(5) My Master thereupon on his right cheek Did backward turn himself, and looked at me; Then said: "He listeneth well who noteth it." Nor speaking less on that account, I go With Ser Brunetto, and I ask who are His most known and most eminent companions. And he to me: "To know of some is well; Of others it were laudable to be silent, For short would be the time for so much speech. Know them in sum, that all of them were clerks, And men of letters great and of great fame, In the world tainted with the selfsame sin. Priscian goes yonder with that wretched crowd, And Francis of Accorso; and thou hadst seen there If thou hadst had a hankering for such scurf,

(1) Now bears us onward one of the hard margins, And so the brooklet's mist o'ershadows it, From fire it saves the water and the dikes. Even as the Flemings, 'twixt Cadsand and Bruges, Fearing the flood that tow'rds them hurls itself, Their bulwarks build to put the sea to flight; And as the Paduans along the Brenta, To guard their villas and their villages, Or ever Chiarentana feel the heat; In such similitude had those been made, Albeit not so lofty nor so thick, Whoever he might be, the master made them. Now were we from the forest so remote, I could not have discovered where it was, Even if backward I had turned myself, When we a company of souls encountered, Who came beside the dike, and every one Gazed at us, as at evening we are wont To eye each other under a new moon, And so towards us sharpened they their brows As an old tailor at the needle's eye. Thus scrutinised by such a family, By some one I was recognised, who seized My garment's hem, and cried out, "What a marvel!"

(3) I stood even as the friar who is confessing The false assassin, who, when he is fixed, Recalls him, so that death may be delayed. And he cried out: "Dost thou stand there already, Dost thou stand there already, Boniface? By many years the record lied to me. Art thou so early satiate with that wealth, For which thou didst not fear to take by fraud The beautiful Lady, and then work her woe?" Such I became, as people are who stand, Not comprehending what is answered them, As if bemocked, and know not how to answer. Then said Virgilius: "Say to him straightway, 'I am not he, I am not he thou thinkest.'" And I replied as was imposed on me. Whereat the spirit writhed with both his feet, Then, sighing, with a voice of lamentation Said to me: "Then what wantest thou of me? If who I am thou carest so much to know, That thou on that account hast crossed the bank, Know that I vested was with the great mantle; And truly was I son of the She-bear, So eager to advance the cubs, that wealth Above, and here myself, I pocketed.

(2) The three versions which have been preserved of this text are very fragmentary. The most complete, papyrus 10478 of the British Museum, contains only the 7 to 12. As the interest of this text, the character of which is chiefly pictorial, lies in the vignettes, it has been thought unnecessary to give a translation of it

(6) But in the cowl there nestles such a bird, That, if the common people were to see it, They would perceive what pardons they confide in, For which so great on earth has grown the folly, That, without proof of any testimony, To each indulgence they would flock together. By this Saint Anthony his pig doth fatten, And many others, who are worse than pigs, Paying in money without mark of coinage. But since we have digressed abundantly, Turn back thine eyes forthwith to the right path, So that the way be shortened with the time. This nature doth so multiply itself In numbers, that there never yet was speech Nor mortal fancy that can go so far.

(4) Who such benign regard shall have for thee That 'twixt you twain, in doing and in asking, That shall be first which is with others last. With him shalt thou see one who at his birth Has by this star of strength been so impressed, That notable shall his achievements be. Not yet the people are aware of him Through his young age, since only nine years yet Around about him have these wheels revolved. But ere the Gascon cheat the noble Henry, Some sparkles of his virtue shall appear In caring not for silver nor for toil. So recognized shall his magnificence Become hereafter, that his enemies Will not have power to keep mute tongues about it. On him rely, and on his benefits; By him shall many people be transformed, Changing condition rich and mendicant; And written in thy mind thou hence shalt bear Of him, but shalt not say it"—and things said he Incredible to those who shall be present. Then added: "Son, these are the commentaries On what was said to thee; behold the snares That are concealed behind few revolutions;

(5) Then by the scalp behind I seized upon him, And said: "It must needs be thou name thyself, Or not a hair remain upon thee here." Whence he to me: "Though thou strip off my hair, I will not tell thee who I am, nor show thee, If on my head a thousand times thou fall." I had his hair in hand already twisted, And more than one shock of it had pulled out, He barking, with his eyes held firmly down, When cried another: "What doth ail thee, Bocca? Is't not enough to clatter with thy jaws, But thou must bark? what devil touches thee?" "Now," said I, "I care not to have thee speak, Accursed traitor; for unto thy shame I will report of thee veracious news." "Begone," replied he, "and tell what thou wilt, But be not silent, if thou issue hence, Of him who had just now his tongue so prompt; He weepeth here the silver of the French; 'I saw,' thus canst thou phrase it, 'him of Duera There where the sinners stand out in the cold.' If thou shouldst questioned be who else was there, Thou hast beside thee him of Beccaria, Of whom the gorget Florence slit asunder;

(6) Not oftentimes upriseth through the branches The probity of man; and this He wills Who gives it, so that we may ask of Him. Eke to the large-nosed reach my words, no less Than to the other, Pier, who with him sings; Whence Provence and Apulia grieve already The plant is as inferior to its seed, As more than Beatrice and Margaret Costanza boasteth of her husband still. Behold the monarch of the simple life, Harry of England, sitting there alone; He in his branches has a better issue. He who the lowest on the ground among them Sits looking upward, is the Marquis William, For whose sake Alessandria and her war Make Monferrat and Canavese weep."

(6) There shall be seen the pride that causes thirst, Which makes the Scot and Englishman so mad That they within their boundaries cannot rest; Be seen the luxury and effeminate life Of him of Spain, and the Bohemian, Who valour never knew and never wished; Be seen the Cripple of Jerusalem, His goodness represented by an I, While the reverse an M shall represent; Be seen the avarice and poltroonery Of him who guards the Island of the Fire, Wherein Anchises finished his long life; And to declare how pitiful he is Shall be his record in contracted letters Which shall make note of much in little space.

(3) Of this chapter we have unfortunately but one copy in Fa , of the Musée Borély. This is defective both at the beginning and at the end, and the text is inaccurate. The later copies are so inaccurate that it is impossible to reconstitute the text. It is precisely on those points where grammatical accuracy is required for fixing a definite sense that the manuscripts are hopelessly defective. The preceding translation is verbally correct, I trust, but I do not pretend that it is intelligible. It stops where the papyrus Fa stops

(537) Do you not remark, I said, how great is the evil which dialectic has introduced? What evil? he said. The students of the art are filled with lawlessness. Quite true, he said. Do you think that there is anything so very unnatural or inexcusable in their case? or will you make allowance for them? In what way make allowance? I want you, I said, by way of parallel, to imagine a supposititious son who is brought up in great wealth; he is one of a great and numerous family, and has many flatterers. When he grows up to manhood, he learns that his alleged are not his real parents; but who the real are he is unable to discover. Can you guess how he will be likely to behave towards his flatterers and his supposed parents, first of all during the period when he is ignorant of the false relation, and then again when he knows? Or shall I guess for you? If you please. Then I should say, that while he is ignorant of the truth he will be likely to honour his father and his mother and his supposed relations more than the flatterers; he will be less inclined to neglect them when in need, or to do or say anything against them; and he will be less willing to disobey them in any important matter. He will. But when he has made the discovery, I should imagine that he would diminish his honour and regard for them, and would become more devoted to the flatterers; their influence over him would greatly increase; he would now live after

(490) which is an appearance only, but will go on—the keen edge will not be blunted, nor the force of his desire abate until he have attained the knowledge of the true nature of every essence by a sympathetic and kindred power in the soul, and by that power drawing near and mingling and becoming incorporate with very being, having begotten mind and truth, he will have knowledge and will live and grow truly, and then, and not till then, will he cease from his travail. Nothing, he said, can be more just than such a description of him. And will the love of a lie be any part of a philosopher’s nature? Will he not utterly hate a lie? He will. And when truth is the captain, we cannot suspect any evil of the band which he leads? Impossible. Justice and health of mind will be of the company, and temperance will follow after? True, he replied. Neither is there any reason why I should again set in array the philosopher’s virtues, as you will doubtless remember that courage, magnificence, apprehension, memory, were his natural gifts. And you objected that, although no one could deny what I then said, still, if you leave words and look at facts, the persons who are thus described are some of them manifestly useless, and the greater number utterly depraved; we were then led to enquire into the grounds of these accusations, and have now arrived at the point of asking why are the majority bad, which question of necessity brought us back to the examination and definition of the true philosopher.

(589) Is not the noble that which subjects the beast to the man, or rather to the god in man; and the ignoble that which subjects the man to the beast?’ He can hardly avoid saying Yes—can he now? Not if he has any regard for my opinion. But, if he agree so far, we may ask him to answer another question: ‘Then how would a man profit if he received gold and silver on the condition that he was to enslave the noblest part of him to the worst? Who can imagine that a man who sold his son or daughter into slavery for money, especially if he sold them into the hands of fierce and evil men, would be the gainer, however large might be the sum which he received? And will any one say that he is not a miserable caitiff who remorselessly sells his own divine being to that which is most godless and detestable? Eriphyle took the necklace as the price of her husband’s life, but he is taking a bribe in order to compass a worse ruin.’ Yes, said Glaucon, far worse—I will answer for him. Has not the intemperate been censured of old, because in him the huge multiform monster is allowed to be too much at large? Clearly. And men are blamed for pride and bad temper when the

(554) Very good. First, then, they resemble one another in the value which they set upon wealth? Certainly. Also in their penurious, laborious character; the individual only satisfies his necessary appetites, and confines his expenditure to them; his other desires he subdues, under the idea that they are unprofitable. True. He is a shabby fellow, who saves something out of everything and makes a purse for himself; and this is the sort of man whom the vulgar applaud. Is he not a true image of the State which he represents? He appears to me to be so; at any rate money is highly valued by him as well as by the State. You see that he is not a man of cultivation, I said. I imagine not, he said; had he been educated he would never have made a blind god director of his chorus, or given him chief honour 8 . Excellent! I said. Yet consider: Must we not further admit that owing to this want of cultivation there will be found in him dronelike desires as of pauper and rogue, which are forcibly kept down by his general habit of life? True. Do you know where you will have to look if you want to discover his rogueries? Where must I look? You should see him where he has some great opportunity of acting dishonestly, as in the guardianship of an orphan. Aye. It will be clear enough then that in his ordinary dealings which give him a reputation for honesty he coerces his bad

(3) Not otherwise in summer do the dogs, Now with the foot, now with the muzzle, when By fleas, or flies, or gadflies, they are bitten. When I had turned mine eyes upon the faces Of some, on whom the dolorous fire is falling, Not one of them I knew; but I perceived That from the neck of each there hung a pouch, Which certain colour had, and certain blazon; And thereupon it seems their eyes are feeding. And as I gazing round me come among them, Upon a yellow pouch I azure saw That had the face and posture of a lion. Proceeding then the current of my sight, Another of them saw I, red as blood, Display a goose more white than butter is. And one, who with an azure sow and gravid Emblazoned had his little pouch of white, Said unto me: "What dost thou in this moat? Now get thee gone; and since thou'rt still alive, Know that a neighbour of mine, Vitaliano, Will have his seat here on my left-hand side. A Paduan am I with these Florentines; Full many a time they thunder in mine ears, Exclaiming, 'Come the sovereign cavalier,

(6) Herein doth living Justice sweeten so Affection in us, that for evermore It cannot warp to any iniquity. Voices diverse make up sweet melodies; So in this life of ours the seats diverse Render sweet harmony among these spheres; And in the compass of this present pearl Shineth the sheen of Romeo, of whom The grand and beauteous work was ill rewarded. But the Provencals who against him wrought, They have not laughed, and therefore ill goes he Who makes his hurt of the good deeds of others. Four daughters, and each one of them a queen, Had Raymond Berenger, and this for him Did Romeo, a poor man and a pilgrim; And then malicious words incited him To summon to a reckoning this just man, Who rendered to him seven and five for ten. Then he departed poor and stricken in years, And if the world could know the heart he had, In begging bit by bit his livelihood, Though much it laud him, it would laud him more."

(4) There is Romena, where I counterfeited The currency imprinted with the Baptist, For which I left my body burned above. But if I here could see the tristful soul Of Guido, or Alessandro, or their brother, For Branda's fount I would not give the sight. One is within already, if the raving Shades that are going round about speak truth; But what avails it me, whose limbs are tied? If I were only still so light, that in A hundred years I could advance one inch, I had already started on the way, Seeking him out among this squalid folk, Although the circuit be eleven miles, And be not less than half a mile across. For them am I in such a family; They did induce me into coining florins, Which had three carats of impurity." And I to him: "Who are the two poor wretches That smoke like unto a wet hand in winter, Lying there close upon thy right-hand confines?" "I found them here," replied he, "when I rained Into this chasm, and since they have not turned, Nor do I think they will for evermore.

(1) Let these notes of ours, as we have often said for the sake of those that consult them carelessly and unskilfully, be of varied character - and as the name itself indicates, patched together - passing constantly from one thing to another, and in the series of discussions hinting at one thing and demonstrating another. "For those who seek for gold," says Heraclitus, "dig much earth and find little gold." But those who are of the truly golden race, in mining for what is allied to them, will find the much in little. For the word will find one to understand it. The Miscellanies of notes contribute, then, to the recollection and expression of truth in the case of him who is able to investigate with reason.

(3) Hugh Capet was I called upon the earth; From me were born the Louises and Philips, By whom in later days has France been governed. I was the son of a Parisian butcher, What time the ancient kings had perished all, Excepting one, contrite in cloth of gray. I found me grasping in my hands the rein Of the realm's government, and so great power Of new acquest, and so with friends abounding, That to the widowed diadem promoted The head of mine own offspring was, from whom The consecrated bones of these began. So long as the great dowry of Provence Out of my blood took not the sense of shame, 'Twas little worth, but still it did no harm. Then it began with falsehood and with force Its rapine; and thereafter, for amends, Took Ponthieu, Normandy, and Gascony. Charles came to Italy, and for amends A victim made of Conradin, and then Thrust Thomas back to heaven, for amends. A time I see, not very distant now, Which draweth forth another Charles from France, The better to make known both him and his.

(2) He named me many others one by one; And all contented seemed at being named, So that for this I saw not one dark look. I saw for hunger bite the empty air Ubaldin dalla Pila, and Boniface, Who with his crook had pastured many people. I saw Messer Marchese, who had leisure Once at Forli for drinking with less dryness, And he was one who ne'er felt satisfied. But as he does who scans, and then doth prize One more than others, did I him of Lucca, Who seemed to take most cognizance of me. He murmured, and I know not what Gentucca From that place heard I, where he felt the wound Of justice, that doth macerate them so. "O soul," I said, "that seemest so desirous To speak with me, do so that I may hear thee, And with thy speech appease thyself and me." "A maid is born, and wears not yet the veil," Began he, "who to thee shall pleasant make My city, howsoever men may blame it. Thou shalt go on thy way with this prevision; If by my murmuring thou hast been deceived, True things hereafter will declare it to thee.