As Aristotle states at the commencement of his Metaphysics, all men by nature desire to know. The reason for this is that everything, impelled by the force of its own nature, inclines towards perfection of itself; therefore, since knowledge is the ultimate perfection of our spirit, in which our ultimate happiness lies, we are all by nature bound to desire it. However, many are deprived of this most noble of perfections for various reasons lying within man, and outside him, which prevent him from forming the habit of seeking knowledge.

Within man there exist two defects and impediments: one appertaining to the body, the other to the spirit. The defect of body occurs when its parts do not function correctly, so that it cannot receive anything, as with the deaf, the dumb, and such like. That of the spirit occurs when evil conquers it, so that it follows vicious pleasures, by which it is so deceived that through it everything becomes vile. Similarly two causes outside of man can be identified, one of which condemns him to duty, the other to idleness. The first is domestic and civic responsibility, which properly engages most men, so that they have no time for contemplation. The other is the defect arising from the location where someone is born and raised, which often not only lacks all places of learning, but is distant from educated people.

Two of these defects, the first within man and the first outside him, are not a reason for criticism, but are deserving of excuse and pardon; the other two merit our censure and scorn, though one more than the other. Anyone who reflects deeply can plainly see that there are few who can attain to that habit of knowledge desired by all, while those who live deprived forever of this nourishment are innumerable. Oh, blessed are the few who sit at that table where the bread of angels is eaten! And wretched are those who must graze along with the sheep!

But since every man is by nature a friend towards every other, and every friend is grieved by a defect in one he loves, those who are fed at so noble a table are not without pity for those they see grazing on grass and acorns where the animals pasture. And since pity is the mother of generosity, those who have knowledge always give freely of their great riches to the truly impoverished, and are like a living fountain with whose waters the natural thirst referred to above is quenched. So I who do not sit at the table of the blessed, I who have fled the common pasture, and merely gather a part of what falls at the feet of those who do sit there, and know the wretched life of those I have left behind by the sweetness I taste in what I gather piecemeal, and am moved by compassion for all, including myself, I then have reserved for the wretched those poems which I set before their eyes a while ago to stimulate their desire.

Wishing to lay the table, I intend to present a communal banquet of what I showed them, with the bread of commentary that must accompany such poetic meat, and without which it could not be eaten. And this banquet, deserving of such bread, offers meat which I do not intend to serve in vain. And therefore I’d have none there whose organs are badly served because they lack teeth, tongue or palate; nor any addicted to vice, with stomachs so full of poisonous and unbalanced humours that they would be unable to retain my meat. But come all whose hunger arises from domestic or civic duty, and sit at the table with those similarly affected; and let all those sit at their feet who are not worthy through idleness of a higher place; and let both eat of my meat and bread, for I wish them to both taste and digest it. The meat at this banquet will be prepared in fourteen ways, in fourteen canzoni that is of love and virtue, which lacking bread were to some degree obscure, so that for many their beauty pleased more than their goodness. But the bread, that is, the present explanation, will be a light to make visible ever shade of their meaning.

If the matter is treated more maturely, as I wish, in this work, the Convivio, than it was in the Vita Nuova, I do not wish to disparage the latter in any way, but to give it greater support by this work; seeing that it was appropriate for it to be ardent and passionate, and for this to be mature and temperate. It is right to speak and act differently according to one’s age, since certain manners are laudable and fitting at one age that are blameworthy and inappropriate at another, as I will show later in the fourth book. I wrote the former work at the threshold of youth, and this when I had passed beyond it. And since aspects of my true meaning were other than that which the canzoni I mentioned show, I intend to reveal them by allegorical exposition, after giving a literal account; so that both may be savoured by those invited to this feast. I ask all for whom this banquet fails to match the splendour of their desire, to attribute every defect to my capability and not to my will; since it is my wish to be wholly and lovingly generous.