It is thought by many Philosophers.

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

"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 thispoinct: that Men must dispose and order their tale, first with bynames, and then rehearse them (as neede is) that be proper. For, the bynames alwayes beare the respect of the persones qualitie: 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 acquaintance, if the matter be suche as toucheth their maners: then what we doe heare of straungers and men unknowne unto us. 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 knoweledge 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 withall, for sounde and sense they must be apt andsweete. For if you be to use one of these two wordes: you shall rather say, Il 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 understoode, and not misse understoode, as we Florentines 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 (bycause 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.

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 litle set by 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 knowledge, 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: andwith all not so olde wtAge, that they are become rotten and withered: and as overworne apparell, leaft of and cast a side. As, Spaldo, and Epa, and Vopo, and Sezzaio, & Primaio. And moreover, the wordes you shall use, must have no double 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:

Io vidi un che da sette passatoiFu da un canto all' altro trapassato.

Io 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, common 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 weightesThat peize the weight doe make the balance creeke,"

"The weightes

That peize the weight doe make the balance creeke,"

Then if he had saide

"Crie out and make a noise."

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 effect, which I meane not to stande uppon now: bycause our Englishe tounge cannot hansomely deliver their perfect 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 perfectly in any other Language. And therefore the Author 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, unhappely 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 acquaintance 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.Gia veggia per Mezzul perdere o Lulla."Sure, I beleeve no man ells but we that are Florentines 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."

Gia veggia per Mezzul perdere o Lulla.

"Sure, I beleeve no man ells but we that are Florentines 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, to holde 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 chaunceth, 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, ytthey 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,for some necessitie or other, that appertaineth unto 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, notwithstanding, but base and barbarous) then he shall speake the Tuscane, or other language: even bycause 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 respect to them with whome he talkes: and for that cause forbeare & 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 gentleman, 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, notwithstanding, 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 theworde plainlie appeare unto them. But our Palate, throughe Custome and Use, happilie tasteth yewine (as it were) and the bestnes of the sense of the worde, and not yeDregges or Leeze.

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, ytsignifieth a worse matter, they rather say Le castagne. Albeit yet some of them at unwares, many times, name that unadvisedly, which if another 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 windeBoth in my face and under.

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.

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

And you must knowe, that albeit two, or moe wordes, otherwhile chaunce to tell one selfe thinge, yet the one is more cleanly then the other. As for example, to say: Con lui giacque, & Della sua persona 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: Il Vago della Luna: then you can say Il 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 common name: Thaide è la Puttana. And as Boccace declared yepower of Meretrici and Ragazzi. For, se cosi hauesse nominato dall'arte loro i maschi, come nominò 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 especially where a man talketh & discourseth of greate and highe matters. And for this Cause, perchaunce, woorthely some blame our Beatrice, sayeing:

To passe throughe Lethes floud, the highest Fates would blott,If man mighte taste the Viandes suche, as there dooe fall by Lott,And not pay firste a due repentaunce for his scott.

To passe throughe Lethes floud, the highest Fates would blott,

If man mighte taste the Viandes suche, as there dooe fall by Lott,

And not pay firste a due repentaunce for his scott.

For, in my conceite, these base wordes that come out of the Tavernes, bee verie uncomely for suche a worthy discourse. And when a man hathe like occasion to speake of yeSunne, it shall not be good to call it The Candell or the Lampe of the world: bycause such woordes do put us in minde of yeOyle, & the stuffe of the kitchin. Neither should a man that is well advised, say that Saincte Dominicke was Il Drudo della Theologia: Nor yet talke, that the glorious Sainctes 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 yedregges, & yefilth of yecommon people, as every man may easily see.

Againe, in your long and large discourses, you must have yelike considerations & cares, & some more: yewhich you may more commodiously learne of your Maisters ytteache you ytarte, that is commonly called Rhetorike.

And amongest other things, You must accustome your selfe, to use suche gentle and courtious speache to men, and so sweete, that it may haveno maner of bitter taste. And you shall rather say, I cannot tell how to say it: Then say: you ar deceived: 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 & 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 mannes faithe and honestie in question and doubte. 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 Complaint, Anger and Choler. So that, suche as use them selves to speake suche churlishe and fumishe woordes, are taken for sharpe and sower fellowes: & men doe asmuche shunne their acquaintance:as to thrust them selves uppon thornes and thistles.

And bycause I knowe som, of this naughtie condition & qualitie: I meane some ytbe so hastie and greedy to speake, ytthey 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: youmust not crye out and criche like the Pullye of a well: nor yet speake in your yawning. I knowe well it is not in us, to geve our selves a ready tongue or perfect voice at our owne will and pleasure. Hee ytdoth stutter, or is hoarse: let him not alwayes bable and gabbe, and keepe a courte alone: let him rather amend the defect 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 harkens, shall not heare him. And if he be not heard at yefirst 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, ytmen 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 Indenture he hath written before in latine: then a man that reasoneth or talketh in his Naturall language: as this for example.

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

Or if a man should preposterously place his wordes thus.

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 yepomp, bravery, & affectation, that may be suffered 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 thing must have his time and place. 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.

And suche is all Filocolo, and the other treatises 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 yescum, as it were, and thefroth of the meanest and vilest sorte of people, Launderers & Hucksters: but suche as 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 countrie 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 atrandom, 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.

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. Likewise, if you pronounce youre woords and your sillables with a certaine grace & sweetnes: not as a Scholemaister ytteacheth young Children to read & to spell. Neither must you mumble them nor supp them up, as if they were glued & pasted together one to another. If you remember these andsuch other rules and precepts: youre talke will be liked, and heard with pleasure enoughe: and you shall well maintaine the state and countenaunce, that well besemeth a gentleman well taught and 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 ytbeganne 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 to hinderthe 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 scowling uppon him, as many be wont: 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 & eager Natures, which makes them so venemous & bitter in all companies they come: that no man cares for their acquaintance.

Likewise, It is an illfavoured condition to stop another mans tale in his mouth: and it spites him asmuche, 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 matters, 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.

And, when a man tells his tale, you must geve good eare unto him: that you may not say otherwhile, O what?: Or, how?: which is many a mans fashion to doe. And this is asmuch trouble and paine to him that speaketh: as to shoofle against yestones, 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 veriest 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, bycause it is a hard matter:but, He must run in many faults that talkes muche: but also, bycause 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 disliking. 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, you seke to be unknowne. So yt, as those people which use to drinke muche at feastes, 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 pleasaunt 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 instone: Who for yesingular good skill he had in his Art, was called (as I take it) Maestro Chiarissimo. This man (now well strooken in yeares) made a certaine treatise, & therin gathered together al yeprecepts & rules of his arte: as the man ythad very good skill to doe it: shewing in what sorte the proportions and lineaments of the body, should be duely measured, as well everyone a parte by it selfe, as one respecting another: ytthey might justly & duely be answerable yeone to the other: which treatise of his, he named Regolo. Meaning to shewe, that according to that, all the Images and pictures, that from thensforth any workeman should make, should be squared & lined forth: as yebeames, and yestones, and the walles, are measured by yerules & 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 weighte 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 muchelabour and paine, he fashioned and shaped an Image of it, as perfectly proportioned in every parte and member: as the precepts and rules of his treatise had before 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 & worckeman I speake of, had perfect 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 of them: it were now, to muche for me to doe. For asmuch as, It is not inough to have knowledge and Art, in matters concerning maners & fashions of men: But it is needefull withall, to worke them to a perfect effect, to practise 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: & yebeste parte of mine be runne fourth alredy, you see.

But for all this, you must not make yelesse reconing 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 hardwayes to find: then they that never went a misse. And, if in mine infancie, when minds be tender and pliable, like a young twigge, they that had yecharge & governement of me, had had the skill to smoothe my manners, (perhaps of Nature somwhat hard and rude) and would have polished and wrought them fine: peradventure 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 corrected 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 yealding to their appetite without any striving, following it where so ever it leades them, thinke they must submitte themselves to Nature: As though Reason were not a naturall thing in man. But, Reason 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 ytfor yemoste parte, maketh us like unto them whome god hath not endued wtReason: I mean brute beastes, in whome notwithstanding, something yet worketh: 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 yttheir rider makes them tame, and withal, after a sorte, redy & very well paced. For many of them would have ahard 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 carreere: And they learne to doe it all well you see. Then, if the horse, the dog, yehauke, & 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 repugneth: and become after a sorte cunning and skilfull, so farre as their kinde doth beare it, not by Nature, but by custome & use: how muche then may we thinke wee should excell them, by the precepts and rules of our Reason, if wee tooke any heede unto it. But, The Senses desire & covet present 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 unpleasant, 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 whome there is no fault at all for it. For, it is the Nature of his disease, and the Extremitie of his sicknes, 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.And therfore as nice & deintie felowes, we refuse to make any taste of her: & cover our grosnes, wtsaying that Nature hath no spurres nor raines ytcan 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 extreame 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 affections in us and growen to perfection, 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 owne Imperfection and not her faulte, if we doe swarve 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 litle before: Reason without Custome 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 bycause The tender age, as pure and cleane, dotheasily receave all Impressions, and reteineth more lively, the colours wherewith she is dyed: then when a man comes to riper yeares: And also, bycause The things wherein wee have byn 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 counterfets unto him, whosoever they were that should have spoken before him. But he would not his voice should occupie other mens eares, after they heard another man speake. Although, in respect of his doings, it were a greate deale Inferiour to his. Seing then, I cannot agree my workes and my wordes together, 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 begood maners and fashions, which bring a delight, or at least, offend not their senses, their minds, and conceits, with whom we live. And of these, wee have hitherto spoken inoughe.

But you must understand with all this, that, Men be very desirous of bewtifull things, well proportioned and comely. And of counterfet things fowle and ill shapen, they be as 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 wtbeastes but proper to our selves: we must embrace them for them selves: and holde them dere: & yet those, much more, ytdrawe nerest to yeknowledge of man: as which are most apt and inclined to understand the perfection which Nature hath lefte in men.

And albeit, it be a hard matter, to shewe precisely, Bewtie, what maner of thing it is: yet ytyou may have some marke, to know her by: you must understand, ytWhere 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 proportion 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 dueproportions 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 out 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 perfect to see to: but all set together, be foule and ill favoured: not for any other cause, but that they be yelineaments 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, yepartes ytthey have, as it were, borrowed heere one, & there another, of one, alone: to whome restoring from eache ytwas her right: imagining ytVenus bewty should be such, and so proportioned: he set him selfe to paint her.

And, you must not think, ytthis is to be seene in the faces, the partes, and the bodies of women alone: but it happeneth more or lesse, in speache, in gestures & doings. For, if you should chaunce to see a Noble woman gorgius and gallant, washingof cloutes in a River by yehighe waye side: Althoughe if this were not, you might hapely passe away by her, wtlittle heede to her person or state: yet this would not brook you nor like you, yther 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 unseemely act itselfe: will make you muche to loathe it. You must then beware of these fowle and uncomely 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 before: 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 correct their doings: The which thing offendeth most men that seeke to be commended: And the wisest men that be, mislike it too. For, the garments of the olde world, have lost their date, formen 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 & yehose: 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 yeplace, 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 yebadge, 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 generally 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 perfectly knit and united together. Without which proportion and measure, even that which is good is notfaire: & the fairenes it self, is not plesaunt. And as meates, though they be good & savourie will give men no minde to eate them, if they have no pleasaunt relish and taste: So fares it with the maners of men other while (althoughe in them selves in no respect 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 further 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 effects. And therefore, 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, Covetousnes, Crueltie, and other. Of which, some be 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, bycause 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 yeNature of vices & vertues: but onely of the seemely& unseemely fashions and maners wee use one with another. One of the which unseemely fashions was, that Count Richard did use: of which I tould you before. Which, as unseemely and unfitting 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 measure I speake of: in going, in standing, in sitting, in gesture, in porte, in apparell, in talke, in silence, in rest and in action. 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, and 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: nè del maschio venga odore di femina o 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 I have shewed you before. For, We must not take uppon us to alter customes at our will. For timedoth beget them, and time doth also weare them out.

Every man may applie those fashions, that be in common use, yemoste to his owne advantage that he can. For, if perchaunce your legges 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 daubde with garding; that men may not say, thou hast Ganymedes hosen, or wearest Cupides doublet. But, whatsoever it be thou wearest, let it be fit and well made for thy bodie: least thou seme to brave it, in another mans cloathes.

But with all, thou must in any case respect 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 Bavero at a greate Pompe, and triumphe: 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 of Golde

It is even as God will.

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 commend 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 in fethers, & warlike fellowes, would not doe well, in this Noble Citie so peacefull & Civil. Suche kinde of people be rather, in maner, like nettlesand burres, amongest good and sweete garden flowers, And therefore, they come out of season to men that medle with 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 & fling his armes up & 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 ythath yespaven: yta 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 & downe like a Pecocke: which fashions doe muche offend men: not as well, but as ill beseeming a man to use them." For, if your horse, perchaunce, doechampe 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 finde a misse of it, if it were otherwise: not bycause yehorse should be ther fore the worse: but bycause 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 proportion & 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 ythe 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 company with it: they blowe and puffe so loud. Likewise, you must not rubbe your teeth with your napkin, & much lesse with your fingers. For thesebe trickes for a sloven. Neither must you openly rince your mouth wtthe wine, and then spit it fourthe. Neither is it gentleman like, to carry a sticke in your mouth from the table when you rise, like yebirde 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 yeworst. For, besides that it is a bauld Jewell for a gentleman to pull forth of his bosome, and putteth men in mind of those Tooth-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 table, or to fill your mouth so ful of meate, that your cheekes be blowne up wtall: neither must you by any maner of meanes, give another man to know what pleasure you take, in the meate or the wine. For ytit is for Taverners and Bousers, to use suche fashions. And to entertaine men ytsit 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 received and used of all men. For, albeit by these meanes, they shewe they make much of those they have invited unto them: yet, many times, they make men to leave to eate wher they would."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 uppon him to be a carver of any meate that stands before 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 another. And otherwhile, ytwhich 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 disposed in order, when some have muche, & other none at all. And yeMaister 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 common use and custome will allowe, and not as Reason & 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 yeterme itselfe is barbarous & straunge: I meane, Ick bring you, is sure a foule thing of it selfe, & in our countrie so coldly accepted yet: ytwe must not go about to bring it in for a fashion. If a man doe quaffe or carrouse unto you, you may honestly say nay to pledge him, & 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 although this, Ick bring you, as I have heard many learned men say, hath beene an auncient custome in Greece, and that the Graecians doe muche commend 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 yenext 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 albeit they say besides this, that Even as it makes a man bould and hardy, to thrust him selfe venterously otherwhile, in to daungerous perils of 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 bycause 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 certaineproofe 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 countrey, that is corrupt with this vice. But it is daungerous, perchaunce, for a man to reprove them for it: least asmuch happen to him, as chaunced to Socrates him selfe, for his over lavish controuling and checking of every mans fault. For, he was 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, & a Chatholike: respecting yeReligion 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 & receive a great deale more, then his companion and hee were able to take: if ytmay get any praise. And though it did him no harme, that was more, the goodnes of his strong braine: then the continencie of a sober man. And let the Chronicles talkewhat they list of this matter, I give God thankes, that amongest many the Plagues that have creapt over the Alpes, to infect 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 & Maisters table. And there is none that is wise, will be intreated 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 of any assembly. "For it is a slovenly sight, in place where honest men be met together of good condition and calling. And it may chaunce he doth uncover those parts of his bodie, which work him shame & rebuke to shewe them: besides yt, 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 handswhen 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 cunning. 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 ytbase condition and calling, that they must make it a gaine, & an art to live uppon it. And looke what I speake, concerning the unseemely gestures of the countenance and face: concerneth likewise, all the partes and members of man. For it is an ill sight, to lill out yetounge,to stroke your bearde much up and downe (as many doe use to doe) to rubbe your hands together: to sighe, & to sorrowe: to tremble or strike your selfe, which is also a fashion wtsome: to reatche and stretche your selfe, & so retching, to cry out after a nice maner, Alas, Alas: like a country cloune, ytshould rouse him selfe in his couche."

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

A man must leave those foolishe maner of laughings, 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 men weene 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, yehole therefore together should be as light: but you must rather persuade your selfe ytMany 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 creepein 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 ytwe must not make a light reconing 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. Another 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 yeflies as they go: which be very unhansome & unseemely maners to use." And I have heard it saide (for you knowe 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 seasoned by the hands of the Graces. Now, what shall I speake of them ytcome forthe of their studies with their penne in their eare: and nibble their hankercheifs in their mouthe, or ly lolling wttheir legge over the table, or spit one their fingers, and of a number of other blockishe gestures and fashionsmore then these, which cannot be all rehearsed well: nor shal not, I meane, put me to further paines to tel them al if I could. For, there be manie perchaunce will say this is to muche, that I have said allredie."

FINIS

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

Giovanni della Casa, the author of the "Galateo," was born near Florence in 1503, and died at Rome in 1556. He took orders before 1538, and became successively Apostolic Clerk, Apostolic Commissary, 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 1551 and 1555, at the suggestion of Galeazzo Florimonte, Bishop of Sessa, whose "poetic" name it bears in consequence. It was published posthumously at Venice, in 1558, in a volume entitled "Rime e Prose di M. Giov. della Casa," and was republished separately at Milan in 1559, at Florence in 1560, 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 1562, and again, anonymously, with the original and the translation on opposite pages, in 1573. A Spanish version by Domingo Becerra was published in 1585, and this was followed in 1599 by a loose imitation by Gracian Dantisco, entitled "El Galateo Español," whichin its turn was translated into English in 1640 by William Styles as "Galateo Espagnol, or the Spanish Gallant." In 1598 an edition of the "Galateo" in four languages, Italian, French, Latin, and Spanish, was published at Lyons; and a German version was added in the editions of 1609 and 1615.

The first English translation, by Robert Peterson of Lincoln's Inn, appeared in 1576, as "Galateo of Maister Iohn Della 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, limited to one hundred copies, was privately printed by H. J. Reid in 1892. Peterson's rendering is based almost entirely on the anonymous French translation of 1573, although he occasionally refers to the Italian original on the opposite pages. Two proofs of his indebtedness will suffice: Where the Frenchman renders the single Italian word "mezzanamente" by the phrase "avec discretion et médiocrité," Peterson follows him with "by Discretion and Measure;" and again, the single word "questa" in Della Casa becomes "cette gracieuseté 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 appended to his "Rich Cabinet" an "Epitome of Good Manners extracted from Archbp. J. de laCasa;" the treatise was paraphrased by N. W. as "The Refin'd Courtier" in 1663; in 1701, an English translation (from the Latin version of N. Chytraeus) was published "by several young Gentlemen educated at a private Grammar School near Hackney," under the title of "J. 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. Della Casa was also the author of another treatise on conduct, "Trattato degli Uffici communi tra gli Amici superiori e inferiori," which was translated into English by Henry Stubbe in 1665, 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 1576 edition by Mr. W. B. Owen, formerly scholar of St. Catharine'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. E. S.

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