Empire building converges with print innovations in the rare Zaragoza edition (1523) of the landmark “Second Letter from Mexico” of Hernán Cortés. The Aragonese print shop owned by German immigrant George Coçi advertised what, to its first interpreters, was stunning news from a still mysterious place overseas with woodblocks drawn from their 1520 edition of Livy's History of Rome. An examination of the political, social, and editorial contexts that informed these two books addressed to Charles V casts light on concerns about how the new Spanish king would communicate with his subjects in an age of imperial expansion.

In the early 1580s, Torquato Tasso (1544–95), hospitalized (or imprisoned) in Ferrara's Sant'Anna, wrote two versions of a dialogue on the theory of games in which a female interlocutor complains that men commonly lose to women out of an artificial sense of courtesy. In the second and much longer version, the Gonzaga secondo overo del giuoco (1582), he shifts the direction of his response to this condescending mannerism, offering a vision of women with the determination and potential to be true players. This article examines how Tasso made this change and speculates as to why, tying his treatment to the larger discourse on gender and play in sixteenth-century Italy and proposing that his solution represents a timely intersection of the theory of games, the agency of women, and the plight of a captive poet in Renaissance Italy.

Gabriel Harvey's witty use of a quotation from Ovid on the occasion of the earthquake of 1580 is the point of departure for exploring the several ways in which a contemporary debate about literature, logic, and natural causes was carried out through the mediation of classical texts. At the explosive intersection of Harvey's Socratic wit and Ramist logic, a buried reference to Lucretius sets into motion a number of deeper questions about the nature of literary and natural digressions, and about the ironic ends of a method that demands order, both for its ancient texts and for the natural world.

John Donne's The Courtier's Library (ca. 1603–11) is a catalogue of imaginary books that derives its inspiration from Rabelais's satirical description of the Library of St. Victor. Donne's depiction of courtly knowledge parodies the humanist work that secretaries performed for their masters by offering a path to ignorance and mockery rather than a path to learning and advancement. This essay investigates The Courtier's Library, published here in a new translation (see Appendix), in the context of Donne's habits of reading, marginal annotation, and note-taking, examining both the complicated negotiation involved in producing knowledge for courtly display, and Donne's own attempts to reconcile the roles of secretary, scholar, and gentleman.