Cristofano Landino, Lionardo Aretino (Bruni), whose translations from the Greek were celebrated for their pure latinity, while his speeches were compared to those of Pericles, and Carlo Aretino (Marsuppini), were friends of Cosimo, and members of the Platonic Academy. They often met in the Badia, and Pico della Mirandola, on whom, says Poliziano, “nature seems to have showered all her gifts,” passed some time there in study. In the cell of Ambrogio Traversari in the convent degl’ Angeli at Fiesole, Cosimo was wont to pass his spare hours in the company of learned men. He was quick in recognising talent, and possessed the gift said to belong to royalty of suiting his conversation to his visitors. Vespasiano tells us that “when giving audience to a scholar he discoursed concerning letters; in the company of theologians he showed his acquaintance with theology, a branch of learning always studied by him with delight. So also with regard to philosophy. Astrologers found him well versed in their science, for he somewhat lent faith to astrology, and employed it on certain private occasions. Musicians in like manner perceived his mastery of music, wherein he much delighted. The same was true about sculpture and painting; both of these arts he understood completely, and showed great favour to all worthy craftsmen. In architecture he was a consummate judge, for without his opinion and advice no building was begun or carried to completion.”[6] While spending money in a princely manner on works of art, public libraries and buildings, Cosimo lived as simply as any other citizen. Though for twenty-five years he was practically the ruler of Florence, he remained the merchant, the plain burgher, the agriculturist. His estates were in good order; he superintended the planting, and rose early to prune his vines. Gambling he detested; the only game he played, and that but rarely, was chess. Habitually taciturn, particularly in his later years, yet he could give witty and even sharp answers; as when one of his adherents, a loquacious, not very wise man, who, on being named Podestà of a foreign (_i.e._ not a Tuscan) town, asked him for advice. “Dress suitably and talk little,” was the answer. To another he said there was a weed that ought not to be watered but allowed to wither, and that weed was envy.