How we ought to be clothed.

9. Every one ought to goe well clad, according to his estate, and age: for to doe otherwise, it seemes that in seeking to be taken notice of, hee despises the Nation, where he is, and therefore, the Citizens of Padua run out of their houses, in meriment, when they see any Venetian Gentle­men walke through the streete in a Jerkin.

10. And a man ought not onely to cloathe himselfe in fine cloath, silke or stuffe, but to strive to come as neere [Page 25] as hee can) to the generall fashion: and to submit to custome, though (perchance) hee suppose it lesse use­full, or handsome then the old fashi­on; And if through the City it bee the fashion to weare the hayre very short, thou must not were a peruque, nor when others weare great beards, thou must not bee shaven, for this is to contradict others, and we must not thwart use, and custome, but in case of necessity, as we shall tell you here­after: for this may make us hatefull to the people, more then any other ill custome.

11. None must, (at any time) op­pose, or contradict, a commune usage in such things, doe not thou therefore alone weare in the streetes a long robe downe to the feete, when every body else weares one very short, but a little below the girdle: least it fall out ne­ther better, nor worse unto thee, then to him that hath a crabbed counte­nance and rigid face, whose disposi­tion is so unsavory, that every body turnes to looke upon him, as upon a wonder. It is the same thing with them, which weare their cloathes out of the fashion, sutable to their [Page 26] owne humour and pleasure: or doe weare long hayre, and a great beard, or extreame short and shaven, con­trary to the custome: or who (being a young man) doth weare his Cap very flat and broad, or a low crowned Hat like a wives, or his ruffe and cuffes of his shirt of too unseeming a greatnesse and proportion. For at all such every body stands gasing, and doe point at them: whilst they themselves are much pleased with this, being those, (in their owne conceites) who have sought to break a common custome, against all liking of the mul­titude.

12. Their apparrell then must bee very fit, and becoming their persons, because those that weare rich, and noble apparrell, but ill shapen, and deformed, are not thought to have had them made for their bodies, and doth demonstrate, one of these two things, either that they are carelesse of themselves, or that they are igno­rant, what belonges to a good esteeme, modesty or the complement which is used amongst men.

13. As little good is it on the con­trary, to bee so extremely curious, in [Page 27] this, that wee should spend the most of the time in adorning and tricking of our selves. And some there bee of such an humour, that they place all their pleasure, happinesse, and study, upon their cloathes and outward fashion; And for ought else, are cold and unprofitable, and of little substance in their cariage, and conversation. They serve but for gazing stockes, and to bee pointed at in the streetes, and at meetings: so that others laugh and make sport and are discomposed at their trappings: as is used to bee done at a maygame, or other like pastime; They are so punctually grave, and setled in their cariage, as if they were meere statues, curiously painted and set forth. And some of them are so selfe conceited, and well pleased with themselves, that if they did see themselves in the water, as they doe in their glasses, they could not be kept from drowning themselves like Nar­cissus. These doe also so martyr their bodies, in pinching, and sweesing themselves, that wee have seene some that would not sit all day, that they might not ruffle their breeches, and goe so pent up, that they are so galled, [Page 28] that at night, when they goe to bed, they are as weary as if they had bin all day in a combate.

14. At the time when the fashion came up of wearing trunck-hose, some young men used so to stuffe them with ragges, and other like things: so that you might finde some that used such inventions, to extend them in compasse, with as great eagernesse, as some women doe (at this day) take pleasure, to weare great and stately verdingales, which matter I will not medle withall, because it is so large, and hath so many croniclers of it, that it is every day spoken of; I will onely say that the warinesse that the Women were wont to observe in concealing of their feete is suddenly passed to their necks, and by custome they have changed the place. So that now if you enter to see a Lady who perchance is unready, or in a carelesse fashion, if you finde her without the starched, and set ruffe, which wo­men use to weare, (although you may see her feete) by reason of her verdingall, shee will first lay hand to cover her neck, before shee will stirre to cover her feete, whereas [Page 29] heretofore, they did not onely not cover them in their houses, but did goe abroad bare necked, and bare brested, another extreame cleane contrary, to what is now used: but let us returne to the masculine ver­dingalls, which is the pompe and the bayes of their verdingall-breeches.

15. I will here tell you what happe­ned to one, that thought hee excelled so much in this fashion, that he stuffed a Follado of velvet that he did weare with branne, and being set in seeme­ly manner amongst some Ladyes, to whom he desired to shew his bravery, and neatnesse, as hee was talking merrily, of something that pleased him, hee was so exceedingly taken with delight that possessed him, that hee could not take notice, of a small rent, which was made, with a nayle of the Chaire hee sat upon, in one of his two pockets, of branne, (who, though the harme was but in his hose yet hee found it after in his hart) for as he was moving, and stroaking him­selfe (with much gallantry) the bran begun to drop out by little and little without his perceiving of it, but the Ladies that sat over against him, and [Page 30] saw it (it being by his motion like meale comming from the Mill as it grindeth) laughed much at it and looked one upon another, and the gallant, supposing, that his good behaviour, mirth, and sporting, was pleasing to them, laughed with the Ladies for company, and it so much pleased him, that the more he strove to delight the company, the more his Mill did grind forth the branne. The laughter by little and little en­creased, and hee appeared as confi­dent as a man that hath shed much blood by a wound, untill he espyed the heape of branne, which came out of his hose, and then hee begun to recall himselfe, and dissembling his shame, hee tooke his leave, and de­parted, to mend the mischiefe that lay in ambush for him, as the pro­verb goes, you may find out blood by the foot-steps.

16. Better profit then this did a prisoner make of the lynings of his breeches, who being to goe before the Judge for a certaine cause hee was accused of, it being at that time when the Law was in force against wearing bayes stuffed in their bree­ches, [Page 31] and he then having stuffed his breeches very full, the Judges tould him, that hee did weare his breeches contrary to the Law: who began to excuse himselfe of the offence, and endeavouring by little and little to discharge himselfe, of that which he did weare within them, he drew out of his breeches, a paire of sheetes, two table Cloathes, ten napkins, foure shirts, a brush, a glasse, and a combe, night-caps, and other things of use, saying, (all the hall being now strewed with this furniture) your highnesse may understand, that be­cause I have no safer a store-house, these pockets doe serve me for a roome to lay up my goods in, and though it be a straight prison, yet it is a store­house big enough for them, for I have many things more of value yet within it. And so his discharge was accepted and well laughed at, and they commanded him, that he should not alter the furniture of his store­house, but that he should rid the hall of his stuffe and keepe them as it plea­sed him.

17. But returning to the customes, I say that there are some so wedded [Page 32] to their wils, who though they much displease others, in the fashion of their cloathes, and may (according to their yeares) goe more fashion­able, they cannot bee brought unto it, because they will not conforme themselves to the common, and or­dinary custome. And to this purpose, they tell a story of a neighbour of Salamanca, who being a man of great meanes went clad in an antick fashion, and he carried under his armes cloath and new silks to make cloathes of, by which men might see that he did it not out of lavishnesse or to spoile them, (for hee caried his expences along with him, but to see who kept their fashion. For at that time the fashions rid post. These are men very remark­able, and utterly opposing policy and credit, and good court-ship.

18. It behoveth then that thy gar­ments bee sutable to the custome of the people of thy yeares, and man­ner of calling, for we have no power to alter custome, at our pleasure and desire, so that wee must move with the time. It is very true that it may fall out, that wee may take liberty, not to habit our selves, (punctually) [Page 33] according to the fashion: as when a man hath very great legs, or very small, or extraordinary fat, in that case a man may enlarge, or streighten his garments, a little more, then or­dinary: and in like manner, if any be crooked or mishapen he ought not to weare cloathes of a very remarke­able colour, that others be not there­by invited, to behould his imper­fections: neither ought a practised, and neate Courtier, to weare ex­traordinay gawdy cloathes, nor too old and carelesse. Nor is it good at any time, to labour to be remarke­able in his apparrell, to the end hee may bee distinguished from the rest, but that every one appeare conform­able to his condition: therefore a schollar should not goe like a soul­dier, nor a souldier like a scholler.

19. Being in Rome with Lodowick de Bavere, Castrucio, the Duke of Luca and Senator of Rome, they reported, that for gallantry and royalty, hee sent to have a robe made for him, of crimson Tabee, and that there should be written upon the brest of it, a mot­to (in letters of gold,) in this manner: It is as good wils it, and [Page 34] behind, upon the shoulders, another in these words, and it shall bee, as God will have it. This was a robe, (in my opinion) better suting to his Trumpetor, then to Castrucio him­selfe, for potentates ought not to make such robes, though they bee exempted from all rules. Nor doe I commend King Manfred, for going alwayes clad in greene, because we ought (alwayes) to esteeme of that, which is in use, without causing any to speake of, or to admire us. Even as a discreete Embassador did, who being to goe Embassador, to a strange Kingdome, and where it was sayd, they did weare many rude garments, he sent before where they were to pro­cure his lodging to one of the stewards of his house to get him some apparrell and houshould stuffe fashioned accor­ding to the custome of the Land: and to see if pack-sadles were in use, and if they were, to buy one for him of the better sort, for that in such manner, Embassadors have bin seene, to goe of Embassies, to forreine King­domes, and when they first entred therein, to cloath themselves after the fashion of that Land. For this is the [Page 35] way to obtaine better favour, and better trafficke for his master. And so I conclude this treatise of cloth­ing: That these that make little reck­oning, how they goe clad, are ill ac­cepted of, and gaine little love, in their conversations.

Of punctualities and neatnesse.

8. Nor is it good for any to bee melancholy, and sad, nor to shew any signe of it, to those we converse, and communicate withall, because this is fitting only for some students and contemplative men, that are conver­sant in the studies of some of the liberall sciences, And therefore they doe contrive to passe their sadnesse a­lone by themselves.

9. Much lesse should a man be so curious, and so apt to finde fault, that men must as they say, walke al­wayes in print: for to keepe compa­ny with such, is rather a torment then a society, and many of these are so britle as it were, and punctuall, that they will stand strictly considering, what title you gave them: and if you bee never so little negligent towards [Page 42] them then there ariseth quarrells, and wranglings, saying, you called mee not Sir, nor worshipfull, nor did you at the Table, give mee place ac­cording to my desart, and that was fit for me. You came not to visit me at my lodging, after I had bin at yours: you should not doe thus, to a man of my quality, and many such like speeches, that no man can suffer or indure. For they so excessively love themselves, that they have no leisure nor place to regard others: and so they easily and for very trifles, spoile all their friendship, making it like to friendship that is covered with a most curious vaile, whereby it can­not be pleasing, but very unaccep­table: which tender delicatnesse, and behaviour, should be left to women, I meane to some, who are so nice, and full of fault finding that they place all their reputation, in punctil­lio's, and spend more time to make good their fooleries, then is need­full, by reason of the jelousy, and lit­tle reckoning they make one of a­nother. I speak this without prejudice to the most who are of a better beha­viour, and of so sweete a conversa­tion, [Page 43] that we should doe exceeding well, to learn to imitate them.

That men ought to speake with reve­rence in things appertayning unto God.

3 Much more ought every one take heede, that in such meetings, hee speake not inconsiderately, of holy things, nor to make jests, and sport of them, for such use belonges to ill mannered men, and wee shall finde many so discreete, that they will pre­sently depart such company that they heare to speake of such things unad­visedly, and without reverence.

4. And we ought, not only to speak holily, and with much reverence, and consideration, in things concerning God, but a curious man ought, in all his discourse, to provide that his words may give a testimony, of his life and workes.

5. For if when we bee in the com­pany of people of quality and those that be curious, wee endevour that we may not erre in our discourse nor to give due precepts, and advise, but [Page 45] more especially when wee are before our parents, or powerfull friends, to whom we owe respect, and doe tie our selves, to a decent behaviour, and an humble carriage, because we may be their creatures, and favou­rites: how much greater care, and vigilancy, ought wee to use in the Church, and holy places, especially at the time when any religious office is doing there? This is a thing that every body well knowes, therefore I neede not to speake much of it: yet that we may doe that, which behoves us so much, let us have Gods word alwaies in our hands, out of which the Preachers, and Ministers, doe propose examples unto us. Consider therefore onely what gravity is there required, though it seeme to bee but policy, so to behave thy selfe in the Church that no body may take notice of thee. Hence wee may gather how ill they doe, that are talking and are unquiet in such places and at such holy exercises: nor ought any there to make legges, and complements, with such noise, as if they were at the Court, nor to depart the holy Table with a light cariage, but shew­ing [Page 46] modesty, and humility, nor ought any to behave himselfe so, that hee may draw mens eyes upon him; nor to lie lolling on one side or curiously to gase upon those that are entring into, or are in the Church. Nor to make antick gestures, and strange faces, when thou prayest, as many use to doe, often lifting up their hands, above their heads, and flinging abroad their armes and stretching themselves, as those doe that are newly awakened out of sleep: kissing their fingers, and using such o­ther exterior actions, and gestures, which trouble them, that are neere them, by drawing all their eyes upon them. But God is better served, with the heart, then with outward shewes: therefore to conclude, shew thy selfe there rather like the poore Publican, then the proud Pharisee.

6. And if there be any thing there, that may procure laughter, yet let it not hinder thy devotion; it is true, that sometimes, there fall out things in the Church, that would require us to settle our countenances, and doe even cast those off the hookes (as they say) that see, or heare [Page 47] them: to this purpose I cannot omit, though it be from the subject, to re­late some impertinencies, which have happened in this kinde, as of an old woman, who every time the Priest sayd Dominus vobiscum, or the Lord be with you, thinking the words to bee obispos, which signifyes in the Spanish tongue, Bishops: alwayes prayed, that the Bishops, Patriarchs, and Cardinals, would be her helpers: and to the same purpose, I have bin credibly enformed, that such a prat­ling woman as this, recommending to God, the good estate of her fa­mily, amongst other things, that she required, prayed thus, I beseech thee my Lord Jesus Christ, that for such a one my daughter, thou grant mee a rich and wise husband, a Gentle­man, no gamster, whoremonger, nor given to any vice, and a thousand like impertinencies: and at last, when shee could not remember, what more to pray for, shee prayed that whilst shee was thus praying, her pot might not burne to, or boyle over, and that shee might finde it, at her returne, well boyled, and seasoned. No doubt any that heares such impertinencies, [Page 48] can hardly forbeare to laugh, and must either depart, to another place, or marre his devotion, with these or the like things: wherefore if by chance, any heare, or see things, that force him to laugh, let it be so wary, that those that are neere him, may not perceive it.

7. Let us now returne, (with our Galatheo) to consider, what we ought to doe, in our conversation. I have sayd that it is very blame worthy, to talke of things, which are much thwarting the times, and the persons, that heare us. (Also in feasts, and at meales, wee ought not to move sad discourses.) But men ought to speake of such things, which are proper for the persons, and place, and are well liked of. And therefore in meriments, and at feasts, melancholick storyes, are not to be tould, as of sicknesses, and deaths, misfortunes, pestilence, or the like: nor to call to minde, or mention, any mournfull matter, but if any fall upon such discourse, wee ought in a merry, and sweete manner, to divert him, from such talke, and offer other subjects, to talke of, more convenient, and cheerefull. I have [Page 49] heard say of an old Philosopher, that he affirmed, that for the preservati­on of mans life, it is necessary, that there be a time to weepe, as well as to laugh. And that for that reason, he sayd, that of old, those sad fables, which they called Tragedyes, were invented, by acting of which, upon the stage, (as was then usuall to doe) they might make those shed teares who had neede so to doe, and by such weeping, they might be cured of their infirmities. But for that which concernes us, it becomes us not, to make sad the mindes of those wee discourse with, but should rather la­bour to solace, and delight them. For if it were true, that any should be sick for lack of weeping, it would be a small matter, to cure that dis­ease, either with a little strong mu­stard, or by enduring a little smoake. And so must we as it is sayd at such times, avoyd melancholy discourses.

8. We ought also, to interrupt him, that talkes impertinently, and wastes much time, and talke, only for their pleasure. Like some, that even fattened with the love they beare their little children, doe talke of nothing but [Page 50] of them, and their nurses, in this manner, this is so pretty a child, and makes me alwayes so merry that you cannot imagine it. My little girle, is very delightfull to mee, shee speakes already mum, Dad, and many other such words. And they suppose that as they themselves are pleased with this, and doe spend their time there­in, so must they, that heare them, take the like pastime: although for certaine, no man can bee so much taken heerewith, that hee can bee de­lighted, to spend his time, alwayes in hearing the same things, especially when the Fathers doe bring in such discourse, by the head and shoulders as we use to say.

A dreame of example:

1. And of all the Dreames I ever heard related, (though I have heard but few, and given credit to none) that me thinkes was the best which they report, that one Micer Flaminio a Gentleman of Rome did Dreame, which me thinkes was very materiall and of much consideration. Hee thought in his sleepe, that he was sit­ting in a ritch apothecaryes shop, that was his neighbour, and not knowing the reason, he saw that all the people, with great tumult tooke away all [Page 52] that was in it, and one tooke an e­lectuary, another tooke away sweet meates, one, one thing, another, an­other, and then they fell of eating, in such a manner, that there was neither box, glasse, pot, or viall, but it was quite emptyed, and amongst them there was a little viall glasse, full of a cleere liquour, which all smelt unto, but none of them did eate it; and it was not long, but he saw a man of a great stature, being ancient, and of a venerable countenance, who behold­ing the pots, and glasses, and finding one crackt, another overturned, and most part of them broken, hee cast his eye, upon the little viall-glasse, I spake of: and setting it to his mouth, he drunke out all the liquour not leaving one drop, and then went out, as the rest had done before him; at which Micer Flaminio seemed to wonder much, and turning to the Apothecary, he asked him, Sir what thing is this, and why hath this ho­norable old man, drunke up so sa­vourly, the water in the little viall, which the others refused. To whom the Apothecary answered: Sonne this venerable man, is our Lord, and the [Page 53] water which hee (alone of all the rest) did drinke up, (which you saw was refused) is the discretion, to judge rightly of things, the which men doe not seeke to preserve, in any thing in this World.

2. Such Dreames as this may well be told, and be excused, because they rather seeme to bee good thoughts, of a man awake, then a vision of a troubled phansy. But for other Dreames, voyd of sence, or probabi­lity, as for the most part, even lear­ned men (themselves) doe dreame, as well as the unlearned, wee ought not to spend our time, in telling of them.

Of Bablers.

It is accounted but a sport to heare men talke thus, to those which fre­quent, [Page 64] and devote themselves to Ta­vernes, and tipling houses; and are very loosely given: who when they bee well loden with wine doe grow enraged, and adding fuell (thereby) to their naturall inclinations, they thinke they are able to command all the World: and when such a talka­tive fellow as this, considers in what accompt hee is, amongst his Com­panions, there is no more to be sayd, for hee must onely controule and governe all; And then you shall see him frame himselfe, to Bable thus, Sir the World is all naught, there is nothing cottens, I wonder by the faith of a King, the Mores doe not breake in upon us, and even come in­to our Houses: if I had the governe­ment in my hands, I would make the Cock crow otherwise: and so he prepares himselfe for another full Cup.

2. I cannot omit, (heere) to tell what I once (my selfe) did see, in Vallodolid having my Lodging next the market place, and where was (usually) a Taverne, and an Ordi­nary for those that came thither, to runne races, where out of a dyning [Page 65] Roome, that overlooked the sayd Taverne, I could heare, and see all the passages were done there. At that time, one Sacamuellas Castromocho, a learned man, and one that then knew well, how to bang the Pitcher, was president, who being there with o­thers of his kindred, and camarades one day after dinner, when they had well filled their bellies, one began to make a doubt, and to move this question. Tell mee now my Lord Castromocho, and you other brave ca­valleeres heere present, which is the purest Plant which is at this day to be found in the World: one sayd the Lily, another the July-flower, a third named the Tulip: and so in this manner, were many reckoned up, every one giving the best reason hee could for his opinion. But Castromocho putting forth his hand and com­manding silence, sayd unto them. Now surely none of you come neere the matter, therefore confesse you are conquered. And know, that the purest Plant, that is in the World, is the Nettle, for whereas all the rest may bee made foule, and you may take them in your hand and doe what [Page 66] you will with them; the Nettle you cannot, for it defends it selfe against you. All the company yiel­ded to it, but when the matter was ended, Sacomuelas called for Wine, and so did all the rest: and the most of them tooke such refreshinges, so voyd of water, that it appeared very pleasing to their eyes, to be beheld in the Glasse. And then another of the company asked of another dif­ficulty in this manner. Tell mee now my Lord Castromocho, and all your honours, whither the soule goes to rest, when it goes out of the body. Castromocho answered, let every one else, first tell his opinion, and then at the last, I will determine the questi­on; and then some sayd into Hea­ven, others said into Hell, and a third into purgatory, according to every ones opinion, but Castromucho con­cluded with his declaration, saying, give attention, you must know that the soule going out of the body, goes directly to S. Iames of Galicia, alwayes excepted, that if he weare not a Drawer, for that they would not goe that way, but a worse; and with this conclusion, and with other noise [Page 67] that hee made, he fell asleepe, to spend his drunken humour; and so conclu­ded this illustrious society. But let us leave him sleeping, till hee may be awakened, peradventure then hee will bee of another opinion, then he was formerly, and let us returne to them that weare blacke Cloakes, of whom we have purposely dealt with­all concerning boasting. I say that every one should bee silent in things that concerne his owne praises, as much as he may, but if by chance any occasion, or opportunity, en­force any of us, to speake any thing of them, it is a commendable Cu­stome to speake the truth, mildly and softly, and in a certaine care­lesse manner, without using much restraint: and for this reason, they that take pleasure, in quaint Court­ship, ought to abstaine from this, which some accustome themselves un­to, namely to deliver their opinions so resolutely, upon any thing, gi­ving a definitive sentence, to heare whom it is irksome; But exspect what they would say, is more torment to utter in vaine preambles of their good education.

[Page 68] 3. Such are those men, that speak no­thing but preambles, to shew their manners, as if they should say, Sir I beseech your worship, to pardon me: if perchance I am ignorant, how to make your worship conceive me, be­cause I speake so rudely, according to my little knowledge, I am sure your worship, will laugh at me, yet to obey you, I will not forbeare to speake that you command me: and so they stand so long in such circum­stances, that any question how hard soever, may be determined with fewer words, then they wast in such circum­loquutions.

4. In like manner, are they very troublesome and tedious, in the over­acting of their cariage, or in taking their places, shewing themselves mean, and humble, and setting themselves in the lowest, whereas the first and chiefest place is due unto them; and they alwayes strive, to be one of the last, which is a great trouble, to see, so much time spent, to make them goe before, And oftentimes they will stand hearing a discourse or some o­ther thing, with much pleasure, and attention: and so whilst the Gentle­man [Page 69] is giving you testimony of his good breeding by going on foote, he is troublesome to you in making you waite for his comming, and so they strive vainegloriously to bee thought humble, by meanes of their feigned hypocrisy. So that the more you call them, the more doe they draw back, getting behind by little and little, and are like starting Horses that can­not be gotten forward; and therefore those that are used to good manners finding the inconvenience that ari­seth from this troublesomenesse, that they may not breake the thread of society, hould it lesse inconvenient, to take the place, or seate is offered them, though it bee better then they should have, rather then give occasi­on to this tumult, that may be oc­casioned by them, in doing other­wise. And when men enter or depart such societies, the experienced Cour­tiers, hould it for better breeding, to doe nothing, but readily to come in, and readily to goe out, yea even without putting off your hat, or tak­ing leave, rather then to use endlesse ceremonies, as many use to doe.

First Ceremonie for profit.

3. For profit, we intend every Lye that is spoken, for the particular in­terest, and profit of him that speakes it, and this is a sinfull fraud, and a dishonest thing, for a man cannot lye honestly, and this sinne doe flat­terers commit, who (As it is re­ported of the Chameleon, that hee changeth himselfe into the colour of that place they put him in) so in like manner, transforme themselves into the shape of friends, and are con­formable to every bodies humour, be it what it will, not to please us, but to gaine something by us, not to give us content, but to cosen us, and though this by chance may seeme a pleasing vice, unto those, that are vaine gloriously given, get for all this, it is (in it selfe considered) abomina­ble, [Page 64] and damnable: and therefore a well fashioned man ought not to use it, for if such ceremonies, as these, be but Lyes, and flatteryes, when ever we use them for our owne profit, then surely we doe so often act the parts of naughty, and false-hearted men, and therefore no such ceremonies should be used.

Secondly, Ceremonie for vanity.

The second Ceremonie, (which we sayd men used for vanity) is (as we have formerly sayd) when to make our selves be thought to have bin well educated, (Although wee ayme at nothing but vaine glory therein) we give unto any, greater titles then their due, and wee offend thus by giving too much, that they may doe the like to us: and these, are plaine and noted Flatteryes, so that they that speake, and use them, to this end, besides that they are so ill in them­selves, are offensive, and troublesome to others: being so contrary to all truth.

Thirdly, Ceremonie for Obligation.

The third manner of Ceremonies, are such as are done for Obligation or for desart, and are not to be omit­ted, and therefore they that forbeare to use them, doe not onely displease, but doe an injury, and oftentimes it fals out, that by this meanes, hee that is thus negligent comes to be repre­hended, and to gaine envy, especially when one Citizen, ceases to give such honour to another, as the use is to doe, as in not putting off the hat, nor speaking civilly, in which he doth very ill.

For the force of custome, is very great, and in such cases, ought to be observed, like a Law: and so he that calleth to another by his name being not farre better then he is, doth undervalue him, and commits an un­civill act in naming him, for hee knowes that in such language, men call unto workemen, and labourers, and although in this place hereto­fore, and in other Countries, even at this day men may use such meane titles, without undervaluing of any [Page 66] one: yet wee must not disobey the moderne fashion: but are bound to observe it, as a Law; And therefore it is necessary for us, that we dili­gently learne, the actions and words, which are at present in use, to give, and receive, by way of salutation, or speaking to any, even in that Coun­try where wee live. And though in the time of Don Pedro of Arragon, the Admirall was many times called, his Majesty, because it was the cu­stome of that time, so to doe, yet we ought not, (for all this) to call our King on this manner: if we were now either to speake or to write un­to him. For such use as our age ob­serves, such also must we doe. And these I call due ceremonies, because they proceede not from our free will, and pleasure, but because they are become a Law, and common custome. But if by chance they may bee left: one ought not to be so singular, as to oppose, that which is accomp­ted good behaviour: like some un­pleasing men, that thinke, that every one owes them respect, and know not themselves how to returne any one a good word, and doe take plea­sure [Page 67] to be taken notice of, for these extremities. On the Contrary to these, there are others, so excessive­ly abounding in good manners, that we may say, they have as much too much, as those others have too little, and they spend all their times, in Compliments, to shew their good breeding, and other like impertinen­cies. And they dwell so long upon things, (which in themselves are no­thing) to make them pleasing to o­thers, that it becomes troublesome, these are made of meere ceremonies, speaking after this manner. Your ho­nour hath shewed me so much favour, that, I hould my selfe most obli­ged to serve you, as long as I live. If God please to grant me time for it, I shall bee most prodigall, to spend it in your honours service, and such like stuffe as this. A certaine Bishops Chaplaine, did purposely use such returning of thankes, as these: the Bishop his master, having bestowed certaine benefices, and pensions, up­on certaine of his servants: to this Chaplaine though he had served him long time, he gave the least benefice: not being worth above eighty Du­cates [Page 68] a yeare and that will cure. But when the rest were to give thankes for their pensions, and rewards, some to the value of five hundred Duckats, others to the value of three hundred, and some to the value of foure hun­dred Duckats: it fell out, that hee that had that but of eighty Duckats, gave the greatest thankes, shewing greater content then all the rest, at which the Bishop (marvailing some­what) asked him why he gave the largest thankes, this reward which he had bestowed upon him, being the least, and of so little value. Hee answered, that he esteemed it more then if hee had given him one of a thousand Duckates, it being so su­table to his necessities: he being (as he was by nature, so cholerick, that no master could beare with him; nor indeed was there any servant that he could beare withall, and so that living not being enough to keepe a boy, and too much for him to re­maine with his Lordship (it being with cure of soules) therefore he gave him so great thankes, for both freeing him from a master, and also from a man. I say therefore some use too [Page 69] many, and some too few ceremonies.

Of kissing the handes.

1. And although kissing in signe of reverence, is most properly used amongst us, in holy things, as the kissing of reliques, and dead mens bones, yet in our Country also, We have a custome, to say, I kisse your honours hands: I beseech your ho­nour, to accompt mee for your ser­vant; and though we shun to speake it usually, yet in saluting, and taking leave, and in our Letters, and Epistles, that we write, wee must use it, and it being growne a custome, we ought not to tie our selves to the old way, nor to wonder at it, like some in­considerate, and weake men, that speake in this manner, doe you see, who I must call my Lord, And what Lord is he I pray? perchance it is the Curate of the Parish, that I am thus bound to give the Besar las manos unto, &c.

But it is manifest, that another, that is not used to say my Lord, nor to be called so, may thinke that thou dost it, to affront, or disgrace him: [Page 70] and when thy estate, and quality is not much above anothers, thou shalt doe ill, if in acting a Cavallero, and a Lord, thou shalt labour to be vaine­glorious, in undervaluing him, skruing thankes from him by farre fetcht speeches, saying, my Lord, such an one, will doe this very well: and some there are that will goe farther, making their voyce to bee heard: and confident to gaine it, if they can make it passe, like a guilded Pill, with such words as these; my Lord doe this for love of mee, and some­times with a feigned laughter, and giving them a clap on the shoulder, entreat them they will sing by turne, saying by the faith of an honest man, you have taken mee much, and all these are but stratagems of vaine­glory.

2. Some also are so studious in these Ceremonies, that they have found out a way, to distinguish betweene thou, and you: and her, and shee, and your worship, making sixe de­grees of Courtship, so that no Na­tion did ever advance so farre, for if we marke it, the French make use of [...]os, or you, to all degrees, and qua­lities. [Page 71] And I cannot now treate of all that might bee sayd from the title of worshipfull above sayd, nor of the greater titles, for this would draw us into a great labyrinth. It sufficeth that though (heretofore) there were a great deale: yet now the ordinary sort or common people have raised it and filled it up with the titles of the Nobility: and that with such might and combination, that the Gentry, and Nobility, magnificoes, and grandes, that used to have these titles, are now robbed of them, and banished from their ancient Country, and Nation. And so, the noble ca­valleres, and people of quality, seeing this, have profited so farre, as to advance a degree, or two higher, then ordinary, to bee distinguished (especially in their letters) from this generation, that robbes them of their titles.

3. I will heere tell you what hap­pened, (to this purpose,) to a Gentleman that was a Courtier, who writing a Letter to a private man, with the title of most magnificent Lord, which was the title that be­longed to himselfe, according to his [Page 72] condition, he answered him, that hee thought it no Courtship, to put such a title upon him. To which the Courtyer replying, in his Letter, he left a blanck for his Complement, saying, Sir write (your selfe) that Complement, in the voyd place, in my Letter, that likes you best, for which purpose I have sent it blanck unto you subscribed with my Name.

4. There are some others that to shew themselves humble, paint them­selves out for fooles, and seeke to shew so much extremity of good behaviour, that you can perceive little understanding in them, and though they speake many tongues, yet are they never the wiser, nor can give any content with them: like one that was newly married, that writ to his Wife a Letter of many concepts, and concluded, placing for his Com­plement, at the foote of his Letter, such an one the meanest Husband of your Ladyship kisseth your hands.

5. Some others there are that by meere carelesnesse, make greater faults in writing, and give either two or three titles more, (whether they be right or wrong) then is needfull, [Page 73] especially when they need any thing, and call them most illustrious, most renonced, &c.

Of the Title Serenissimo.

This is an appellation belonging unto Princes. Except when it is some­time used in sport; As a Cavallere did, who because his sonne walked in the night, called him Serenissimo: and being asked the reason, made answer, that being such a lover of the evening dewes (which are called in Spanish Sereno) there had so much of this Sereno, (by this time) fallen upon his head: that hee could not be now called, lesse then Serenissimo. This Title of Serenissimo, was no lesse offensive, to a certaine Citizen; whom a Lord governour of estate, whō all cal­led Serenissimo, had much vexed. It fell out, that as he was one evening talking with some of his friends, concerning the troubles, the Governour had put him to, they bidding that he should goe out of the dew, that was falling (which in Spanish they call Sereno) because it would doe him hurt, an­swered, Sirs you say true, if then the [Page 74] Sereno, will doe me hurt, what thinke you the Serenissimo will doe.

6. Returning now to our purpose. I say, that even as the ceremonies, which are in extremities, are to be avoyded, so ought we not, (on the contrary) so wholly to omit them, that wee should returne to the old custome, for it will shew very ill, to doe like some rustick people, who would have, that those who write to Kings, and great Lords, should begin in this manner, if thou and thy sonne bee well, it is well, I am also in good health: affirming, that in such manner, the Latine Philosophers, did begin their Letters, which they usually writ from Rome.

7. We must then know, and ob­serve, some instructions, and rules, that we may not erre in such things, as these: and first, we must consider the Country wherein wee live: for every custome, is not alike good in every place. For wee may speake in that manner in Italy, as (perchance) the Neapolitanes doe use to doe, whose City is full of men of quality, and of great estate, which notwithstand­ing, will not sute well, with the [Page 75] Luqueses, and Florentines, who are (for the most part) merchants, and meane men, and having no Princes, marquesses, nor Barons amongst them, and although the Venetian Gentlemen, use much curtesy, one to another, and flatter one another, by reason of their offices, yet will it not shew well that the common people of Ro [...]igo, and the Citizens of Assoli should observe this solemnity, to give such respect one to another, up­on all occasions. For this is the cu­stome of the Seigniory of Venice: and every one doth in conclusion, of his owne accord, follow the steps of his Lord, and ancient Country, al­though he knoweth no reason where­fore.

We ought also in Spaine, no lesse to consider of this solemnity, yet with this caution, that amongst the common people, and poore places, that consist most of labouring people, it is not fit to observe the same style, in our ceremonies, which is used in the great assemblies, especially in the Kings Palace, which would bee to strike the people with admiration. As they report of a Lord of quality, [Page 76] of this Kingdome, that held it for a custome, when he called for drinke, if it were in the night, that five or six of his servants, should march be­fore the Cup, with two lighted Torches; But as he did this in a poore village, a man that was but simple, that was there, when hee saw them come towards him, bareheaded, and with such ceremony, he fell downe on his Knees and began to adore the Cup, beating upon his breast, with great devotion. The Lord and they that were with him, bid him rise, And asked him why he did such reverence, who answered: that seeing them (so solemnly) performe this ceremony, hee could not but kneele downe, sup­posing, that they brought the holy Sacrament, or at least some sacred reliques, and so the Lord was war­ned, by another mans ignorance, no more to use this ceremony, amongst such ordinary people.

8. Moreover, we ought (as well) to regard the time, as also the age, and condition, of the person, to whom we use these ceremonies: as well as to consider the place, as also to consider our owne age, and con­dition. [Page 77] And with poore and meane qualitied people, to be very briefe in our expressions, or at the least to con­tract them somewhat and not to ex­presse them to the full, which is well done in the Court of Rome. But in some other places they are accomp­ted very tedious, especially to those that have much businesse, who wast much time in them. Bee covered sir saith the Judge, that is much per­plexed, and is scanted of time, to dis­patch his many businesses. And hee makes answer to him, that speakes to him, (after all his cringes, and scrapes,) (with much gravity) in this manner, my Lord I was very well before. And the other addressing himselfe, to presse the Judge, that is all this time was covered wreathing his body, first on one side, then on the other, and crowching even to the ground, with much vanity, and ostentation, makes this answer. I be­seech you permit me, thus to doe my duty to you, for I am obliged unto it, and this combate lastes so long, and so much of the stock of time is wasted, that there is scarce left any time for businesse. So that those that [Page 78] visit Judges, and Ministers of publick offices, that are intangled in govern­ment, should use brevity, cutting off all Compliments, and Cere­monies, especially if they be Lords, or persons of quality, to whom we cannot speake so freely, as to others, who are at leasure and voyd of busi­nesse. But it often falls out, that poore suiters, must long wait their turnes, before their businesses can be heard, waiting at distance, num­bring the words spoken, and with a desire they may be seene, stand ob­serving the impertinencies, and meane while cursing them a thousand times, for anger to see how they spend the time, and make them loose their meetings; and so are forced to re­turne home, disconslate, and with losse of their labours. And some there are so dull, and so incircumspect, that they cannot perceive the signes, that they might take notice of in such officers, whom they thus keepe from businesse, that they are troublesome to them: as in observing, how care­lessely they answer their questions, and that they make no apologies to them, or give them that applause, [Page 79] which they would give them, if they did much relish them, or were at lea­sure. And if (perchance) they tell them, that they must give them leave to finish their businesses in hand, (Though they speake this to them, very civily, and plainlly) they goe from them grumbling, saying that they are growne proud of their of­fices, and have buried all friendship, and doe shew themselves, to be harsh and ill conditioned men.

9. Nor doe such ceremonies, be fit young men, which old and grave men may use: nor must meane, and poore people, use such ceremonies, one to another, as Lords, and people of great quality, doe use. And there­fore, vertuous, and well bred per­sons, doe strive to avoyd them, as (much as may be,) as being distast­full: for spending all their time, and studies in such vanities. Neither ought officers, of mechanick offices, or persons of meane condition, to use solemne ceremonies, with Lords, and people of great quality: but ought to approach to, and answer with humility, and plainenesse, unto that, wherein the Lord hath occasion to [Page 80] use them in, for there seemes more obedience then honour to be required from such mens hands. And there­fore, that servant was in an errour, that offered his service to his Lord, when as it was his duty, to bee al­wayes ready, at his command, nor is it fitting, when a Lord stands bare­headed, for thee to bid him bee co­vered: nor if he be standing or walk­ing, within dores, is it fit for thee to bee so bould, as to goe abroad or to sit downe, although hee bid thee: if thou bee of a meaner condition, then he. But when a great Lord, is pleased to set thee above him, to doe thee honour, thou must not bee so bould, to refuse the favour he doth thee.

10. Now I say, that amongst per­sons of equall ranke or who are but a little distinguished, in their persons, or places: this manner of good com­pliment, and good cariage, may be used more freely, because, (often­times) that which wee doe to per­forme our duty, is received as due and little honour is of us given unto him that deserves it, therefore he that doth a little exceed in that which he istyed [Page 81] to doe, seemes to bestow a guist more then can be challenged, and doth gaine love thereby and is accounted free­minded and liberall. And so was a cer­taine grave Greciā wont to say, that he that knowes, how to converse with, & to endeere great men, drives a great trade: and therefore those that are pleased in Courtship, doe (at this day) use thus to speake. My Lord such an one, when he speakes to his friends, that are better then himselfe, but especially when they talke with Ladies, that are married, or with the Daughters of their equalls, they will say my Lady, and this way make they themselves acceptable, and gaine the good will of all.

11. Thou must then use ceremonies, as a good Tayler doth his cloath, which he cuts out to make garments that makes them rather too long and too large, then too short, and scanty, but he makes them not so bigge, that in cutting out a paire of Breeches, you may mistake them for a Sack, or a Cloake-bag. And if thou shalt use a little tolerable largenesse in thy ce­remonies, towards them that are some­what meaner then thy self, thou mayst [Page 82] bee accompted courteous, but much more, if the person be somewhat better then thy selfe, thou shalt bee held for a well fashioned and pleasing Gentleman. But he that shall extend them in an unreasonable sort, shall but make sport with them, and be ac­compted for a vaine fellow: and this is the manner of ceremony which we formerly spake of, which proceeds from our owne will, and not from custome, but naturally we may passe our lives without ceremonies, and in them we may plainely see, that all that is not in use, is superfluous, and of those which are received by cu­stome, wee may say, that they are lawfull jestes or lyes, and wee may also call them vanities, and to noble mindes, that are not pleased with such arrant vanities, it is an odious, and unpleasing thing, to deale in them. Therefore great ones ought to bee more honoured, by their owne workes, then by an others words.

12. It is storyed to this purpose, that a certaine King, called Edipo, being banished his Country, put himselfe under the protection, of King Theosio in Athens, to free himselfe from the [Page 83] fury, of his persecuting enemies: and being brought before Theosio, hee heard a young daughter of his speake, who knowing her by her voyce only, (hee being blinde for age) did not addresse himselfe to salute Theosio, but overcome with the affection of a Fa­ther, went presently to make much of his daughter, and having a little remayned so doing, hee besought Theosio to excuse him, and besought his pardon for his neglect. The good, and wise King, forbare not to an­swer him, but sayd unto him, be of good cheere, Edipo, for I honour not my life, with other mens words, but with mine owne actions. A say­ing befitting a wise man, and one, that esteemed not fawning, and flat­tery. Wherefore the flatterer shewes plainely, that he that is pleased with his flattery, is vaine, and arrogant, simple, and of little understanding, by suffering himselfe to be overcome, & vanquished by so light a thing. And vaine and superfluous ceremonies, are plaine and knowne flatteries, so that they that speake, and use them, for profits sake (besides that they be so bad in themselves, having their Foun­dations [Page 84] in false, and forged words) they remaine troublesome, and dis­tastfull, for being so opposite to all truth.

13. There are others, besides these, which also consist in fayned actions, and meere apparances, so that what­soever they make aparent to you, is a lie, and although their adorning seeme naturall, yet in it selfe it is not so, but onely to delude the sight: as those that being leane make them­selves seeme fat, and being low, to seeme very tall. This is the fault we now see, for the most part to bee in women, who doe, if not all, yet the most of them thus dissemble. This made a Traveller say, that in Spaine (almost) all the women, were tall, faire, and ruddy, either by nature, or by art. Some others have sayd, that the Spaniard lay all their grounds, or principles, in bare Compliments, and apparances. Therefore, if (by chance) they give thee, a faire good complexioned, and well proportioned wife, yet will shee prove no more then halfe a Wife and without any hayre, so that at the wedding night, it may be [Page 85] perceived, that halfe of her was made of guilded corke, and though they put her into the bed, yet the other part of the woman which is without the sheetes will be found in the morning tawny, yellow, bald, and ill com­plexioned, and so is hee thus cosen­ed in halfe of his Wife. But they will say, shee was seene, as shee was, and that shee hath found her selfe de­ceived, having discovered, far more defects in her Husband, then was in her selfe: that he was farre lesse, and black, then shee tooke him for. As I have heard tell of one such as these who having married her selfe for advancement and for coveteousnesse of her Husbands wealth, observed, when her Husband went to bed, that hee pulled off a counterfet Nose hee wore, and a glove wherewith hee fastened on an artificiall hand, and last of all, putting his hand to his mouth, pulled out thence a set of artificiall Teeth, and so in this pastime, of her disorderly cove­teousnesse, both the lovers remayned discontented.

14. But to returne to our purpose, there is yet another sort of ceremo­nious [Page 86] people, that make an Art, and trade of it, and keepe a Booke of accompt of their ceremonies name­ly when you speake to such manner of persons, how your Complement must be passed, or your ground tra­versed, with a little closing of the eyes, and the head a little cast down; And when you speake to such an one, you must speake smilingly, a little also bowing your head, And how these of greatest quality, must bee placed, in a Chayre with Armes, and he that is of a little meaner rank, in plaine back-chayre, and inferiors upon a bench, although it bee true, that such a punctuall distinction, of giving honour as this, is accompted very offensive, and therefore, none ought to be Judge, to determine, who is more and who lesse noble then a­nother.

15. As little fitting is it, that cere­monies, or endeerements, bee sold to any to pay with them the debts we owe unto them, as some Lords doe with their servants, or inferiours to whom they owe mony, whom they pay with ceremonies, giving them leave to stand covered before [Page 87] then, paying them the wages they owe them, with familiarity, and fa­vour. By this we may well presume, that those who take pleasure, in u­sing these outward ceremonies, doe it for pompe, and vanity, if they ex­ceed the common use, and manner used in them.

16. There are others also that are so fruitlesly ceremonious, that with­out speaking any thing of substance, doe never leave talking, and that very idlely, and yet with much Courtship, and so much, that it is an obligati­on, for them to excuse you from hea­ring them, of these spake hee that summed up the life of Mithridato the Court babler in these verses.

17. These then, place all their di­ligence, and thought, to order their clappering tongues, and tedious­nesse of such their impertinencies: hammering the people, (as it were) with their words: with which by rea­son [Page 84] of their education they can make a reasonable shew or flourish; But in grave matters, or things of moment, they can shew no wit: and they la­bour that all their converse be spent, in outward apparances. And if any discourse of good judgement bee moved, they nor relish, nor un­derstand it. And of these impertinent men, there are an infinite number, that at first sight deceive men, and at the second doe tire them, for then is their sillinesse discovered.

18. One of these Mitridatos was usher­ing a Lady, and being to goe through a narrow passage, hee stood urging her, that shee would goe first, think­ing it to bee good manners for him so to doe. The Lady made a stop, desi­ring him to goe first, because it was his place, who a while refused it, but at last he went on: saying, I had ra­ther bee thought ignorant then to be too troublesome. To whom the Lady readily retorted thus: goe Sir, for both wayes you may rightly challenge the first place, and so shee answered him as hee well deser­ved.

19. And to conclude this matter of [Page 85] ceremonies, I say there are some o­thers, that are alwayes full of com­plementall words, and courteous deeds, thereby to supply the defect of their small meanes, supposing, that because there is little substance or profit in their deeds, (if they should also want words and compliments) no body would ever endure them, by reason whereof, they so much ex­ceede in superfluous ceremonies, that (generally) they weary those that have good judgements: but for all this, every one desires to live, accor­ding to his owne pleasure, namely with liberty; which is more esteem­ed of, then any other thing what­soever.

Of those who insteed of speaking ele­gantly doe speake nonsense.

To this purpose a certaine benefi­ced man, in a Village, that tooke up­on him to be very elegant, inviting to dinner to him two students of his ac­quaintance, which at that time were passing by, spoke to them in this manner, Gentlemen, it were good that for the present wee Decapitate Choller. For I greatly desire a scin­dill with so good society. To whom, one of them answered; beneficed Sir, you have in conceipt spoken very e­legantly, and with this answer hee was much pleased, and satisfyed for his eloquence.

3. Like to this, I will tell you heere a jest (that fell out in Alcala) of a certaine Doctor, And though some say, to excuse him, it was spoken of him but in jest and mirth (as we use to doe) yet it is true it so befell him. [Page 88] And thus it was, As he stood looking upon a Map of the World, which was drawne in a great round figure, A Nurse that dwelt with him, came to him, and sayd, good Sir what is that, that is so round? He answered her, sister, you must know, that it is the Orbe, which is also called tho Planisphere, the card of the World, or the Globe. If you understand none of these termes, then know that it is the whole World. But shee with more curiosity, being much astoni­shed, that shee had seene the whole World, asked him, but good Sir, where is the place where I now stand? The Doctor answered, heere you see it inclusively: if not, behold it heere intensively, what cannot be ex­pressed extensively, and to conclude, you may see it heere vertually, and so the Nurse was as wise as before, and the Doctor as ignorant to expresse his meaning, in the Castilian Lan­guage.

4. Hee was also a bould Rethori­tian, who when he should have sayd, I cannot inlarge my selfe: because I want inke; sayd, I end because my horny vessell furnisheth not my [Page 89] Goose-quill, with Ethiopian liquour: True it is, that this mingling of Latin words, is wont to be (sometimes,) for necessity sake, As it fell out to a Spaniard whom I knew, who by remayning in Flaunders from a youth in the University of Lovaine, and living there till he was old, and not being able neither to speake good Latine, nor good Castilian, nor Greeke, nor good French, did one day amongst many other pleasing medlyes, which he spake, insteed of saying, No veys La gente de guerra come viene assentar su real entre las matas de los Escobares, Sayd in this manner, Ola no veys los Armigeros y Catafractos como se vienen a castra­mentar entre las miricas. Therefore wee must take great heed that when wee speake Castilian, wee doe not speake Latine, as a Monk who in­steed of saying, that they should make him a Picture of S. Peter, repenting, for denying his master: sayd thus, Sir such a one I entreate you, that you paint me a very good Flevit Amare which is in English, he wept bitterly. As ill shewes it, on the contrary, if when we are to speake Latine, we [Page 90] mixe Castilian, as a masse Priest did, in certaine Prayers, who when hee was to goe out singing in Latine Ecce lumen Christi (in English, be­hould the light of Christ) were it that hee could not hit on it in Latine, or hee had forgotten what to say, went forth, holding the Candle aloft, and singing, behold this bur­ning Taper, in Spanish y Aqui el cirio encendido. Let these few examples admonish us, to avoyd improper, and affected words, which are not sutable, to the matter in hand, al­wayes considering the time, place, and occasion, and those that heare us, that wee may not erre, nor give them occasion, to say any thing against us.

That wee ought as little to speake ill of any, nor ought our jesting, and jeeres to bee biting.

2. We must as little (in our con­versation) speake ill of any, nor of his family, (Though we thinke that those that heare us, are pleased there­with, and are willing to harken to us.) which vice usually happens, by meanes of the envy which (for the most part,) we beare, to one ano­thers wealth, and honour, but at last let every one beware of the kicking Horse. And therefore understanding persons doe flye from ill tongues, con­sidering, that they that will tell us such things, of others, will tell o­thers [Page 93] as much of us: and as it is sayd, flye from him, that reporteth such novelties, for he is the man that in­vented them; and those that oppose contradict, and withstand all man­ner of discourse they meete with, give a testimony that they doe not well understand the nature of men, and that every one loves to conquer, and hates to be overcome, no lesse in words then in workes: how much more for one man (voluntarily) to oppose and contradict another, is it accompted a worke of envy, and not of friendship? Therefore he that de­sires to be pleasing in his cariage, and converse: ought not to be so armed alwayes in his discourse as to say, this you sayd was not so: but as I tell it you: nor ought wee to lay wagers of it, but in triviall things, we ought to bend our selves, to incline to other mens opinions, for the victory in such things proves but our losse: for it is very true, that by gay­ning the Conquest, in a frivolous question, and a matter of noe value, we oftentimes displease a deere friend.

Of domineerers and confident people.

And these Domineerers are [Page 94] so offensive to all people, that they dare not converse with them: for feare of falling every houre into wranglings, without profit, even to be at daggers drawing; But if (at any time) it fall out, that any bee drawn on to dispute, hee must doe it in a mild fashion, and must not lash out with delight to overcome: or seeke to order all the matter, and to have all the honour, attributed to him­selfe: but hee must leave every body his share: and in contending whe­ther it bee reason, or not, that every one alledgeth, he must leave it to the judgment of the most, and if there shall bee any excessively confident: let him leave the matter to them, quit­ting the plaine field, for them to con­tend, to sweate and toyle themselves. For these are manners hatefull to men that are modest and of good behaviour. Besides this, wee cannot get the victory without hatred, and envy; And because for the most part all people by nature, seeke to attribute glory to themselves, and doe under­value and dispraise other mens opini­ons, that they may every one shew himselfe wise, valiant and of much [Page 95] understāding, therfore it falls out that many doe advise, reprehend, dispute, and defend themselves, with Rapier, and Poniard, as they say, against all men, and will incline themselves to no mans opinion, but stand to their owne: and are so blind, and obstinate in their owne way, that no reason is forcible enough, to alter them from it: and though these doe not finde fault with the opinion of their friends, yet will they not leave their owne errors.

Fortune-tellers.

3. There are others, that if you fall into discourse with them, at that time when you come into their com­pany to refresh your selfe, from your labours, can never get out from some lamentable discourse, and misfor­tunes, and ill presages, that threaten the people, for the time to come: and when they heare of any victory, or good successe, they spoile all, with the love they beare to ill omens, and their owne only opinions, which doe with meere phansy, and vaine glory, make themselves melancholy. Sup­posing [Page 96] by this their unsavory humor, the more to give credit, to their foo­lish condition; and some, to whom, and their yeares rest, and quiet is due, yet doe nothing but talke la­mentably, never altering their dis­course, saying that in their dayes, the men were more valiant, and not as they are now, that there is not a man left worth a Button, and the like.

4. It is also blame worthy, and that with great reason, for any, that is in company with others, to whis­per; so that all cannot heare what he sayth, but especially for two, or three, to separate themselves, from the rest, and to stand laughing, and looking upon the rest, or to desire to be covered, or muffled when the rest are not, for this is after a sort a betraying of him of whom we speake, and in all reason they must offend many, that use it: especially any one that is suspicious or jealous.

There are others, of such a con­dition, that if they bee not talking, they stand in such a study, that never regarding what they doe, they have their eyes fixed upon another, laugh­ing [Page 97] at their owne phansyes, and never thinking of him they looke upon, and thence must necessarily arise sus­pition, as an Author saith.

5. They must then be admonished that are in publique, and in company, that they be not so carelesse, that they stand with fixed eyes, on any side, and be wholly taken up with their owne thoughts.

6. Nor is it fit, that when wee are in such company, wee should draw out a booke, or to settle our selves to reade to our selves to passe away the time, though we take as much plea­sure in reading, as one Collegiall Trilingue of Alcala did, That did ve­rify he tooke so much pleasure in rea­ding of Martiall, that being desired to goe to Gadalajaca (foure leagues off) he put on his Gowne he used to weare in his House, and bid them saddle Martiall for him, and with that he went, reading step by step, ne­ver [Page 98] thinking on the wearisomnesse of the way.

Of those that are alwayes giving coun­sell.

7. Thou mayst not offer thy advise to him, that requires it not, for that [...]s nothing else, but to shew thy selfe wiser then him to whom thou givest thy advise, and to cast his little un­derstanding in his teeth; and to ac­compt him for an ignorant man, therefore no acquaintance may en­boulden thee to doe this to another, except they be also our very intimate friends, or bee such, that wee have the tuition of or that we doe see them in any apparant danger, whom wee thus counsell or give advise unto. But in our ordinary dealing, a man ought to abstaine from counselling much. Into which error many doe fall, but more often, those that know little themselves, for to men of grosse understandings, few things come in­to their heades, that others have neede of. And (certainely) there are some, that so much esteeme of their owne knowledge, that if others [Page 99] doe not follow their opinion, they are offended, and complaine of those that refuse it, as if they should say. It is well, a poore mans advise can­not be admitted, such an one, will doe as hee listeth, and will not heare me: and other things of this nature, and to this tune. As if pretending another ought to obey thy coun­sell, were not a greater arrogancy, then for thee to follow thine owne minde.

8. A like fault are they guilty of, that finde fault with other mens im­perfections, giving a definitive sen­tence, touching every thing; and prescribing Rules, and Lawes, to e­very one, whosoever hee bee. This ought not to bee, as for example, to speake thus, You spake so, but it was not well spoken, take heede of sleep­ing at such an houre: the Wine you drunke is not good for you, you should drinke Claret, you should use such a kinde of bath, and not such as you doe: and thus are they al­wayes reproving, and are like those that are alwayes weeding another mans Garden, and never consider, that their owne is overgrowne with [Page 100] Nettles, and Brambles: and therefore we should leave this worke, to Fathers and Masters.

Of contemning others.

9. Wee ought not to despise any body, nor to set light by him, though he be our enemy, for it is a greater signe of disgrace, to deride one, then to doe him a shrewd turne, for of him that we doe an injury to, wee make some reckoning: but him that we despise we make far lesse esteeme of, yea often none at all, therefore to scorne, or deride, is a pleasure we take to shame another, without any profit at all to our selves. And therefore in our common converse, and dealings with men, those that would bee curious, ought to forbeare, to flout any body: and therefore they doe ill, that are ever sifting out, and retorting other mens defects upon them, (although they have such faults) for this is not a good way, to rid them of them, and understanding and well fashio­ned persons, doe avoyd such a re­procher as they would the Divell: but there are some, that when they [Page 101] cannot give ill language will grumble, and inveigh aganist the defects of o­thers, by often smiling, and other exteriour acts: and sometimes, they make jests, and solace themselves and make sport with the imperfections and miseries of others, whereas they should rather mourne, and grieve for them. It may well be, (as a certaine Courtier was wont to say) that the sharpenesse of the tongue, may relish well, and please the appetite much, in mēs acceptance therof, yet this tartnes must not be done to endanger or much disturbe the sweete love, and friend­ship, which is mainteyned without any hazard on either side: So then the jeere which any receaves from thee must be light, that hee who receaves it may without shame be excused. And although these jeeres and quips of wit bee but a laughing, and jesting at the faults, and oversights of him that receives them, yet for all this, they are esteemed, and liked in him that knows how to speake them, well, because we know his intention to bee very farre from wronging of any therby. And therefore without doubt, those that can talke merrily, yet in [Page 102] a friendly manner, and without pre­judice: are better liked then those that know not how to doe it, and are received with open Armes, and esteemed, and regarded of all men. As on the contrary they are ill thought of, that seeke to follow this vaine without all discretion, not obser­ving any Rules or good manners therein, and therefore, hee that will doe this, must bee a very able man, for he must take many things into his consideration. But in effect (as I have sayd) this jeering is but to make sport with the defects, and errors of those that we ought to love and respect.

Of those that take offence at words.

10. On the other side, jests can hardly be distinguished, from wrongs, especially by some persons, who are so captious, that they take all jests, and quips, for affronts, and are so unsavory, and so voyd of understand­ing, that insteed of being pleased, or delighted therewith, they grow into choller, so that none can jest or meddle with them: And there are some, that [Page 103] suppose you should beare with their necessities and troublesomenesse, and if you say any thing to them, how slight so ever it bee: they are of such a disposition, that they are presently off of the hookes, and are so offen­sively disquiet, that although they are (sometimes) quickly appeased, yet during that small time, that their foolish anger doth last, they may in­fect others, with such an humour, that may bee their destruction. But what will it bee, if they bee head­strong, and that their displeasure doe not depart, but that they sleepe with it, and they dissemble their inten­tions, and wounded minde, with cheerfull countenances: wee can say no more of these, but this, that (if wee fall into merriment,) wee must sow a Hose about their Legges, as we use to doe to Chickens, that wee may know them a farre off. To this pur­pose Doctor Villabos, the great Phy­sitian, as it is related in a certaine very pleasing Dialogue of his, ha­ving put a jest upon another Physiti­an, in the presence of the King, hee grew in choler, and to bee revenged spake thus to the King. Your Majesty [Page 104] may understand, that I value my selfe more, for that I am a Phisitian, then to be accompted a merry companion, or a jester, To whom Vilabos answe­red, Seignior Doctor makes mee to bee very simple; for hee is so great a master, that he cannot be compted a wity companion, which answer being so readily given, was well ta­ken, and the other received the pay he deserved. And it so falls out, that hee who is jeered, but in mirth, and in a friendly manner, doth often, by inconsideratnesse, take it for an affront and a disgrace. And although it bee so, that quips and jeeres are many times well taken, yet will not I counsell a civill Gentleman, to ad­dict himselfe much unto them. Nor ought he to occasion them often to be spoken, nor at all times, and upon all occasions. For jestes well scanned, are nothing else, but bould, and subtile deceiptes. And therefore wee should leave the perpetuall making of jests, to those that live by them. Who though they jeere never so much, can prejudice none by it, but if they doe it wittyly are to bee rewarded for it. But when a brave Gentleman [Page 105] speakes any thing sharply, hee is to consider that every one is offended with him, that telleth him of his fault or error. Therefore, for many rea­sons it seemes that hee that desires to bee well esteemed, should not make himselfe a master of jests, much lesse to esteeme himselfe for his ability, in being Satyricall, and scandalous: like those that are full of censuring, al­though they be very witty, and plea­sing in it, nor let them take such jollity in it as to lose a friend there­by. But especially it is worthy blame to make a jeere of the naturall defects of any one.

That jests should not bee spoken to pre­judice any body.

Although it hath bin seene in this case, that those who ought to have bin silent in a matter, and yet have spoken it to another, have bin an­swered sharply, as it was in that which they tell, that an one-eyed fellow sayd to a fellow with a Hog­back, who to call him crooke-back sayd thus; Companion, thou hast carried that burden, ever since the [Page 106] morning, to whom he answered, sure­ly that hath not bin long, for it is but very early dayes yet, for you have opened but one of your windows, so that each of them, jeered the other, with the imperfection that nature had marked them with. But satyricall speeches pierce deeper when they touch upon our descent, or honor, like that which one that was newly converted to Christianity did speake to another by a jeere, to decipher him out, which other seeing the Chri­stian being a Cavalleere, sit very back upon his Horse, sayd to him, com­panion, why doe you get up so back upon your Horse buttocks? to whom he answered, if I get up so back, it is because I would not gall him, with the Cruz, and so was hee revenged on him by jeering him for being a Iew. And so stopped his forward boldnesse. Touching this matter, I say: that if our acutenesse, and hability doe vent it selfe, in such prejudiciall sayings, it were better wee should never use it, for it cannot bee done with a safe conscience, but where a man may speake of things without hurt, to our neighbour, and with discretion, and [Page 107] judgement. It is true, that to passe this troublesome life, wee may use some solace and pastime, and that jests and quips are wont to bee used, as instruments to move laughter, and to recreate us withall, and therefore, they are loved, that can move mirth and speake wittily, without offend­ing any body, and there are very few that know how to doe this: there­fore there are many things to bee considered, that we fall not into dis­favour. And it falls out, that that, which useth to please, and gaine the favour of some, may displease, and loose the favour of others; And com­monly where laughter hath no place, & to be pleasant pleaseth not, there to Jest or Jibe any body, is not acceptable, for there is no worse jest then truth.

11. By which you may know, that there are some words which bite, and do prejudice, and there are others that doe not. Of the first I shall not need to say much: one wise comparision, that a certaine Italian Lady, called Lawre­ras once spake shall suffice: Jests, saith she, must bite those they are givē unto; like a Lamb, and not like a Dogge; for if they bite like a dog, they are not [Page 108] jests, but villanie and wrong; and as (by the Law) he is punished that abu­seth another in words, so ought hee to be, that by his jests, speakes bitterly and disgracefully of his neighbour: for which reason, discreete and well behaved men ought to consider, that the same Law that takes order against wrongs, doth also take order a­gainst biting jests; and therefore, when men jest, they must pricke but light­ly.

12. It is likewise to be understood, that a jest sometimes biteth, and some­times not, and if it be not witty and pleasant, there is no delight taken in it by those that heare it, but proves luke­warm, & grows cold and frozen; and if peradvēture they laugh, it is not at the jest, but at the sillinesse of the jester; and because jests are nothing but frauds, and spoken to beguile; and as it is an artificiall thing, so it cannot bee done, but by persons of a sharpe wit, (es­pecially upon a sudden) and there­fore it suits ill with dull men and those that have a grosse phansy, ex­cept it be, when speaking by chance in such their simplicity, they utter words worth laughing at, which [Page 109] then takes the more, because hee breakes the jest naturally and una­wares, & not by witty and feigned art. As a certaine labourer did who be­ing asked by certaine Citizens why hee came to them, looked stedfastly upon one of them, that had a thick black beard, and sayd, I come to sell a Pig, with reverence to the ve­nerable beard of this Gentleman. But why quoth the Citizen doe you aske pardon of mee more then of the rest? hee replyed (simply and without malice) because your worships beard is so thick and bushy that it resembles a Hogs foote before it is scalded. The sayd Citizen could doe noe lesse then laugh with the rest, for com­pany, though hee were somewhat angry at the Jest. Another Biscanoys that was sent for to buy a Pullet bought a Cock, supposing hee had done well, because the Cock was bigger then a Pullet: and of this sort, there are infinite Jests, that are meerly naturall, and without any malice. But all that have good wits, know not how to Jest, for it is a peculiar gift, and readinesse of wit, that all can­not attaine unto, therefore discreete [Page 110] men, understand themselves better, then to thinke to doe it at their plea­sure, but are contented, with the ta­lent, and disposition, they are endu­ed withall.

Of those that make jests and know not of it.

And when such men, have once or oftener made triall of the strength of their wits in vaine: they doe finde that they have no faculty that way, and doe forbeare to busy themselves, in exercising it, for it is a certaine faculty, that few are excellent in. Some have this property, that no word can passe, but they have a jest, or wit­ty saying, ready to passe upon it. And you must know, that another cannot relate, nor put in writing the jests that another invented, and uttered, with such grace, and delight as the authors of them can, therefore. I hope I shall heere bee excused (in part,) if those that I here set downe, for ex­amples sake, doe not give very good content to the Reader.

Formes of Jests.

13. And amongst the severall wayes of Jests, there is one very good, and plea­sing, namely to make sport with a word that hath divers significations. As a Cavallere, that was travelling on the way, as hee passed through a certaine Village, hee asked what place it was, and how they, called it; they answered it was called a Village, (which in the Spanish tongue, is cal­led Casar, which signifies also to marry) the Cavallere answered, in this Jest. Quien passa por el Casar, por todo puede passar. That is, he that can passe through marriage, may passe all places.

14. A certaine ill favoured old wo­man, saying to a Lord of quality, of this Court, that shee desired to marry, into Baldemoro, being the name of a Family in Spaine, hee answered her thus, Madam, in all Ethiopia called in Spaine Baldemoro, you cannot meet with any so ugly that will have you.

15. Also in like manner did a gentle­man of Valodolid make a Jest upon two words that had two contrary [Page 112] sences, though they had the same Let­ters. A certaine ill favored Lady had spoken very disdainefully of him, and had reported that shee could not bee perswaded, that any women thought well of men. Hee contrived as shee came to walk on the banke of Esgueva which is a little streame, whereinto the people empty all their filth, to an­swer her with this Sonnet.

16. To this purpose taking onely the literall meaning, one Catedratico [Page 113] in Alcala, made a pleasing inter­pretation being to act a speech which was to begine in Castilian (as the manner is) spoke the preamble in Latine as followes, Amplissime rector, gravissimi Doctores, Nobilis iuventus: which is as much as to say, most bountifull Governour, most grave Doctors, Noble youth: but as he be­gan in Latine, they gave many stroaks with their Hands, and stampes with their Feete, in token that hee should have spoken in Castilian, he was bould to bespeake them in this manner, say­ing, my Lords, your honours may perceive, that it sounds not so well in the Castilian tongue, as in the La­tine, and seeing they continued to stampe the more, hee began in the li­terall sense, in this forme; magnifi­cent Rector, most grave doctours, Noble youth, casting his eyes upon the Women, that sate in the windows, over against the Theater, in which entrance, there was much pleasure taken, and wit, in interpreting the sound only, and so it was received for a Jest and a pleasing speech.

17. Some desire to do this, but know not how: but speake words, that are [Page 114] frozen and without sence, which are taken very unsavorily. As for example, if you aske them, where such an one is, they will answer you, where his feete stands, or betweene the Skye and the ground. So that they speake in another manner, then was ex­pected, and without any ingenuity at all, and with such frivolous answers, they loose the esteeme, of understand­ing, and well spoken men. If happi­ly they retaine not the credit, that a certaine poore man did (A credit of a different and more witty sence) who laying a wager with others, that hee could have credit with the bankers, (or mony lenders) for more then thirty thousand Duckets, and they as­king him how it was possible, he being so poore, and decayed a man; Hee answered them thus. It is cleere my Lords, that if I demand of any ban­ker, in this manner, my Lord such an one, doe you not believe that to bee rich, and to purchase two thou­sand Duckets a yeare, and to have my House well furnished, that I have neede of thirty thousand Duckets, doe you not credit what I say? surely he will answer mee, I speake great rea­son: [Page 115] and so will the rest of the ban­kers. Then according to this manner of credit, namely to bee believed of them, I can now say, that I have cre­dit of thirty thousand Duckets. And in this manner hee proved his cre­dit, taking the word in a different sence.

18. Some others there are that are so setled in this way of Jibing, & Jest­ing, that you cannot know, when they speake in earnest, or when in Jest, and by the long continuance they have held, in speaking pleasantly, and dis­guisedly, when they are to speake truth, they are fayne to use oathes, that they may be believed. And therefore that we be not brought to this passe, our earnest must bee more then our Jesting.

Heavy Ieeres.

And if thou make any Jests for mirth sake, let them not bee heavy, or bitter ones. As to take any thing from thy friend which may vex and trouble him, in looking for it, and may make him jealous of any thing or to walke about discontentedly. As little doe I hold it good, to strike or [Page 116] scratch, or pinch men, in Jest: for from such Jestings, we have seene men fall to earnest.

20. But because it is not our pur­pose, to dispute heere, what may bee accompted fitting or unfitting Jests, and Jeeres, nor to urge more to any purpose, then what is needfull, for the illustration of it: I omit many examples, which are extant, of witty sayings, and stories to that purpose.

How you may know a good jest.

21. It is sufficient to know that jests doe carry with them, either a certaine testimony of their pleasant­nesse, and decency: or of their could­nesse and unpleasantnesse. And to know if a Jest be good, or bad, he can­not bee mistaken, that observes this that folowes: And it is this, that hee that Jests, be not too confident of him­selfe; for it is plainly seene, that when a Jest is good, and pleasing, the com­pany is pleased at the very uttering it, applauding it with the laughter, and jollity they make at it: And when it is not liked of those that heare it, he that makes it, is offended, and a­voids [Page 117] making any more, so that the defect being in truth his owne, and not their fault that heares it, and so not being so approved, hee is to rest convinced as by a definitive sentence, for he cannot appeale to himselfe.

Of making a witty and ready answer.

The knowing how to make a ready answer to any question, is no lesse requisite, then to know how to make a witty and pleasant Jest, or to speake acutely. And some there are, that are so ingenious, and endowed, with such a gift, that they will answer so quick, to a question, or so wittily apply a pleasant speech, to those that heare them, that you would thinke they had bin studying long to bring it forth.

23. They report of that famous Dantes, that some of his adversaries searching for him, when they could not know him by his Face, they sound him out, by his ready and a­cute answers hee made, to all questi­ons they asked of him: And so three of those that met with him, asked him three questions together to try if [Page 118] they could distract him, one asked him, Dove venite? the second, Dove de laqua? and the third, Quanti son di Luna? which is as much as to say, whence comest thou? whence comes the Water? how old is the Moone? who answered them all three, in three words, saying, Davilla, Aloulo, in quinta: from the City, from the Pitchers, five dayes old. And so was he discovered by his quicknesse.

To know how to speake well.

2. And this Knowledge to speake well must consist, not in differencing or extreme altering the voyce, nor in imitating of actors of Playes. But it is necessary for him that will speake well, to remember well the matter, story, or History, and to have ready and fitting words, that hee may not speake from the purpose, As some use to doe, after this manner. And so my Lords, as I sayd, and to the end, that such an one, or another what doe you call him, helpe mee pray, to name him: tell me his name, &c. All which are ill customes, and are offensive to an understanding audi­ence. And if he repeate an accident, wherein were many names, hee must not speake thus; such a one sayd thus, another spake so, or such a one an­swered in this manner, for all of them may bee sayd to bee one or an­other. And hee that heares it, may easily erre, in not understanding of [Page 120] whom he speakes, and therefore, he that relates such a passage, must re­cite the names precisely, and therefore must take heede he forget them not.

3. It falls out in like manner, that some are so carelesse, that they for­get what they were speaking of, by suffering their thoughts to rome up­on other matters, so that they will aske you, what were we talking of, I have forgot what I was saying. This cannot bee done, without blame to him that was thus discoursing: even as he that recites an oration or other speech, and never mindeth what he is doing. For it seemes that he that is thus forgetfull, doth lit­tle esteem the content of his Auditors.

4. Besides this, a man must take heede, that hee speake not super­fluities, and things of no substance, or which make nothing to the mat­ter in hand, As if when the auditors are waiting for the successe of the story, he that relates it shall speake thus, such an one that was the sonne of such a man, that went many times, to such a Merchants house, that was married to a leane Woman, that was called by such a name, did you not [Page 121] know her? how is it possible you should not? you had better bin ig­norant in another matter: A good old Woman, very streight, that had a very thick hayre: and well combed, and such stuffe as this. For if they make not much to the businesse, it is (at best) but to wast the time, for by it, they hinder the pleasure, which might o­therwise be taken, in their discourse, and is of little benefit to them, that listen to them; But especially if they bee urgent, and desirous, to know the close of the story; we ought not to punish them so much in circumlo­quutions, whereas all such their dis­course tends to no more, then that such an one, was the sonne of Peter or of Iohn.

5. And a famous Rhetoritian, was of opinion, that in telling of Tales, or storyes, if there must be a relation in them, of many things, in the first place we must order, and dispose of the names, and sirnames, and after it shall be enough, onely to repeate the Christian names, because they are given, according to the will of their Parents, and the surnames ac­cording to the quality and decency [Page 122] of the persons. And if the person bee not very well knowne, in the place where wee speake of him: wee ought to frame our discourse, and story, as if the thing were done in another place: and to fit the names, as wee please, that wee may tell our stories, with relish, and without interrup­tion, or making rubbes, or pawses in them.

To use propriety of words.

By this meanes, those that heare us are the better moved to attention, and wee remaine satisfyed, and they pleased, and this manner of speaking, is of such force, is so proper, and distinct, that (many times) it falls out, that it seemes to please much, though in it selfe, it bee not very pleasing, and so, that which in it selfe, hath much pleasure, may in like manner, be delivered so coldly, that all the mirth is spoiled thereby: and he dis­credited, that relateth it: And al­though good gestures, and the grace that a sweete voyce affords, are neces­sary in this, and is of great effect. Yet for all this, he shall not be de­ficient, [Page 123] to please well, and to bee understood in the dexterity, of the propriety he uses, by him that knowes what belongs to write well, and in a good phrase.

Of Comparisons.

Examples, and Comparisons, must be apparent, because by them is pre­sented to the phātasy, the thing com­pared, as if it were really beheld: and we ought not make Compari­sons by talking or doing foolishly, As some who put in the dance of their story those that are their auditors, saying, doth your worship know who such an one is, the other came in this manner, and I shooke him off thus, and in steede of Comparisons, they give them such thumpes on the Armes, and so strike them with their tongues, that no body can avoid them. There are others that speake a thousand fooleries, insteed of Comparisons, so improperly and so grosely, that they force men to laugh at them. As did a Priest in a certaine Village, who to make some friends, and per­swading them to love one another, [Page 124] and seeke one anothers good, sayd unto them, you love one another, not so much as my Mule, and Antonio, Madalenaes Horse, who went to­gether to the Pasture, and fed to­gether and came home together againe. But if two beasts keepe company, and love so much, why doe you not take example by them? So that for the propriety of that which is related, and compared, wee finde, that men give eare, with more de­light to have that preseuted before their eyes, that is spoken of, and which falls out to persons we know: then that which befalls strangers whom we never saw. And the reason is, for that we know that such an one, of whom hee speakes, was wont to doe so, (having seene it as a thing present) so that that which is tould of strangers, is not so well received or accepted of.

6. The words also, in a continued speech, as well as in other discour­ses, must be cleare, or plaine, that every one of the company, may un­derstand them easily, as well in the sense, or meaning, as in the sound, to be good, and beseeming: therefore [Page 125] if thou canst make thy selfe under­stood, by saying the mouth or the lippes, it is not good for thee to say, the nose, and thou mayst better say, thy belly is full, then the guts are full, and if thou mayst be understood by saying, the belly is satisfyed, it shall be better for thee to say so, then, the panch is full.

The tale of the great Soldan, and of the loves of the beautifull Axa and the Prince of Naples.

In the Vast Country of Tersia, was a Soldan, that by his prowesse, and valour, had conquered many Lands, who loosing his sight by a mischance that befell him, was more sensible of the great losse thereof, in regard that hee was thereby disabled to pro­secute the designes hee had begun, then for any other trouble it put him unto. Hee then calling together all the Physitians of his Kingdome, that they might apply medicines, to cure his infirmitie: his vassalls, (being desirous of the recovery of his sight) [Page 128] brought unto him, a famous Christi­an Phisitian, whom by misfortune, a Basha had taken prisoner: in this man the Soldan had great confidence, to receave help, (he having already cu­red many of his vassalls, of many dan­gerous infirmities) and so with large promises of wealth and freedome he put himselfe into his hands. The Physitian, used the best practise hee could, to recover his sight; but all humane meanes hee could use, not sufficing, hee excused himselfe to his Lord, beseeching him, that he would accept of his good will, and inten­tion: but it was not accepted with the like minde. But the Soldan was jealous, that because he was a Christi­an, therefore he was regardlesse of his recovery: And commanded that they should put him into a Dungeon, and ordeyned, that if within eight dayes following, he prescribed not a sufficient medicine, to recover his sight, that hee should be devoured of his Lyons. The Physitian, when he had bin seven dayes in the Dungeon, and considering, how neere death a­proched to him, determined to finde out a way, how to prolong his life, [Page 129] by entertayning the Soldan with faig­ned hopes, and so desired, he might be (againe) brought before him, that he might try another medicine upon him (When hee came into his pre­sence, after he had excused himselfe, that hee had not all this time cured him,) he spake thus unto him, That he had found out that there was one only cure for him, but that hee must have patience, for a few dayes, where­in he must put off the cure (but it should not bee long) till hee might search out (with diligence) a yong man of a noble race, valiant, of a pure com­plexion, faire, wise, and well esteemed of: for, with the blood, and heart of such a one, with the Powders, and Herbs, that he should adde, he would recover his sight: and that they must (also) appoint him a place, to gather certaine Herbes, for this purpose. The Soldan, approving his speech, gave him liberty, to walke (freely) up and downe his Court, and pos­sessed with this hope, hee imparted his content, to the Suleanesse his Lady, and his beautifull Daughter, Axa, a Lady most famous, for her won­derfull fairenesse, and worth. After the [Page 130] Soldan, dispatcheth some of his Basha [...]s, to divers Kingdomes, that they might finde out a prisoner that might be fitting, for to make the me­dicine, to recover his sight promising great rewards, to him, that should performe this enterprise. It fell out, that as one of his Captaines, touched with one of his gallyes, at a port of the Kingdome of Naples, and had there bin informed, that certaine yong Cavalleeres, were to passe that way a hunting, they lay in ambush to take them, at which very season it fortuned, that the Prince of Naples went also that way to hunt, who in the hard pursuing of his chase, was se­vered from his company: He was a yong man of three and twenty yeares old, and endowed with all those qualities, the Christian Physitian, had mentioned: who being assaulted by the infidells, although he defended himselfe like a valiant cavalleere, after he had slaine some of them, and hurt many more, was neverthelesse (at last) with much difficulty, taken, and put into the Gally, and carried to the great Soldan, and although they knew him not for a Prince, yet they guessed [Page 131] by him that he must be a Cavalleere of great quality; you may easily cōceive, what sadnesse did possesse the King, & Queene, of this Kingdom, this Princes father, & all the subjects, for the losse of the Prince, and so leaving that, to its proper time, and place, we will now speake of his voyage, w ^ch was so pro­sperous, that in short time, they arrived in Persia, where he was presēted to the Soldan, who much pleased therewith called for the Christian Doctor, to the end that, (this Cavalleere being such a man, as hee had required to recover him withall) he might put his medicine in practise. The Physi­tian, seeing himselfe thus cut off of his excuseand confounded in his plot, spoke to the Soldan in part after this manner. Great Sir, I cannot deny, but this yong man, is a man fitting for the purpose to recover your sight: but he is now troubled, and his Spirits unquiet, and it his humours bee not setled and his complexion reduced, to its due temper, his hart will not be usefull, for our purpose, hee must therefore repose himselfe, a few dayes, and a way be devised, how this captive may receave content, as by some [Page 132] vaine hope of freedome, or such like meanes; The Soldan thought well of this, and tould it his Wife, and his faire Daughter Axa, who offered him, (if he would employ them in this service,) to make him such offers, and promises of liberty, that he should presently be pleased, and contented. Which offer the Soldan accepted of them. Wherefore, afterwards, the Prince was brought to the lodging, of the Soldana (which was curiously seated, and had a passage from it, to the banke of a great River, which not farre thence, disburthened it selfe, into the Ocean,) now he was em­ployed for his greater grace, in serving the faire Axa, who of purpose, and by the command of her parents, made very much of him, and shewed him, extra ordinary favour. In like manner the Doctor, had order, to enter (when he pleased) into the Chamber of the Empresse, and the Princesse, to ob­serve, when the Christian should bee at the height of his content: that he might give the Soldan notice, when it was a fit time to sacrifice him. The Prince seeing the good entertaine­ment they gave him, could not [Page 133] imagine, why (on the suddaine,) he should bee thus cockered, but sus­pected, that they had discovered what hee was. And hee being indeed very pleasing, and a perfect Courtier, knew (so well) to give content, and to performe his service so readily, to his new Lady, the beautifull Axa, that the faigned, and purposely coun­terfaited observance, shee made shew of, was turned into a true and sincere love, and the Prince was the meane while no lesse taken with her beauty. Yet so warily, and secretly they both carried their loves, that when any beheld them, it seemed to be all in jest. The Doctor whose thoughts were not all this while idle, seeing what hast was made, devised a way, how he might escape from them. For it was resolved that the fift day fol­lowing, the Christian should be sa­crificed, and so, he failing in his cure, should bee devoured of the Lyons. About the same time he went out one evening, into the Orchard, where the Soldana, and her Daughter, with the Christian, were also walking to­gether, And as they walked, the Prince, and Princesse went aside, and shee [Page 134] laying her hand upon his shoulder, and looking wishly upon him, con­jured him by the great love she bare him, to tell her, who hee was, pro­mising to keepe it secret; who moved with much confidence of her love, and faith of her promise, and with the sweet words, this Lady gave him, tould her the truth, that he was the Prince and onely heyre of Naples, beseech­ing her, by all meanes, not to dis­cover him, for the great difficulty, he should thereby finde, for his ransome. But as soone as shee understood, what hee was, and the danger hee was in, shee began to weepe bitterly, yet for feare of her mother shee dissembled it, as much as shee was able: at this in­stant, the Soldana winked upon the Doctor, that he should come, and see if the Christian were in a good tem­per, shewing him the great cunning her Daughter had used, to deceive him, and to bring him into good temper, and to make him to be well sa­tisfyed: and she in the while stood to behold, at some distance off, in the Orchard; But when the Doctor came to the place where the two Lovers were, the faire Axa begun secretly [Page 135] to curse him, and bad him, that hee should take some course, that hee did not performe, what hee had agreed upon, but that hee should cure her father another way: if not, that hee was to know, that if he did, as he had proposed, though hee should cure him, yet shee would kill him, (but especially because shee well perceived, that all was but subtilty, to prolong his life,) And turning to the Prince, shee sayd, Ah Sir, it is now no time to conceale from you, what is de­termined concerning you, but that we presently study a remedy. And so shee tould him the sentence, that was given against him: and all the passages thereof, and in what manner his death was appointed (by the consent of this Doctor) but that hee should not be troubled at it, for shee would marke out a way, how he might free himselfe, which was, that they three, (as they were) must take their flight, in a little Barke, that was in the River, and so commend themselves to their good fortunes. And from thence, she vowed her selfe, to bee a Christian, and desired him by the saith of a Husband, that hee [Page 136] would take her, to his Kingdome, and accept her for the Princesse there­of. And shee declared unto them that by meanes of certaine charmes, that shee had learnt of her Mother, shee would (next day) take order, to cast her Mother, and her women, into a sleepe: that in the meane time, they three, might escape, with all her Fathers treasure, of which shee kept the Keyes. The Prince, remayned astonished, when hee understood, what had passed, but much more, at the ready ability, of his Lady, and of the great love shee had shewen him. The plot pleased them exceeding well, but it not then being the time, to put this businesse, in execution, they agreed to doe it, the next day, as soon as the Soldan had supped, and so they made the appointment, as the faire Axa had chalked it out. The next day, shee conveyed her selfe in­to the Chamber, where her Fathers tresour was, and there shee tooke out of certaine Chests, the best Jewells, and pretious Stones he had, and tooke also much Gold thence to an incre­dible value, being indeed the greatest part of that the Soldan and his pre­decessors, [Page 137] had bin gathering toge­ther for many yeares past, when this was done, shee tooke order how to intercept a barke, one of the best on the River, by an excuse that shee made, that her selfe, and her Mother, and some other Ladies, were to take their pleasure in it as at other times, they were wont to doe. When night came, and supper was ended, the faire Axa, by meanes of the inchantments, and magick, shee had knowledge in, put one in practise, which was to pitch a scedule of partchment written with Dragons blood, and to stick it to the gowne of the Soldana, which was no sooner done but she fell into adeepe sleepe, and so dead it was, that shee awaked not, till late the next day. Then shee commanded all the Women to retire, and hid the Prince and Doctor, in the same Chamber, where the tresour was, and when shee knew that they were all at rest, and that the Soldana could not be awaked, shee went cheerefully to her Husband, and at last all three, helping one another, they put all this wealth, in Chestes, and by little and little, put them into the Barke, and a­mongst [Page 138] other things, of great esteeme; they had taken a sword, which (be­sides the richnesse of the stones, it was set withall) it was of such power, that wheresoever it cut, it dissolved all charmes and inchantments. And in like manner shee tooke a Ring of me­mory all of one Diamond, as well the hoope, as the stone, made in two partes, which being joyned toge­ther, had a vertue in it, that hee that had it, could remember what ever he had done, or had happened unto him, unto that present time. With this treasure, and rich apparell, that Axa had put up, they went all three abroad the Bark, who ayded with sailes and oars, they were favoured so much, that being now on the maine Ocean, in a happy time, they doubled the Cape of Naples, which Kingdome they discovered one morning at break of day. The joy of all three was great, but especially of the beautifull Princesse, who with amorous dis­course did solemnize her great con­tent, in behoulding Christendome, and for enjoyng the company of her be­loved Prince. At this very instant, Axa behold a farr off a Barke appeare, [Page 139] that made towards them, with all speede, and being much troubled, shee turned to the Prince, saying, alas my Lord, the Barke we have dis­covered, is the Soldanas Barke, my Mother, who with her magick, and enchantments, is able to destroy us without resistance. The Prince did comfort her, making it a sport that one Woman should bee able to con­quer him, but the greatest comfort that shee found, was the remem­brance of the Soldans sword, that the Prince wore, and so (although with great feare, and many teares,) shee was perswaded, that there was no other remedy but that they must cut something, which belonged to the Bark, and not suffer themselves, to be grapled with, that they might not bee overthrowne; In the Interim the Soldana came up to them, with great bravery, reviling them, and calling the Prince ruffian, and the Princes whore, and threatning them, that now they should never escape her hands: the Prince advised her not to come neere him, except shee desired her owne destruction: but the not re­garding his counsell, came to board [Page 140] him, and fastening her grapling hands upon part of the Princes Barke, to leape into it. The Prince (that was very vigilant) cut them off with as much of the Barke, as they had laid hould upon: and so (by force) se­vered her, from them. The Soldana, when shee saw that by the vertue of the sword, hee had defended him­selfe from her, being able to doe no more, spake in a rage to her daughter, in this manner: well Traytresse, though you have such confidence in your ruf­fian, I will bring it so to passe, that the first Woman, that hee shall em­brace, hee shall forget thee: and so shee returned as fierce as a Lyonesse, with the losse of her fingers. They seeing themselves freed of this danger, and neere the Kingdome of Naples, got into the heaven with great con­tent: where the Prince, dissembling himselfe very much, because hee de­sired not then to be knowne, made the Captaine of the Castle there, (being a man of his old acquaintance) to be called unto him. To whom onely, (in private) he discovered himselfe. The Captaine being amazed at this sight, was falling downe upon his [Page 141] Knees, to kisse his hands, and feete, but the Prince winked upon him, and commanded him to conceale him: and that hee should entertaine him, but as an ordinary Cavalleere, be­cause he did not as yet desire, to make himselfe knowne, and so causing the Barke to bee unladen of his Coffers, they went to refresh themselves at his House; where he imparted his great joy onely to his Wife, and his two Daughters. And you may well gesse what joy this was, when as for the losse of this their Prince, all the coun­try (after a most sad manner) mour­ned in blacke sack-cloath. But being come thither, the first thing Axa did, was to bee Christend, by the hand of a Bishop, to whom they were faine to discover themselves, for this purpose. And at the same time the Prince was also married to the faire Axa. And so the next day, The Prince commending the care of her, to the Captaine, and his Wife, and Daughters, he and the Doctor de­parted in strangers habites, to pre­sent himselfe to his Father, that him­selfe might bee the first, that might [...] the reward, for this newes: [Page 142] promising his new married Lady to come back againe to her thither, and to receive her into the Country with great solemnity. Shee suspecting the successe, bestowed on him, and put upon his finger halfe the Diamond Ring of memory before mentioned, and kept the other halfe by her selfe. In this manner, they went to the Court, where his parents, the King and Queene were, and entred into the Palace. Then the teares trickled from this good Princes eyes, as well for joy hee received to see his parents, as for the griefe, that his absence had caused so great sorrow throughout the Kingdome, And after telling the waiters, that hee had a businesse of importance, to impart unto the King, he was admitted into the pre­sence: and there being full of con­tent, after he had passed a thousand jests, and passages of mirth, with the Cavalleeres, hee discovered himselfe unto them: that they might (by de­grees,) make his Father understand of [...] comming▪ least excesse of joy by the suddaine knowledge of his [...] cause some danger­ous [...] in him. All this [...] [Page 143] well caryed, & so at length the Father, & Sonne received one the other, with many teares, and embraces. And as the Prince was relating to the King, all the discourse of his captivity, and how by meanes of the faire Axa, hee was delivered, in comes his Mother, trembling, and much altered, with her suddaine joy, and imbraced him, shedding many teares, untill the King interrupted her and sayd to the Queene; as you love my life be stille. That my Sonne may proceede, in the most exquisite story, (of his travells) that ever was heard: and so hee re­quested him to proceed, and to de­clare, where hee had left the faire Axa hee spake of. The Prince wholy forgetfull what he had sayd, as if he were astonished, at some new accident, made answer, that he knew not Axa, nor whether there were such a one, or no, nor did he ever see any such per­son. And the more the King wonde­red at it, the more the Prince denyed it: so that the Queene [...] King, and encreated him to leave this discourse, and [...] to him of [...] nothing then but to [...] [Page 144] they all possessed. And so was the newes divulged, and great expressions of joy were made through the whole Kingdome; And because the King had (formerly) bin upon treaty of a marriage for the Prince with the Queene of Cicily, (which by reason of his being lost, was hitherto stayd) hee now againe sent his Embassadors to her, with the consent, and liking of his Sonne, the Prince, who with­out thinking of his Lady Axa, ap­proved well of it. But when the Doctor saw this, and that the Prince did not onely forbeare to proceede, with his great entertaynement for his Lady Axa: but did not so much as thinke of her: being much grieved, he returned, to the place, where she remayned, but he found that she was not much altered by this accidēt, but shew­ing a good semblance, to the Captaine, commanded him, and the Doctor to goe to the Court, and to provide her the best lodging, which was to be had, without the Pallace, giving them much Gold, and Silver, out of her treasure, and licence to spend a great part of it, in furnishing of the sayd lodging: shee also sent a mes­senger [Page 145] to the King, to let him un­derstand, that a Princesse of a strange Country, was comming to his Court, about an important businesse, and that his Majesty should take order, for her entertaynement, according as was suiting to her quality, and e­state. The King, wondering from whom so great a Lady, could come, commanded shee should bee receaved, by the Cavalleeres of his Court: re­quiring her to discover whom shee was, that he might not fall short, in giving her the honour due unto her; The faire Axa answered, that his Majesty should know from her owne mouth, who she was; so the Captaine, having provided a stately House, a­dorned with curious furniture, and well furnished with servants, and of­ficers, fitting for the House of a Queene, the King tooke order to re­ceave the faire Axa, with great prepa­ration, curiously trimming the streets through which shee was to passe, and providing the best inventions, playes and dauncing that could be thought on to entertaine her withall. In this manner shee made her entry, being habited in as rich a fashion, as ever [Page 146] Queene or Princesse was beheld at­tired with, And being indeede (for beauty) the paragon of the World, so shee seemed to all that beheld her, to be more then a humane Creature. The King and the Queene, stood privately and by themselves, where they might behold her, as shee pas­sed from her House to the Court, and so did the Prince, who as shee pas­sed by him, vailed his Beaver, and shee returned her complementall re­spect to him, looking wishly and af­fectionately upon him, as one that had not yet forgot him. Who al­though that shoe appeared to him, to be the most curious Creature, that e­ver hee beheld, yet did he not at all re­member her, but he tooke notice how passionately shee had eyed him, by which, and by her wonderfull beau­ty, he became a fresh enamored. And thus the faire Axa, with much asto­nishment to all the Court, made her entry, distributing many rich gifts, and presents, unto the Courtiers. The next morning, the King sent to visit her, by his Lord high Steward, who (though hee were a brave Courtyer,) when hee entred to de­liver [Page 147] the complement, his speech was taken from him, with behoulding her wonderfull beauty, nor could he call to minde what hee was to say. Axa entreated him to sit downe, and gave him much respect, with which hee was the more astonished, not know­ing, how to dispatch his errand, nor how to depart thence: the Princesse, (feigning that shee de red much his company, and that his good inten­tions did well satisfy her) gave way he might sup with her. And by this favour, shee encreased his blindnesse so much, that hee desired, that shee would suffer him, to lye there that night, though it were but upon a bench, because hee could not finde the way thence. To whom the beau­tifull Axa answered, that he should not only lye there, as he desired, but that he should lye in her own Cham­ber. The high Steward, much plea­sed with this, accepted of it, and when bed-time was come, hee asked for a Combe and a Brush to combe himselfe withall saying to the Prin­cesse, that hee alwayes used to doe thus, and that it was the custome of the Country so to doe: then the Prin­cesse [Page 148] presented him a Combe with her own hand, and he begun to combe himselfe therewith, while shee sat confidently by him, for hee did no­thing but call her, to sit by him, and sayd the good of the high Steward, might excuse her, so he stood (thus) combing himselfe, so long, that hee much galled his head, for hee conti­nued so doing till morning without ceasing. At what time, the Prince came thither, and saw this, and tooke out of his hands the Combe and Brush, sending him away like a block-head, telling him, he had neede to combe himselfe, because she would not doe it for him. In this manner the poore Steward, much ashamed, went to the King, with his armes very weary, and the skin galled off his head, with the much combing it, complayning, what wrong the strange Princesse had done him, for which hee was well laughed at by the King Queene, and Prince, who did no­thing, but jeere him for it; but much more the Queenes Lord Chamberlaine telling him, that because hee was thus finely combed; they durst not keepe him company. Wherefore the [Page 149] Queene commanded, that he should bee employed on the same businesse, that shee might see, what successe he would have. He was very well con­tented with it, but there happened a like misfortune to him, that did to the former, but by another way. For when he had dyned and supped, and troden the same steps, that the other had done, the Princesse of­fering him a Combe, and a Brush, he excused himselfe (thinking thereby, he had overcome all) answering that hee had no neede of combing, but he had a very great longing, to put out the Candle, that was there burning, and so he went to blow it out, and still as he put it out, it was lighted againe, and hee still renewed his blowing of it, and thus he continued all night, who still when the Princesse called him, answered, I will come Madam, when I have put out the Candle, which shall never get the victory of mee. At which the Prin­cesse, and many of her Ladies, that were there, with her, made much mirth: And thus exercised, he pas­sed the whole night, and in the mor­ning shee sent him away, much [Page 150] ashamed. Hee returned to the King, and the Queene, who desired to bee satisfyed, why he stayd so long▪ the Lord steward that was so combed, was so much pleased, to see him so much troubled, that his owne vexation was thereby much lessened: and the ra­ther for that his head did now begin to be better, and (The King, Queene and the Prince, standing in doubt, from whence so faire, and wise a Woman, should come) there came a message, from her, requesting the King, to give her audience, in the businesse she came for, which was gran­ted her, & he forth with commanded shee should come thither, and when she ascended the Pallace, the Queene, and her Ladies were ready to receive her; and so shee entred most glorious­ly, and richly, desiring to kisse the Kings hands, which might not bee granted, before hee knew what shee was, and what shee desired. Shee pro­strated her selfe before him, and tooke them by force, saying, that present­ly they should see, whether they might give her them, with a good will; and with that, shee required Justice of the King, to cause halfe a [Page 151] Ring of memory, that the Prince had robbed her of to bee restored un­to her, which Ring she sayd, the Prince did then weare upon his fin­ger. The Prince much blushing sayd, that it was true, that hee had such a Ring; but that he did not remember that hee tooke it from her: then the Princesse pulled off that which shee had upon her owne finger, and put­ting it upon the Princes finger, and joyning, and fitting it, into the o­ther, the Prince came to himselfe, as if he had awaked from a dream; and his eyes being opened, and seeing his Lady Axa, before him, first falling downe upon his knees, before her, he (presently) went and tooke her in his armes, and sayd unto her; O my Lady, and true Spouse, and my greatest blisse: and then he proceeded, to tell the King, and Queene, his parents, his story: and how much he was engaged, to this faire Princesse, who with joy embraced, and received her for their Daughter, and being in the middest of their joy, there en­tred the Embassadors, that came from Sicily, and declared, that the Queene was already married, to ano­ther [Page 152] King her neighbour: who at the very time, they were in treaty, came with a great Navy, and carried her to his owne Country, and there married her, at which they were much pleased, seeing how happily all things fell out, and so the Prince, and the most wise, and beautifull Axa, suc­ceeding their parents, in the King­dome, did long reigne, with happy peace, and prosperity.

The end of the Tale, and proceeding of the Author, in his matter.

He ought also that takes upon him to tell any story or tale, (like this) although hee have many to tell, and that they heare him willingly, to give way, that every one, may tell his owne story, and not to exceede his lymits (so farre,) in this kinde, that hee should bee accompted tedious or troublesome: nor to invite men to be alwayes telling such stories, for the principall use of them, is but to fill up idle time.

2. One must also take heede in this, as in all other manner of discourses, that hee observe the propriety, and [Page 153] purity of words, and not leaving the common use, and true Castilian tongue, rather striving for plainenesse, then curiosity, so that if in common discourse, we be to say the Sunne, we should not say, the light of the world, nor to say he stood in the frontispice of his House, when we should say he stood in the porch, or entry thereof. Nor when one should say, he tooke the fresh ayre of the morning, to say that hee received the Zephirus of Aurora, nor in ordinary things, to use words, which are strangers, in our language, like some, that thinke they shew great learning, in draw­ing old words, out of use, into their discourses.

3. But what shall wee say of the coyned phrases, of some I deots, that labour to speake in metaphors, and high and excellent straynes, as they conceive.

4. A student, one Christmas com­ming home to see his parents, and kindred, as he stood with them, by the fire, thinking to shew his lear­ning by speaking in an extraordina­ry manner, insteed of saying, lay this wood on the fire, sayd thus, Lady [Page 154] Nurse, apply these materialls, to the consumer of all things, for you see, that the biting tooth of nature, makes me in a walking temper. His Father that was well studyed, and a good speaker, replyed to this, mee thinkes my Sonne, that the want you felt in the Castilian tongue you have as well met withall in the Latine, and that in a worse manner, for you might have expressed more in a plaine Song, then you have done, in the counter point. I say then, that our words ought to be such, as may bee significant, and plaine to bee understood, according to the custome of the place, where thou art, and not so obsolete, that they are growne rusty, (as the pro­verb goes.) For it is better to say Tapiz, which is Tapistry or French Cloath, then Paramentos, which is an old word, that signifyes the same thing, and to say Ensenar to teach, then Averzar, being an old word, that signifyes the same thing, And Ac­costombrado, accustomed, and not as others use to say, Estoy hecho a esto, which signifyes the same thing. I except Labourers, and Pesants, and other people of poore places, although [Page 155] we make sport of their language: yet it becomes them well, and if they strive to alter their ordinary way, it shewes ill. And according to their ac­compt, you shall finde such under­standing men amongst them, that they may give us fifteene and a fault, as the proverbe goes, that thinke our selves wiser.

But it is not to bee doubted, but for the most part, if wee could heare the passages betwixt some of them, in their consultations, and discourses, wee would bee much taken with them.

5. A curious Courtier, walking in the habit of a labourer, passed through a Village, at the time they were in councell, and so by meanes of his habit, that hee wore, hee was per­mitted, to behold what passed there, and at that instant, he saw one of the country fellowes, that sat there, stand up, and putting off his Cap spake thus to the Justices of the place. Noble Lords, Juan Gamorro & Pedro Gar­cia se quieren chapar por cohadres if it please you. The most ancient of the Judges answered him thus. No engemineys tantos in lo c [...]hadria, que [Page 156] succedera eugobello, so that we cannot determine of it.

6. In another more obscure place he sayd hee saw another Judge that being troubled spake thus, come you hither Meculas of Ana and tell mee why you weare that Dagger, Meculas de Ana answered him, I may weare it for my defence, to which the Judge in anger answered as he sat up­on the bench, take it from him, and set him on the Pillory, and take it for Law, that I sentence him and com­mand it. The concept of the Author is not to bee understood but in the Spanish.

7. Returning then to our purpose, I say, that our words must be plaine, and this we may doe, if we know how to use such as have their originall, and naturall signification, from the Land we are in: and they ought not to be so old, that they prove hard to be understood, and out of all use: like old Clothes, and habites, so that if when wee ought to leave them off, we shall goe abroad with them, we shall bee pointed at, and derided for so doing. And therefore, he that shall say, Membrose for Acordarse, [Page 157] or ome Bueno for hombre Bueno, and sincar for que dar, and such like, shall doe very ill.

8. In like manner, our words must be as proper, as may be, to expresse that which we desire to shew by them, and lesse significant, and common to expresse other things by; As to say, hee was knowne Enlas faciones, by his fashion, is more proper then to say he was knowne En la figura o Imagen. And it is better to say, Re­clino le Puerta, que no grito la puerta, the dore squeekes, and we may more properly say, Et tremblor de quarātana then El frio the shaking of the quar­tan Ague, and many such like as these.

9. None can well speak to another, in the tongue which hee unto whom he speaketh understandeth not, and for this reason, those that are curious, and especially strangers doe labour to understand Latine, because it is a tongue so common in the World, and which they teach by art unto those that are to travell, into strange Coun­tries. And in my opinion, those who have or may have meanes to learne it, ought not to neglect the [Page 158] knowledge thereof, that they may enjoy the treasure, that is written in that language. And the reason that in Spaine, men doe not ordinarily discourse so well, as in other King­domes, is, because in many places thereof, they teach many rules, and doe very little exercise to discourse, but for a mans ordinary custome, none ought to alter his mother tongue, except necessity require. And if a Spaniard be to discourse with an Ita­lian, or one of another language, whom hee knowes doth well under­stand the Castilian tongue, he is not bound to speake to him in any other then his owne Castilian tongue. Nei­ther is an Italian, or stranger, that knowes that the Spaniard (with whom hee discourses) understands him, tyed to speake Castilian, or to excuse himselfe for his foolish lan­guage: And it hath bin seene that an Italian hath spoken in Spanish, with a Spaniard, for vaine glory, and often­tations sake, and a Spaniard to an­swer him in Italian, and both one, and the other, to speake such broken language, that they might easily dis­cover one another to speake ill, and [Page 159] any other, that heard them, must needs laugh at them, to heare the improprieties and fooleries spoken of them.

10. There was after this manner a Spaniard that met with an Italian his friend, and each of them speaking the others language, when they had spoken much on both sides without well understanding each the other: The Spaniard spake to the Italian in this manner, Sir I am of opinion, that except we change tongues, wee can proceede no farther, therefore let me have my Castilian tongue, and doe you take your Italian.

11. To this purpose, I can tell you of a great drinker, that called a Iew newly become a Christian, drunkard, and the other called him Iew, and having accused and sued each the o­ther, for the same, the Judge being in examination of the businesse, The drunkard sayd, Sir he confesseth hee called me Iew, and I deny not but that I did call him drunkard, let them therefore passe one for the other, and so we are even: if not, let him re­turne me my drunkard, I will returne him his Iew, and so the Judge set [Page 160] them both free, and made them friends. I say then returning to my matter, that wee must take heede of speaking in a strange language, when there is no necessity to doe it.

12. A discreete Gentleman must (in like manner) bee sure that his words bee modest, and honest and well sounding, I meane that they be well sounding or delivered in a good tone, and have a good signification, for there are some words, that sound in the meaning of them, and not in the let­ter of thē, as when they say, she recoy­led insteed of she fell backward, which as to the meaning of it, is better; and it may more honestly be sayd, his shee friend, then his harlot, and of a dis­honest woman such a one is her ser­vant, then to say, he is ruffian to such a yong Queane, and such like or worse words. And when we may expresse things of this nature by one word, it is better to doe it so then with two, as to say, much good may it doe you, and he gained, and enjoyed her. Except he chang it into mirth, which a Coun­try fellow found, who comming for a dispensation sayd to the Justice of the Court, Sir, They have made mee [Page 161] come hither to buy a dispēsa, or dispen­sation from the Sumo Ponfize, meaning the Pope, & the notary asking him Si avi tēido accesso o copula if he had layē with her or had copulation, Hee answered I Sr. ya hemos tenido eucientios y popula, and shee is with child, that thankes be to God, they cannot accompt me pro omnipotente, meaning an impotent fellow. There befell a witty accident to a Lawyer of this Court, from a Country fellow, who being of his counsell, after hee had discoursed of his case, hee sayd unto him, master Lawyer, I desire with your worships leave, that I may give your wife two blowes on the buttockes, the Lawyer was something troubled with this, un­till the labourer proceeded in this manner, saying, indeed I am the bol­der to give them, because the Bacon is good, and so the mistake was, that insteed of saying Lunadas de tocino, gammons of Bacon, hee called them nalgadas, which signifyes claps on the buttocks.

13. Of all these things we ought to be admonished of, in our common discourse, and being to handle a larger subject, every one may make use of the [Page 162] rules and instructions of Rethorick. But in that which we heere call good courtship, we must use modest, gentile, and sweete language, that may have no bitternesse in them, and so wee should rather say. I doe not well ex­presse my selfe, then that you cannot understand me. We will try, if it be so as you say, then to say, you are decei­ved, or it is not true, or you doe not know it. For it is a courtly and plea­sing fashion, to excuse another, even in that that thou knowest he is too blame in. We ought also to make our friends errour, common to our selves, and to take part of it, upon our selves, and after to reprove him, in a seasonable time, saying, we were out of the way and we never thought to doe this, al­though the truth be, that the forget­fulnesse was in the other, and not, in him that took the fault upon him. And if any one promise thee any thing, & cannot accomplish it, or be forgetfull of it, it is not civill to say, you have broke your credit or promise with me, or you have not kept your word, you have not regarded mee. For such words are pricking, and sharp, and imply in them, some suspition of in­famy, [Page 163] or reproach, and those that use such language, are accompted harsh, and simple, and so men avoid them, and their friendship: like unto them that shun to entangle themselves, with briars and brambles, which two to one, (although it be for things of no weight) are occasioned to bring us to destruction. And so wee must never speake, except first, we have framed in our minds, what to speake, that thy discourse may be well delivered, and be consonant in it selfe. Nor as little oughtest thou, to seeke to bee the speaker, in assemblies, or meetings, nor as little oughtest thou when thou art amongst thy equalls, to be alwayes si­lent: yet in these two extremes, thou canst lesse erre, in holding thy peace. As they tell of one Piobano that was in Italy, a very pleasing man, and dis­creete, that when one gave him many injurious, and opprobrious speeches, he heard them patiently, and sayd nothing to them, and being asked why hee held his peace, and did not answer for himselfe: made answer, that whilst the other was speaking, he was considering, that he never yet re­pented, for being silent, but for speak­ing [Page 164] he had often repented him.

14. True it is, that those that speake well, and gracefully, without wrong­ing of others, are blamelesse. Yet for all this, it must be done so modestly, that they give way with patience for o­thers to speake, so that they doe not speake out of their course, to the end that they may have all the talke alone. For there be some that in this error of talking too much, are so passionate, that they place all their delight, and pleasure, in them, that will give them leave to talke.

15. And if by chance there be two talkers, at one meeting, it is a wonder to finde them agree well: for each of them will strive, to be the Cock of the company, where he is. As it fell out to a Cavallero, in this Court, that was a great talker, that being to goe to Cor­dova, the day he was to take his jour­ney, he entertayned a lacquay, to ac­company him, who (according to his ability) was as great a talker as his master. And so it fell out that from the time he went out of Madrid, till hee came to the place whither he was to make his first dayes journey, for foure leagues they had travelled, the master [Page 165] never ceased talking, to his new ser­vant asking him questions, and telling him stories, not giving his servant leave to speake one word. For which cause he tooke his leave of him, say­ing, your worship hath tyred your selfe, and I give you no thankes for it: For your worship is a great talker, and I have the same passion of talking, and if I may not play my play, and take my turne, but must bee forced to goe from hence to Cordova, without speak­ing, I should bee so full that I must burst, and therefore I would goe no further with you, for more then I have agreed with you for.

16. But except thou observe a little these instructions, I advise thee, that when thou art to speake, thou be care­full to understand the minde, of those thou discoursest withall, and sute thy talke to the applause of those that heare thee.

17. Be not so confident, to stand, listning, I say hugging and applauding thy selfe, making faces, and mouthes, and antique gestures, alwayes reaching out thy armes, and hands, as if thou wert to act some body. For there are some that all they fancy in their [Page 166] braines, they fashion it out with their hands, playing it upon all their fingers.

18. The voyce must not be hoarse, nor shrill, nor must we be very loud, when we have cause to laugh, or for any other accident, like some, that skreeke like cartes, that want greasing, nor can any speake whilst he makes such a noise. Nor to be so heedlesse of our memories as to begin to speake a word, and then to stand stuttering a good while, ere we can utter it. And hee that is hoarse or hath an ill utter­ance, should not desire to speake much, but let him correct the fault of his tongue, with silence and attention to others, who may also with care, and study, hide his naturall imperfection. As little pleasing is it, to lift up ones, voyce, as one that calles out for help, nor to speake so softly, that he cannot be heard, and except they heare thee at first, thou must the second time raise thy voyce, and not to be always wedded to one tone. Yet must thou as little speake too shrill, because they did not before heare thee when thou spakest so softly. Thy words must then be well marshalled, according to the use, and custome, and not wound, [Page 167] and wreathen, here and there, nor in­tricate, (as some in gallantry use to doe) as to say my light is dislighted, by your light, which are expressions only fitting for Poets. Except when with consent of all, and for mirth sake, they are discoursing of poetry, and making verses. Then if thou shalt see that those of thine owne profession, and age, doe entertaine, & busy them­selves in this, thou oughtest not to bee out of order, or strange: but to say something thou knowest, as it comes to thy turne, and if thou have no fa­culty in poetry, let it be very little that thou speakest retiring in time like a good sencer. Wherfore to conclude, such exercise is not ordinarily to bee used, as we shall hereafter declare.