He is his own most assiduous courtier." And my Lord Gambara sank back into his chair, languishing, the pomander to his nostrils.
All laughed, and Messer Cosimo with them, still considering me.
But Messer Fifanti's wife had yet to make me known to three others who sat there, beside the little sloe-eyed lady.

This last was a cousin of her own--Donna Leocadia degli Allogati, whom I saw now for the first and last time.
The three remaining men of the company are of little interest save one, whose name was to be well known--nay, was well known already, though not to one who had lived in such seclusion as mine.
This was that fine poet Annibale Caro, whom I have heard judged to be all but the equal of the great Petrarca himself.

A man who had less the air of a poet it would not be easy to conceive.

He was of middle height and of a habit of body inclining to portliness, and his age may have been forty.

His face was bearded, ruddy, and small-featured, and there was about him an air of smug prosperity; he was dressed with care, but he had none of the splendour of the Cardinal or my cousin.