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The flaxen lad in silver brocade, who was on the other side, is Teofilo Calcagnini, of whom I know little more than that he is Duke Borso's shadow. You shall hardly see them apart. The other, my charmer, the other is our man. Leave me to deal with him. Come now to the inn. To-morrow you shall have your hired house, and the next day company for it more to your taste than lean old Mosca."
It was as good as a play to watch Borso's wary eyes at the commencement of this piece, and to see them drop their fence as the declamation went on. Lorenzo begins with a pretty description of the dawn on Tuscan hilltops "Era gi
There is, in fact, at this time simply no end to the mythological and allegorical charioteering, and the most important work of art of Borso's time the frescoes in the Palazzo Schifanoia shows us a whole frieze filled with these motives. Raphael, when he had to paint the Camera della Segnatura, found this mode of artistic thought completely vulgarized and worn out.
Vittore Pisanello and Jacopo Bellini had both of them visited Ferrara and painted portraits of the Este princes that of Leonello, with his long hooked nose and low forehead, is still preserved at Bergamo, and Piero de' Franceschi, the mighty Umbrian, is said to have supplied a design for Duke Borso's tomb.
The happy event was commemorated by a noble medal, designed by the Mantuan Sperandio, the most illustrious of a school of medallists employed at Ferrara in Duke Borso's time, while Leonora's refined features and expressive face are preserved in a well-known bas-relief, now in Paris.
Where is my wife?" That was Borso's cue to stare. "Your wife?" he cried, "your wife! Heaven above us, man, why the devil should your wife be in my bed?" Angioletto, with the deepest respect always, suffered a smile to play askew about his lips. "Alas, Magnificence," he said, "if I dared I would ask him, why the devil he should be in my wife's bed?"
The idea was excellent; the thing, therefore, no less. Therefore he concluded that he should not fail of his plan. Beyond the Porta Angeli, in Borso's day, was to be found a huddle of tenements fungus-growth upon the city wall single-storied, single-roomed affairs, mostly the lodging of artificers in the lesser crafts.
A man puts on spectacles to suit his complexion: the Captain's was sanguine. "Similemente agli splendor mondani Ordinò general ministra e duca, Che permutasse a tempo li ben vani, Di gente in gente, e d'uno in altro sangue." Inf. vii. 77. Angioletto had cause to believe in that star of his, for it never wavered in the course it held. Borso's court found him much to its taste.
By the bones of God, but he served a great lord of that city Guarino Guarini by name, whose blade was the longest, the oftenest out, and the cleanest cutter, as himself was the lightest heart, and most trenchant carver of men in Borso's fief. The good captain carried his loyalty to the edge of his simplicity, and left it there for Olimpia to handle.
Do you understand me?" "Perfectly, Excellence." "Take my purse from the table and off with you then." Captain Mosca bowed to the ground and backed out. The Borgo of Borso's day was, as you might say, a sucker of the city of the Po, a flowery crop of villas and gardens about the city's root.
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