The first taste or feeling I had of books, was of the pleasure I took in
reading the fables of Ovid's _Metamorphoses_; for, being but seven or
eight years old, I would steal and sequester myself from all other
delights, only to read them: Forsomuch as the tongue wherein they were
written was to me natural; and it was the easiest book I knew, and by
reason of the matter therein contained most agreeing with my young age.
For of King Arthur, of Lancelot du Lake, of Amadis, of Huon of Bordeaux,
and such idle time-consuming and wit-besotting trash of books wherein
youth doth commonly amuse itself, I was not so much as acquainted with
their names, and to this day know not their bodies, nor what they
contain, so exact was my discipline. Whereby I became more careless to
study my other prescript lessons. And well did it fall out for my
purpose that I had to deal with a very discreet master, who out of his
judgement could with such dexterity wink at and second my
untowardliness, and such other faults that were in me. For by that means
I read over Virgil's _Aeneas_, Terence, Plautus, and other Italian
comedies, allured thereunto by the pleasantness of their several
subjects: Had he been so foolishly-severe, or so severely froward as to
cross this course of mine, I think, verily, I had never brought anything
from the college but the hate and contempt of books, as doth the
greatest part of our nobility. Such was his discretion, and so warily
did he behave himself, that he saw and would not see: he would foster
and increase my longing: suffering me but by stealth and by snatches to
glut myself with those books, holding ever a gentle hand over me,
concerning other regular studies.--MONTAIGNE.