WHEN my father spoke to me in the way I have above described, I
entreated him to let me draw a certain fixed number of hours in the day;
all the rest of my time I would give to music, only with the view of
satisfying his desire. Upon this he said to me: "So then, you take no
pleasure in playing?" To which I answered, "No;" because that art seemed
too base in comparison with what I had in my own mind. My good father,
driven to despair by this fixed idea of mine, placed me in the workshop
of Cavaliere Bandinello's father, who was called Michel Agnolo, a
goldsmith from Pinzi di Monte, and a master excellent in that craft. [1]
He had no distinction of birth whatever, but was the son of a
charcoal-seller. This is no blame to Bandinello, who has founded the
honour of the family-if only he had done so honestly! However that may
be, I have no cause now to talk about him. After I had stayed there some
days, my father took me away from Michel Agnolo, finding himself unable
to live without having me always under his eyes. Accordingly, much to my
discontent, I remained at music till I reached the age of fifteen. If I
were to describe all the wonderful things that happened to me up to that
time, and all the great dangers to my own life which I ran, I should
astound my readers; but, in order to avoid prolixity, and having very
much to relate, I will omit these incidents.

When I reached the age of fifteen, I put myself, against my father's
will, to the goldsmith's trade with a man called Antonio, son of Sandro,
known commonly as Marcone the goldsmith. He was a most excellent
craftsman and a very good fellow to boot, high-spirited and frank in all
his ways. My father would not let him give me wages like the other
apprentices; for having taken up the study of this art to please myself,
he wished me to indulge my whim for drawing to the full. I did so
willingly enough; and that honest master of mine took marvellous delight