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Curio, Sebastian · 1562

when our minds are troubled by the waves of disturbance, they cannot immediately be brought back to serenity and tranquility. For this reason, at such a time, we can write nothing elegantly or copiously, for the study of literature requires rest and vacancy of mind. Since these are not present in Augustino at this time, nor indeed in me, you will judge that he acted wisely in not writing to you, as one to whom nothing should be sent that has not been polished by talent and industry. You will forgive me, however, if you do not find in my letter something that can delight you. Nor will you believe me to be such a bold estimator of my own powers, or so ignorant of duty, that I could hope to express in words even the smallest part of the thanks which it would be necessary to render to you for Augustino. For I do not attempt what cannot be done; I only wish to leave behind a testament to my grateful goodwill toward you in this letter. Because you, by your authority and dignity, have so often beaten back and broken the wickedness of the most audacious and furious men—our adversaries—and because you have attributed so much honor and dignity to my kinsman, that although you were convened so many times, you never wished to deliberate at all on electing a professor of the Latin and Greek languages while something was being brought against him by impious men (in which you surely declared openly that your minds were favorably disposed toward him): by the immortal God, what great thanks are owed to you by me and by him, and will be held as long as we live, and as long as there is any memory of the Curio family. Wherefore, if Augustino has appeared somewhat ungrateful to you by this departure of his in the midst of his work, I ask and implore you that you do not