_Magnifica Domina mea_,--The news we can send you from here are these. That the rain is so heavy and so continuous that we cannot leave the house and have exchanged hunting for playing at ball, so that the children should have exercise. Our stakes are generally the soup, the sweet, or the meat; and he who loses goes without; often when one of my scholars loses he pays tribute to Sir Humid.[244] I have no other news to give you. I remain in the house by the fireside in slippers and a greatcoat, were you to see me you would think I was melancholy personified. Perhaps I am but myself after all, for I neither do, nor see, nor hear anything that gives me pleasure so much have I taken our calamities to heart. Sleeping and waking they haunt me. Two days ago we began to spread our wings for we heard the plague had ceased; now we are again depressed on learning that it still lingers. When at Florence we have some sort of satisfaction, if nought else that of seeing Lorenzo come home in safety. Here we are in perpetual anxiety about everything. As for myself I declare to you that I am drowned in weary sloth, such is my solitude. I say solitude because Monsignore[245] shuts himself up in his room with only his thoughts for company, and I always find him so full of sorrow and apprehension that my melancholy is only increased in his company. Ser Alberto di Malerba mumbles prayers with these children all day long, so I remain alone, and when I am tired of study I ring the changes on plague and war, on grief for the past and fear for the future, and have no one with whom to air my phantasies. I do not find my Madonna Lucrezia in her room with whom I can unbosom myself and I am bored to death. Our sole relief is in letters from Florence, from Malerba, who has written these last few days, but I must tell you he generally sends good news which we believe for a little while, such is our desire that they may be true. But these plums usually turn into sloes. However I am trying to arm myself with hope and cling to everything in order not to sink to the bottom. I have nought else to say. I commend myself to Your Magnificence.--Cafaggiuolo, December 18, 1478. _Servitor_ Angelus.[246] Lorenzo de’ Medici _to the_ King of Spain