Messer Bernardo replied:

“Imperfect, yes; but not unpleasantly so. And you must know that this imitation of which we are speaking, cannot be without cleverness; for besides the way of governing words and gestures and setting before our hearers’ eyes the face and manners of the man we are speaking of, we must needs be discreet, and pay great heed to the place and time, and to the persons with whom we are speaking, and not descend to buffoonery or go beyond bounds;—which rules you observe admirably and therefore know them all, I think. For in truth it would little befit a gentleman to make faces, to weep and laugh, and mimic voices, to wrestle with himself as Berto[[65]] does, or dress like a clown before everyone, like Strascino,[[199]]—and things of that kind, which are very fitting in those men because it is their profession.

“But for us it is needful to give only a fleeting and covert imitation, always preserving the dignity of a gentleman, without uttering foul words or performing acts that are less than seemly, without contorting the face or person beyond measure; but to order our movements in such fashion that whoever hears and sees us may from our words and gestures imagine far more than what he sees and hears, and so be moved to laughter.

“Moreover in our imitation we ought to avoid too stinging jibes, especially at deformities of face or person; for while bodily defects often furnish excellent material for laughter to a man who uses them with discretion, yet to employ this method too bitterly is the act not only of a buffoon but of an enemy. So, although it be difficult, in this regard we must, as I have said, keep to the manner of our friend messer Roberto, who mimics all men and not without marking their defects sharply even to their face, and yet no one is annoyed or seems to take it amiss. And I will give no instance of this, because in him we see countless examples of it every day.

51.—“Another thing excites much laughter, although it is included under the head of narration; and that is to describe gracefully certain defects of others,—unimportant ones however and undeserving greater punishment, such as follies, sometimes mere absurdities or sometimes accompanied by a quick and pungent dash of liveliness; likewise certain extreme affectations; sometimes a huge and well-constructed lie. As when, a few days since, our friend Cesare told of a delightful absurdity, which was that finding himself before the Podestà of this place,[[200]] he saw a peasant come in to complain of being robbed of a donkey. The fellow told of his poverty and of the trick played upon him by the thief, and then, to make out his loss the heavier, he said: ‘Masters, if you had seen my donkey, you would have better understood how much cause I have to grieve; for when he had his pack on, he looked like a very Tullius.’[[201]]

ERCOLE D’ESTE
DUKE OF FERRARA
1431-1505

Reduced from a photograph, specially made by Mansell, of an anonymous bas-relief in the South Kensington Museum,—possibly the work of Sperandio di Bartolommeo de’ Savelli (1425?-1500?).

“And one of our friends, meeting a flock of goats with a great he-goat at their head, stopped and said with a look of admiration: ‘See what a he-goat! He looks like a Saint Paul.’[[202]]

“My lord Gaspar tells of having known an old servant of Duke Ercole of Ferrara,[[203]] who offered the duke his two sons as pages; but before they could begin their service, both the boys died. When the duke heard this, he condoled with the father kindly, saying that he was very sorry, for the only time when he had seen them, they had seemed to him very pretty and gentle boys. The father replied: ‘My Lord, you saw nothing; for within the last few days they had grown far handsomer and more virtuous than I could possibly have believed, and already they sang together like two sparrow-hawks.’