XVII

IMADEupmymindtoamusemyselfnow.Iwassickofbeinggraveandserious.Whenonethinkshowshortawhileyouthlastsitisfoolishnottotakethebestadvantageofitthetimemanhasathisdisposalisnotlongenoughfortragedyandmoaninghehasonlyroomforalittlelaughter,andthenhishairgetsgreyandhiskneesshaky,andheisleftrepentingthathedidnotmakemoreofhisopportunities.Somanypeoplehavetoldmethattheyhaveneverregrettedtheirvices,butoftentheirvirtues!Lifeistooshorttotakethingsseriously.Letuseat,drinkandbemerry,forto-morrowwedie. TherewasreallysomuchtodoinForlithatamusementbecamealmosthardwork.Therewerehuntingpartiesinwhichwescouredthecountryalldayandreturnedatnight,tiredandsleepy,butwithadeliciousfeelingofrelief,stretchingourlimbslikegiantswakingfromtheirsleep.Therewereexcursionstovillas,wherewewouldbewelcomedbysomekindlady,andrepeatonasmallerscaletheDecameronofBoccaccio,orimitatethelearnedconversationsofLorenzoandhiscircleatCareggiowecouldplatoniseaswellasthey,andwediscoveredthecharmoftreatingimproprietyfromaphilosophicpointofview.Wewouldsetourselvessomesubjectandallwritesonnetsonit,andInoticedthattheproductionsofourladieswerealwaysmorehighlyspicedthanourown.Sometimeswewouldplayatbeingshepherdsandshepherdesses,butinthisIalwaysfailedlamentably,formynymphinvariablycomplainedthatIwasnotasenterprisingasaswainshouldbe.ThenwewouldactpastoralplaysintheshadowofthetreesOrpheuswasourfavouritesubject,andIwasalwayssetforthetitlepart,ratheragainstmywill,forIcouldneverbringthepropervigourintomylamentforEurydice,sinceitalwaysstruckmeasbothunreasonableandungallanttobesoinconsolableforthelossofonelovewhentherewereallaroundsomanytoconsoleone.... AndinForliitselftherewasacontinuouswhirlofamusement,festivitiesofeverykindcrowdedonone,sothatonehadscarce