PAR. What if Rosso plays a jest on me and slanders me with Cappa?
VAL. If to be praised by such a man does not help, to be blamed by him cannot hurt. I grant Rosso is not to be praised as the splendor of all virtue.
PAR. I praise the splendor of my own welfare, and not a servant for his solicitousness in making my bed or his diligence in brushing my clothes; who brings me word of what all my household say about me ands splits my head with music and with poetry, exhorting me and encouraging me to make a present to this one and to that one. You understand me?
VAL. As for me. I’ve always performed the offices of a good servant and of one who loves your honour, and I would hold it dearer to be blamed for this then to be praised for having laid before you anything that was unworthy of your rank and of mine. But it is a vice common to all the Signori not to want to listen to the truth.
PAR. Keep still, keep still, I tell you.
VAL. I am a plain man, and I speak freely.
PAR. Come on and keep quiet.
ROSSO. There’s the master now. See with what a gruff visage he regards the Heavens. He crosses his hands, bites his finger and scratches his head. He looks like a blasphemer at heart.
ALV. That’s a sign he’s in love.
VAL. Oh what big beasts are these Latin hearts, always 214 murmuring about their princesses. It think it’s a foolish labor to try to make (1) a gentle lady, and that those who boast of having spoken with this Signora or that are having sport in the privy when all is said.
ALV. Certainly, it is a labor; not that they are not all of one stripe, and that they do not all like it well enough; but this one is restrained by fear, this one by shame, this one from fear of being seen and this one from sheer laziness. And so, no one ever gets their love except some groom or some household steward, simply because this is more convenient.
ROSSO. And the pedants, too, pick off a few; (2) and they frequently put the burden on the husbands of their mistresses.
ALV. Aha! The Signor has seen us.
PAR. Well met, you two.
ROSSO. This lady, Signor mio, has come to hand you a bit of Heaven.
PAR. You are my Angel’s nurse?
ALV. I am your servant and the nurse of her to whom you are life, soul, heart and hope. Although the love I bear her will end by sending me to the hot-house . . .
PAR. Why, reverend madre mia?
ALV. Because honor is the treasure of the world; but I want to see my mistress and little daughter, Livia, go on living. And so it pleases her to send me to your Lordship and beg your Lordship to deign to be loved by her. But who would not be enamoured of so gentle a Signor?
PAR. I am on my knees to hear you. (He drops to his knees.)
ALV. That’s too much, Signor.
PAR. I am only doing my duty.
ROSSO. Get up; those Neapolitan manners of yours are a bore to everybody nowadays.
215PPAR. Say on, honored mother. (He rises.)
ALV. I am ashamed to speak to such a gran maestro in such a petticoat as this.
PAR. This necklace will touch it up.
ROSSO. Didn’t I tell you he thought no more of giving a hundred scudi than a lawyer does of stealing a thousand? (He would choke a bedbug to drink its blood.)
ALV. His face shows it.
ROSSO. He gives us a pile of clothes every year. (Oh, if he would only pay us our back salaries!)
ALV. You don’t say. What a Signor!
ROSSO. And there is always carnival in his servants’ hall. (We are dying of hunger.)
ALV. So everybody tells me.
ROSSO. We are all his comrades. (He would rather die than show a good face to any one.)
ALV. As a gran maestro should.
ROSSO. He would even speak to the Pope on behalf of the least in his household. (If he saw the halter on our necks, he wouldn’t say a word.)
ALV. I’ll swear he wouldn’t.
ROSSO. He shows us the love of a father. (He wishes we would all die.)
ALV. I believe you.
PAR. Rosso knows my nature.
ROSSO. And for that reason I praise you. And to think, Madonna Alvigia, that your ward has said the paternoster of San Giuliano to cure herself of him; and would you believe it, he does not deign to love any other but her, although he has half the women in Rome at his heels.
ALV. And he doesn’t yield to them?
ROSSO. Madre, no.
PAR. I thank benign fortune that Livia loves me.
ROSSO. Live up to your fortune.
216PAR. Tell me, my dear lady, what face does she put on when she speaks of me?
ALV. An imperial face.
PAR. How does she act?
ALV. Her actions would corrupt a hermit.
PAR. What promises does she make me?
ALV. Magnificent and large ones.
PAR. You think she’s lying?
ALV. Lying?
PAR. Does she love another?
ALV. Another? Why, she suffers so much for you that she — she —
PAR. She shall never suffer on my account.
ALV. I hope to God she doesn’t!
PAR. What is she doing at this moment?
ALV. She’s cursing the day, which seems a thousand years long to her.
PAR. What does she care how long it is?
ROSSO. She cases so much that if she does not meet you this very night she will die.
PAR. Is this true what Rosso says?
ALV. So it is. She wants to die in case your Lordship denies her his grace. Come on, and I will explain everything. Look, Rosso, we are at your house.
PAR. Enter, Madre mia.
ALV. Ah, Signor mio, don’t make sport of me. Enter, your Lordship.
ROSSO. Content the Signor, old lady.
ALV. Anything to please you.
MACO. What do you advise me to do?
ROSSO. Go hang yourself, poltroon of a porter.
MACO. (Panting) I’m just getting my breath.
ROSSO. I’m sorry you don’t choke.
217MACO. The Sheriff is wrong in looking for me.
ROSSO. What if you were wrongly sought by the Hangman as well as by the Sheriff?
MACO. Do you know the Signor Rapolano?
ROSSO. What Rapolano?
MACO. That Signor who sent me the lampreys. Don’t you recognize me?
ROSSO. Are you Messer Maco?
MACO. Yes, ma’am, I mean, yes, sir.
ROSSO. What are you doing in this silly get-up?
MACO. Maestro Andrea took me down to see the whores in disguise.
ROSSO. The brains of all the Sanesi are of one stripe, like those of Priests and Friars.
PAR. What were you saying, Rosso?
ROSSO. I was saying that this is your Messer Sanese, and he comes from the hands of that do-nothing of a Maestro Andrea, as you see.
PAR. Body of God! I’ll pay him for it.
MACO. Don’t harm him, for the Sheriff is a traitor.
PAR. Rosso, keep company with mother here. Come with me, Messer Maco.
MACO. Signor Rapolano, I commend myself to your Lordship.
ROSSO. Well.
ALV. Oh, but he is a great boaster!
ROSSO. Ha, ha, ha!
ALV. Do you know what I’m wondering?
ROSSO. Not I.
ALV. How he, who is dying for this Livia, can believe that she who has never seen him, in a manner of speaking, should be dying for him.
ROSSO. You should not be astonished at that, for a Signor 218 like this, who was formerly chamberlain to ten dogs and is now drunk with his own grandeur, holds it as assured that all the world adores him; and if he could but see himself, he would want to lay hands on himself for having made love to Livia and thinking that she is obliged to run after the likes of him, as we have given him to understand.
ALV. Poor old hoot-owl! Nowadays, to tell you the truth, I feel like saying, “To hell with the world.” (3) I have seen so many of its whims. In my day, neither Lorenzina nor Beatricicca nor Angioletta da Napoli nor Beatrice nor Madrema nor her Imperial Highness herself were fit to lace my shoes. Oh, the fashions, the masks, the fine houses, the bull fights, the cavalcades, the sables trimmed in gold, the parrots, the monkeys, and the chamberlains and maids by the tens — these were nothing to me. And Signori and Monsignori and ambassadors by the score. Ha, ha! I have to laugh when I think how we took his mitre away from a Bishop and put it on the head of one of my maids, making sport of the poor man. And a sugar merchant once left all his cases with me, and at my house for a long time after everything was spiced with sugar. Then I contracted a disease, the name of which was never known. We treated it for the syphilis, and I took so many medicines that I became an old woman and began to take rented rooms, selling first my rings, clothing and all the possessions of my youth, and then was reduced to washing fine shirts. So, I devoted myself to advising young girls not to do as I had done, you understand. But what was it I wanted to say?
ROSSO. You were about to say that I have been a friar, a hostler’s boy, a Jew at the customs house, a muleteer, a sheriff’s mate, a galley slave, a miller (for love of the thing), a currier, a ruffian, a charlatan, a knave, a groom 219 to scholars, a servant to Courtiers and now I am a Greek.
ALV. There was no malice in my fine discourse. I merely wanted to say that I have spent a number of years on my rump and I have never been in an undertaking like this before.
ROSSO. For that reason, you ought to be obliged to me all the more, since it is going to be your last.
ALV. Why the last? Am I going to be killed in this adventure?
ROSSO. Hardly. I say the last for the reason that women are no longer employed at court. It happens that, since it is not permitted to take a wife, one takes a husband; and in this fine fashion, each one gets his desire and still does not go against the law.
ALV. That court of yours is a brazen hussy. She wears the mitre and is not ashamed o it.
ROSSO. Leave off your chronicles. What do you propose to do for my master?
ALV. Do you think I lack ways? You must take me for a simpleton.
ROSSO. Tell me one.
ALV. The wife of Arcolano, the baker, is a good sort and a great crony of mine. I will have her come to our house and we will sneak her in in the dark.
ROSSO. You have it.
ALV. How many gentle women do you think there are who look divine, thanks to their embroidered robes and their rouge, who are really most sad creatures? Togna (the wife of that baker I was telling you about) has flesh so white, so firm, so young and so clear that a Queen might be proud of it.
ROSSO. Assuming that Togna was ugly and worthless, she still would appear an angel to the Signor. For the Signori have less taste than a dead man, and they always drink the worst wines and eat the most wicked 220 foods which are to be found, thinking they are the best and most precious.
ALV. We understand each other. Here is our little house. Return to the Signor and bring me his resolution, the hour of his coming and the necklace. The rest we will settle at our leisure.
ROSSO. Yes, yes, I’m off.
VAL. You’ve been in a great frenzy for the last hour. Why not continue with your service, for the fruit of a courtier’s hope ripens in an unexpected manner.
FLAM. How can the fruit of my hope ripen when it has not yet put forth any flowers? When I look in the glass and see my white beard, tears come into my eyes from the pity I have for myself, who have nothing left to live for. Alas, unfortunate me! How many simpletons, how many grooms, how many ignorant ones and gluttons do I know who are rich, while I am a beggar? I have made up my mind to go elsewhere to die. It grieves my very soul when I think how I came here a young man and I am going away an old one; I came here clad, and I am going away naked; I came here contented, and I am going away in despair.
VAL. But what about your honors? Do you want to throw away the time you have spent, with so much faith and so much solicitude in the service of the Court.
FLAM. It is that which pierces me.
VAL. Your patron loves you, and there will come a time when you will see that he has your interests at heart.
FLAM. At heart? Ha! If the Tiber ran milk, he would not let me dip my finger in it.
VAL. You imagine all that. But tell me, where are you going? To what land? With what Lord?
FLAM. The world is large.
VAL. It was large once; today it is so small that virtuous men are no longer to be found in it. I do not deny that 221 our Court is in a bad way; but in the end, everyone comes here and everyone lives here.
FLAM. Have it as you will; I want to go away.
VAL. Think it over well, and make up your mind, for there are no longer the times there used to be from one end of Italy to the other. Then, every land had real men at Court. At Naples, the King, at Rome the Barons, as today we have the Medici at Florence, the Petrucci at Sienna, the Bentivogli at Bologna, the Rangoni at Modina, and then there was, above all, the Count Guido, who with his courtesy made every fine spirit rejoice in his gentleness; and then there was the magnanimous Signora Argentina, unique ray of modesty in this cursed century.
FLAM. I know what she is, and in addition to her noble virtues, I adore her for the great affection she bears to that fine soul, King Francis, and I hope to see, and that soon, Her Majesty in the enjoyment of that felicity which such a Lady, as all the world must see, deserves.
VAL. Let’s come back to what we were talking about. Where will you go from here? To Ferrara? To do what? To Mantua? To say what? To Milan? To hope what? Take the advice of one who wises you well and stay in Rome, for, if for no other reason than the example which the Court must take from the liberality of Ippolito da’ Medici, that refuge of the virtuous, the good old days must come back again.
FLAM. Perhaps I shall go to Venice, where I already have been, and enrich my poverty with her liberty; for there, at least, poor men are not assassinated at the whim of any male or female favorite; for only in Venice does justice hold the scales with an even balance; there alone fear of disgrace does not force you to adore one who yesterday was a lousy wretch. Anyone who doubts her merits has but to regard the manner in which God exalts her. Surely, she is the Holy City and 222 the Terrestrial Paradise. The plying of her gondolas is a melodious accompaniment to leisure. What is a cavalcade? To ride in a cavalcade is to spoil your heels, curse your grooms and break your bones.
VAL. You speak well; and moreover, life there is more secure and longer than it is elsewhere, but you will find that time hangs heavy on your hands.
FLAM. Why?
VAL. Since you will not have there the conversation of the virtuous. (3)
FLAM. You are ill-informed. The virtuous are there. At Venice there is personal gentility and at Rome rudeness and envy. Where is there another reverend friar like Francesco Giorgi, product of all the sciences? Happy would the Court be if God would inspire it to give him the rank which his merit deserves. And what do you think of the venerable Padre Damiano, who breaks marble hearts with his preaching, and who is the true interpreter of the Holy Scriptures? Did not I hear you yesterday speaking of Gasparao Contarino, the sun and life of Philosophy and of Greek and Latin studies, as well as the mirror of goodness and manners?
VAL. I knew his Magnificence in Bologna, when he was the Ambassador of Caesar. Of the two reverend fathers I have heard mention, and I have seen Giorgi here in Rome.
FLAM. And who would not run post-haste to see the worthy Giambatista Memo, who has redeemed the mathematical sciences and who is truly a wise man?
VAL. I know him by reputation.
FLAM. You know by reputation also Bevazzano, for he was formerly a luminary among the learned ones of Rome; and I know that you have heard the name of the honored Capello. But why do I omit the great Trifon Gabrielli, 223 whose judgment is a lesson to nature and to art? And I understand there is to be found there, among the other fine spirits, Girolamo Quirini, all sense and grace, and that the world is astonished when it attempts to imitate the divine M. Vincenzio, his uncle, who honored his fatherland in life and Rome in death; and there is also Giralamo Molino, the favorite of the Muses. And who would not be happy listening to the pleasant inventions of Lorenzo Veniero? (7) What gentle conversation is that of Luigi Quirini, who, after his honors in the army, has adorned himself with those of the law! And I have been told by our Eurialo di Ascoli, who is also an Apollo, and by Pero, that in Venice there is Francesco Salamone, who, when he strikes his lyre, makes Orpheus ashamed.
VAL. So I have heard.
FLAM. I have been told by the good Molza that there are two miraculous youths, Luigi Priuli and Marco Antonio Soranzo, who have reached the summit, not only of all there is to learn, but of all one might desire to know. And what a paragon of the courtier’s art, of virtue and of judgment, is Monsignor Valerio, the complete gentleman, and Monsignor Brevio.
VAL. They are well-known in Rome.
FLAM. In Venice, moreover, there are virtuous manners and gentle entertainments. But the astonishing thing was to listen to the great Andrea Navagiero, who follows the arms of the good Bernardo; and I had forgotten Maffio Leone, another Demosthenes, another Cicero; without speaking of a thousand other noble geniuses who illuminate our century even as does Egnazio, who is today the sole support of Latin eloquence. And how history will honor him. Nor would you believe there was in Rome a Messer Giovanni Da Legge, cavalier 224 and count of the Holy Cross, who showed at Bologna, with a wise liberality, the splendid generosity of his mind.
VAL. In short, if things are as you say, we others, aside from the Accademia of the Medici, are but a flock of infamous and starveling servants.
FLAM. I have not told you the half of it. To enlighten you further, the gentle Firenzuola tells me that there is a certain Francesco Beretti, who is more valiant at improvising than those of us who deafen the ears of Pasquin. But putting to one side the Philosophers and the Poets, where is peace to be found if not in Venice? Where love, if not in Venice? Where abundance, where charity, in not in Venice? And to that mirror of sanctity the Bishop of Chieti, I may tell you, that father of humility and example of good religion, has repaired with his train for the welfare of their souls, spurning to the point of abhorrence this Rome of ours and the dirty life that is lived here. I was there once for two carnivals, and I was astonished at the triumphs and at the stupendous feasts which were furnished by the magnanimous Reali, the gracious Floridi, and the honored Cortesi. And at the sight of so many Fathers of their Country, so many illustrious Senators, so many egregious Procurators, so many doctors and Cavalieri, and so much nobility, so much youth, and so much wealth — at the sight of all this I was beside myself. And I have seen a letter to the Most Christian King, (4) in which it was related that when the truly Most Serene Prince Andrea Gritti, with his Omnipotent Highness, boarded the Bucentaut (5) to honor the royal blood of France and the Duchess of Ferrara, it was as much as the barge could do to keep from foundering, so heavily was it laden with good sense. The deeds done 225 by the most prudent arms of their Captain General F. M., Duke of Urbino, will live eternally in the pages of the Most Divine Monsignor Bembo. And you need not doubt that those Signori who, through their princes, express their will in the good and just Venetian Senate, are any less affable or less courteous than those who here are orators to his Holiness. There is also the Right Reverend Legate Monsignor Alcandro, whose learning and religion, if it were held up to themselves by other prelates as a mirror, would redound to the reputation of the clergy. But I must not forget Don Lopes, heir to the secrets and the undertakings of the most felicitous Caesar, Charles V, support of the Christian faith.
VAL. Are you speaking of Don Lopes Soria, on whose courteous kindness the hopes of Pietro Aretino lean?
FLAM. I am speaking of a new Ulysses.
VAL. I bow to the sound of his name, and it is quite right to say that he is the protector of all virtue.
FLAM. I spoke with the worthy and faithful Giangioacchino and with all the gentle souls who come to that land, and I heard of the merits of the most learned Monsignor di Selva, Bishop of Lavaur, in whose manners one readily recognizes the creature of the great King Francis; and as His Highness’ orator there, he astonished everyone with his prudence and his modesty. Regard also the continent gravity and gentle breeding of the Prothonotary Cassale, example of true liberality; half of all England would not equal his merits toward his King. By God, Valerio, but the man who there enjoys the favor of His Excellency, the Duke of Urbino, deserves to rule the world and must be truly worthy of His Lordship’s grace. What a personage is Vesconte in carrying out the behests of his master, the Duke of Milan. Of the kindness of Benedetto Agnello toward the great Duke of Mantua I am silent. As I am of the good Gian Jacopo Tebaldo and what he does for his good Ferrara; nor do 226 I speak of what a gentle old man he is or what a faithful friend. He is the cousin, I believe, of our Messer Antonio Tabeldeo, who is the unique spirit of the Muses and astonishes the world with his writings, as does Pollio Aretino with his Trionfi which he is soon to give to the world.
VAL. You have truly closed my mouth.
FLAM. I have passed over the throng of painters and of sculptors who, with the good M. Simon Biaco, are to be found there; nor do I speak of those whom the singular Luigi Caorlini has taken with him to Constantinople, from which place the splendid Marco di Niccolo has just returned, in whose mind is as much magnificence as there is in the minds of kings; and for this reason, the lofty and fortunate Signor Luigi Gritti has given him a place in the bosom of his grace; and despite the carpings of the plebeians and the maligned, there is also the glorious, great and wonderful Titian, whose color breathes like flesh. The stupendous Michelangelo praised with astonishment his portrait of the Duke of Ferrara, which the Emperor has taken for his own. Look at Pordonone, whose works make one doubt whether nature gives relief to art or art to nature. And while I do not deny that Marcantonio was the first with the burin, Gianiacobo Caralio, the Veronese, his pupil, has surpassed him, as may be seen in the works he has carved in wood. And I know for a certainty that Matteo del Nasar, famous and dear to the King of France, and to the most valiant Giovanni da Castell Bolognese, regarded as miraculous the works in crystal, stone and steel of Luigi Anichini, who is also in Venice. And there, too, is Francesco Marcolini, full of virtue and of a flowering genius. There, too, you will find the good Serlio, the architect of Bologna, and M. Francesco Alunno, the divine inventor of the alphabets of all the languages of the world. What more? The good Jacopo 227 Sansovino has exchanged Rome for Venice, and wisely; for as the great Adriano, father of music said, Venice is a veritable Noah’s Ark.
VAL. I believe you, and in return for my believing what you have said, I want you to believe what I am about to tell you.
FLAM. Go on and tell me.
VAL. I should like to say, leaping from one argument to another, that your lack of fortune comes from the little respect that you have always had for the Court. Finding fault with everything she thought and did, you created a prejudice against yourself, and always will.
FLAM. I would rather create a prejudice against myself by speaking the truth than win favor by telling lies.
VAL. That speaking the truth is the thing that is displeasing, and that is the only beam the Signori have in their eyes, the fact that you speak the truth. Of the great ones one must say that the evil they do is good, and it is as perilous and harmful to blame them as it is safe and profitable to praise them. They are permitted to do anything, and we are permitted to say nothing, and it is for God to correct their wickedness, not for us. Collect your mind a little, and let us speak without passion. Do you feel that you did a good thing by speaking of the Court as you did?
FLAM. What have I said of her?
VAL. You have spread the story that she is a heretic, a falsifier, a traitress, a brazen and dishonest wench. And she has become the talk of the people, thanks to those reports of yours.
FLAM. It is no more than she deserves.
VAL. It may be so, but there is little point in gossiping about the Court, for there is always Pasquin to speak of her, as he always will. You have encroached on papal ground and abused the nobility. Don’t you think you should be ashamed to say the things you have said.?
228FLAM. Why should I be ashamed to say what they are not ashamed to do?
VAL. Because Lords are Lords.
FLAM. Yes, Lords are Lords, and men are men. They take pleasure in seeing those who serve them die of hunger, and they rejoice at the sight as much as a good man would suffer. It is a triumph to me to tell of their poltrooneries. I shall be glad to be silent when any two of them can be found who will imitate the kindness and liberality of the King of France. But I shall never be silent.
VAL. Why?
FLAM. Because you will find a discreet and respectable Court long before you will find two such persons. I am opening my mind to you, because, having wasted so many years in service, I can endure it no longer, and I am resolved to go to the court of his Majesty. If I had had no other pleasure there, it would be enough to see so many Lords, so many Captains, and so many virtuous men and I should live happy; for that pomp, that gayety and that liberty is the consolation of all; while at this Court, every man is miserable, melancholy and despairing. I have heard that the pleasing kindness of the Most Christian King is such as to lead everyone to adore him, just as here, the malignant uncouthness of the Lords forces one to hate them.
VAL. It cannot be denied that things are as you say and even worse. And there is but one King of France in the world; and his grace is very great, so great that even those who have never seen him call upon him, celebrate, respect and adore him. (6)
FLAM. And for that reason I want to cure myself of this place by going to serve him; and as you know, I hold letters from the Monsignor di Baif, the vase of all good 229 literature, who was formerly his ambassador in Venice, and who assures me of a favorable reception from his Majesty. If it were not for this, I should go to Constantinople to serve the Signor Alvigi Gritti, in whom is to be found the courtesy which has fled from those plebeian Lords who are Princes only in name. To him Pietro Aretino would go, if it were not that King Francis had bound him with chains of gold, and if the magnanimous Antonio da Leva had not enriched him with cups of gold and pensions.
VAL. I have heard of the King and of the gift which was made him by Signor Antonio, which is indeed the chariot of Caesar’s triumphs. But since you are disposed to go, wait long enough to see the departure of His Holiness for Marseilles.
FLAM. I would be waiting for the raven, if I did.
VAL. Don’t you believe that he is going?
FLAM. I believe in Christ.
VAL. Everyone is getting ready for the departure, and you make light of it.
FLAM. If the Pope goes there, I shall began to believe either that the world is coming to an end or that he is becoming a good man.
VAL. Why do you doubt it?
FLAM. Because if this were so, I should be willing to groom the horses in this Court and call myself fortunate. because if His Holiness were to unite with the King, we should be rid of lice; but it seems to me that if he goes to Marseilles in the same fashion he went to Bologna, we shall be the sport of the French courtiers, who employ more style in dressing and dining than there is misery among us; and if it were not that the pomp of the Cardinal de’ Medici covers everything, we should be like a crowd of bankrupt tradesmen.
VAL. Keep still. The master is coming out. Let us go to the 230 place you know, and there I will answer you on this subject of the departure of the Court.
PAR. I saw you coming out of the garden door. What did Madonna Alvigia have to say?
ROSSO. She is astonished at your good breeding, your grace and liberality, and she has something she wants to put in your arms; everything is all right. Your Lordship has not shown courtesy to an ungrateful person.
PAR. That is nothing to what I intend to do for her.
ROSSO. At a quarter after six your friend will be in her house. But be advised; she is overcome with shame at being obliged to traffic with your Lordship in the dark; but do y0u see that it doesn’t come to light.
PAR. Surely she will deign to be seen by me, though I am unworthy of looking upon her.
ROSSO. That is nothing. All women are capricious at first, and then, laying aside all their timid modesty, they would be seen in the Square of St. Peter’s in order to get their desires.
PAR. Do you think she does it out of timidity?
ROSSO. I’m sure of it. But what do you think?
PAR. That it is a sweet and bitter thing to be loved.
ROSSO. The tavern is a sweet thing, says Cappa.
PAR. Livia will be sweet too.
ROSSO. That’s your imagination. For my part, I have more respect for a decanter of Greek wine than for a Greek angel.
PAR. If you had tasted the ambrosia which amorous mouths distill, wines would appear to you bitter by comparison.
ROSSO. You seem to think that I’m a virgin, I’ve tasted my share, and I have not found that melody which you did.
PAR. But gentle ladies have a different taste.
ROSSO. That’s true; because they don’t urinate like the others.
231PAR. You’re mad to speak of it.
ROSSO. And you are mad to answer. Listen, didn’t you use to tell me that the sweetness which comes from tongues that know how to speak well of others was greater than that of grapes, than that of figs, and that of mallows?
PAR. Yes, up to a certain point.
ROSSO. Oh how they murder me, those sonnets of Pasquin. (6)
PAR. I didn’t know you enjoyed poetry.
ROSSO. Why not? Do you know, if I had studied, I might have become a Philosopher or a Bonnet-Maker.
PAR. Ha, ha, ha!
ROSSO. When I was with Antonio Lelio Romano, I used to pass the time in reading the things which he composed in honor of the Cardinals, and I know a lot of them by heart. Oh they are divine, and I am a slave to that Barbieraccio who says that it would be no error to read every morning two of the Epistles and a Gospel.
PAR. Oh, a pretty pass!
ROSSO. What to you think of that one which says:
Non ha Papa Leon tanti parenti?
PAR. Fine.
ROSSO. And this one:
Da poi che Costantin fece il presente.
Per levarsi la lebbra de la spalle? (9)
PAR. Very sharp.
ROSSO. The Cook is St. Peter, if the Pope is one of the three friars. (7)
232PAR. Ha, ha, ha!
ROSSO.
Piacevi, monna Chiesa belle e buona.
Per legittimo sposo l’ermellino? (8)
PAR. Oh, good!
ROSSO.
O Cardinali, se, voi, fossi, noi,
Che noi per nulla vorremmo esser voi? (11)
PAR. Excellent!
ROSSO. I am going to hunt up those which have been made by Master Pasquin this year. There ought to be a thousand knavish things in them.
PAR. By my faith, Rosso, but you are a gallant fellow.
ROSSO. Who doesn’t know it?
PAR. But let’s not lose time. To the house, for I want you to take a message to the old lady.
AND. You took to your legs, and there was no need of it, and on your account the Signor Parabolano has given me a Neapolitan reproof.
MACO. Tell me, how does one come into the world, Maestro?
AND. Through a cave.
MACO. Large 0r narrow?
AND. Large as an oven.
MACO. What does he come here to do?
AND. To live.
MACO. How does one live here?
AND. By eating and by drinking.
MACO. I shall live here all right, for I eat like a wolf and drink like a horse; yes, in faith, I swear to God, I kiss your hand. But what happens when a man is through living?
AND. He dies in a hole as spiders do.
MACO. Are we not all the sons of Andare and of Andera?
233AND. We are all the sons of Adam and Eve, old maccaroon without salt, without cheese and without fire.
MACO. I think It would be a good thing to make me a Courtier with the moulds. I dreamed about it last night, and besides, Grillo has told me.
AND. You speak better than a crayfish with two mouths. And your Lordship understands that bombards, bells and towers are also made with moulds.
MACO. I had thought that towers grow, as they do at Sienna.
AND. You were very far wrong.
MACO. Will I do well in a mould?
AND. Very well.
MACO. Why?
AND. Because it is less labor to make a man than it is to make a bombard; but since you are so expedient in the matter, let’s hurry.
MACO. I want to go there and be put in the moulds today, or I shall burst.
ALV. I have more to do than a pair of newlyweds. This one wants ointments, this one a pregnancy powder, this one wants to give me letters, this one to send me to the witches, and this one this thing and that one that, and I ought to be looking for Rosso.
ROSSO. What luck to find you here.
ALV. I am the she-ass of the Commons.
ROSSO. Let the other trifles go and astrologize what you are going to do to my master tonight.
ALV. I’ve just had a hundred words with my spiritual confessor before I came here, and so, do what you think best.
ROSSO. You’ll find me near my master’s place; but what brother is that?
234ALV. The one I’m looking for.
GUAR. Oves et boves universas insuper et pecora campi.
ALV. You are always saying your prayers.
GUAR. I don’t give myself too much trouble about it, for I am not one of those who are overly nimble about going to Paradise, since if I don’t go there today, I will go tomorrow; it is so big that there’s room enough for us all, God be praised.
ALV. I believe it, and yet I think not. So many folks have gone there and so many want to go; and it breaks my heart, when I hear the passion at the Coliseum and think that all the folks in the world will not be able to go there.
GUAR. Don’t wonder at a thing like that, for souls (they are like lies, in a manner of speaking, I may tell you) do not occupy any space.
ALV. I don’t understand.
GUAR. Exempli gratia. Let’s say that we are in a little room, and I tell you that the elephant is about to die and has made his will; now isn’t that a lie worthy of excommunication?
ALV. Yes, father.
GUAR. And yet the room is not encumbered with it nor by the thousands of others that have been told there; and so it is, the souls in Paradise do not take up any space, just as lies do not. And in short, in Paradise we shall enjoy two worlds.
ALV. If if a fine thing to know the Scripture. And now, my spiritual father, I want your Paternity to tell me two things: one, if my mistress is to go to the place of salvation; the other, if the Turk is coming or not?
GUAR. As to the first, your mistress will remain twenty-five days in Purgatory circum circa, and then she will go into Limbo for five or six days, and then dextram patris caeli caelorum.
235ALV. He says she won’t, and she is lost.
GUAR. Shouldn’t I know?
ALV. Serpent’s tongue.
GUAR. As to the coming of the Turk, that is really nothing. And if he did come, what difference would it make to you?
ALV. What difference would it make to me? Being impaled alive doesn’t suit my fancy in any way. Impaling poor ladies is a little thing to you, I suppose? And I am in despair when I think that our Priests here deserve to be impaled.
GUAR. Gossip and fables. Now go, and God be with you. I must look after a treatise which I am to make in Verucchio, and which is to tear the Count Gian Maria Giudeo, the musician, to pieces.
ALV. God be with you. These friars must have a finger in every pie, and maybe you don’t think they look holy while they are about it? But who wouldn’t believe them in their wooden shoes and their cinctures? He must be virtuous who would be saved like my mistress, and when I come to think of it, I am rather glad she is to burn; for she will be a good go-between for me there as she was here. And now to find Rosso.
GRILLO. I must find Maestro Mercurio, the best companion and the best banterer in Rome, for Maestro Andrea has given M. Maco to believe that Mercurio is the doctor who has the moulds for making courtiers. But here he comes, by my faith.
MER. What’s the news?
GRILLO. Knavish news. A big bird of a Sanese has come here to make himself a Cardinal, and Maestro Andrea has made him believe that you are the most eminent doctor with the moulds.
236MER. You don’t need to tell me any more, for one of his grooms who was angry at him and looking for a new master, has told me everything.
GRILLO. Ha, ha, ha!
MER. I want to put him in one of those great water kettles; but we must first make him take a dose of pills.
GRILLO. Ha, ha, ha! But look, Messer Priamo and Maestro Andrea are waiting for us.
1 In our slang sense. The original is l’ ottenere d’una, etc.
2 Et i pedanti ancor ne vanno beccando qualch’una.
3 “mondo fatti con Dio.”.
4 This is the cue for Aretino to drag in a tiresome bit of log-rolling, in the style of his worst letters.
5 Veniero, Aretino’s secretary, the author of the Puttana errante. See Introduction.
6 Francis I.
7 The state barge of Venice.
8 This was written at a time when Aretino expected to get something out of Francis.
9 Parabolano’s remark apparentlyreminds him of a line in the Pasquinades.
10 See Hutton, p. 38: “In La Cortegiana he gives us the first verses of several of the Pasquinades he wrote at this time when he attacked every candidate [for the papal throne] except Cardinal de’ Medici with the vilest abuse, and he reminds his candidate later, when he had become Clement VII., of his services on this occasion.” This line [“Has not Pope Leo many relatives”] reminds one of a certain obscene ditty beginning, “The Pope has many nephews.”
11 This too is a line from the Pasquinades.
12 “Mistress Church, so fine and good, How should you like to wed an ermine hood?”.
13 “O, Cardinals, if you were we, We should not wish like you to be.”