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Renaissance and Medieval Wedding Invitations

Invitations are not one of the first things need to worry about when planning a wedding but from my research on the internet, it seems to be a very popular subject.

A Little Information:

Print invitations on heavy parchment paper using a font that imitates calligraphy. There are a number of free websites for Renaissance Images and clipart that allow you to use the images for free as long as they are not used to make a profit. If there are no clip art images to your liking you might find a nice Renaissance type border instead.

Sealing wax; Yeah I know it’s really cool looking but the post office does not want blobs of wax falling off and clogging the machines. So if you decide to use wax to seal the invitations be sure to put them inside another envelope.

If you are artistically inclined you could draw your own design and then scan it into a computer. Or if you know someone that can do calligraphy you can get them to write an invitation for you and then you can scan the invitation into the computer and print on heavy parchment. Just be sure the person who does the calligraphy gives you permission to copy the work.

Some people like the idea of using a scroll for the invitations but you will have to deliver these by hand or spend extra money for mailing tubes.   Keep in mind that if you go to the trouble of handwriting the invitations or use calligraphy you will probably want to put the envelope with the invitation inside another envelope for mailing. That way the recipient can keep the invitation as a keepsake.

How about a poem announcing the wedding, or a sonnet.

There are no set rules:

If you are the bride then the invitations should be worded to your liking.

If you are the groom then your job is to simply agree with the bride. You may as well start now because this will prove to be a valuable skill later on. Practice makes perfect. A few suggestions for the groom “That’s a great idea!” or “I never would have thought of wording them that way but I REALLY like it (note the emphasis on the REALLY). I was once told, “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear”. So with that, I will share “Your creativity is one of the things I love about you the most. I know the invitations are important but you are so much better at this type of thing than I am”.   All kidding aside, now back to the task at hand.

How to Word the Invitation

These are some examples of Renaissance and/or Medieval wedding invitations. Typically these have three sections so you can tri-fold a single piece of paper to capture all the information.

The RSVP card is shown separately.

I have printed these examples in regular typeface instead of printing them in some hard to find a typeface that you probably wouldn’t have on your computer anyway.


Lady Nicolette Kaye Hunt
Sir Raymond da Vinci
request the honour of thy presence
at their marriage
on Saturday, the thirty first of August
in the year of our Lord Two thousand and four

End of the first section

The ceremony will begin at
four o’clock in the afternoon at

Note: If the ceremony is to be held at the home of the bride or groom, use:

The Hunt’s Lair
1234 Nice Neighborhood Road
San Diego, California

Interesting Renaissance fact here: Renaissance marriages were often held at the bride’s parents house. Couples belonging to the nobility would have their weddings in medieval castles.

If the ceremony is to be held in a park you can use “meadow” in front of the parks name like:

Ceremony to be held in the meadow known as Forest Park

Note: Any ceremony in a home can be a lair and don’t forget about the “land of” or “shire”.

Medieval/Renaissance style attire is recommended
but not required.
Feasting and merriment will follow the ceremony

Note, depending on how strongly you feel about having the guests in Renaissance/Medieval attire you may want to emphasize the word “recommended”.


In the name of the baron Hunt,
father of Lady Nicolette
In the name of the countess Da Vinci,
mother of Sir Raymond
With this present letter,

We request the honour of celebrating
in thy kind and noble presence
and that of your household,
the marriage of Lady Nicolette,
Daughter of Elizabeth and Heiress of Walter,
Sir Raymond, Son of Vanessa and Heir of James,
in the fief [land or shire] of San Diego

The ceremony will begin at four o’clock
in the afternoon at
(Same as above)



The honour of thy presence is hereby
requested at the marriage of
Lady Nicolette Kay Hunt and
Sir Raymond da Vinci
on the thirtieth of August in the year
of our Lord two thousand and four
in a medieval wedding ceremony
at half-past the seventh hour in the eventide

The ceremony will begin
at four o’clock in the afternoon

Same as above from here

Example #4


Let it be known that on the
thirtieth day of August in the year
of our Lord two thousand and four
the house of Hunt
pledged its firstborn daughter
to the house of da Vinci in marriage
to the firstborn son

Ceremony to held at

Same as above from here

Example #5

On the eve of August the thirtieth,
in the year of our lord two thousand and five
at half past the seventh hour,
the heads of Houses Hunt and da Vinci
invite you to bear witness to the joining of
Lady Nicolette to Sir Raymond
in the bonds of matrimony and to share in the
celebration of the joining of these two houses

Celebration to be held at

Same as above from here


A separate card showing the exact directions to the ceremony, along with telephone numbers of the facility is always a great help.

This is for the benefit of those riding with someone who can’t, or won’t, follow maps or ask for directions (It’s a man thing, what can I say). That way the man can hand the cell phone to the woman and SHE can call and ask for directions. This always sets a really good mood for attending the ceremony.

It’s your wedding so do what you want. These are just examples to help get your brain in gear.


A touch of “Swan Song” and a dash of “The Stand”…Very good post-apocalyptic tale in the mode and mood of R. McCammon’s “Swan Song” and S. King’s “The Stand”. ★★★★★

Excerpt from Troop of Shadows:

Colleyville, Texas

Dani cursed the weight of her backpack. The final two items from the ransacked Walgreens, crammed in as an afterthought ten minutes ago, might cost her everything. After surviving the last twelve months of hell only to be thwarted now by a can of Similac and a twelve-pack of Zest soap, would be sadly anticlimactic. Despite running at a full sprint down a dark suburban street, dodging overflowing garbage cans while eluding three men who would steal her hard-won tubes of Neosporin and likely rape and kill her in the process, she snorted at the thought of a fictional headline: Young Woman’s Life Ends Tragically but Zestfully Clean.

Damn it, she would ditch the backpack. She could come back tomorrow night for it, but right now staying alive outweighed any future benefit its contents might provide. As her pursuers rounded the corner behind her, she darted across the front lawn of a house and leaped over a cluster of dead juniper shrubs. A year ago, those shrubs had been green, manicured, and providing curb appeal to the upscale neighborhood; they functioned now as a hurdle component in the obstacle course Dani navigated on most nights.

She angled toward the side of the house and around the corner, only to come to an abrupt stop next to a six-foot barricade. Residents of these sprawling bedroom communities situated between Dallas and Fort Worth clung to their privacy fences as fiercely as their rural counterparts did to their firearms. Why all those day-trading dads and cheerleader moms required such secrecy was beyond Dani. She didn’t care. All that mattered was how difficult they made her nightly forages. Only idiots or people with a death wish traveled alone on the streets anymore. The clever ones navigated through backyards and drainage ditches, shadowed easements and alleyway, avoiding open spaces and other humans.

Especially humans traveling in groups.

Stealth and caution were second nature to her now, and she was pissed at herself for loading up the backpack with more weight than she could easily carry at a full run.

Rookie mistake.

She flung the pack into the undergrowth of a once meticulous garden, making a mental note of the enormous red tip photinia which camouflaged the bundle in a leafy shroud. She hoped to be alive the next day to retrieve it.

She clambered up the fence, finding a toehold on a warped plank, and squirmed over the top. A silver fingernail of a moon did little to illuminate the backyard. Weak starlight reflected off the inky surface of a half-empty, kidney-shaped swimming pool. Her Nikes gripped the concrete deck as she skirted the murky water and made a beeline for the back of the yard that was, of course, separated from its neighbor by a privacy fence. It was a tall one too — a full ten feet. There were no bushes or trees to use for leverage either. She scanned the area for anything that might serve as a step ladder.

Of all the yards she could have chosen for her escape, she’d picked one with a damn ten-foot fence.

Her heart raced from the sprint, but not from panic. Gone was the young woman from a year ago, the full-time floundering college dropout and part-time surly Starbucks barista who spent too much time reading books and not enough time looking for a job that would allow her to move out of her parents’ house. She was too smart for her own good, everyone had told her. She should have taken that secretarial position in North Dallas, but she would have lost her sanity in that environment. The tedious filing, the ringing phones, the office politics — in other words, hell on earth for a girl with an IQ over a hundred and fifty.

Despite the recent horrors, she’d come into her own at last, after twenty-one years of meandering through life unfocused and unchallenged. The extra twenty pounds she’d been carrying courtesy of Freddy’s cheeseburgers and Taco Bell burritos were gone, thanks to her newfound self-discipline and endless hours of Krav Maga training with Sam. Not only had she transformed her body, she’d elevated and strengthened her mind as well. Before the power had gone out, she’d watched countless tutorials on T’ai Chi, Qigong, and Buddhist meditation. During that same window — when people were beginning to get sick, but before most of them had died — she’d combed book stores and libraries within a fifteen-mile radius. When the country went dark and people realized that life-saving information was no longer available with a few keystrokes, Dani had amassed reference material on subjects as diverse as hydroponics and combat first aid, ancient meat drying techniques and bomb making. Between martial arts lessons with Sam, she spent every spare minute absorbing the printed esoteric knowledge like a greedy lizard on a sun-drenched rock.

Knowledge was survival.

When the first of the men slithered over the fence into the backyard, she hadn’t found anything to use as a foothold. Another figure followed behind him. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and released it from her lungs, slow and measured, then took off at a full run toward them. While she ran, fingers slid down to a leather sheath secured to her belt. Two seconds before she reached the first of her would-be assailants, a Ka-Bar — the grandaddy of tactical knives — was in her hand.

Dani used momentum and every ounce of her one-hundred-twenty pound frame to slam the first man into the second, knocking both assailants off-balance and unprepared for her next move: a vicious stab to the groin of the first. He collapsed to his knees. She followed with a backhand movement, opening up the throat of his companion. A similar gesture to the man with the injured groin silenced his moaning.

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