Complete Works of Angelo Poliziano

...of [human] affairs produces an anxious and laborious difficulty in emerging; therefore you will forgive me if I have judged your disposition by that of others. Because, however, I loved you greatly as a most learned man, and desired that you might be praised by all without exception, I therefore wished that those things which I felt might perhaps be noted by envious men should be made known to you by some secret way. I was greatly delighted by that integrity of yours, by which you not only did not take it ill to be warned, but even asked that I should do the same regarding other matters, because you profess to be so grateful to those who have delivered you from errors. I do not arrogate so much to myself as to believe that I know what you have been ignorant of. But it is accustomed to happen to all who write that, in rereading their own writings (while they are fresh), they either mishear or overlook things, not to mention certain opinions with whose discovery they are pleased. If it were not so, we would not have the precept: Let it be suppressed until the ninth year. If, however, anything I have said seems well-stated, I shall reply with that line from Terence—though not flatteringly: Ridiculous; for you had not thought of it. But how much better would you have found that same thing for yourself? To come at last to the matter, I will see to it that those of your books which remain with the merchant are not released except according to your wishes. I had kept the book itself as a guest with me at my own expense; however, since you wished the other brother to be in my company even for free, I have used your liberality so that I might be munificent myself, and so that I might owe more to you. I will deliver your gift to Leoniceno and Pictorius when I have received a response from you. I ask that you commend me to the magnificent Lorenzo and Pico. Farewell. Ferrara, the fourth day before the Calends of January, 1489.

Decorative woodcut initial B with floral/foliage motifs. It is well. From every side, the Miscellanea either win or stir up friends for us. From every side come letters to us, or about us, from excellent men, full of zeal and full of praise. Such as these last two from you—how noble, good God, how simple, how liberal, and finally, with what and how many marks of love they are sprinkled; for I omit how elegant and learned they are. This is clearly characteristic of that house in which the very cradle-land of the liberal arts resides. What spurs, then, should those great judgments or studies of yours move in me—nay, rather, what stings to write should they apply? Now I easily despise the follies of the malevolent—which I have always despised anyway—and what I might truly call "abortive trifles" (for they were almost dead before they were published), supported as I am by your letters, which are more long-lived than the phoenix. Indeed, encouraged by the shouts of the learned, I hasten eagerly to the finish line of this course. Nay (if only you do not spurn it), I shall see to it that there stands for posterity in my remaining writings a perpetual testimony—I would not say of your learning, of which you certainly have less need, but surely of the benevolent spirit between us. Farewell. Give greetings to our friend Pictorius, a most upright man, in my words and those of Pico. Florence, the fifth day before the Ides of January, 1489.

Decorative woodcut initial N with floral/foliage motifs. I would not wish you to think that the proclamations of your praises written to you in letters are the greatest. For far greater are the things which students of the humanities conceive silently in their minds from your book, or speak of you when they are in a gathering: with one voice they all say all good things; they proclaim, extol, and admire your learning. There is no one who is deterred by the price from having the Miscellanea at home, from which to learn. These are the true testimonies of erudition, in which there is no suspicion of pleasing or flattery. Wherefore I wonder more that you doubt whether I desire my fame to be made immortal by your writings, as if my heart were made of horn: that I too should not seek that toward which the proclivity of human nature is carried. I would wish, however, to have advised, or at least asked, that both in the customs of the living, and in the eulogies...

Ang. Polit.