Head enlarged from a photograph, specially made by Alinari, of a part of the fresco, “Leo X’s Entry into Florence,” in the Palazzo Vecchio at Florence, by Giorgio Vasari (1511-1574). See Milanesi’s edition of Vasari’s Opere, viii, 142.
My lady Duchess laughed, and the Unico, seeing that she wished to defend herself against this imputation, said:
“Nay, my Lady, do not speak, for it is not now your turn to speak.”
My lady Emilia then turned and said:
“Sir Unico, there is no one of us here who does not yield to you in everything, but above all in knowledge of my lady Duchess’s mind; and since you know it better than the others (thanks to your divine genius), you love it better than the others, who like those weak-sighted birds that fix not their eyes upon the sun’s orb, cannot so justly know how perfect it is; wherefore every effort to clear this doubt would be vain, save your own judgment. To you alone then be left this task, as to him who alone can perform it.”
The Unico remained silent for a while, then being urged to speak, at last recited a sonnet upon the aforesaid subject, declaring what that letter S meant; which was by many believed to be done impromptu, but as it was more ingenious and finished than seemed to accord with the shortness of the time, it was thought rather to have been prepared.[[62]]
10.—Then having bestowed a merry plaudit in praise of the sonnet, and talked of it awhile, my lord Ottaviano Fregoso, whose turn it was, smilingly began as follows:
“My Lords, if I were to affirm that I had never felt the passion of love, I am sure that my lady Duchess and my lady Emilia would feign to believe it even though they believed it not, and would say that it was because I mistrusted ever being able to prevail upon any woman to love me; whereof indeed I have not made trial hitherto with such persistence as reasonably to despair of being able sometime to succeed. But yet I have not refrained because I rate myself so high, or women so low, that I do not deem many of them worthy to be loved and served by me; but made timourous rather by the continual laments of some lovers, who—pallid, gloomy and taciturn—seem always to wear their unhappiness depicted in their eyes; and if they speak, they accompany every word with triple sighs, and discourse of nothing but tears, torments, despairings and longings for death; so that if an amourous spark has sometimes kindled in my heart, I have at once striven with all my might to quench it, not from any hate I bear to women as these ladies think, but for my own good.
“I have also known some others quite different from these dolourous souls,—lovers who not only give thanks and praise for the kind looks, tender words and gentle bearing of their mistresses, but flavour all evils with sweetness, so that they call their ladies’ warrings, anger and disdain, most sweet.[sweet.] Wherefore such as these seem to me far more than happy. For if they find such sweetness in lovers’ quarrels, which those others deem far more bitter than death, I think that in loving endearments they must enjoy that supreme beatitude which we vainly seek in this world. So I would that this evening our game might be, that each man tell, if she whom he loves must needs be angry with him, by what cause he would have her anger roused. Because if there be any here who have enjoyed this sweet anger, I am sure that out of courtesy they will choose one of those causes that make it so sweet; and perhaps I shall take courage to advance a little farther in love, hoping that I too may find this sweetness where some find bitterness; and then these ladies will be no longer able to cast shame upon me because I do not love.”
11.—This game found much favour and everyone made ready to speak upon the subject, but as my lady Emilia made no further mention of it, messer Pietro Bembo, who sat next in order, spoke thus: