To go further, wee must doe nothing in their sight whome wee desire to please, that may shewe wee covet, rather to rule and to reigne, then to live in a familiar equalitie amongest them. For hautines of harte and ambitious disposition, as it kindleth an ill opinion: so it ministreth muche cause of contempte, which in conclusion will so woorke against thee, yt thou shalt bee cleane cast out of honest company. But our dooings must rather beare a signe and shewe of reverence, meekenes, & respect to ye company, in which wee fellowship ourselves. So that, what so ever is doone in meete and convenient time, may hapely deserve no blame: but yet in respect of the place and the persone, it may be reproved well: althoughe for it self, ye matter deserve no rebuke. As to brawle and to raile at your servaunts (which we have talked of before) but muche more to beate them. Because these partes, are asmuche as to reigne and to rule: which no honest and civil gentleman will use, in presence of them he doth respect with any reverence or courtesie. Besides this, the company is muche offended with it, and their meetinges are broken, and especially, if it be done at the table, which is a place of solace and mirthe, and not of brawle and scolding. So that I must nedes commend Currado Gianfigliazzi for his civil behaviour in yt he multiplied no words with Chichibio to trouble his guests: albeit he deserved to be sharply punished for it, when he would sooner displease his master then Brunetta. And yet if Currado had made lesse adoe about it then he did: it had ben more his praise. For then he should never have neded, to call uppon God, to witnes his threatnings so muche as he did.
But to returne to our matter: it is not good for a man to chide at the table for any cause. And if thou be angrie, shew it not, nor make no signe of thy greefe, for the reason I have tolde thee, and specially if thou have straungers with thee: because thou haste called them to be merry, and this wil make them sad. For, as the sharpe and tarte things yt other men doe feede uppon in thy sight, doe set thy teeth likewise on edge: so to see other men vexed and out of quiet, it maketh us unquiet too. I call them Fromward people, which will in allthings be overtwhart to other men: as the very worde it selfe doth shewe. For, Frome-warde, signifieth asmuche, as Shorne against the wooll. Now, how fit a thinge this frowardnes is, to win the good will of men, and cause men to wishe well unto them: that you your self may easily Judge, in that it consisteth in overtwharting other mens desiers: which qualitie never mainteineth friendship, but maketh friends become foes. And therfor let them that desire to be well thought of and welcome amongst men, endevour them selves to shunne this fault: For it breedes no good liking nor love, but hatred and hurt. I would councell you rather to measure your pleasures by other mens willes: where there shal come no hurt nor shame of it: and therin alwayes to doe & to saye, more to please other mens mindes and fansies, then your owne.
Againe, you must be neither clownishe nor lumpishe: but pleasaunt and familiar. For there should bee no oddes, betweene the Mystell and the Pungitopo: but that the one is wilde: the other growes in gardens. And you must understand, that he is pleasaunt and courteous: whose manners bee suche in his common behaviour, as practise to keepe, and maintaine him friendeship amongst them: where hee that is solleyne and waywarde, makes him selfe a straunger whersoever hee comes: a straunger, I meane, asmuch as a forreigne or alienborne: where contrariwise, he that is familiar & gentle, in what place so ever he comes: is taken for a familiar and friend with all men. So that it shalbe necessarie for a man, to use him selfe to salute, to speake, and to answer after a gentle sorte, and to behave him selfe wt all men so: as if hee were their countryman borne, & of their olde acquaintance. Which some can ill skill to doe, that never give a man a good countenaunce: easily say, No, to all things: never take in good worthe, the honour and courtesie that men doe unto them (like to the people I spake of before, rude and barbarous): never take delight in any pleasaunt conceites or other pleasures: but ever refuse it all, what soever is presented or offered unto them. If a man say: "Sir, suche a one willed me to commend him unto you:" They aunswere straite: "what have I too doe with his greetings?" And if a man say: "Sir, suche a one your friend, asked me how you did." They aunswer againe in choler: "Let him come feele my pulse." These carterlike and clownishe aunswers and maners, and the men them selves that doe use them: would bee chased and hunted away, out of all good and honest company.
It ill becomes a man when hee is in company, to bee sad, musing, and full of contemplation. And albeit, it may bee suffered perchaunce in them that have long beaten their braines in these Mathematicall studies: which are called (as I take it) the Liberall Artes: yet without doubte it may not be borne in other men. For, even these studious fellowes, at suche time, when they be so ful of their Muses: should be much wiser to get them selves alone.
Againe, to bee to nice or to deintie: it may not be abiden, and specially in men. For, to live with suche kinde of people: is rather a slaverie then pleasure. And sure there bee som such, so softe & tender: yt to live and deale with such people, it is as daungerous: as to medle with the finest and brittelest glasse that may be: So muche they are affraide of every light touche. And they wilbe as testy and frowarde, if you doe not quickly and readily salute them, visite them, worship them, and make them answer: as some other body would be, for the greatest injurie yt can be donne unto them. And if you doe not give them all the due reverence that may be: they will presently take a thousand occasions to quarell and fall out with you. If you chaunce to Master him, and leave out his title of Honour or worship: he takes that in dougeon, and thinkes you doe mock him. And if you set him beneath as good a man as him self at the table: that is against his honour. If you doe not visite him at home at his house: then you knowe not your dutie. Theis maner of fashions and behaviours, bring men to such scorne and disdaine of their doings: that there is no man, almost, can abide to beholde them: for they love them selves to farre beyonde measure, and busie them selves so much in that, that they finde litle leisure to bethinke them selves to love any other: which (as I have saide from the beginning) men seeke to finde in the conditions and maners of those with whome they must live: I meane, that they should apply them selves to the fansies & mindes of their friendes. But to live wt suche people, so hard to please: whose love and friendship once wonne, is as easily lost, as a fine scarfe is lightly caried away with the winde: that is no life but a service: and, besides that it yealdeth no pleasure, it geves a man greate disdaine and horror. Let us therefore leave these softe and wanton behaviours to women.
In speach a man may fault many wayes. And first in the matter it selfe that is in talke, which may not be vaine or filthye. For, they that doe heare it, will not abide it: as ye talk they take no pleasure to heare: but rather scorne the speache and the speaker both. Againe, a man must not move any question of matters that be to deepe & to subtile: because it is hardly understoode of the moste. And a man must warely foresee, that the matter bee suche, as none of the company may blushe to heare it, or receave any shame by the tale. Neither must he talke of any filthy matter, albeit a man would take a pleasure to heare it: for, it ill becomes an honest gentleman, to seeke to please, but in things that be honest.
Neither in sporte nor in earnest, must a man speake any thing against God or his Saintes, how witty or pleasaunt so ever the matter be. Wherein, the company that Giovan Boccaccio hathe brought to speake in his Novelles and tales, hath faulted so muche: that me thinkes every good body, may justly blame them for it. And you must thinke It is not only a token of great detestation & Impietie in a man, to talke in jestinge wise of God: but hee is a wicked & sinfull man, that will abide to heare it. But you shall finde some suche good men, as will flie asmuche as the plague, the company of such as talke so unreverently, and without respect, of the incomprehensible Majestie of God. And wee must not alone speake religiously of him: but in all our talkes wee must avoide what wee may, that our wordes may not witnes against our life and our workes. For men doe hate their owne faultes otherwhile, when they see them in another.
Likewise it is unsavourie, to talke of things out of time, not fitting the place and company: although the matter it selfe, and spoken in time, were otherwise both good and godly. We must not then reherse Friers sermones to young gentlewomen, when they are disposed to sporte them selves: as yt good man did, that dwelles not farr hence, nere to S. Brancatio. And in feastes & at table, wee must beware wee doe not rehearse any sorowfull tales, nor put them in minde of woundes, of sicknes, of deathes, of Plagues, or of other dolefull matters. But if another man chaunce to move suche matter: it shalbe good, after an honest and gentell sorte, to exchaunge that talke, and thrust in some other, yt may give them more delighte and pleasure to heare it. Albeit, not long since I heard it said to a worthy gentleman our neighbour, that Men have many times more neede to weepe then to laugh. And for that cause hee said, these dolefull tales, which wee call Tragedies, were devised at first, that when they were playd in the Theatres (as at that time they were wont) they might draw fourth teares out of their eyes, that had neede to spend them. And so they were by their weeping, healed of their infirmitie. But albeit it bee good to doe so: yet it will il become us to drive men into their dumpes: especially where they bee mett to feaste and to solace themselves, & not to mourne. For if there be any, yt hath suche weeping disease: it will bee an easie matter to cure it, wt stronge Mustard or a smoaky house. So that, in no wise, I can excuse our friend Philostrato, for his worke that hee made full of dule and of death, to suche a company as desired nothing more then mirthe. Wee must the rather use silence, then discourse of suche sorrowfull matters.
And they doe asmuche amisse too, that never have other thing in their mouthe, then their children, their wife, and their nourse. "My litle boy, made mee so laughe yesterday: heare you: you never sawe a sweeter babe in your life: my wife is such a one, Cecchina told mee: of troth you would not beleeve what a wit shee hath:" There is none so idle a body, that will either intend to answer, or abide to heare suche foolishe prittle prattle. For it ircks a mans eares to harken unto it.
There be some againe, so curious in telling their dreames from point to point, using such wonder and admiration withall, yt it makes a mans hart ake to heare them: & specially because (for ye most parte) they be such kinde of people: as it is but labour lost to heare, even the very best exploits they doe, when they be most awake, and labour most to shew their best. Wherfore we must not trouble men with so base and absurde matter as dreames bee: especially suche foolishe things, as most times men have. Albeit I have heard say many times, that wisemen in times past, have leaft in their bookes many sortes of dreames, conteining matters of deepe knowledge and understanding: it followeth not yet, that wee, the unlearned and common sorte of people, should use it in our familiar and common talke. And sure of all the dreames that ever I heard (albeit I hardly listen to any) in my conceit, I never heard any, that was worth the hearing but one alone, which the good Master Flaminio Tomarozzo a gentleman of Rome did see, a man not unlearned and grosse: but full of knowledge and singular witte. And thus was his dreame, This gentleman Master Flaminio Tomarozzo, thought he was sitting in a very riche Apothecaries shop, a neere neighbour of his. And after he had bin there a while (what soever the occasion was) the people were up in a rore one a sodaine, and fell to spoiling of all that was in the shoppe. One tooke an Electuarie, another a Confection, some one thing, some another, and presently eate it upp all: So that within a while, there was neither virell glasse, ertherne pot, wodden boxe, nor any potels of drugges, that was not emptied, broken, or overthrowne. But amongest them all, ther was one verye small glasse, full to the toppe of verie cleare water, which many did smell to, but no man would taste. He stoode not there long, but there came in a tall man, an aged and very grave man, to look unto. This Aged father beholding this unfortunate Apothecaries boxes and pottes, and finding some emptied, some overthrowne, and the better parte broken: At lenght casting his eye aside, he chaunced to see the smal glasse I spake of before, and setting the same to his mouthe, hee dranke it up so cleane: that he leaft not one droppe. And this doone, he went from thence as the rest did before. Master Flaminio was abashed and marveled muche at this matter. And therefore turning to the Apothecarie he saied unto him: Sir, whoe is this that came laste? and why did he drinke up so savourly, all the water in that litle glasse, which all the reast refused. To whome the Apothecarie seemed to make this aunswer. My sonne, this is the Lord God. And the water, that hee alone dranke, and all the reast refused and would not taste as you saw: was discretion: which, you know wel ynough men will not taste of, by any meanes.