It is thought by many Philosophers.
And suche is all Filocolo, and the other treatises of Maister John Boccace, except his greater woorke, and litle more perchaunce Corbaccio.
I would not for al this, that you should use so base a speache, as ye scum, as it were, and the froth of the meanest and vilest sorte of people, Launderers & Hucksters: but suche as gentlemen should speake & talke, which I have partly told you before, in what sort it may be done: that is, if you talke of matters that be neither vile, vaine, fowle, nor lothesome. And if you have skill to choose amongest the woords of your owne countrie speache, the purest and most proper, suche as have the best sounde, and best sense, touching nor remembring, in no case, no matter that is foule, vile and base: & if you can place your woords in good order, and not shoofle them together at random, nor yet, with over muche Curious studie, file them (as it were) one your beades. Moreover, if you do dispose such things as you have to say with discretion. And take good hede that you couple not unfit & unlikely matters together: as for Example.
As sure as God is in Heaven:
So stands the staffe in the chimny corner.
And if you speake not so slowe, as if you were unlustie: nor so hasty, as if you wer hungrie: but as a wise and a temperate man should doe. Likewise, if you pronounce youre woords and your sillables with a certaine grace & sweetnes: not as a Scholemaister yt teacheth young Children to read & to spell. Neither must you mumble them nor supp them up, as if they were glued & pasted together one to another. If you remember these and such other rules and precepts: youre talke will be liked, and heard with pleasure enoughe: and you shall well maintaine the state and countenaunce, that well besemeth a gentleman well taught and honest.
Besids these, there be some, that never hould their tounge. And as the shippe that sailes, doth not presently stand still, by taking downe the sailes: So doe they runne forward, as caried away with a certaine braide: and loosing the matter of their talke, yet leave not to babble, but either repeate that againe that is said, or els speake still they cannot tell what.
And there be other so full of babble, that they will not suffer another to speake. And as wee doe see otherwhile, uppon the flowers in the countrie where they thresh corne, one Pullet pull the corne out of the others beake: so doe they catche the tale out of his mouth yt beganne it, and tell it them selves. And sure, suche maner of people, induce men to quarell and fight with them for it. For, if you doe marke it wel: Nothing moves a man sooner to anger: then when he is soudainely cut short of his will and his pleasure, be it of never so little and small importaunce. As when you gape wide with yawning: another should thrust his hand in your mouth: or when you doe lift your arme redy to hurle a stone: it is soudainly staide by one that stands behinde you. Even then, as these doings, and many moe like unto these, which tend to hinder the will and desire of another (albeit but in way of sporte & of play) are unseemely, and would be eschewed: So in talke and communication with men, wee should rather pull one, and further their desiers, by what meanes we can, then stop them and hinder them in it.
And therefore, If any man be in a redines to tell his tale: it is no good maner to interrupte him: nor to say that you doe knowe it well. Or, if hee besprinckle his tale here and there, with some prety lie: you must not reprove him for it, neither in wordes nor in gesture, as shaking your hed, or scowling uppon him, as many be wont: gloriously vaunting them selves, that they can, by no meanes, abide the taste of a Lie.... But, this is not the reason of this, it is the sharpenes and sowernes of their owne rusticall & eager Natures, which makes them so venemous & bitter in all companies they come: that no man cares for their acquaintance.
Likewise, It is an illfavoured condition to stop another mans tale in his mouth: and it spites him asmuche, as if a man should take him by the sleeve & hould him backe, even when he is redie to runne his course. And when another man is in a tale, it is no good maner for you, by telling the company some newes, & drawing their mindes to other matters, to make them forsake him cleane, and leave him alone. For, it is an uncourtious parte for you to leade and carry away the company: which the other (not you) hath brought together.
And, when a man tells his tale, you must geve good eare unto him: that you may not say otherwhile, O what?: Or, how?: which is many a mans fashion to doe. And this is asmuch trouble and paine to him that speaketh: as to shoofle against ye stones, to him that goeth. All these fashions, and generally, that which may stoppe, and that which may traverse the course of another mans talke, must be shunned.
And, if a man tell his tale slowe like a drawe-latche: you must not yet hasten him forwarde, nor lende him woordes, although you be quicker in speache then hee. For, many doe take that ill, and specially suche, as persuade themselves they have a Joly grace in telling a tale. For, they doe imagine you thinke not so well of them, as they themselves doe: And that you would geve them instructions in their owne Arte: as Merchaunts that live in greate wealth & plentie, would count it a greate reproche unto them, that a man should proffer them money, as if they lived in lacke, & were poore and stoode in neede of releefe. And you must understand, that, Every man in his owne conceite, thinkes he can tell his tale well: althoughe for modestie sake he deny it. And I cannot gesse how it cometh to passe, that the veriest foole doth babble most: which over muche prattle, I would not have a gentleman to use, and specially, if his skill be but scant in the matter in talke: Not onely, bycause it is a hard matter: but, He must run in many faults that talkes muche: but also, bycause a man weenes, that, He that talkes all the talke to him selfe, woulde (after a sorte) preferre him self above them all that heare him, as a Maister would be above his scholers. And therfore, It is no good maner for a man to take uppon him a greater state, then doth become him. And in this fault, not men alone, but many countries fall into, so cackling and prattling: that, woe be their eares that geve them hearing.
But, as over muche babble makes a man weary: so doth over muche Silence procure as greate disliking. For, To use silence in place where other men talke to and fro: is in maner, asmuche a fault, as not to pay your share and scot as other men doe. And as speache is a meane to shewe men your minde, to whome you speake: so, doth Silence againe make men wene, you seke to be unknowne. So yt, as those people which use to drinke muche at feastes, and make them selves drunke, are wont to thrust them out of their companie, that will not take their drinke as they doe: So be these kinde of mute & still fellowes, coldly welcome to pleasaunt and mery companie, that meete to passe the time away in pleasure and talke. So that, It is good maner for a man to speake, and likewise to hold his peace, as it comes to his turne, and occasion requires.
As an old Chronicle maketh mention. There was in the parts of Morea, a very good workman in stone: Who for ye singular good skill he had in his Art, was called (as I take it) Maestro Chiarissimo. This man (now well strooken in yeares) made a certaine treatise, & therin gathered together al ye precepts & rules of his arte: as the man yt had very good skill to doe it: shewing in what sorte the proportions and lineaments of the body, should be duely measured, as well everyone a parte by it selfe, as one respecting another: yt they might justly & duely be answerable ye one to the other: which treatise of his, he named Regolo. Meaning to shewe, that according to that, all the Images and pictures, that from thensforth any workeman should make, should be squared & lined forth: as ye beames, and ye stones, and the walles, are measured by ye rules & precepts of that booke. But, for that it is a muche easier matter to speake it, then to worke it, or doe it: and besides that, The greatest number of men, especially of us that be prophane and not learned, have our senses much quicker then our understanding, and consequently, better conceive particular things and Examples, then the generall propositions and Syllogismes (which I might terme in plainer speache, Reasons) for this cause this worthy man I speake of, having regard to the Nature of workemen: whose capacities are unfit and unable to weeld the weighte of generall Precepts and rules: and to declare more plainely, with all his cunning and skill: having found out for his purpose, a fine marble stone, with muche labour and paine, he fashioned and shaped an Image of it, as perfectly proportioned in every parte and member: as the precepts and rules of his treatise had before devised. And as he named the booke, so did he name that Image, and called it by name of Regolo.
Now, (and it pleased god) I would I could but one parte of those twoe points, which that noble Ingraver & worckeman I speake of, had perfect skill and knowledge to doe: I meane, that I could gather together in this treatise, after a sorte, the due measures of this Art I take uppon me to treate of. For, to perfourme the other, to make the second Regolo: I meane, to use and observe in my maners, the measures I speake of, framing and forming, as it were, A Visible Example, and a material Image of them: it were now, to muche for me to doe. For asmuch as, It is not inough to have knowledge and Art, in matters concerning maners & fashions of men: But it is needefull withall, to worke them to a perfect effect, to practise and use them muche: which cannot be had uppon the soudaine, nor learned by & by: but it is number of yeares that must winne it: & ye beste parte of mine be runne fourth alredy, you see.
But for all this, you must not make ye lesse reconing of these precepts. For, A man may well teache another the way: although he have gone out of the way himself. And, peradventure, they that have lost their wayes, do better remember the hard wayes to find: then they that never went a misse. And, if in mine infancie, when minds be tender and pliable, like a young twigge, they that had ye charge & governement of me, had had the skill to smoothe my manners, (perhaps of Nature somwhat hard and rude) and would have polished and wrought them fine: peradventure I should have beene such A one, as I travaile to make thee Nowe, whome I love no lesse then if thou were my sonne. For albeit, the power of Nature be greate: yet is she many times Maistered and corrected by custome: But, we must in time begin to encounter and beate her downe, before she get to muche strength and hardines. But most men will not doe so: but rather yealding to their appetite without any striving, following it where so ever it leades them, thinke they must submitte themselves to Nature: As though Reason were not a naturall thing in man. But, Reason hath (as a Lady and Mistris) power to chaunge olde customes, and to helpe & hold up Nature, when she doth at any time decay and fall. But very seldome we harken unto her. And yt for ye moste parte, maketh us like unto them whome god hath not endued wt Reason: I mean brute beastes, in whome notwithstanding, something yet worketh: not their owne Reasons (for they have none of them selves) but ours: as in horses you see it: which by nature would be ever wilde, but yt their rider makes them tame, and withal, after a sorte, redy & very well paced. For many of them would have a hard trot, but that the rider makes them have an easier pace. And some he doth teache to stand still, to galopp, to treade the ringe, and passe the carreere: And they learne to doe it all well you see. Then, if the horse, the dog, ye hauke, & many other beastes besides, more wilde then these, be guided and ruled by Reason, and learne that which their owne Nature cannot attaine, but rather repugneth: and become after a sorte cunning and skilfull, so farre as their kinde doth beare it, not by Nature, but by custome & use: how muche then may we thinke wee should excell them, by the precepts and rules of our Reason, if wee tooke any heede unto it. But, The Senses desire & covet present delightes, what soever they be: and can abide no paines, but puts them of. And by this meanes, they also shake of Reason, and thinke her unpleasant, forasmuche as she sets before them, not pleasure, many times, hurtfull: but goodnes and vertue, ever painfull, sower and unsavoury in taste. For, while we live according to the Sense, wee are like to the selly sickman, to whom al cates never so deinty & sweete, seeme untoothsome: and he chideth still with his Cater and Cooke, in whome there is no fault at all for it. For, it is the Nature of his disease, and the Extremitie of his sicknes, and not the fault of his meate, that he doth not savourly taste what he eates. So Reason, which of it selfe is sweete and savourie: seemes bitter in taste unto us, though it have no ill taste in dede. And therfore as nice & deintie felowes, we refuse to make any taste of her: & cover our grosnes, wt saying that Nature hath no spurres nor raines yt can prick her forth, or hold her backe. Where sure, if an Oxe or an Asse, or a Hogge, could speake: I beleeve, they could not lightly tell a more fowle & shamefull tale then this. We should be children still all the time of our riper yeares, & in our extreame age: and waxe as very fooles with gray hoary heads, as when we were very babes: if it were not that reason, which increaseth in us with our yeares, subdueth affections in us and growen to perfection, transformeth us from beastes in to men. So that it is well seene, shee ruleth our senses and bridleth our willes. And it is our owne Imperfection and not her faulte, if we doe swarve from vertue, goodnes, and good order in life.
It is not then true, that there is not a bridell and Master for Nature, Nay, she is guided and ruled by twaine: Custome I meane, and Reason. But, as I have tould you a litle before: Reason without Custome and use, cannot make an uncivile bodie, well taught and courtious: Which custome and use, is as it were, bred and borne of time. And therefore they shall doe well, to harken betime unto her, not only for that, by this meanes, a man shall have more time and leasure to learne to be such as she teacheth, and to become as it were a houshould servaunt of hers, and one of her traine: but also bycause The tender age, as pure and cleane, doth easily receave all Impressions, and reteineth more lively, the colours wherewith she is dyed: then when a man comes to riper yeares: And also, bycause The things wherein wee have byn nourished and trained from our youth, doe ordinarily please us, above all other things. And for this cause, it is said that Diodato, a man that had a singular good gift & grace of utterance, would evermore bee the first that came fourth uppon the stage to shewe his Comedie: allthoughe they were all but counterfets unto him, whosoever they were that should have spoken before him. But he would not his voice should occupie other mens eares, after they heard another man speake. Although, in respect of his doings, it were a greate deale Inferiour to his. Seing then, I cannot agree my workes and my wordes together, for those causes I have shewed you before, as Maestro Chiarissimo did: whoe had as good a skil to do it, as he had knowledge to teache it: let it suffice that I have tould in some part what must be done, by cause I am not by any meanes able to doe it in dede. He that liveth in darkenes, may very well Judge what comfort it is to enjoy the benefit of light. And by an over long silence, we knowe what pleasure it is to speake: so when you beholde my grose and rude maners: you shall better Judge, what goodnes and vertue there is in courtious behaviours and fashions.
To come againe then to this treatise, which growes now to some end: wee say that Those be good maners and fashions, which bring a delight, or at least, offend not their senses, their minds, and conceits, with whom we live. And of these, wee have hitherto spoken inoughe.
But you must understand with all this, that, Men be very desirous of bewtifull things, well proportioned and comely. And of counterfet things fowle and ill shapen, they be as squemish againe, on the other side. And this is a speciall privilege geven to us: that other creatures have no capacitie, to skill what bewtie or measure meaneth. And, therefore, as things not common wt beastes but proper to our selves: we must embrace them for them selves: and holde them dere: & yet those, much more, yt drawe nerest to ye knowledge of man: as which are most apt and inclined to understand the perfection which Nature hath lefte in men.
And albeit, it be a hard matter, to shewe precisely, Bewtie, what maner of thing it is: yet yt you may have some marke, to know her by: you must understand, yt Where jointly & severally, every parte & the whole hath his due proportion and measure, there is Bewtie. And that thing may justly be called faier, in which the saide proportion and measure is found. And by that I did once learne of a wise & a learned man: Bewtie he said, would consist but of one, at the moste. And Deformitie contrarywise, measured her selfe, by Many. As you may see by the faces of faier and goodly women. For, the even lineaments and due proportions of every of them: seeme to have byn created & framed by the judgement and sight of one face alone. Which cannot be thought in them that be foule & deformed. For, when you beholde a woman, that hath, peradventure, bigge and bowle eyes, a little nose, blubbe cheekes, a flat mouth, an out chinne, & a browne skinne: you thinke straite that that face is not one womans alone: but is moulded of many faces, and made of many peeces. And yet, you shall finde amongest them, some such, whose partes considered alone by them selves, be very perfect to see to: but all set together, be foule and ill favoured: not for any other cause, but that they be ye lineaments of many faier women, and not of one: So that a man would weene, shee had borrowed her partes, of this and that woman. And it may be, that Painter that had all the faier maides of Calabria, naked before him: had none other intent therein, then to judge & discerne in many, ye partes yt they have, as it were, borrowed heere one, & there another, of one, alone: to whome restoring from eache yt was her right: imagining yt Venus bewty should be such, and so proportioned: he set him selfe to paint her.
And, you must not think, yt this is to be seene in the faces, the partes, and the bodies of women alone: but it happeneth more or lesse, in speache, in gestures & doings. For, if you should chaunce to see a Noble woman gorgius and gallant, washing of cloutes in a River by ye highe waye side: Althoughe if this were not, you might hapely passe away by her, wt little heede to her person or state: yet this would not brook you nor like you, yt her servile doings doe shewe her more then one. For her state should answer her honourable condition and calling. But her woorke is suche, as is meete for women of base and servile life: & although you shall feele, neither ill savour nor sent come from her, nor heare any noise that should offend you, nor any thing els to trouble your minde: yet the foule and filthy maner of doing it, and the unseemely act itselfe: will make you muche to loathe it. You must then beware of these fowle and uncomely behaviours, asmuche, nay, more then of those other, I have spoken all this while. For, it is a harder matter a greate deale, to knowe when a man faulteth in these, then when he faulteth in them. Bycause, It is easier much, we see, to feele then to understande. But yet, it may chaunce otherwhile, that even that which offendeth the senses, may also offend the minde: thoughe not altogether after one sorte, as I have told you before: shewing you that A man must apparell him selfe, according to the fashions that other men use: that it may not be thought he doth reprove and correct their doings: The which thing offendeth most men that seeke to be commended: And the wisest men that be, mislike it too. For, the garments of the olde world, have lost their date, for men of this age and this season to weare. And it is suche an ill shapen sight, to see a man clad with other mens cloathes: that a man would weene there would be a fray betwene the doublet & ye hose: their cloathes doe sit, uppon them so untowardly.
So that, many of those matters I have spoken of allredy, or peradventure all, might be aptly rehersed here again: forasmuch as this measure I speake of here, is not observed in these things: nor the time, nor ye place, nor the worke, nor the worker, accorded & fitted together, so well as it should be. For mens minds and fansies doe like it, & take a pleasure and delight in those things. But I thought it good to apply & speake these matters, rather under ye badge, as it were, of the Senses and desires: then properly assigne them to the minde: that a man may the more easily perceive them: bycause It is a naturall thinge, for everie man to feele and desire: but every man cannot so generally understand, and especially that, whiche we call bewtie, gallantnes or entertainement.
It is not inoughe for a man, to doe things that be good: but hee must also have a care, hee doe them with a good grace. And a good grace is nothing els, but suche a maner of light (as I may call it) as shineth in the aptnes of things set in good order and wel disposed, one with another: and perfectly knit and united together. Without which proportion and measure, even that which is good is not faire: & the fairenes it self, is not plesaunt. And as meates, though they be good & savourie will give men no minde to eate them, if they have no pleasaunt relish and taste: So fares it with the maners of men other while (althoughe in them selves in no respect they be ill, but foolishe a little, and fond) if a man doe not season them with a certaine sweetenes, which you call (as I take it) Grace, and Comlines.
So that, every vice of it selfe, without any further matter to helpe it (it cannot be chosen) must needes offend a man. For, Vices be things so foule and filthie: that honest and modest mindes, will greeve to see their shamefull effects. And therefore, it shall behove them that seeke to be well thought of, with their familiar acquaintance, above all things els to eschewe vices, and especially those, that be foulest and worst: as Leachery, Covetousnes, Crueltie, and other. Of which, some be beastly, as Drunkennes, and Gluttonie: some uncleane, as Leacherie: other some horrible, as Murther, and such other: all which for them selves, and for the very naughtines, that is properly in them al, all men eschewe more, or lesse: But, as earst I said, generally al, as things of greate disorder, make a man misliked muche of all men.
But, bycause I have not taken uppon me to shew unto you, mens sinnes, but their Errors: it shalbe no parte of my charge at this time to entreate of ye Nature of vices & vertues: but onely of the seemely & unseemely fashions and maners wee use one with another. One of the which unseemely fashions was, that Count Richard did use: of which I tould you before. Which, as unseemely and unfitting with those other his good and faire maners hee had besides: that same worthie Bishop (as a skilfull and cunning Maister in musicke will easily here a note out of Tune) had quickly founde out.
It shalbe then, necessarie for gentlemen and men of good behaviour, to have a regard to this measure I speake of: in going, in standing, in sitting, in gesture, in porte, in apparell, in talke, in silence, in rest and in action. For, a man must not apparell him selfe like a woman: that the Attire may not be of one sorte, and the person of another: as I doe see it in some that weare their heads & their beards curled with bodkins, and have their face, and their necks, & their hands, so starchte and painted, that it were to muche for a girle, nay, harlot, that makes a merchandize of it, and sets her selfe to the sale.
You must smell, neither of sweete nor of sower: for a gentleman would not savour nastily like a begger: nè del maschio venga odore di femina o di meretrice. I doe not by this forbid, but you may very well use some sweete smelles of sweete waters.
Your apparell must be shaped according to the fashion of the time, and your calling, for the causes I have shewed you before. For, We must not take uppon us to alter customes at our will. For time doth beget them, and time doth also weare them out.
Every man may applie those fashions, that be in common use, ye moste to his owne advantage that he can. For, if perchaunce your legges be very long, and men use but short garments: you may use a meane, not to long, nor to short. And if your legges be to small, to greate, or crooked: make not your hosen of to light and garishe a colour, that it may not call men to looke and to gawre uppon your deformitie. Thou must weare no garment that shall be to light, or overmuche daubde with garding; that men may not say, thou hast Ganymedes hosen, or wearest Cupides doublet. But, whatsoever it be thou wearest, let it be fit and well made for thy bodie: least thou seme to brave it, in another mans cloathes.
But with all, thou must in any case respect thy condition or estate. For, A man of the Clergie, must not be attired like a Souldier: nor a Souldier goe like a Player. When Castruccio was in Rome with Lodovico Bavero at a greate Pompe, and triumphe: who was both Duke of Lucca and Pistoia, and Count of Palazzo, and Senatour of Rome: this Castruccio, being Lorde greate Maister of the saide Lodovico Bavero his househoulde: for his bravery, made him a coate of crimsin, uppon the brest wherof, there was this devise, in letters of Golde
It is even as God will.
And it shallbe as God will.
I beleeve, you thinke this garment, would have become Castruccio his Trumpeter better, then it could become him.
And although Kings be free from checke, and may doe what they list: Yet, I could never commend King Manfrede, Whoe ever more used, to suite him selfe in greene. Wee must then have a care, that our apparell be not onely wel made for the bodie: but that it be meete for our calling. And withall, it be suche, as the countrie doth use, where wee live. For, As in divers places be divers measures, and yet bying and selling every where used: So in sundry landes be sundrie customes, and yet every where a man may behave him, and apparell him selfe, soberly and comely.
These same feathers, which the Neapolitanes and Spaniardes be wont to weare, and braveries and Embroderies: have but ill place amongest grave gowned men, & the attires that Citizens doe weare. But their Armour and weapons become suche place a greate deal worse. So that, looke what hapely might be allowed in Verona, would not, perchaunce, be suffered in Venice. For as muche as these gallants, all begarded, and huffing in fethers, & warlike fellowes, would not doe well, in this Noble Citie so peacefull & Civil. Suche kinde of people be rather, in maner, like nettles and burres, amongest good and sweete garden flowers, And therefore, they come out of season to men that medle with graver matters then they doe.
I would not have a gentleman to runne in the streate, nor go to fast: for that is for lackies, and not for gentlemen to doe. Besides that, it makes a man weary, sweate, and puffe: which be very unsightly things for suche men to doe. I would not yet have a man go so softe and demurely, as a maide or a wife. And when a man walkes, it is no good sight to see a man shake his bodie to muche, nor to hold his handes bare and emptie: nor yet cast & fling his armes up & downe, in such sort as a man would weene, hee were soweing of Corne in the field: nor Stare in a mans face, as if he had spied a mares nest.
"Ther be some again, in their gate pul up their fete as high as a horse yt hath ye spaven: yt a man would think they did pluck their fete forth of a bushell. Other againe stampe their feete so harde on the ground: that they make allmoste asmuche noise as a carte. Another goes as if he were splay footed. And suche a one quivers with his legges, as he stands. Some other againe, at every foote, stoope to stroke up their hose as they goe. And some set their handes to their sides, and jet up & downe like a Pecocke: which fashions doe muche offend men: not as well, but as ill beseeming a man to use them." For, if your horse, perchaunce, doe champe and play on the bit, and gape or lill out his tounge, albeit this geve little proofe of his goodnes: yet it commends him well to the sale: and you shoulde finde a misse of it, if it were otherwise: not bycause ye horse should be ther fore the worse: but bycause he should shew the lesse courage and pleasure. Now, if it stand so, that Comelines and Grace, be so much made of in beasts, and also in things without life or sense, as experience doth shewe, that, Two things of equall goodnes & comodities, beare not for all that, a like price, if a man doe beholde a finer proportion & bewtie, more in the one then he sees in the other: How muche then more, should it be estemed and commended in men, capable of Reason.
"It is a rude fashion for a man to clawe or scratche him selfe, when he sitteth at the table. And a man should at such time have a very greate care yt he spit not at all. But, if neede inforce him, then let him doe it, after an honest sorte." I have heard tell, many times, of suche countries that be so sober: that they doe never spitt. And what should then let us, but we may well forbeare it for suche a little while. We must also beware we doe not eate so greedily, that wee get the hicket, or belche withall: as some that feede so fast, that they noy the company with it: they blowe and puffe so loud. Likewise, you must not rubbe your teeth with your napkin, & much lesse with your fingers. For these be trickes for a sloven. Neither must you openly rince your mouth wt the wine, and then spit it fourthe. Neither is it gentleman like, to carry a sticke in your mouth from the table when you rise, like ye birde that builds her a nest: or put it in your eare, for that is a Barbars tricke.
And to weare a toothpicke, about your necke: of all fashions that is ye worst. For, besides that it is a bauld Jewell for a gentleman to pull forth of his bosome, and putteth men in mind of those Tooth-drawers, that sit one their benche in the stretes: it makes "men also to thinke, that the man loves his belly full well, and is provided for it. And I see no reason, why they should not aswell carry a spoone, about their neckes, as a toothepicke."
It is a rude fashion besides, to leane over the table, or to fill your mouth so ful of meate, that your cheekes be blowne up wtall: neither must you by any maner of meanes, give another man to know what pleasure you take, in the meate or the wine. For yt it is for Taverners and Bousers, to use suche fashions. And to entertaine men yt sit at your table, with these words: "You eate nothing this morning. There is nothing that likes you." Or, "tast you of this or of that:" I doe not allowe of these fashions, although they be commonly received and used of all men. For, albeit by these meanes, they shewe they make much of those they have invited unto them: yet, many times, they make men to leave to eate wher they would. "For, it geves them to thinke, they have their eyes, allwayes uppon them, and that makes them ashamed to feede."
Againe, I doe not like it, that a man shall take uppon him to be a carver of any meate that stands before him: if he be not muche the better man, that is the carver: that he to whome he carves, may thinke he receiveth some credite & honour by it. For, Amongest men that be of like condition and calling, it makes a hart burning: that he that playes the carver, should take more uppon him then another. And otherwhile, yt which hee carveth, doth not like him to whom it is geven. And more then this, by this meanes he sheweth, that the feaste is not sufficiently furnished, or at least not well disposed in order, when some have muche, & other none at all. And ye Maister of the house, may chaunce to take displesure at that, as if it were done to doe him shame. Neverthelesse in these matters, a man must demeasne him self, as common use and custome will allowe, and not as Reason & duetie would have it. And I would wishe a man rather to erre in these points with many, then to be singular in doing well. But whatsoever good maner there be in this case, thou must not refuse it, whatsoever is carved unto thee. For it may be thought thou doest disdaine it, or grunt at thy carver.
Now, to drink all out to every man: which is a fashion as litle in use amongst us, as ye terme it selfe is barbarous & straunge: I meane, Ick bring you, is sure a foule thing of it selfe, & in our countrie so coldly accepted yet: yt we must not go about to bring it in for a fashion. If a man doe quaffe or carrouse unto you, you may honestly say nay to pledge him, & geveing him thankes, confesse your weakenesse, that you are not able to beare it: or else, to doe him a pleasure, you may for curtesie taste it: and then set downe the cup to them that will, and charge your selfe no further. And although this, Ick bring you, as I have heard many learned men say, hath beene an auncient custome in Greece, and that the Graecians doe muche commend a goodman of that time, Socrates, by name, for that hee sat out one whole night long, drinking a vie with another good man, Aristophanes: and yet ye next morning in the breake of the daye, without any rest uppon his drinking, made suche a cunning Geometricall Instrument, that there was no maner of faulte to be found in the same: And albeit they say besides this, that Even as it makes a man bould and hardy, to thrust him selfe venterously otherwhile, in to daungerous perils of life: so likewise it brings a man in to good temper and fashion, to enure him selfe otherwhile, with the daungers of things not ever chauncing: And bycause the drinking of wine after this sorte, in a vie, in such excesse and waste, is a shrewde assault to trie the strength of him that quaffes so lustily: these Graecians, would have us to use it for a certaine proofe of our strength and constancie: and to enure us the better, to resist and master all maner of strong temptations.
All this notwithstanding, I am of a contrary mind: and I doe thinke all their reasons to fond, and to foolishe. But, we see that Learned men have suche art and cunning to persuade, and such filed wordes to serve their turne: that wrong doth carry the cause away, and Reason cannot prevaile. And therefore let us give them no credite in this point. And what can I tell, if they have a secret drift herein, to excuse and cover the fault of their countrey, that is corrupt with this vice. But it is daungerous, perchaunce, for a man to reprove them for it: least asmuch happen to him, as chaunced to Socrates him selfe, for his over lavish controuling and checking of every mans fault. For, he was so spited of all men for it: that many articles of heresies & other foule faultes were put up against him, and he condemned to die in the end: allthough they were false. For in truthe, he was a very good man, & a Chatholike: respecting ye Religion of their false Idolatrie. But suer, in that he drunke so muche wine that same night: he deserved no praise in the worlde. For, the hoggshead was able to holde & receive a great deale more, then his companion and hee were able to take: if yt may get any praise. And though it did him no harme, that was more, the goodnes of his strong braine: then the continencie of a sober man. And let the Chronicles talke what they list of this matter, I give God thankes, that amongest many the Plagues that have creapt over the Alpes, to infect us: hitherto this worst of all the rest, is not come over: that we should take a pleasure and praise, to be drunke. Neither shall I ever beleve, that a man can learne to be temperate, of suche a Maister as wine and drounkennes.
The Stewarde of a Noble mans house, may not be so bolde to invite straungers, uppon his owne head, and set them downe at his Lorde & Maisters table. And there is none that is wise, will be intreated to it, at his request alone. But otherwhile, the servaunts of the house, be so malepert and saucie, that they will take uppon them, more then their Maister: of which things wee speake in this place, more by chaunce, then that the order we have taken from the beginning, doth so require it.
A man must not uncase him selfe, in the presence of any assembly. "For it is a slovenly sight, in place where honest men be met together of good condition and calling. And it may chaunce he doth uncover those parts of his bodie, which work him shame & rebuke to shewe them: besides yt, it maketh other men abashed to looke upon them. Againe, I wold have no man to combe his head, nor washe his hands before men. For such things would be done alone in your chamber, and not abrode: without it be, I say, to washe your hands when you sit downe to the table. For, there it shall doe well, to washe them in sight, although you have no neede: that they with whome you feede, may assure them selves you have done it. A man must not come forthe with his kercheif, or quaife one his head, nor yet stroke up his hosen uppon his legges in company.
"Some men there be, that have a pride or a use to drawe their mouthes a little awry, or twinckle up their eye, & to blow up their cheekes, and to puffe, and to make, with their countenaunce, sundrie such like foolishe and ilfavoured faces and gestures." I councell men to leave them cleane. For, Pallas her selfe, the Goddesse (as I have hearde some wise men say) tooke once a greate pleasure to sound the flute & the cornet: & therin she was verie cunning. It chaunst her, on day, sounding her Cornet for her plesure over a fontain, she spide her selfe in the water: and when she beheld those strange gestures she must nedes make with her mouth as she plaid: she was so much ashamed of it that she brake the cornet in peces & cast it away.
And truely she did but well, for it is no instrument for a woman to use. And it becomes men as ill, "if they be not of yt base condition and calling, that they must make it a gaine, & an art to live uppon it. And looke what I speake, concerning the unseemely gestures of the countenance and face: concerneth likewise, all the partes and members of man. For it is an ill sight, to lill out ye tounge, to stroke your bearde much up and downe (as many doe use to doe) to rubbe your hands together: to sighe, & to sorrowe: to tremble or strike your selfe, which is also a fashion wt some: to reatche and stretche your selfe, & so retching, to cry out after a nice maner, Alas, Alas: like a country cloune, yt should rouse him selfe in his couche."
And he that makes a noise wt his mouth in a token of wonder, and other while, of contempte and disdaine: "counterfeteth an ilfavoured grace. And Counterfet things, differ not muche from truethes."
A man must leave those foolishe maner of laughings, groase and uncomely. "And let men laughe uppon occasion, and not uppon custome. But a man must beware he doe not laughe at his owne gestes, and his doings. For that makes men weene hee woulde faine praise him selfe. It is for other men to laughe that heare, and not for him that telles the tale."
Now, you must not beare your selfe in hand, that bycause eache of these matters considered a parte, is but a small fault, ye hole therefore together should be as light: but you must rather persuade your selfe yt Many a litle doth make a mickle, as I tould you from the beginning. And how muche lesse they be, so much the more neede a man hathe to looke well in to them: bycause they be not easily perceived a far of, but creepe in to us by custom, before we be a ware. And, As light expences often used, in Continuance of time, doe covertly waste and consume a greate masse of wealth and riches: So doe these light faultes with the multitude and number of them, in secret overthrow all honest and good civilitie and maner. So yt we must not make a light reconing of them.
Moreover, it is a nedefull observation to bethinke your selfe, how you doe move your bodie, and specially in talke. "For, it many times chaunceth, a man is so ernest in his tale, that hee hath no minde of any thing els. One wagges his head. Another lookes bigg and scowles with his browes. That man pulls his mouth awry. And tother spittes in and uppon their faces with whome he talkes. And som suche there be that move their hands in suche a sorte, as if they should chase ye flies as they go: which be very unhansome & unseemely maners to use." And I have heard it saide (for you knowe I have byn familiarly acquainted with learned men in my time) that Pindarus that worthy man was wont to saye: that "Whatsoever it were that had a good & savourie taste: was seasoned by the hands of the Graces. Now, what shall I speake of them yt come forthe of their studies with their penne in their eare: and nibble their hankercheifs in their mouthe, or ly lolling wt their legge over the table, or spit one their fingers, and of a number of other blockishe gestures and fashions more then these, which cannot be all rehearsed well: nor shal not, I meane, put me to further paines to tel them al if I could. For, there be manie perchaunce will say this is to muche, that I have said allredie."
FINIS
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