things bragging+ and shameful praysing himself . For therewith a man alwaies purchaseth the hatred of the hearers. And I, answered the L. Gasper, have known few men excellent in any thing whatsoever it be, but they praise themselves. And me thinke it may wel be borne in them: for he yl is of skill, when he seeth that hee is not knowne for his workes of the ignorant, hath a disdaine, that his cunning should be buried, and needes must be open one way, least he should bee defrauded of the estimation that belongeth to it, which is the true rewarde of vertuous travailes.
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Therefore among auncient writers, he that much excelleth doth seldome forbeare praysing himselfe.
     They in deed are not to be borne withall, that having no skill in them will praise themselves: but we wil not take our Courtier to be such a one.
     Then the Count, if you have well understood (quoth he) I blamed the praysing of a mans selfe impudently, and without respect. And surely (as you say) a man ought not to conceive an ill opinion of a skilfull man that praiseth himself discretely, but rather take it for a more certaine witnes, than if it came out of an other mans mouth.
     I agree well that bee, which in praysing him selfe falleth not into error, nor purchaseth himselfe lothsomnes or hatred of the hearers, is most discreet: and beside the prayses which he giveth himselfe, deserveth the same of other men also, because it is a verie hard matter.
     Then the L. Gasper, this (quoth he) must you teach us.
     The Counte answered, among the auncient writers there hath not also wanted that hath taught it. But in mine opinion, all doth consist in speaking such thinges after a sorte, that it may appear that they are not rehearsed to that end: but that they come so to purposes that he can not refrain telling them and alwaies seeming to flee his own praise, tell the truth. But not as those lusty lands do that open their mouth and thrust out wordes at a venture they care not how. As within these few dayes one of our company, being pusshed through the thigh with a pike at Pysa, thought that it was the byting of a flie. And an other saide that hee occupied no looking glasse in his chamber, because in his rage hee was so terrible to behold, that in looking upon his owne countenance he should put himselfe into much feare.
     At this every one laughed. But the L. Cesar Gonzaga saide unto them: at what laugh you? Know yee not that the great  Alexander+, hearing a certaine philosophers opinion to be that there were infinite worlds, fel in weeping: And when he was asked the
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question why hee wept, hee answered: Because I have not yet one in hand, as though his mind was to have them all.
     Doe you not thinke that this was a greater braverie+, than to speake of a flie byting? So was Alexander a greater person than hee that so saide, aunswered the Count.
     But excellent men in verie deed are to be held excused, when they take much upon them, because hee that undertaketh great enterprises, must have a boldnesse to doe it, and a confidence of himselfe, and not a bashfull or cowardly minde, but yet sober in wordes: shewing as thouch he tooke less upon him then he doth in deede so that his taking upon him doe not extend unto rashnes.
     Here the Count respecting a while, M. Bernard Bibiena said merely: I remember you saide before, that this our Courtier ought of nature to have a faire comelinesse of phisnomy and person, with the grace that ought to make him so amiable.
     As for the grace and beautie of phisnomy, I thinke not the contrarie but they are in me, and therefore doe so many women burne for the love of men, as you know. But for the comelines of person, I stand somewhat in doubt, and especially by the reason of my legges here, for me thinke in deede they are not so well made as I could wish they were: the body and the rest is metely well.
     Therfore declare somewhat more particularly this comelinesse of person, what it should be, that I may be out of this doubt, and set my hart at rest.
     When they had a while laughed at this, the Count saide: Certes, the grace of the Phisonomy may well bee saide to bee in you without any lye. And no other example doe I alledge but this, to declare what maner thing it should be: for undoubtedly wee see your countenance is most acceptable and pleasant to behold unto every man, although the proportion and draughts of it be not verie delicate, but it is manly and hath a good grace withall.
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And this qualitie have many and sundry shapes of visages.
     And such a countenance as this is, will I have our Courtier to have, and not so soft and womanish as many to procure to have, that do not onely courl the haire, and picke the browes, but also pampre them selves in everie point like the most wanton and dishonest women in the world: and a man would thinke them in going, in standing, and in all their gestures so tender and faint, that their members were readie to flee one from an other, and their wordes they pronounce so drawningly, that a man woulde weene they were at that instant yeelding up the ghost, and the higher in degree that men are they talke withall, the more they use such fashions. {effemininate+} These men, seeing nature (as they seeme to have a desire to appeare and to be) hath not made them women, ought not to bee esteemed in place of good women, but like common Harlots to bee banished, not onely out of princes courtes, but also out of the company of gentlemen.
     To come therefore to the qualitie of the person, I say he is well, if he bee neither of the least, nor of the greatest size. For both the one and the other hath with it a certaine spitefull woonder, and such men are marvelled at, almost as much as men marvel to behold monstrous thinges. Yet if there must needes be a default in one of the two extremities, it shall be lesse hurtfull to bee somewhat of the least, than to exceede the common stature of height.
     For men so shut up of bodie, beside that many times they are of a dull wit, they are also unapt for all exercise of nimblenesse, which I much desire to have in the Courtier.
     And therefore wil I have him to bee of a good shape, and well proportioned in his lims, and to shew strength, lightnesse and quicknesse, and to have understanding in all exercises of the bodie that belong to a man of warre.
     And herein I thinke the chiefe point is to handle wel all kinde of weapon, both for footeman