In this dialogue, the Royal Dwelling or Palace and its parts, persons, and functions are described, as to which see Vincentius Lupanas, in his book _de Magistratibus Francorum_. For our Vives here chiefly describes the palace of a French king. The persons represented in the dialogue are fitly named from the Greek. For Agrius is with them a country rustic, unskilled in court-life.
Sophronius is a prudent, modest, and cautious man.
Holocolax is altogether a flatterer, and one who (as Terence says) has commanded himself to agree to everything, of which sort of men there is always so large an assembly in courts. There are two parts of the dialogue, the Exordium and Narratio.
_Agri._ Why is it so many accompany the king in such varied styles of dress?
_Soph._ Nay, rather look on their countenances than on their finery. For their faces are more varied and diverse than their decorations and clothes.
_Agri._ What reason is there for this difference also of bearing?
_Soph._ They are clothed differently according to their means; differently according to their rank or family, often even according to their ambitions or vanity.
Many also use elegancy of dress as an angle and net for catching the favour of the king or of his chief officers, and, not rarely, for winning the maids of his court. But the expression of outward countenance follows the stirrings of the mind, and such outward expression is nearly always such as is prompted by the inner disposition of the mind.
_Agri._ But why do so many men meet here together?
_Holo._ Is it not fitting that very many people should come where the capital and government of the whole province are seated?
_Soph._ Quite so. But most people regard not so much the commonwealth as their private good. They follow the government, not because it has the country in its hand, but because it has fortunes to bestow.
_Holo._ Why not? Since all things are sold for money.
_Soph._ So they think who don’t possess any soul and mind, but whose health and gifts of body are only common.
_Agri._ What need is there in this tumult of the court to hold so great a philosophical speculation? I indeed should prefer to understand from you what sort of people these are in such great numbers, in such varied appearances and fashions.
_Holo._ I will tell you of them all, in their rank. For Sophronius, as far as I know, is not so well versed in royal matters. But I have been in royal company of all kinds; I have penetrated, inspected, and seen thoroughly their courts, and I have always been acceptable and pleasing to them all.
_Soph._ Thence I suppose it is that you have gained that name of yours, Holocolax.
_Holo._ You suppose rightly. But do you, Agrius, listen to me. He yonder, on whom every ear, eye, mind, is intent, is the king, the head of the kingdom.
_Soph._ Truly the head, and so the health when he is wise and honest, but the ruin when he is bad or rash (_demens_).
_Holo._ The little boy who follows him is his son, his heir, whom in the Greek court they called despot, that is, lord (_dominus_). In Spain they call him prince, in France the dauphin. There with a neck-chain, like that of Torquatus, in clothes all of silk, or all of gold, are the leaders of the kingdom, with the decorations of names of military dignitaries, princes, dukes, lords of the marches, who are called _marchiones_, counts, men who are named barbarously, barons, knights. This one is the master of the horse, whom they call by the vulgar term of _comes stabilis_, a name taken from the Greek court, when the great Comestabulus (Constable) was, as it were, the prefect of the sea, the admiral. Further, he was supreme over the palace, and also was at the head of the guards. In the time of Romulus they named such an one _praefectus celerum_, and the guards themselves _celeres_.
_Agri._ Who are those in robes reaching to the ankles, and with faces of great severity?
_Counsellors_ _Holo._ They are the counsellors of the king.
_Soph._ Those whom the prince calls to his council. It behoves them to be the most prudent of men, of great experience, of the greatest weight and moderation in their discernment.
_Agri._ Why so?
_Soph._ Because they are the eyes and ears of the prince, and so of the whole kingdom, and so much the more if the king should be blind or deaf, enslaved by his senses, or by ignorance, or by enjoyment of pleasure.
_Agri._ Are that one-eyed man and that other deaf man eyes and ears of the king?
_Soph._ Worse still is blindness and deafness of the heart!
_Secretaries_ _Holo._ The secretaries follow the counsellors, nor are they few in number or of one rank; then those who deal in money matters for the king, or those who get it in, farmers of the taxes, treasury-tribunes, prefects, procurators, and advocates of the treasury.
_Agri._ Who are those luxuriously decked and festive young men who always follow the king and stand at his side, some laughing at him and others with open mouth, full of wonder at what he says?
_Courtiers_ _Holo._ These are a band of intimate friends, the delight and joy of the king.
_Agri._ Why are the two who are entering there followed by so many men full of grimaces?
_Chancellor—Secretary—Litigants—Prefect of the Bed-chamber_ _Holo._ Because the king has in them especial confidence.
The one is the prefect of the sacred writings, or chief secretary; the other the keeper of the secret archives, amongst which are the official statistics (_regni breviarium_). He has to remind the king of everything.
Therefore daily so many come to him, so that they may rub up and renew his memory, since that is the keeping of the memory of the prince. Those who draw in their countenances are litigants, who are prosecuting their suits. Their business never finds an end, through the long series of procrastinations which are kept up. Those two who keep walking up and down the hall are prefects, the one of the sleeping-chamber, the other of the royal stables. These have under them very many other chamber and stable attendants. But let us enter the royal dining-hall.
_Agri._ Ah, how great a crowd solicitous and stately in their pomp!
_Soph._ You would observe these with still greater amazement if you knew how small a matter they are attending to. It is, forsooth, this: it is how a sick man may suck up a single egg and drink a little wine.
_Master of the Feast_ _Holo._ That man is the master of the feast for this week. There he is with an Indian who has a plait of rushes on him. That young man is the cup-bearer. The carver has not yet entered.
_Agri._ Who are about to have their breakfast (_pransuri_) with the king?
_Holo._ You mean who is so lucky as to take part in this feast of the gods?
_Soph._ Formerly guests were invited to the royal table, sometimes experienced military commanders, sometimes men of high lineage, or sometimes those distinguished either by experience in affairs, or by their learning, by whose discourse the king would become better and wiser. But the pride of Goths and other barbarians has invaded this our custom.
_Holo._ The chief followers have their grown-up armour-bearers and their boy-followers, boys on foot and spurred boys. Amongst these are quite magnificent, rich people, who most of them take their meals in correct fashion, or if this seems to them wearisome, they send basketfuls to their friends. This latter custom is more useful to their poorer friends. But the correct fashion of feasting has more distinction in it.
_Agri._ I seem to see quite another sort of people in that eating-chamber.
_Ladies’ Quarters_ _Holo._ Those are the ladies’ quarters, where the queen lives with her matrons and girls. Look how they enter and go out from the hall (_ex parthenone_) like as bees from a hive—young lovers and slaves of Cupid!
_Soph._ Often old people have a second childhood.
_Holo._ There is no greater pleasure than to hear the keenly thought-out sayings, or poems, songs, early morning (_antelucanus_) melodies, and chat of these girls, to see their briskness, their walking in and out, varieties of colour in their dress, their clothing and shapes of garments. They have boys as amanuenses, through whom they send and return messages. With what zeal and what industry, what breeding, they announce and bring back messages, hither and thither. By the faith of the gods! with uncovered heads, with bent hams and bowed knees. Every day there is something new to be heard, seen, and pondered over; something which has been acutely or subtly thought out or said, or done with spirit, or dexterously, or without restraint.
_Soph._ Nay, rather in a négligé way.
_Holo._ What greater happiness? Who could tear himself away from such delight?
_Soph._ Colax, Colax, without being in love you are raving, and without wine, you are drunk. What foolishness could be greater than what has been described by you?
_Holo._ I don’t know how it happens that you see heaps of people depart from the schools quite young, but let them once enter the court, they become old in it.
_Soph._ So also those who drank from the cup of Circe would be unwilling to yield and return to their human nature and condition, having once lost their reason, and having degenerated into the nature of beasts!
_Agri._ But what do all these do when they go home, and with what actions do they occupy themselves to pass the time, at least?
_Soph._ The most of them do nothing more serious than what you now observe them doing, and then their leisure is for them the parent and nurse of many vices. Some play at dice, cards, the gaming-board, at disputations; others pass the afternoon hours in secret slander and artful calumny, that is to what they degenerate at home. Many also are wonderfully taken up with buffoons and jugglers, towards whom those who are at other times niggardly and sordid, to them they are most lavish. But the chief corruption of the court is the flattery of each to all the others, and, what is still worse, towards himself.
This brings it about that no one ever hears salutary truths either from himself nor from his companions unless when at strife. And though he receives then all too little of truth, he takes it as insult.
_Holo._ This employment is now by far the most profitable. _You_ may hunger and thirst after the love of speaking and truth. _I_ have become rich by my smiling, blandishments, and by approving and praising everything.
_Agri._ Could not the kings alter these unsatisfactory matters?
_Soph._ Very easily, if they only wished to do so! But these fashions are pleasing; they are similar to their own. Others are precluded by their preoccupations, on account of which they never have leisure for doing anything which is right or thinking anything which is sane. There are also not lacking those who, with indulgent minds and careless themselves, don’t think the morality of their own homes, and that of their dependants, any concern of theirs. And those things trouble them less than the private home of each of us troubles any of us.
XX PRINCEPS PUER—_The Young Prince_ MOROBULUS, PHILIPPUS, SOPHOBULUS This dialogue is entirely “political,” for Vives lays down the precepts to the boy prince, and teaches the art of good government. The names are aptly bestowed.
Morobulus is a foolish counsellor, _à_ μωρὸς, foolish, βουλὴ, counsel; Sophobulus, a prudent counsellor. There are two parts of the dialogue.
INSTITUTIO { Praeceptoribus { Quod principi sit necessaria: idque ostendit { tribus similitudinibus _Sophobuli_ { { sit { Consulendi { Non { Ocii fuga { sint I. _The Teaching of Morobulus—The Study of Literature_ _Morob._ What has your highness in hand, Philip?
_Phil._ I read and learn with zeal, as you can see for yourself.
_Morob._ I see only too well, and am pained that you weary yourself, and that you are making that little body of yours quite lean!
_Phil._ What then should I do?
_Morob._ That which other nobles, princes, and rich men do—ride about, chat with the daughters of your august mother, dance, learn the art of bearing arms, play cards or ball, leap and run. Such, you see, are the studies in which young nobles most delight. If now people, who scarcely are worthy to be received in your family, enjoy these pleasant occupations, why is it suitable for you to do as you are doing, when you are the son and heir of so great a prince?
_Phil._ What! is the study of letters no good?
_Morob._ It is indeed of good, but rather for those who are initiated in holy affairs, _i.e._, priests, or for those who, by useful knowledge of their art, are about to earn their living, such as the shoemaker’s art, the weaving art, and the other arts necessary for money-making. Rise, I beg of you, put away your books from your hands. Let us go out for a walk, so that for some short time you may get fresh air!
_Phil._ I may not do so just now, because of Stunica and Siliceus.
_Morob._ Who are these Stunica and Siliceus? Are they not your subjects, over whom you have the command, not they over you?
_Teachers_ _Phil._ Stunica is my educator, while Siliceus is my literary tutor. Subjects of mine indeed they are, or to speak more exactly, of my father; but my father, to whom I am subject, placed them over me, and subjected me to them.
_Morob._ What then! Did your father give your highness into servitude to these men?
_Morob._ Oh! most unworthy deed!
II. _The Teaching of Sophobulus_ _Soph._ By no means, my son! Certainly he made them thy servants; he wished them to stick close to thee, as eyes, ears, soul, and mind, to be always engaged on thy behalf, each of them to put aside his own affairs, and to make thy affairs his sole business, not so as to vex thee by imperiousness; but that those good and wise men should transform thy uncultivated manners into the virtue, glory, and excellence of a man; not so as to make thee a slave, but truly a free man and truly a prince. If thou dost not obey them, then wilt thou be a slave of the lowest order, worse than those here amongst us who are employed, bought and sold from Ethiopia or Africa.
_Morob._ Whose slave, then, would he be, if he did not mould his morals after his educators?
_Soph._ Not of men certainly, but of vices, which are more importunate masters, and more intolerable than a dishonest and wicked man!
_Phil._ I don’t quite understand what you say.
_Soph._ But did you understand Morobulus?
_Phil._ Most clearly, everything.
_Soph._ Oh, how happy men would be, if they had the sense and intelligence for good and satisfactory things which they have for frivolous and bad things! Now indeed, on the contrary, at your time of life, it happens that you understand with ease what is trifling, what is inept, nay, even what is insane, such things as those to which Morobulus has exhorted you, and then you regard what I would say on virtue, dignity, and every kind of praiseworthy thing, as if I were speaking Arabic or Gothic.
_Phil._ What, then, are you of opinion I ought to do?
_Soph._ You should at least suspend your judgment.
Neither acquiesce in the opinions of Morobulus, nor in mine, until you are able to judge as to both.
_The Act of Governing_ _Phil._ Who will give me this power of judgment?
_Soph._ Ah! that will come with age, teaching, and experience.
_Morob._ Alas! that would require long weariness of waiting!
_First Similitude_ _Soph._ Morobulus advises well. Throw away your books.
Let us go and play! Let us play a game in which one is elected king. He will prescribe to the others what should be done. The rest obey, according to the laws of the game. You shall be king.
_Phil._ How shall the game be? For if I don’t know the game, how shall I be able to take the part of king in it?
_Second Similitude_ _Soph._ What are you saying, sweetest little Philip, the darling of Spain? You would not dare to undertake to rule in a game, not knowing it, in a game and frivolous matters, in which a mistake brings no particular danger; and you are willing seriously to undertake to rule so many and so great kingdoms, ignorant of the condition of the people and of the laws of administration, although uninstructed in all prudence, and only knowing the ridiculous trivialities, which Morobulus here instils in your mind? Ah! my boy, tell the Master of the Horse to lead forth hither that Neapolitan horse, the most ferocious kicker, and the one given to throw his rider to the ground, and let Philip ride him!
_Phil._ By no means that one, but another and safer one.
For I have not as yet learned the art of managing a refractory horse, and I have not the strength for it!
_Third Similitude_ _Soph._ Well, Philip, let me ask you whether you think that a lion is equally fierce as a horse; or that a horse will kick and be refractory, and less obedient to the bridle than people, and the host of men in a country who come together and congregate from every kind of vice, passion, crime, and evil deed; from agitations which have been fanned so as to be incensed, inflamed, burning into flame? You would not dare to mount a horse, while you demand that you should rule over a people, more difficult still to govern and manage than any horse! But let us dismiss this illustration. Do you see that boat on the river? The navigation is most pleasant and delightful between the meadows and the willow-plantings. Come, let us go down to it. You shall sit at the rudder and guide the boat.
_Phil._ Yes, indeed! and overturn you and plunge you into the water, as Pimentellulus lately did!
_Soph._ What! you are not willing to guide a boat, on a stream so even and so calm, because untrained, and yet you will commit yourself to that sea, to those waves and tides, to that tempest of the people, without knowledge and without experience? Evidently it has befallen you as it did Phaethon, who was ignorant of the art of charioteering, and yet, with youthful ardour, he requested that he might take the management of his father’s chariot! I think that story is known to you.
Isocrates used to say excellently, that the two greatest offices in the life of men were those of the prince and the priest. No one, he said, should seek after them, unless he were worthy. No one should believe himself able rightly to rule, unless he were the most prudent man in the kingdom.
_Phil._ I see that nothing is so necessary for my person and station as the knowledge of the art and skill of ruling a kingdom.
_Soph._ Evidently you grasp the matter.
_Phil._ How can I pursue my duty?
_How the Art of Governing is to be Acquired_ _Soph._ Hast thou received the knowledge of governing at thy birth?
_Phil._ Indeed, no!
_Soph._ By what means, then, canst thou get to know except by learning?
_Phil._ There is no other way.
_Soph._ With what countenance, then, can Morobulus advise you, that you should throw away your studies, by which you may obtain experience in your art, as well as knowledge of other subjects of the greatest and most attractive kind?
_Phil._ From whom, then, can knowledge of these subjects be obtained?
_Soph._ From those who have reflected on them, and observed them as they have been manifested in the greatest minds, of whom some are dead, others living.
_Phil._ But how can we learn from the dead? Can the dead speak?
_Soph._ Have you never in conversation heard the names of Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, Seneca, Livy, Plutarch?
_Phil._ These are great names! I have heard them spoken of often, and with great admiration and praise.
_Soph._ These very names and many others like them, already departed from this life, will talk with you as often and as much as you like.
_Phil._ How?
_Soph._ In books, which they have left behind for the benefit of posterity.
_Phil._ How is it that these are not already in my hand?
_Soph._ They shall be given to you soon, after you have learned that language, in which you will be able to understand what they say. Only wait a little, and go through with the short burden which must be endured in receiving the elementary basis of instruction; after that follow incredible delights. It is no wonder that without such a preparation the idea of literary studies is abhorrent. But those who have enjoyed them would sooner be plucked from life itself than be torn away from books and intellectual interests.
_Phil._ But pray tell me, who are those living people from whom this wisdom and soundness of mind can be learned?
_Soph._ If you were about to undertake any journey, from whom would you earnestly inquire the road? Would it be from those who had never seen the road, or from those who had at some time accomplished the journey?
_Phil._ From those, forsooth, who had travelled on that journey!
_Soph._ Is not this life even as a journey, and is it not a perpetual starting out?
_Phil._ So it seems.
_Soph._ Who, therefore, have performed this journey the most thoroughly? Old men or youths?
_Phil._ Old men.
_Soph._ Old men, then, should be consulted.
_Phil._ All indifferently?
_Soph._ That is an acute question; not all promiscuously.
But in the same manner as it is with the journey, so it is with life. Do those know the way of life, who have gone along it without reflecting on it, busying themselves with something else, their minds wandering no less than their body; or those who have noted things diligently and attended to them, one by one, and committed what they have observed to their memory?
_Phil._ To be sure it is the latter.
_Soph._ Therefore, in taking counsel concerning the method of leading our life, it is not young men to whom we should listen, for they have not been over the journey, much less youths, and, what is most foolish and inappropriate, boys. Nor is counsel to be sought from foolish, lascivious, demented old men, worse than boys, whom the divine oracles execrate, because they are boys of a hundred years of age. Ears should be open to old men of great judgment, experienced in things, and prudent in mind.
_Phil._ By what sign shall I know them?
_Soph._ To be sure, at thy age, my son, thou canst not as yet distinguish them by any sign; but when a greater and stronger judgment has developed in thee, thou wilt easily recognise them by their words and deeds, as affording the clearest of signs. In the meantime, whilst thou hast not strength in this power of judgment, trust thyself entirely, and commit the direction, to thy father, and to those whom thy father has appointed as instructors and teachers and governors of thy early years—those who, as it were, lead thee by the hand, along that road on which thou hast not yet journeyed. For there is a greater care over thee exercised by thy father (to whom thou art dearer than he is to thee) than thou couldst have for thyself, and, in this matter, not only has he his own experience to guide him, but he makes use of the counsel of wise men.
_Morob._ For too long I have been silent.
_Soph._ Quite so, though contrary to your custom. For some time I have felt keen astonishment at the fact.
_The Sort of Leisure to be Shunned—The Assertion of the Similitude (Protasis)_ _Morob._ Philip, do not your father and the King of France and other great kings and princes rule their kingdoms and territories, and hold them in their duty, without the study of letters, and without that burdensome labour, which here is imposed mercilessly on your tender shoulders?
_Soph._ Nothing is so easy that it cannot become difficult, if it is done unwillingly. Industrious labour, devoted to learning, is not wearisome to him who gives his attention to it gladly. But to him who is unwilling, if indeed it is a game that is in question, or if it were a case of taking a walk in the most pleasant spots, it is troublesome and intolerable. To thee, Morobulus, most eager for trifling and always accustomed to frivolity, either to do anything serious or even to hear of it, is as unpleasant as death. Certainly many others would regard their life as bitter, if the manner of their living were fixed according to the fashion of Morobulus. How many there are, especially in courts, to whom nothing is sweeter than a sluggish and inert leisure! To move their hands to do work is to put them on the torture-rack! How many there are, on the other hand, amongst the people, who would die rather than pass through all their days with such vacuity, and would get weary more quickly by doing nothing than by giving their closest attention to some business! But to answer you concerning the Emperor and King of France, you shall hear from me about old men in general, whom I take to be those who have run over the track of life. If all, whosoever have made the journey, with unanimity say that they have fallen on some spot full of difficulty and danger, from which place they have only got away wounded and broken down to the last degree; but if they had that journey to go over again they would take care for nothing more diligently than against that danger. What do you think, would it not be the part of a most foolish man, when he had to take that way again, not to recall the danger and not to know it was coming?
_Phil._ Not as yet do I grasp what you mean!
_Soph._ I will make it more clear by an example. Imagine that, over the river yonder, there was a narrow plank as bridge, and that every one told you that as many as rode on horseback and attempted thus to cross it, had fallen into the water, and were in danger of their lives, and, moreover, that with difficulty they had been dragged out half-dead. Do you understand this?
_Phil._ Most clearly.
_Soph._ Would not, in such a case, a man seem to you to be demented who, taking that journey, did not get off from his horse, and escape from the danger in which the others had fallen?
_Phil._ To be sure he would.
_Soph._ And rightly! Seek now from old men, as to what chiefly they have felt unfortunate in this life, what it grieves them most and what they bitterly regret to have neglected. All will answer with one voice, so far as they have learned anything, it is, not to have learned more.
So far as they have not learned, they will regret that they did not take pains to acquire the knowledge. Having entered on this complaint against themselves, they will tell you over and over again, that their parents or educators sent them to schools and to teachers of literature, yet that they, drawn on by vain delights, either of play, or hunting, or love, or frivolity of some kind, let drop from their hands the opportunities of learning; and so they complain of their fate and bewail their lot, and accuse themselves, condemn themselves, and, at times, also curse themselves. You see now the state of slackness and ignorance on the road of life is especially unsafe and dangerous, and is the one chiefly to be avoided, since you hear the miserable cries of those who have fallen there. It is therefore to be avoided with all care and diligence. It is incumbent on youth, to reject and despise sluggishness, ease, little delicacies, and frivolity, whilst the whole mind should be intent on the study of letters and the cultivation of goodness of soul. You, then, ask your father on this matter, although he is yet a young man, and do you, Morobulus, ask yours, although an old man, and you will understand from them that my opinion is the true one.
XXI LUDUS CHARTARUM SEU FOLIORUM—_Card-playing or Paper-games_ VALDAURA, TAMAYUS, LUPIANUS, CASTELLUS, MANRICUS This Dialogue has two parts: Exordium and the game. The Exordium is an introduction as to time (_à tempore_).
_Val._ What rough weather! How cold and cruel the heavens! how unfavourable the sun!
_Tam._ To what does this state of the heavens and the sun point?
_Val._ That we should not go out of the house.
_Tam._ But what are we to do in the house?
_Val._ Study by the lighted hearth, meditate, think on things—a course which might bring profit and sound morals to the mind.
_Cast._ This is indeed the chief thing to be done, nor ought anything to take precedence of it in a man’s mind. But when a man’s mind is wearied by intentness of application, how then shall he divert himself, especially in such weather as this?
_Val._ Some recreations of the mind suit some people; others, others. I indeed receive delight and recreation by card games.
_Tam._ And this kind of weather invites in that direction, so that we hide ourselves in a closely shut room, and guarded on every side from the wind and cold, with a shining hearth, and a table set with charts (_i.e._ maps).
_Val._ Alas! we have no charts.
_Val._ I should like that.
_Tam._ Then we want some money and stones (_calculi_) for reckoning.
_Val._ We don’t need stones, if we have some very small coins.
_Tam._ I have none, except gold and larger silver coins.
_Val._ Change some for small money. Here, boy, take these coins of one, two, two-and-a-half, and three, stivers and get us tiny coins from the money-changer—single, two, three, farthing-pieces, not bigger money.
_Tam._ How these coins shine!
_Val._ Certainly, they are as yet new and unused.
_Tam._ Let us go to the games-emporium, where we shall find everything ready to hand.
_Cast._ It is not expedient, for we should have such a number of umpires. We might just as well play in the public street. It would be better to betake ourselves into your room, and invite a few of our friends, especially those likely to put us in good spirits.
_Tam._ Your chamber is more convenient for this, for in mine, we should be interrupted continually by the mother’s maidservants, who are always seeking some dirty clothes in the women’s chests.
_Val._ Let us go then into the dining-room.
_Tam._ So let it be. Let us go! Boy, fetch us here Franciscus Lupianus and Roderick Manricus and Zoilaster.
_Val._ Stay! By no means let us have Zoilaster, an angry man, given to quarrelling, a noisy calumniator, one who often raises fierce tragedies out of the smallest matters.
_Cast._ You certainly advise wisely, for if a young man of such views of recreation should mix himself in our company, then there would not be sport but grave strife.
Bring, therefore, Rimosulus instead of him.
_Val._ No, not him, unless you wish whatever we do here, by way of sport, should be made known before sunset throughout the city.
_Cast._ Is he so good a herald?
_Val._ Yes, in making things known where no good is done by the knowledge. As to matters of good report, he is more religiously silent than the Eleusinian mysteries.
_Tam._ Then Lupianus and Manricus alone are to come.
_Cast._ They are first-rate companions.
_Tam._ And warn them to bring little coins with them, but whatsoever is of severity and earnestness let them leave at home with the crabbed Philoponus. Let them come, accompanied by jests, wit, and agreeableness.
_Lup._ Hail! most festive companions!
_Tam._ What is the meaning of that contraction of your brow? Smooth those wrinkles. Haven’t you been advised to lay down all thoughts of literature in the abode of the Muses?
_Lup._ Our thoughts on literature are so illiterate that the Muses who are in their abode wouldn’t own them.
_Manr._ All prosperity!
_Val._ Prosperity is doubtful, when you are called to the line of battle and to warfare, in which, indeed, kings will be present!
_Tam._ Be of good cheer! Money-purses, not necks, will be attacked.
_Lup._ The money-purse often is in place of a neck, and money in place of blood and spirit; as with those Carians, whose contempt of life is the pretext for kings to practise their madness on them.
_Manr._ I don’t wish to be an actor in, but the spectator of, this play.
_Tam._ How so?
_Manr._ Because I am so very unfortunate; I always go away from playing, beaten and despoiled.
_Tam._ Do you know what dice-players say, in a proverb of theirs? “You should seek your toga where you lost it.”
_Manr._ True, but there is the danger that, while I seek the lost toga, I shall lose both my tunic and shirt.
_Tam._ This indeed often happens, but he who risks nothing does not become rich.
_Manr._ This is the opinion of metal-diggers.
_Tam._ Also of the Janus in the middle of Antwerp.
_Val._ It is quite right. We can only play four at a time. We are five. Let us cast lots as to who shall be the spectator of the others.
_Manr._ I will be the one, without any casting of lots.
_Val._ No such thing! Wrong should be done to none. No one’s will, but chance, shall decide this. He to whom the first king falls in dealing, he shall sit as lazy spectator, and if any dispute shall arise, he shall be judge.
_Lup._ Here are two whole packs of cards; one is Spanish, the other French.
_Val._ The Spanish does not seem to be quite right.
_Lup._ How so?
_Val._ Since the tens are lacking.
_Lup._ They don’t usually have them, as the French do.
Cards, both Spanish and French, are divided into four suits, or families. The Spanish have gold coins, cups, sceptres, and swords. The French, hearts, diamonds, clubs, (little) ploughshares, otherwise called spades or arrow-points. There are in each suit—king, queen, knight; ones, twos, threes, fours, fives, sixes, sevens, eights, nines. The French also have tens. In the Spanish game, golden pieces and cups are used, but less preferably swords and sceptres. With the French, the higher numbers are always considered better.
_Cast._ What game shall we play?
_Val._ The game of Spanish Triumph, in which the dealer