1.—I have often considered not without wonder whence arises a fault, which, as it is universally found among old people, may be believed to be proper and natural to them. And this is, that they nearly all praise bygone times and censure the present, inveighing against our acts and ways and everything which they in their youth did not do; affirming too that every good custom and good manner of living, every virtue, in short every thing, is always going from bad to worse.

Now the cause of this wrong judgment among old people I for my part take to be, that the fleeting years despoil them of many good things, and among others in great part rob the blood of vital spirits; whence the complexion changes, and those organs become weak through which the soul exerts its powers.^[148] Thus in old age the sweet flowers of contentment fall from our hearts, like leaves from a tree in autumn, and in place of serene and sunny thoughts, comes cloudy and turbid sadness with its train of thousand ills. So that not the body only but the mind also is infirm; of bygone pleasures naught is left but a lingering memory and the image of that precious time of tender youth, in which (when it is with us) sky and earth and all things seem to us ever making merry and laughing before our eyes, and the sweet springtide of happiness seems to blossom in our thought, as in a delightful and lovely garden.

Therefore in the evening chill of life, when our sun begins to sink to its setting and steals away those pleasures, we should fare better if in losing them, we could lose the memory of them also, and as Themistocles said, find an art that shall teach us to forget. For so deceitful are our bodily senses, that they often cheat even the judgment of our minds. Thus it seems to me that old people are in like case with those who keep their eyes fixed upon the land as they leave port, and think their ship is standing still and the shore recedes, although it is the other way. For both the port and also time and its pleasures remain the same, and one after another we take flight in the ship of mortality upon that boisterous sea which absorbs and devours everything, and are never suffered to touch shore again, but always tossed by adverse winds we are wrecked upon some rock at last.

Since therefore the senile mind is an unfit subject for many pleasures, it cannot enjoy them; and just as to men in fever, when the palate is spoiled by corrupt vapours, all wines seem bitter, however precious and delicate they be,—so old men, because of their infirmity (which yet does not deprive them of appetite), find pleasures flat and cold and very different from those which they remember tasting of old, although the pleasures are intrinsically the same. Thus they feel themselves despoiled, and they lament and call the present times bad, not perceiving that the change lies in themselves and not in the times; and on the other hand they call to mind their bygone pleasures, and bring back the time when these were enjoyed and praise it as good, because it seems to carry with it a savour of what they felt when it was present. For in truth our minds hold all things hateful that have been with us in our sorrows, and love those that have been with us in our joys.

This is why it is sometimes highest bliss for a lover to look at a window although closed, because he there had once the happiness to gaze upon the lady of his love; and in the same way to look at a ring, a letter, a garden or other place, or what you will, which seems to him a conscious witness of his joys. And on the contrary, a gorgeous and beautiful room will often be irksome to a man who has been prisoner or has suffered some other sorrow there. And I once knew some who would not drink from a cup like that from which in illness they had taken medicine. For just as to the one the window or ring or letter recalls the sweet memory that gives him such delight and seems part of his bygone joy,—so to the other, the room or cup brings his illness or imprisonment to mind. I believe that the same cause leads old people to praise bygone times and to censure the present.

2.—Therefore as they speak of other things, so do they also of courts, affirming those which they remember, to have been far more excellent and full of eminent men than those which we see to-day. And as soon as such discussions are started, they begin to extol with boundless praise the courtiers of Duke Filippo or Duke Borso;^[149] and they narrate the sayings of Niccolò Piccinino;^[150] and they remind us that there were no murders in those days (or very few at most), no brawls, no ambushes, no deceits, but a certain frank and kindly good will among all men, a loyal confidence; and that in the courts of that time such good behaviour and decorum prevailed, that courtiers were all like monks, and woe to him who should have spoken insultingly to another, or so much as made a less than decorous gesture to a woman. And on the other hand they say everything is the reverse in these days, and that not only have courtiers lost their fraternal love and gentle mode of life, but that nothing prevails in courts but envy, malice, immorality and very dissolute living, with every sort of vice,—the women lascivious without shame, the men effeminate. They condemn our dress also as indecorous and too womanish.

In short they censure an infinity of things, among which many indeed merit censure, for it cannot be denied that there are many bad and wicked men among us, or that this age of ours is much fuller of vice than that which they praise.^[151] Yet it seems to me that they ill discern the cause of this difference, and that they are foolish. For they would have the world contain all good and no evil, which is impossible; because, since evil is opposed to good and good to evil, it is almost necessary, by force of opposition and counterpoise as it were, that the one should sustain and fortify the other, and that if either wanes or waxes, so must the other also, since there is no contrary without its contrary.

Who does not know that there would be no justice in the world, if there were no wrongs? No courage, if there were no cowards? No continence, if there were no incontinence? No health, if there were no infirmity? No truth, if there were no lying? No good fortune, if there were no misfortunes? Thus, according to Plato,^[152] Socrates well says it is surprising that Æsop did not write a fable showing that as God had never been able to join pleasure and pain together, He joined them by their extremities, so that the beginning of the one should be the end of the other; for we see that no joy can give us pleasure, unless sorrow precedes it. Who can hold rest dear, unless he has first felt the hardship of fatigue? Who enjoys food, drink and sleep, unless he has first endured hunger, thirst and wakefulness? Hence I believe that sufferings and diseases were given man by nature not chiefly to make him subject to them (since it does not seem fitting that she who is mother of every good should give us such evils of her own determined purpose), but as nature created health, joy and other blessings,—diseases, sorrows and other ills followed after them as a consequence. In like manner, the virtues having been bestowed upon the world by grace and gift of nature, at once by force of that same bounden opposition, the vices became their fellows by necessity; so that always as the one waxes or wanes, thus likewise must needs the other wax or wane.

3.—So when our old men praise bygone courts for not containing such vicious men as some that our courts contain, they do not perceive that their courts did not contain such virtuous men as some that ours contain; which is no marvel, for no evil is so bad as that which springs from the corrupted seed of good, and hence, as nature now puts forth far better wits than she did then, those who devote themselves to good, do far better than was formerly done, and likewise those who devote themselves to evil, do far worse. Therefore we must not on that account say that those who refrained from evil because they did not know how to do evil, deserved any praise for it; for although they did little harm, they did the worst they could. And that the wits of those times were generally inferior to those of our time, can be well enough perceived in all that we see of those times, both in letters and in pictures, statues, buildings, and every other thing.

These old men censure us also for many a thing that in itself is neither good nor evil, simply because they did not do it. And they say it is not seemly for young men to ride through the city on horse, still less in pumps, to wear fur linings or long skirts in winter, or to wear a cap before reaching at least the age of eighteen years, and the like; wherein they certainly are wrong, for besides being convenient and useful, these customs have been introduced by usage and meet universal favour, just as formerly it was to go about in gala dress with open breeches and polished pumps, and for greater elegance to carry a sparrow-hawk on the wrist all day without reason, to dance without touching the lady’s hand, and to follow many other fashions that now would be as very clumsy as they then were highly prized.

Therefore let it be allowed us also to follow the custom of our time without being slandered by these old men, who in their wish to praise themselves, often say: “When I was twenty years old, I still slept with my mother and sisters, nor did I for a long time afterwards know what women are; while now, boys hardly have hair on their heads before they know more tricks than grown men did in our time.” Nor do they perceive that in saying this they acknowledge that our boys have more mind than their old men had.

Let them cease then to censure our time as full of vices, for in removing the vices they would remove the virtues too; and let them remember that among the worthies of old, in the ages when there lived those spirits who were glorious and truly divine in every virtue, and those more than human minds,—there were also to be found many very bad men; who (if they were living) would be as eminently bad among our bad men, as the good men of that time would be eminently good. And of this, all history gives ample proof.

4.—But I think these old men have now sufficient answer. So we will end this homily, perhaps already too diffuse but not wholly irrelevant to our subject; and as it is enough for us to have shown that the courts of our time were worthy of no less praise than those which old men praise so highly,—we will pursue the discussion about the Courtier, from which we may easily understand what rank the court of Urbino held among other courts, and of what quality were the Prince and Lady to whom such noble spirits did service, and how fortunate they might hold themselves who lived in such companionship.

5.—Now the following day having arrived, there were many and diverse discussions among the cavaliers and ladies of the court concerning the debate of the evening before; which in great part arose because my lord Prefect, eager to know what had been said, questioned nearly everyone about it, and (as is always wont to be the case) he received different answers; for some praised one thing and some another, and among many too there was disagreement as to the Count’s real opinion, since everyone’s memory did not quite fully retain the things that were said.

7.—“Last evening the Count spoke about Courtiership so fully and so beautifully, that he has aroused in me no little fear and doubt whether I shall be able to satisfy this noble company so well in what I have to say, as he did in what it fell to him to say. Yet to make myself a sharer in his fame as far as I can, and to be sure of avoiding this one mistake at least, I shall contradict him in nothing.

“Thus gentleness is very admirable in a man of noble birth who is valiant and strong. And as his boldness seems greater when accompanied by modesty, so his modesty is enhanced and set off by his boldness.^[153] Hence to speak little, to do much, and not to boast of praiseworthy deeds but to conceal them tactfully,—enhances both these attributes in the case of one who knows how to employ this method with discretion; and so it is with all other good qualities.

“Therefore in what our Courtier does or says I would have him follow a few universal rules, which I think comprise briefly all that I have to say. And for the first and most important let him above all avoid affectation, as the Count rightly advised last evening. Next let him consider well what thing it is that he is doing or saying, the place where he is doing it, in whose presence, the cause that impels him, his age, his profession, the object he has in view, and the means that may conduce thereto; and so, with these precautions let him apply himself discreetly to whatever he has a mind to do or say.”

8.—After messer Federico had spoken thus, he seemed to pause a little. Whereupon my lord Morello da Ortona at once said:

“These rules of yours teach little, it seems to me; and for my part I know as much about it now, as I did before you propounded them. Still I remember having heard them several times before also from the friars to whom I made confession, and who called them ‘the circumstances,’ I think.”

Then messer Federico laughed and said:

“If you remember rightly, the Count declared last evening that the Courtier’s chief business should be that of arms, and spoke at length about the way in which he ought to practise it; therefore we will not repeat this. Yet among our rules we may also lay it down that when our Courtier finds himself in a skirmish or action or battle, or in other such affairs, he ought to arrange discreetly to withdraw from the crowd, and to perform those glorious and brave deeds that he has to do, with as little company as he can, and in sight of all the noblest and most respected men in the army, and especially in the presence and (if it is possible) before the very eyes of his king or of the prince whom he serves; for in truth it is very proper to make the most of one’s good deeds. And I think that just as it is wrong to seek false and unmerited renown, so it is wrong also to defraud oneself of the honour that is one’s due, and not to seek that praise which alone is the true reward of worthy effort.

“And I remember having in my time known some men who were very stupid in this regard, although valiant, and who put their lives as much in danger to capture a flock of sheep, as to be the first to scale the walls of a beleaguered town; which our Courtier will not do if he bears in mind the motive that leads him into war, which should be honour only. And again if he happens to be playing at arms in public shows,—such as jousts, tourneys, stick-throwing, or any other bodily exercise,—mindful of the place and presence in which he is, he will contrive to be not less elegant and graceful than unerring with his weapons, and to feast the spectators’ eyes with all those things which he thinks may give him an added grace. He will take care that his horse is bravely caparisoned, that his attire becomes him, that his mottoes are appropriate and his devices clever, so that they may attract the eyes of the bystanders as the loadstone attracts iron. He will never be among the last to show themselves, knowing that the crowd and especially women gaze much more attentively upon the first than upon the last; for their eyes and minds, which at the start are eager for novelty and observe and are impressed by every trifle, are afterwards not only sated by repetition but even grow weary. Thus there was an excellent actor of ancient times, who for this reason always wished to be the first to perform his part in the play.

“So too, even in speaking of arms, our Courtier will have regard to the profession of those with whom he converses, and will govern himself accordingly,—speaking in one way with men and in another way with women. And if he wishes to touch on something that is to his credit, he will do so covertly, as if by chance in passing, and with the discreetness and caution that Count Ludovico expounded to us yesterday.

9.—“Does it not seem to you now, my lord Morello, that our rules may teach something? Does it not seem to you that our friend, of whom I was telling you a few days since, quite forgot with whom and why he was speaking, when to entertain a lady he had never seen before, he began his talk by telling her that he had slain so many men, and that he was a terrible fellow and knew how to handle a sword with both hands? Nor did he leave her until he had tried to explain to her how certain blows of the battle-axe ought to be parried when one is armed and how when unarmed, and to show the different ways of grasping the handle; so that the poor soul was on the rack, and thought the hour seemed a thousand years before she could send him off, almost fearing that he would slay her like the others. Such are the mistakes committed by those who pay no regard to the ‘circumstances,’ of which you say you heard from the friars.

11.—Messer Federico laughed; then he went on:

“There are certain other exercises that can be practised in public and in private, like dancing; and in this I think the Courtier ought to have a care, for when dancing in the presence of many and in a place full of people, it seems to me that he should preserve a certain dignity, albeit tempered with a lithe and airy grace of movement; and although he may feel himself to be very nimble and a master of time and measure, let him not attempt those agilities of foot and double steps which we find very becoming in our friend Barletta, but which perhaps would be little suited to a gentleman. Yet in a room privately, as we are now, I think he may try both, and may dance morris-dances and brawls;^[154] but not in public unless he be masked, when it is not displeasing even though he be recognized by all.

“Indeed there is no better way of displaying oneself in such matters at public sports, either armed or unarmed; because disguise carries with it a certain freedom and licence, which among other things enable a man to choose a part for which he feels himself qualified, and to use care and elaboration upon the chief point of the thing wherein he would display himself, and a certain nonchalance as to that which does not count,—which greatly enhances the charm: as for a youth to array himself like an old man, yet in easy dress so as to be able to show his vigour; a cavalier in the guise of a rustic shepherd or some other like costume, but with a perfect horse and gracefully bedecked in character;—because the mind of the spectators is quick to fill out the image of that which is presented to the eyes at first glance; and then seeing the thing turn out much better than the costume promised, they are amused and delighted.

“But in these sports and shows where masks are worn, it would not be seemly for a prince to try to enact the part of a prince, because that pleasure which the spectators find in novelty would be in great measure lacking, since it is news to no one that the prince is the prince; and he, conscious that besides being the prince he is trying to play the prince, loses the freedom to do all those things that are beneath a prince’s dignity. And if there were any contest in these sports, especially with arms, he might even make men think that he chose to impersonate a prince in order not to be beaten but spared by others; moreover were he to do in sport the same that it behooves him to do in earnest upon occasion, he would deprive his own proper action of dignity, and make it almost seem as if that too were sport. But at such times, if the prince lays aside his character of prince, and mingles equally with his inferiors yet in such fashion as to be recognizable, by renouncing his own rank he attains a higher one, in that he prefers to excel the rest not by authority but by merit, and to show that his worth is not enhanced by the fact that he is a prince.

12.—“I say then that in these martial sports the Courtier ought to use the like discretion, according to his rank. In horseback vaulting too, in wrestling, running and leaping, I should be well pleased to have him shun the vulgar crowd, or at most let himself be very rarely seen; for there is not on earth a thing so excellent but the ignorant will tire of it and hold it of small account, if they see it often.

“There are many kinds of music, vocal as well as instrumental: therefore I should like to hear which is the best of all, and at what time the Courtier ought to perform it.”^[155]

Messer Federico replied:

“I regard as beautiful music, to sing well by note, with ease and in beautiful style; but as even far more beautiful, to sing to the accompaniment of the viol,^[156] because nearly all the sweetness lies in the solo part, and we note and observe the fine manner and the melody with much greater attention when our ears are not occupied with more than a single voice, and moreover every little fault is more clearly discerned,—which is not the case when several sing together, because each singer helps his neighbour. But above all, singing to the viol by way of recitative seems to me most delightful, which adds to the words a charm and grace that are very admirable.

“All keyed instruments also are pleasing to the ear, because they produce very perfect consonances, and upon them one can play many things that fill the mind with musical delight. And not less charming is the music of the stringed quartet, which is most sweet and exquisite. The human voice lends much ornament and grace to all these instruments, with which I would have our Courtier at least to some degree acquainted, albeit the more he excels with them, the better,—without troubling himself much with those that Minerva forbade to Alcibiades, because it seems that they are ungraceful.^[157]

“Then, as to the time for enjoying these various kinds of music, I think it is whenever a man finds himself in familiar and beloved companionship and there are not other occupations. But above all it is fitting where ladies are present, because their aspect fills the listener’s heart with sweetness, renders it more sensitive to the tenderness of the music, and quickens the musician’s soul.

“As I have already said, it pleases me well that we should avoid the crowd, and especially the ignoble crowd. But discretion must needs be the spice of everything, for it would be quite impossible to foresee all the cases that occur; and if the Courtier rightly understands himself, he will adapt himself to the occasion and will perceive when the minds of his hearers are disposed to listen and when not. He will take his own age into account: for it is indeed unseemly and unlovely in the extreme to see a man of any quality,—old, hoary and toothless, full of wrinkles,—playing on a viol and singing in the midst of a company of ladies, even though he be a passable performer. And the reason of this is that in singing the words are usually amourous, and love is a ridiculous thing in old men,—albeit it is sometimes pleased among its other miracles to kindle frozen hearts in spite of years.”

14.—Then the Magnifico replied:

“I do not wish,” said messer Federico, “to deprive old men of this pleasure, but I do wish to deprive you and these ladies of the pleasure of laughing at such folly. And if old men wish to sing to the viol, let them do so in secret and only to drive from their minds those painful thoughts and grievous troubles with which our life is filled, and to taste that rapture which I believe Pythagoras and Socrates found in music.^[158] And even although they practise it not, by somewhat accustoming their minds to it they will enjoy it far more when they hear it than a man who knows nothing of it. For just as the arms of a smith, who is weak in his other members, become stronger by exercise than those of another man who is more robust but unaccustomed to use his arms,—in like manner ears practised in harmony will perceive it better and more speedily and will appreciate it with far greater pleasure, than others, however good and sharp they be, that are not versed in the varieties of musical consonance; because these modulations do not penetrate ears unused to hearing them, but pass aside without leaving any savour of themselves; albeit even the beasts have some enjoyment in melody.

“This then is the pleasure it is fitting old men should take in music. I say the like of dancing, for in truth we ought to give up these exercises before our age forces us to give them up against our will.”

Here my lord Morello replied with a little heat:

“So it is better to exclude all old men, and to say that only young men have a right to be called Courtiers.”

Then messer Federico laughed, and said:

“You see, my lord Morello, that they who like these things strive to seem young when they are not, and hence they dye their hair and shave twice a week.^[159] And this is because nature silently tells them that such things are proper only to the young.”

All the ladies laughed, for each one of them felt that these words fitted my lord Morello; and he seemed rather stung by them. Messer Federico soon continued:

15.—“But there are many other ways of entertaining ladies that are proper to old men.”

17.—“But in brief not even all these qualities in our Courtier will suffice to win universal favour of lords, cavaliers and ladies, unless he has also a gentle and amiable manner in daily talk. And I verily believe it to be difficult to give any rule for this, because of the infinite variety of things that arise in conversation, and because among all the men on earth no two are found who have minds quite alike. So whoever has to prepare himself for conversation with many, must needs be guided by his own judgment, and distinguishing the differences between one man and another, must daily change his style and method according to the character of the person with whom he has to converse. Nor could I for my part give other rules in this matter than those already given, which our friend my lord Morello has learned at the confessional from his youth up.”

“There you shall show your wit,” said my lady Emilia. “And if what I once heard be true, that there was a man so clever and eloquent that he did not lack material to write a book in praise of a fly, others in praise of the fourth day ague, and another in praise of baldness,—will you also not have the courage to find something to say about Courtiership for one evening?”^[160]

“We have already said enough about it to make two books,” replied messer Federico. “But since my excuse is of no avail, I will talk until you think I have fulfilled, if not my duty, at least the limit of my powers.

18.—“I think that the conversation which the Courtier ought most to try in every way to make acceptable, is that which he holds with his prince; and although this word ‘conversation’ implies a certain equality that seems impossible between a lord and his inferior, yet we will call it so for the present. Therefore, besides daily showing everyone that he possesses the worth we have already described, I would have the Courtier strive, with all the thoughts and forces of his mind, to love and almost to adore the prince whom he serves, above every other thing, and mould his wishes, habits and all his ways to his prince’s liking.”

Without waiting for more, Pietro da Napoli here said:

“We already have enough Courtiers of this kind, for methinks you have in a few words described for us a noble flatterer.”

“You are much in errour,” replied messer Federico; “for flatterers love neither their prince nor their friends, which I tell you I wish chiefly in our Courtier.

“Moreover it is possible without flattery to obey and further the wishes of him we serve, for I am speaking of those wishes that are reasonable and right, or of those that in themselves are neither good nor evil, such as would be a liking for play or a devotion to one kind of exercise above another. And I would have the Courtier bend himself to this even if he be by nature alien to it, so that on seeing him his lord shall always feel that he will have something agreeable to say; which will come about if he has the good judgment to perceive what his prince likes, and the wit and prudence to bend himself thereto, and a deliberate purpose to like that which perhaps he by nature dislikes. And adopting these precautions, he will never be out of humour or melancholy before his prince, nor so taciturn as many are who seem to bear a grudge against their patrons, which is a truly odious thing. He will not be given to evil speaking, especially against his own lords; which often happens, for in courts there seems to rage a fury^[161] of such sort that those who have been most favoured by their lord and have been raised to eminence from the lowest state, are always complaining and speaking ill of him; which is unseemly not only in such as these, but even in those who chance to have been ill used.

“Our Courtier will show no foolish presumption; he will not be a bearer of evil tidings; he will not be thoughtless in sometimes saying things that offend instead of pleasing as he intends. He will not be obstinate and disputatious, as some are who seem to delight in nothing but to be troublesome and disagreeable like flies, and who make a point of spitefully contradicting everyone without discrimination. He will not be an idle or untruthful tattler, nor a boaster nor pointless flatterer, but modest and reserved, always and especially in public showing that reverence and respect which befit the servant towards the master; and he will not behave like many, who on meeting any great prince, with whom if only they have spoken but once, press forward with a certain smiling and friendly look, as if they wished to caress an equal or show favour to an inferior.

“He will very rarely or almost never ask anything of his lord for himself, lest his lord, being reluctant to deny it to him directly, may sometimes grant it with an ill grace, which is much worse. Even in asking for others he will choose his time discreetly and ask proper and reasonable things; and he will so frame his request, by omitting what he knows may displease and by skilfully doing away with difficulties, that his lord shall always grant it, or shall not think him offended by refusal even if it be denied; for when lords have denied a favour to an importunate suitor, they often reflect that he who asked it with such eagerness, must have desired it greatly, and so having failed to obtain it, must feel ill will towards him who denied it; and believing this, they begin to hate the man and can never more look upon him with favour.

19.—“He will not seek to intrude unasked into his master’s chamber or private retreats, even though he be of great consequence; for when great lords are in private, they often like a little liberty to say and do what they please, and do not wish to be seen or heard by any who may criticise them; and it is very proper. Hence I think those men do ill who blame great lords for consorting privately with persons who are of little worth save in matters of personal service, for I do not see why lords should not have the same freedom to relax their minds that we fain would have to relax ours. But if a Courtier accustomed to deal with important matters, chances to find himself in private with his lord, he must put on another face, postpone grave concerns to another place and time, and give the conversation a cast that shall amuse and please his lord, so as not to disturb that repose of mind of which I speak.

“In this however, as in everything else, let him above all take care not to weary his lord, and let him wait for favours to be offered him rather than angle for them so openly as many do, who are so greedy that it seems as if they must die if they do not get what they seek; and if they happen to meet any disfavour or to see others favoured, they suffer such anguish that they can in no wise hide their envy. Thus they make everyone laugh at them, and often are the cause that leads their master to bestow favour on the first comer simply to spite them. Then again, if they find themselves in at all more than common favour, they become so intoxicated by it that they stand palsied^[162] with joy, and seem not to know what to do with their hands and feet, and they can hardly keep from calling on the company to come and see and congratulate them as upon something to which they are quite unused.

“Of such sort I would not have our Courtier. I am quite willing that he should like favours, but not that he should value them so highly as to seem unable to do without them. And when he receives them, let him not seem unused or strange to them, or marvel that they are offered him; nor let him refuse them, as some do who refrain from accepting them out of mere ignorance, and thus seem to the bystanders to be conscious of not deserving them.

“Yet a man ought always to be a little more backward than his rank warrants; to accept not too readily the favours and honours that are offered him; and to refuse them modestly, showing that he values them highly, yet in such fashion as to give the donor cause to offer them again with far more urgency. For the greater the reluctance with which they are accepted, the more highly will the prince who gives them think himself esteemed, and the benefit that he bestows will seem the greater, the more the recipient seems to prize it and to hold himself honoured by it. Moreover these are the true and solid favours that make a man esteemed by those who see him from without; for, being unsought, they are assumed by everyone to be the reward of true worth, the more so when they are accompanied by modesty.”

20.—Then messer Cesare Gonzaga said:

“Methinks you have stolen this passage from the Evangelist, where he says: ‘When thou art bidden to a wedding, go and sit down in the lowest room; that when he that bade thee cometh, he may say: Friend, go up higher: and thus shalt thou have honour in the presence of them that sit at meat with thee.’”^[163]

Messer Federico laughed, and said:

“It were too great sacrilege to steal from the Evangelist; but you are more learned in Holy Writ than I thought;” then he went on: “You see what great danger those men sometimes run who boldly begin conversation before a lord without being invited; and to put them down, the lord often makes no reply and turns his head another way, and even if he replies to them, everyone sees that he does it with an ill grace.