Ambition raises a secret Tumult in the Soul, it inflames the Mind, and puts it into a violent Hurry of Thought:  It is still reaching after an empty imaginary Good, that has not in it the Power to abate or satisfy it.  Most other Things we long for can allay the Cravings of their proper Sense, and for a while set the Appetite at Rest:  But Fame is a Good so wholly foreign to our Natures, that we have no Faculty in the Soul adapted to it, nor any Organ in the Body to relish it; an Object of Desire placed out of the Possibility of Fruition.  It may indeed fill the Mind for a while with a giddy kind of Pleasure, but it is such a Pleasure as makes a Man restless and uneasy under it; and which does not so much satisfy the present Thirst, as it excites fresh Desires, and sets the Soul on new Enterprises.  For how few ambitious Men are there, who have got as much Fame as they desired, and whose Thirst after it has not been as eager in the very Height of their Reputation, as it was before they became known and eminent among Men?  There is not any Circumstance in Caesars Character which gives me a greater Idea of him, than a Saying which Cicero tells us [3] he frequently made use of in private Conversation, That he was satisfied with his Share of Life and Fame, Se satis vel ad Naturam, vel ad Gloriam vixisse.  Many indeed have given over their Pursuits after Fame, but that has proceeded either from the Disappointments they have met in it, or from their Experience of the little Pleasure which attends it, or from the better Informations or natural Coldness of old Age; but seldom from a full Satisfaction and Acquiescence in their present Enjoyments of it.

Nor is Fame only unsatisfying in it self, but the Desire of it lays us open to many accidental Troubles which those are free from who have no such a tender Regard for it.  How often is the ambitious Man cast down and disappointed, if he receives no Praise where he expected it?  Nay how often is he mortified with the very Praises he receives, if they do not rise so high as he thinks they ought, which they seldom do unless increased by Flattery, since few Men have so good an Opinion of us as we have of our selves?  But if the ambitious Man can be so much grieved even with Praise it self, how will he be able to bear up under Scandal and Defamation?  For the same Temper of Mind which makes him desire Fame, makes him hate Reproach.  If he can be transported with the extraordinary Praises of Men, he will be as much dejected by their Censures.  How little therefore is the Happiness of an ambitious Man, who gives every one a Dominion over it, who thus subjects himself to the good or ill Speeches of others, and puts it in the Power of every malicious Tongue to throw him into a Fit of Melancholy, and destroy his natural Rest and Repose of Mind?  Especially when we consider that the World is more apt to censure than applaud, and himself fuller of Imperfections than Virtues.